Let's get a few things straight from the start. I do not claim to be an expert of any kind on martinis. I can only say I know a good one when I taste it. Also my martini of choice differs from the recipe in the highly recommended Mr. Boston's Bartender's Guide. My martinis are made with lime, not gin. Gin martinis are only drunk by people who have never tasted a proper vodka martini. Trust me on this. Also, forget about those olives. Who the hell LIKES those things anyway? No, my martini of choice contains a singularly exquisite slice of lime. Not a wedge, but a slice.

Straight up (no ice) is the best way to enjoy it, but sadly many venues lack the necessary barware (the traditional triangular glass and stainless steel shaker) to serve a properly chilled martini. This being the case, "on the rocks" will have to do. But such carelessness will reflect poorly in my ratings book.

Speaking of ratings, the Las Vegas martinis listed here have been rated anywhere from one to five glasses:

Humble Beginnings: Wednesday Night.

After an outstanding limousine ride from the airport, we arrived at our new home, Caesar's Palace. Since we arrived fairly late at Caesar's and were attempting to swing with a two hour time difference working against us, we decided to make it a quiet evening and gamble there at one of the two casinos in the hotel. After losing $100 in ten minutes, I thought it might be a perfect time to begin my martini quest at the Emperor's Lounge located next to the gaming tables. This way I could enjoy the first of many martinis while also taking in a stunning view of Gregg,

Mike, and Jimmy getting spanked at the craps tables. After later rejoining them, the tunic-clad waitresses had no qualms about bringing more martinis to the table for me. Sadly, all were served on the rocks and all were quite weak. But at least they were free. Free, that is, until you begin to count the thousands of dollars we collectively lost at the table that night.

Caesar's Emperor's Lounge

Caesar's Tables

Paradise Found: Thursday Night.

I tend not to drink martinis during the daylight hours. Don't get me wrong, I'm all for excessive drinking in the morning and afternoon. I just tend to gravitate toward fruitier drinks then, such as the Screwdriver or Salty Dog. The juice in these drinks is an excellent source of vitamin C, necessary to sustain long days and night of drinking hard liquor without eating. So, each day, my quest did not resume until the evening hours, following hard days of massages, hot tubs, gambling, and drinks by the hotel pool. On this particular night we all dressed to the nines (as is our custom) and clutched in our hands four tickets to see Wayne Newton at the MCG Grand Casino. Because it was his birthday, Mike chose to eat dinner there before the show. Smart call, because it allowed Jimmy and Gregg to stumble on to one of the best dining experiences of the whole trip: the Brown Derby. Not only was the atmosphere in the bar and the restaurant outstanding "old school" Las Vegas, they had a bartender who had clearly been making martinis years. I was giddy from the first sip, and I wondered - would they all be as good as this?

Brown Derby Restaurant

After the Wayne Newton show finished (and I vowed to begin psychotherapy so that I might better understand it) we headed across the street to the New York, New York Casino to try our luck at the craps tables there. I was quick to order a martini at the tables and take a bite out of this Big Apple. Yuck. Downright wormy. We had the same luck at the tables as we did with the drinks: bad.

New York, New York Tables

Clearly, it was time to regroup. Mike and Jimmy were losing money faster than a stripper loses her g-string, and the good vibes were simply not happening. A break was needed. We had heard about a lounge on the second floor of New York, New York called Hamilton's, owned by the frighteningly over-tan actor of the same name. Although the lounge combo was annoyingly loud for the room, (not that any of US were ever guilty of that) everyone was dressed like us: suits and cocktail dresses. Sadly, I had left all my cocktail dresses at home - they don't travel well. The dark décor blended well with the cigar smoke. This could be IT, I thought, though it would take a lot to top the Brown Derby. It came awfully close, but the Derby was still superior. However, I ended up rating them the same as the Derby. What won me over? As each of us ordered our respective drinks, we were each asked which brand of liquor we preferred. In my case, Stoli, Absolut, or Smirinoff were my choices. This place had NO "house brand" of liquor! Only the best ingredients were used ALL drinks. Such attention to detail pushed them over the top to give them a rating equal to the Brown Derby.

