1. Where to find the best cheesesteaks in Philly.
“Pat’s is perfectly fine, but I find their steaks a bit too heavy,” Ron, a Philadelphia native, tells me after I regale him with the tale of my first-ever cheesesteak experience last fall. “Next time you’re in Philly, here’s what you’re going to want to do: stop by this place called Tony Luke’s, at the end of Oregon Avenue. Now, at Pat’s your steak probably had a few thick slabs of meat and then Cheez Whiz on it, right? Well at Tony Luke’s, you’ll find super finely sliced meat, a lot easier to eat, and more cheese options, you can choose between Cheez Whiz, provolone, or cheddar.” This guy knows his stuff. He tells me afterward that he wants to open a cheesesteak restaurant on the Vegas Strip the second he finds himself a good backer.
2. The backstory of one of the most beautiful bars on the Strip.
Halfway through our commute to the Cosmopolitan hotel, our driver Ryan says, “okay, I have to brag for a second, because I can’t help mentioning it every time the Cosmopolitan comes up…” I have zero clue what to expect next. “My brother is an architect, and you know what his last big project was?” I hold my breath. “He designed the Chandelier bar at the Cosmopolitan.” At first, my only response is a brief shriek. This thing is the highlight of the whole hotel, it’s a bar surrounded by a larger-than-life, multi-story chandelier—and Ryan’s own brother designed it!? “You wouldn’t believe how long that took to get done. He worked so hard on it! He lives in New York now, but every time I pass the Cosmopolitan, I can’t help but tell people about his work here in Vegas.”
3. How to manage the creative process.
“My brother and I, we’re a lot alike in that way: we both need our creative outlets,” Ryan the actor/driver says. “But him, he channels his creativity onto paper in his work as an architect, whereas I’m an entertainer of sorts—depending on who you ask. So we both have that need to express ourselves, but if you were to put a piece of paper and a pencil in my hand, I would have no idea what to do with it.” When I ask what kind of performer he is, I predict he’ll say he’s a comedian—it just seems like it would suit him—but his response is even better: he’s a stage actor.
Ryan performs in a well-known interactive musical that’s been produced all over the country. He does four shows a week, but there was a time when he’d do seven. I ask him if it’s hard to perform the same material night after night. “Well, since the nature of the show is interactive, about 30% of the script is just improv,” he says. “That really helps keep it fun and fresh every night. But right now I’m also in rehearsals for a production of A Few Good Men, and that one is tougher because the lines are the same night after night. That show is the ultimate challenge. It’s the hardest show I’ve ever done.”
4. How to skydive.
“Oh yes, I’ve gone skydiving,” Jose says casually in between pointing out famous sights just off the Strip. When he catches wind of my giddy reaction, he adds, “I don’t think I’d do it again though.” I ask if that’s because it was too scary—as much as I want to jump out of a plane, I’m also terrified by it. “Nah, I just wouldn’t want to pay for it again.” Skydiving is expensive, friends! “You jump with a pro who actually knows what he’s doing,” Jose tells me. “And they just strap you on and let him jump and do all the work.”
I pepper him with a slew of questions. “Were you scared when it came time to jump out of the plane? Did they tell you not to look down before jumping? Was it quiet up there in the sky?” I’ve long held a romantic notion of a stunning, silent glide to the surface, fueled by my father who insisted that jumping out of a plane, and the free fall that followed, provided the most complete and peaceful silence he’d ever experienced. “No!” Jose exclaimed, laughing . “It wasn’t quiet at all! The wind was howling everywhere!”
5. Where to stuff your face (natch.)
“There’s this place called Eat.,” Jay says as he drives us to the Neon Museum. He seems kind of shy, a man of few words, so I’m inclined to take his rare suggestion very seriously. “Maybe you should stop over there after you finish up at the museum. People come from all over the country to try their food.”
“Wait, it’s called ‘Eat’ as in e-a-t?” I ask.
“Yeah! Well, it also has a period at the end.”
“What kind of food are they known for there?”
“I think just like, the craftsmanship they put into preparing everything. Like, not any one specific meal.” Hmmm. I don’t really know what to do with such a vague recommendation, but it seems worth a shot. He appears to be a wise dude, after all.
Later, when we leave the museum, our bubbly new driver, Marina, ushers us to Downtown Las Vegas to find the place. All three of us peek out the windows and squint our eyes as we try to pick out buildings’ addresses in the desert sun. We finally pull up to a tidy, nondescript restaurant with a small bench in the front. That’s it? Still, we pile out of the car and hope for the best.
“Enjoy, sweetheart!” Marina calls out as she drives away.
It doesn’t take us long to realize that Jay was very, very right. I order a totally generic-seeming breakfast—coffee, eggs, toast, and potatoes—and it somehow manages to be the best breakfast I’ve ever had. How did they do that? Vegas, I’m a fan.
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