Tuesday, July 31, 2012

The Stupid List: The Absolute Dumbest Things in Las Vegas

I've spent the last two years building this blog into an impassioned defense of Las Vegas against the hipper and though masses who roll their eyes and dismiss it for its bloated, plastic, and overly commercialized stupidity. But here's the thing... Las Vegas is stupid. Stupidity is built into its DNA, and it's part of the city's very appeal. A city that makes Mike Judge's vision of America in Idiocracy feel terrifyingly true, it's a place where you're encouraged and invited (by the city's Convention and Visitors Authority, no less) to act at least a little bit stupidly.

So with that (and the fact that lists do well in terms of drawing web traffic) in mind, here's my list of the absolute stupidest things in Las Vegas. These very different listicle items might be untied in the fact that they're all dumb as bricks, but Las Vegas wouldn't the town it is without them (plus you might find that you'll have some guilty fun participating in some of these activities if you've got the proper buzz on... don't worry, I won't tell anyone if you don't).

K.I.S.S. is probably already the stupidest band in the history of all music ever. So the idea of a K.I.S.S. themed blacklit indoor mini golf course featuring massive recreations of the heads of the band members while their terrible yet undeniably catchy songs blare out of speakers really ups the ante on the idiot scale. You'll not be surprised to note that one of the holes affords you the rare opportunity to a golf ball up Gene Simmons' legendary tongue. On top of all that, the place features a store where you can buy crappy merchandise and a wedding chapel for people who want to be married by an ordained minister in full K.I.S.S. makeup. This place is so gloriously idiotic it's some sort of triumph.

Local anesthesiologist Jason Burke's brainchild aims to cure those who partied a little too hard the night before with his roving Hangover Cure buses. Basically, you pay between $90- $200 to get on the plush bus and hooked up to an IV that will try and soothe the pain incurred by having too much fun the night before. Something about this whole thing feels evil, wrong, and very "post-empire," like a rolling symbol of how far our values in America have fallen. But it's also a super smart idea and I'm sure Dr. Burke will make oodles of cash off his creepy idea. If oxygen bars can still somehow thrive in Las Vegas, I don't see how this could fail.

An outdoor nightclub that usually has no cover charge, this a sub-mental place that attracts the kind of crowd that would go to a an outdoor nightclub with no cover charge. The last time I was there, the DJ played LMFAO and Lil Jon's horrifyingly annoying Shots song every five minutes while the flair bartenders poured some kind of colorful and sugary alcohol concoction into the open maws of the women and men gathered around the bar. It was really gross, like witnessing Roman-style decadence firsthand. But if you want to find a place where you can dance without waiting in line and paying a cover charge, this is your best bet. And if you don't hate that Shots song, then you'll be in heaven. Just don't say I didn't warn you.

Just like the title bar in the completely forgettable, Jerry Bruckheimer produced movie from 2000 about a girl following her songwriting dreams by dressing in tight shirts and dancing on bars, this place is the cherry on top of New York New York's Dumb Sundae. Enter if you dare to oggle flair bar-tendresses in skimpy tank tops, performing lazily choreographed routines on bar tops. Or skip the line and cover charge and order a decently priced Kamikaze Shot from the bar right outside the main venue so you can forget some of your dignity and enjoy the idiocy surrounding you.

I rep Downtown Vegas constantly, evangelizing about its mix of hip new bars and old school casinos. But Fremont Street and the surrounding area are not without their empty-headed features as well. The Heart Attack Grill, located in the multi-tiered Neonopolis Mall in the middle of the Fremont Street Experience, proudly celebrates America's tradition of moronic gluttony. A hospital themed restaurant where waitresses dress up in skimpy nurse outfits and serve artery clogging foods like (the 8,000 calorie!!!) Quadruple Bypass Burgers, Fries deep fried in pure Lard, Butterfat Shakes, and Jello Shots served in syringes, this is the kind of place that offers free food to patrons who weigh in at over 350 pounds. The Heart Attack Grill has notoriously lived up to its name as a man suffered an actual heart attack while chowing on on one of their (merely 6,000 calorie) Triple Bypass Burger back in February, while a female patron collapsed while wolfing down on their Fat-laden food just a few months later. While these horror tales might make most people stay away, you might also be one of those types who feels like The Heart Attack Grill is an extreme food challenge worth taking to prove your man (orwoman)hood... in which case I wish you luck and pray that you've got decent health coverage.

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