A mystery trip

June 10 was declared Hunnybear Day so I told Hunnybear to pack her bikini and toothbrush because I was taking her on a mystery trip. She squealed like a schoolgirl and told all her friends so I thought I’d better come up with something good. I reserved a taxi for 4:30 p.m. and told her only that there would be a beach. She said that ruled out SAT, MSY, and PHX. We rolled our carry-ons down to the front and saw a yellow taxi there. The canny driver tried to pretend he was there to pick us up but I knew our taxis were white, not yellow. Sure enough, a white minivan pulled up moments later. The little white-haired driver loaded all our bags and we climbed in. I said, “Los Angeles Airport, driver, and step on it!”

We made great time to the airport as usual and arrived at United an hour before the flight. We took the secret way upstairs to the secret uncrowded security and went to the Red Carpet Club to check in. I told the agent our destination was a secret and he happily complied as Hunnybear surrendered her passport and shouted answers to the security questions with her back to the far wall under the departure monitors. He asked what type of seats we’d like and I told him we’d like the type of seats we were already assigned in First Class. That worked and two boarding passes spat out.

We sat by the window in the beautiful new club watching the planes dock and undock in terminals 7 and 8. I told Hunnybear I was glad I was able to get our return flight changed to an afternoon one because originally we were due to arrive home at 9:30, giving me only three hours before my Cathay Pacific flight to Hong Kong and Bangkok, so I would have had to bring my whale along with us to Vegas. Whoops! After all that secret-keeping I let it slip just 10 minutes before we would have arrived at the gate. No matter: Hunnybear was appropriately surprised and said she didn’t even think about Vegas because I’d been there so much recently. She immediately started going through her packing list and wished she had brought warmer clothes because it’s cold indoors. “And what about the beach?” she demanded. “I just threw that in to throw you off,” I said.

We wheeled to gate 86 just in time for the start of boarding and we were the first ones on the plane. We had seats 1C and D and grabbed a good chunk of the overhead space for our bags. The Briggs & Reilly did not fit the short way in these overheads although it did on the other planes, but Hunnybear’s 21-incher did. As I’ve come to expect on these LAX-LAS Shuttle runs the crew was cheerful and friendly. Because of the short flying time and expected turbulence in our Vegas approach, the coach passengers got water only. We got a full drink service complemented by caviar and mixed nuts that I pulled out of my bag. It was a beautiful short flight and the captain made a great landing despite the turbulence.

We headed to the National car-rental counter and waited about five minutes until a second agent came to wait on us. I had reserved a convertible through their web site at 20% off $55, which almost makes up for the 27% tax. One thing I like about National is that you can choose your own car, but one thing I don’t like is how slow that makes the rental process. The bus took us to a choice of five convertibles, three of which were Sebrings and two Cavaliers. Obviously we chose a Sebring, a white one that wasn’t too filthy, but then we waited 15 minutes in an extremely slow line of cars to get out. Well, if you have to wait in line, doing it in the leather seats of an open car in the desert sunset is the way to go.

I took the freeway to the south end of the Strip and we drove up past the United graveyard towards Mandalay Bay, gleaming golden in the dying sunlight. Hunnybear found a good station on the radio and we listened to tunes waiting for the lights to change. There was some good entertainment in town this weekend: The Doobie Brothers were playing at the Orleans, where I saw Neil Sedaka, a radio station was giving away tickets to Steely Dan for tomorrow night, and the musical Annie was also in town. I offered to head right over to the Orleans but Hunnybear wasn’t that into concerts except for Prince and Michael Jackson. She said she’d go see Steely Dan, a favorite of both of ours, so I said we’d see if there are any tickets left for tomorrow’s show as long as it doesn’t interfere with my eating.

Voodoo

I got into the left-turn lane for Mandalay Bay and Hunnybear squealed appropriately. “I told you there’d be a beach,” I said. She had expressed an interest in the mammoth wave pool with sandy beach I told her about last time I was here with Dave Rottweiller the Zip-Code Man.

The valet parking suffered terminal artery cloggage just as we arrived, though, and we sat there unmoving for five minutes so I dropped her off with the luggage and self-parked it. Friday night is a crowded time to check into Las Vegas. I parked, walked through the casino, and rendezvoused with Hunnybear back at the lobby. As directed when I reserved the room through the casino host, we headed for the Invited Guest line even though there was no line anywhere. The agent checked us into a room on the fabled House of Blues floor, 34, the highest floor that the regular elevators go to. Floors 35-39 are the Four Seasons, serviced by separate elevators from the separate lobby, and the top floor is serviced by a roped-off elevator exclusively for high rollers. Although it’s the 40th floor, with the epitome of Vegas hype it’s called floor 60.

Mandalay Bay is just a beautiful hotel with great attention to detail. The House of Blues floor is decorated in early voodoo with a leopard-skin carpet in the hallway and delicious New Orleans art in the rooms. As I had requested we had a full view of the airport with just enough of the strip to see the MGM lion. Most people would prefer the full strip view, I think, but I’m happy with either. We had a full marble bath with Jacuzzi tub and a nice firm king bed. The television was in a gorgeous walnut armoire and we watched the end of the Lakers game before heading down for dinner.

Perestroika

Our table at Red Square wasn’t quite ready so we played a little Monopoly to wait, only losing $7.05 thanks to a fair bonus round at the end. We returned and were seated upstairs in the non-smoking area. The atmosphere is comfortable and loud with quite a scene at the fabled ice bar and Russian posters decorating the walls. Our waitress came by with a warm greeting. “How are you tonight?” she asked. “Ochin Horrosho,” I said. I repeated it three times then finally determined her Russian was a little rusty. I asked for a recommendation on the more than 100 vodkas they stock here and she suggested a Russian potato vodka called Charodei. Hunnybear ordered a misty blue Zone melon-infused vodka martini with Midori. My drink inexplicably arrived with olives in it but was instantly replaced by a fresh one brought by the smiling and apologetic manager. It was superb. It had the potato taste of Stolichnaya without the kerosene aftertaste. When I was done I asked for a second potato vodka and she brought this time a Polish one called Posejdon, which was also good but not quite as sublime as the first.

I ordered the $58 tasting menu while the less-ambitious Hunnybear had a spinach-arugula salad and Australian rack of lamb, which was sublime if pricey at $36. Since I was paying it took some arm-twisting to get her to order the most expensive thing on the menu but I knew she loved lamb so she finally gave in. My dinner started with a delicious tuna puff pastry with American sturgeon caviar. Next came a salad of minced duck meat and diced potatoes served steaming hot. My main course was their signature filet mignon, done to perfection seared with a warm center and served on a bed of spinach and sliced portabellos with a red wine demiglace.

As a rule I don’t eat dessert but it was included with the prix-fixe dinner. I did, however, substitute for the molten chocolate cake and instead got the Chocolate Trilogy, a phenomenal dessert shaped like a Russian missile. The launch pad was a chocolate cookie with chocolate ice cream, all dipped in chocolate and frozen. Atop the cookie was a tall dark chocolate cylinder containing, from bottom to top, flourless white-chocolate layer cake, chocolate mousse, and chocolate tiramisu forming the nose cone. The whole thing was covered with dark-chocolate shavings. This excellent dinner came to just under $150 before tip for the two of us, including $5.25 for a bottle of San Pellegrino. It was after midnight by this time so we crashed.


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[This message has been edited by QuietLion (edited 06-10-2000).]