Friday, April 7, 1 a.m. Don't ask me because I have absolutely no idea what the DJ is saying. But this is not a fish-out-of-water story or even a worm-out-of-the-tequila one. I've participated in many a Latin night since arriving in Vegas. I've run them, attended them, salsa'd my way across my partner's feet and still I find one thing is constant: Where there is Latin music, there is energy. In fact, I could hear that energy—a deep, thundering bass—all the way down the hall as we made our way through MGM's Studio Walk towards Diego.
How does a party just spring up in a restaurant? Well, how does an oasis form in the desert? The answer is organically, naturally. One magical night after an Oscar de la Hoya fight at the Grand Garden Arena in September of 2004, spirited fans found their way to Diego and partied late into the night at the bar. With a little revamping, the all-new Latin Late-Night, Vida, came to life.
Getting people to schlep through a megaresort for any reason is difficult enough. But those who do make the journey are rewarded. Upon entering, we pass a peaceful, dribbling water-wall into Diego's vibrant red interior, ornamental windows and stairs, and sultry red pendent lights that give everyone a radiant, healthy glow.
All the action is concentrated at the restaurant's bar, upon which the bartenders periodically dance. The DJ makes some reference to them, which whips the crowd into a frenzy, but while I know four languages, none is Spanish. I fear he says something like, "Hey everybody, don't all look at once, but check out the gringa in the blazer! She can't even shake her bon-bon!" Thankfully, they are too busy watching the shirtless bartender shake it like a salt shaker to be concerned with any culo but his.
The colorful environment inspires me to doff my No Girly Drink policy. I order a Frida, one of Vida's two signature drinks, which pairs strawberry- and pineapple-infused Patron with freshly squeezed lime juice and served on the rocks in a frosty wine goblet. The Diego margarita is a lime-y version of the same. And with no sticky-sweet fruit juices to tempt the vindictive hangover gods, this divine drink goes down way too easily.
I sit back, sip and survey.
From across the bar, a man spots a beautiful girl. She is surrounded by her girlfriends, all pointing in different directions on the lookout. He pounds the rest of his drink and slowly approaches the group, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. He smoothly compliments her friends, all the while keeping a possessive eye on his prize. Then he frees her like a precious diamond and she lets him guide her to the dance floor. It's an idyllic, gentle, storybook scene—for a moment. Then they find the beat, she latches onto his rear with two hands and they're off! Riding the pony, humping, practically rounding bases on the dance floor. I nearly choke on my drink.
They drift into the sea of other couples while I get a music lesson from DJ Lian (a.k.a., Gabe Granadoz): "Regional Mexican ballads are equivalent to country, rock or pop en Espanol is your top 40, and salsa and meringue are like jazz." In a mainstream club, the DJ generally focuses on one musical genre but Lian and DJs Neto and Panic must blend them all to attract the Latin crowd. "I'd also like to see nightclub people who want to get away from the norm party here."
Inspecting the bottom of my glass for any of the doctored Patron I may have missed, I ask Diego manager Pablo Astardjian his favorite feature of the room. "The ambience, the color of the room—it makes the whole place a great spot to have fun and enjoy yourself dancing. I think in one year, if we do things right, this will be the spot to be for Latin music." Strong words, but what will make it succeed? "Because it's the MGM. And because I'm here," he adds slyly, then crumbles into laughter. "I'm just kidding! Don't print that ...."
Xania Woodman thinks globally and parties locally. And frequently. E-mail her at
[email protected] and visit
www.TheCircuitLV.com to sign up for Xania's free weekly newsletter.