Decent night's rest in the comfy bed.

Here's what I had at the buffet breakfast, which is in the
sports betting area:

NY steak and onions - done beyond well done, thin, but quite
palatable all the same in a burned amateur grillmaster way

hash - from a can but good; not too too salty

gr beef florentine - the gr stands for ground; Greek would
make it a moronic oxymoron - about the only savory thing on
the buffet that wasn't too salty, which made it tasteless
by comparison; it was, however, an interesting and maybe
worthwhile addition

sausage links - standard, better than the ones so proudly
served at the M

sausage patties - standard but limp, not so good

bacon - very crisp, not very smoky - okay

smoked salmon - standard, pretty good

chicken-fried steak - an abomination, thick crust that was
hard to cut or chew, sort of a protective scab on the meat,
which was that processed prechewed stuff, so you had hard
somewhat bad-tasting coating over mushy somewhat bad-tasting
meat

country gravy - pretty good actually

biscuits and sausage gravy - didn't have a biscuit, but the
gravy was the same country gravy with bits of sausage patty
cut into it; not bad

grilled pork chops - extremely salty and somewhat dried out
from the steamtable, but lots of onions and garlic almost
redeemed them

assorted fruit - I had strawberries, quite fragrant, sweet,
and good; grapefruit segments at least not from a can and
reasonably okay.

I went back to the room to sleep off the heavy salt and
cholesterol intake. Somewhat surprised to wake up at all, I
woke up and wandered about town - buses down Sahara and up
Desert Inn with a lengthy stop at the West Sahara library,
where the art gallery was a disappointment but the wi-fi
acceptable.

I thought to save a couple bucks and go to Piero's for
dinner. It's really, really dark in there, and by the time
my eyes adjusted to discover that this isn't a red checked
tablecloth place, nor even a white tablecloth place, but a
starched white tablecloth place, it was too late. And when
de waitair wees de fonee frahnsh acsahn said that the osso
buco had lots of marrow, I was sold.

The wine list - amazing, but I am not going to pay 6 to 15x
retail for wine. So I had the waitair recite the beer list,
which was dull, Bud Bud Light Coors Coors Light Peroni; I
asked if there was Sam, and he said he'd go to the other
bar and check. He came back with a Sam Summer, opened. Ah
well, it's not horrible.

The osso buco comes in a red wine sauce with indiscernible
porcini mushrooms and what have to be the best noodles
outside Italy. The meat itself, described as "falling off
the bone," not so good. Not bad, and indeed falling off
the bone, but not the best veal ever eaten, a bit tough
in fact but of decent flavor. Lots of marrow as promised.

I was thirstful, and even wheat beer went down well, so I
flagged down the next waitperson - a cute blonde - and asked
her to recite the beer list just because. The first words
that came out of her mouth: Sierra Nevada. For a fraction of
a second I wanted to strangle the waitair and kiss the
pretty blonde.

The osso buco was $42 something, $5 more than at the Hilton.
I may try it at the Hilton for comparison.

Back to the hotel: jaywalk across Convention Center Blvd, go
in by the (now closed) information booth, up the elevator
(escalators long silent), down innumerable deserted
corridors (I could feel the gaze of hundreds of spy cameras
on me), and behold, Skybridge to Las Vegas Hilton. Which
lets you off outside at the rear end of the Hilton meeting
facility, from whence it's another couple hundred yards to
the casino and then some more to the hotel proper.

I went back to the pathetic VIP lounge, which by this time
looked like a BA crew room (I'd say a 747 must be going
tonight), for a couple Heinekens and a handful of mixed
nuts. And a brief chat with a cute and friendly concierge.