Thursday, November 11, 2010

There Is A Nightclub In Vegas Named After Me

Yup. Just me and my nightclub.

Did I say 'nightclub?' Drai's is an after hours club. The establishment's wide red and black doors don't even open until 1 am (and close at dawn), which, inconveniently for this blog episode, means I have no idea what goes on inside. (For example, do they provide cots if you suddenly get tired and have to lie down right this minute?) One thing stands certain. This Drai will probably never find out because this Drai goes to bed at 10 pm, even in Vegas.

Well, alright. That last statement does involve a touch of hyperbole. There are a number of things I will stay up for and I'm sure you can think of at least one of them. And I am not talking about dragging my tired ass around to make a walloping $2.50 on the slot machines while breezing through 'Paris,' which is the name of a casino/resort on the Las Vegas strip that boasts an Eiffel Tower growing out of its bowels. Like most things on the strip, this behemoth is a copy of something else, and in this case fashions itself after Paris, a real city that brags, I dare say (among its other accomplishments), a better-dressed citizenry. But all of this aside, I am not, and never will be, a night owl.

(No way did I belong in the real Paris that night. You should have seen me by the time I actually went to bed. My eyes were glassed over and my hair was starting to look as if a baboon were living in it.)

However, my deserved lack of membership in the night owl club does not mean I am some sort of prancing, trilling lark singing songs at heaven's gate at 6 in the blasted morning, which is about when my boyfriend started playing with the electronic curtains in our hotel room because he is an engineer and finds moving parts fascinating.

Of course we did have a nice breakfast at a little place in the 'Venetian' and then he surprised me by whisking me over to Drai's 'After Dark' for a quick photo opportunity.

Are you a Smith or a Clark or a Williams? Note to you: with a name like Drai, you could go your whole life never meeting anyone at all with the same name as yours unless they're family, let alone ever see a sign emblazoned with that weirdly truncated yet old world vowelly moniker, so it's oddly thrilling when it happens. Not thrilling enough to risk bumping into a crowd of drunken vampires by making it over to the club when it actually opens. At 1 am. But thrilling nonetheless.

And then. And then.

And then, my friends, we went to the Hoover Dam, which was breathtaking.

Yup. We did that last part right in the middle of the day. Just the way I like it.

1 comment:

Julie Choffel said...

I know what you mean - I once happened upon a restaurant named after me, on a street by the same name, completely by accident, in Zurich. It was weird.