Back from Vegas...and feeling happy...though a little damp...thanks to the timing of our visit coinciding with that of a freak weather system which hurled enough water down on our small portion of the desert to initiate flash flood warnings...strand sightseers in doorways as they watched the rain bounce two feet back off the sidewalk into the air...and cause legions of maintenance men to take to the sidewalks surrounding some of the ritzier buildings, armed with giant squeegees, attempting to dry off portions of the pavement long enough for pedestrians to walk through the watery depths.

British though I may be, I had thought that it was safe to venture into the desert without an umbrella...I stand corrected. Thanks to Marc Jacobs I was able to rectify the situation in gloriously tacky style and set forth to do a little exploring...

After stumbling along miles of walkways and climbing a seemingly never-ending quantity of stairs (I avoid escalators at all costs) we managed to walk through a significant number of hotels along the strip. Having done so we broke them into two groups...group A, the luxury hotels with scented lobbies and security men guarding the guest elevators...and group B, a downward spiral into accommodation hell where any wandering drunk off the street could start knocking on your room door at 2am and the most penetrating odor was the smell of desperation mixed with 20 year old popcorn and a hint of vomit.

Our trip started with a few nights in group A...at The Palazzo...with Art Deco hallways...a sunken banquette area in our suite...and a marble encased bathroom of such size and splendor that I could have lived in it for the duration of our trip.

Sadly, the decadence had to come to an end, and we schlepped our bags a couple of blocks down the Strip to Paris...a hotel which looked good from the outside (in a surreal, blindingly fake, way) but whose bedrooms made me think of a Days Inn in Iowa...

Such schizophrenic swings marked the rest of our trip. We went from burgers and frozen Margaritas to a dinner at Rao's that brought tears to my eyes...Mr. Heb and I having yearned to eat at Rao's in New York for years, but having accepted the inevitability of such an occurrence never happening thanks to a combination of good food, popularity, and there only being ten tables in the place...in the words of a regular, "You got a better chance of getting hit in the ass by lightning" than ever getting a seat.

We chanced across their Las Vegas outpost in a little corner of Caesar's Palace (right across from Payard) that I am going to call food heaven. If you love Italian food...and plan to visit Vegas...I strongly suggest a visit...fresh mozzarella flown in from Italy (not listed on the menu, if they have it they'll let you know)...pasta in vodka sauce with little chunks of imported Prosciutto di Parma nestling alongside...and the sort of dark wooden booths lining the walls that encourage exceedingly long dinners and romance.

I have more but as this post is running on a little I'll save part two for tomorrow...