Hamilton's Lounge

I may have gotten lucky with the drinks that night, but that luck was most definitely NOT rubbing off on any of the gambling we were doing. We decided to call it a night. Of course going "home" can mean only one thing: more gambling at Caesar's before bed. I watched the other three lose more money while sitting quietly at the Emperor's Bar nursing three or four more bad martinis. By three A.M., I was ready to call it a morning.

"I Will Beat This Town.": Friday Night

How many people return from Las Vegas with the lament, "I should have quit while I was ahead"? Well, count me among them. Even though I had sampled not one but TWO fantastic martinis the previous evening, I was not content to leave well enough alone. Like the blackjack player who finds himself winning big, I was sure that the more I bet, the more I would win. The fact that both martinis were served to me in the same night led me to believe that top-notch martinis were EVERYWHERE in this town - I just had to keep trying them everyplace I went. It made sense at the time.

Really. Besides, it kept me occupied enough to prevent me from gambling and losing more money. The more I drank, the harder it was for me to remember the PIN number of my ATM card. Before dinner, we wanted to check out another place we heard about called the Sky Lounge. This bar was located at the top of the Polo Towers Hotel that, oddly enough, didn't include a casino. We found it didn't include a lot of other things either, like fresh paint, friendly service, or an easy way to hail a taxi. Nonetheless, as we rode the elevators up to the Sky Lounge our expectations were as high as the bar itself. The Sky Lounge's biggest claim to fame is its near-panoramic view of the city's skyline from the very top of the Polo Towers. Unfortunately for us, we arrived around 5:30 in the afternoon - "happy hour" to be sure, but also the hour when the sun shines in all the windows and the room heats up like a pottery kiln. Despite this, the martinis were quite cold and delicious.

Too bad I had to enjoy them with my sunglasses on. I think lounges should ALWAYS be smoky and dark, but the fact that it's open 24 hours and serves up a damn fine drink all that time gives the Sky Bar a solid rating:

Polo Towers Sky Bar

Ah, the pleasures of an expensive Italian meal. After finally leaving the Sky Bar, we taxied to a casino called Rio. Inside Rio was a delightful Italian restaurant called "?????" Outstanding food, good atmosphere, and excellent service. And the martinis? Most respectable.  Though I prefer mine chilled just a bit more, that still didn't stop me from ordering two additional ones before the bill came.

"?????" Restaurant

Time for more gambling at Rio! Okay, they gambled; I watched. But that was okay, because the thong-wearing waitresses at Rio were happy to bring me drinks at the table even though I wasn't playing - as long as I tipped them. The best tip? Don't bother with the martinis at the Rio tables.

Rio Tables

All was not lost, however. Just to one side of the tables where Gregg was getting the pants beat off him in blackjack was a small lounge called, appropriately enough, Martinis. How could I not stop to try a place with a name like that? Besides, I was feeling emboldened by the previous five martinis. Leaving Gregg to his punishment, I hopped up to the emptiest bar stool and ordered a couple rounds for myself. The quality? Not at all shabby, but still nothing compared to what I had the previous night.

Rio Martinis

We eventually high tailed it out of Rio and moved on to the Luxor. Ah, the great pyramid of Las Vegas. Just like ancient Egypt, if the Egyptians were all neon crafters. We headed to the tables. Jimmy grabbed a fistful of green chips. I grabbed a waitress and ordered a martini. My low expectations of table drinks were more than met:

Luxor Tables

I then moved on solo to the Luxor Lounge. After all, I wasn't bringing any luck to the other three by being at the tables - they were losing as fast as ever. So, I sauntered over to the bar/lounge and had a seat. Lou, the gruff but still loveable bartender, assured me that he had been tending bar at the Luxor since it first opened and knew his way around a martini glass. He wasn't lying. With only the most primitive ingredients and tools to work with, Lou managed to make a vodka martini formidable enough to cause me to order two more in rapid succession. Hats off to you, Lou. You were the beginning of the end of my night.

Luxor Lounge

By the time I met up with the rest of the boys, I was feeling rather relaxed. But unfortunately for them, their luck had gone form bad to ridiculously bad. We all turned to Jimmy, the Vegas veteran, to pull us out of our slump. Two strange words came out of his mouth: Barbary Coast.

