PRICES

                                                           

             Yesterday I went to Mandalay Bay again.  Sounds like the opening line of a book, doesn’t it?  A film too: directed by Hitchcock, starring Laurence Olivier and Joan Fontaine.   “Rebecca,” was the name, by Daphne Du Maurier.  I don’t have it quite right.  It should go: “last night I dreamed I went to Mandalay again.” No, that’s not it.  Manderley, not Mandalay!  That's the name.

 

 While there is no Manderley in Las Vegas, the southernmost mega resort on the Las Vegas Strip is Mandalay Bay.  Exquisite looking from the outside - two golden towers rising majestically – it is equally impressive on the inside.  The main gaming room might seem a bit overcrowded, but is not the establishment's business to provide table games and slots to people looking for action?  Food, too.  Along with Caesar’s, MGM Grand, Wynn and Bellagio, I'd say the best restaurants in town are at the Manadalay Bay.  Dinner at the Aureole (Mandalay), Picasso (Bellagio), Robuchon (MGM), Guy Savoy (Caesar’s) or Alex (Wynn) might cost you a mortgage payment or two, but your taste buds will be treated to an incredible experience.

 

So yesterday I stepped into the Mandalay Bay again.  Only a week previously, my wife and I had dined there at China Grille.  This time I was accompanying my Portuguese pal, Pedro da Silva to the resort’s famous Hamburger Bar.  Pedro is crazy about American burgers. 

 

“On the road to Mandalay,” I burst into song, “where the flying fishes play, and the dawn comes up like thunder out of China ‘cross the bay.”

 

“What’s that?” said Pedro, eying me queerly. 

 

“It was a poem originally,” I said.  “By Kipling.  The English once controlled Burma, you know?”

 

“Hong Kong, too,” he said.  “We kept them out of Macao.”

 

“Well you won’t keep us out.  Us Yankees, I mean.  Nor will the Chinese.  Both the Wynn and the Venetian have opened multi-billion dollar resorts in Macao.”

 

“They are going to have more clients than they can handle.  No people gamble as much as the Chinese.”

 

We stopped off at the poker room.  The director told us we had to buy in for between $200 and $400 at the $2-$5 No Limit game.

 

“What if I’m losing a bundle?” asked Pedro.  “Can I buy in for more?”

 

“No, sir.  $400 maximum.”

 

“That’s foolish,” said Pedro.  “A player should not be restricted to maximum buy-ins.”

 

“It used to be worse,” I said.  “At one time, both here and at The Bellagio you could only buy-in for $200, minimum or maximum!  It took them long enough to change the rules.  As far as I know, only Wynn and Binion’s offer the sky’s the limit.”

 

“Why is that?” asked Pedro.

 

“I guess the casinos want to avoid wealthy wise guys from buying in for tens of thousands and muscling everyone else around.”

 

“Speaking of muscles, mine are aching.  Let’s eat.”

 

We lunched on the specialty of the house.  They were damn good burgers, let me tell you!  Well why not, at ten bucks apiece?  Actually, they cost a lot more.  Our requests for extra cheese, bacon and avocados added to the cost.  Cocktails and beer brought our tab to $70 with tax and tip.  We skipped desert. 

 

            Neither Pedro nor I felt like playing poker.  We took a taxi to where I had left my car.  That set us back another ten bucks.  Pedro wanted to play blackjack at The Orleans, his lucky casino.  I opted to go home for a nap.  Still hungry, I pulled into a Burger King where, for about two dollars, I gobbled down a double bacon cheeseburger with pickles and lettuce.  You know what?   It tasted pretty much the same as the one on The Strip.