So into the cab we piled and headed out to the less-than-Luxurious Barbary Coast Hotel and Casino. I don't think most of the patrons at the Barbary had ever seen ANY suit before, much less a bright purple one like the one I was wearing. But I took their open stares as admiration and envy just the same. We began playing blackjack, until I accidentally bent a playing card. Bad mistake. I've never seen pit bosses move so fast. It was like a feeding frenzy. They surveyed the situation, then finally decided NOT to smash my fingers with a hammer. Someone decided that it would be best if we left. We did, but not before I had the chance to sample tow dreadful martinis at the table:

Barbary Coast

From there it was a quick walk to the Flamingo. There were still martinis out there, and I intended to find them. But alas, no time for a martini at the Flamingo. We had just enough time for Mike to win $1000 on a slot machine I picked out for him. After all, what are friends for? It was approaching 4 A.M. at this point, and I had begun to burn out. I was almost out of money and had consumed somewhere in the neighborhood of 15 vodka martinis. Needless to say, my batteries were pretty low. We headed back to Caesar's for - guess what - more gambling!

For them, anyway. I was content to sit at the bar and have a nightcap. By this time, all those limes were getting to me, so I had switched to straight Stoli. I seem to recall a suggestion of breakfast, but my friends had decided that perhaps it was time for me to go to bed. Thanks, guys. You were right.  

Leaving Las Vegas: Saturday Night

My travelling companions wisely thought it best to let me sleep late the next morning. This turned out to be such a good idea that I decided to sleep in for most of the afternoon as well. When I finally met them downstairs in the Forum Casino, Gregg suggested we take it easy by the pool the rest of the afternoon. Who was I to argue?

Our final dinner took place at a steak and seafood place called Alan Albert's Steakhouse. We thought we had stumbled upon a genuine Las Vegas time capsule, until the waiter revealed that the restaurant had been open "a little over two years." (The fact that it was located in a strip mall should have been a dead giveaway.) Authenticity notwithstanding, it was there I enjoyed the most expensive meal of my life complimented by a most respectable couple of vodka martinis. Good as they were, the glass itself was tiny - and not at all chilled. This minor flaw hurt an otherwise outstanding drink in a well-recreated Vegas surrounding.

Alan Albert's

I was pretty much finished with gambling. My funds were running quite low, and I didn't feel like going into debt over the spin of a roulette wheel. So when we got to the Mirage, I was content to have a couple of mediocre table martinis and watch the volcano that explodes in front of the casino every 15 minutes - how can you beat that for cheap entertainment?

Mirage Tables

The Treasure Island Casino was right across the street, and since my cousin Debbie had given me a few of this casino's chips for luck, we decided to give it a try. The place was mobbed, and once again our smart suits clashed against the other patrons' less formal attire. If we had any amount of luck it was in our timing: all the tables changed from $10 to $25 minimums just AFTER we sat down, and we were "grandfathered" in. That made the mediocre table drinks a little easier to swallow:

Treasure Island Tables

Everyone said, "Go to the Stratosphere Lounge for martinis. It's a popular place." Yeah, popular. So was the plague. As Mike put it, "this place is like a Wal-Mart with slot machines." We rode the elevator up to the lounge and were treated to a spectacular view of the city. But this view was marred by the lousy service. The tortoise-like waitress couldn't remember if I wanted lime or olive, so she brought both. "That's okay," I grumbled, "I ordered it a long time ago." That got me a punch in the arm from Gregg. The martini? Not bad, really. The glass itself was the coolest piece of barware I saw the entire trip. But the martini's taste was flattened by the service.

Stratosphere Skylounge

By now, it was approaching 3 A.M. Jimmy suggested the Desert Inn, a classy place if ever there was one. I remembered Frank Sinatra's advice on drinking: don't hurt yourself, Charlie. So I sipped Coke while we all played blackjack - and for once, we all won! So we decided to head back to Caesar's...and gamble more.

Remembering the absolutely brutal hangover I had on the plane last time we left Las Vegas, I opted to have only one final celebratory martini at our new favorite bar in Caesar's, nicknamed the "Black Ace Bar." Was it a worthwhile sendoff? Not really, no. But be cause I knew it would be my last Vegas martini for at least the next 12 months, it did add certain sweetness to the vermouth.

Caesar's "Black Ace" Bar