Why a casino, you ask? Because the Barbary Coast has the only decent bar in its part of the Strip, a little slice of Fremont between Caesars and Bellagio—a place of free entertainment, cheap drinks, friendly tables and the one tourist-zone casino I'll actually hang out in. It's the only casino where you can see the outside from the tables, the only one where you can get from elevator to check-in to the tables within 30 seconds, the only one with the penny slots at the front.
It's also one of the most Vegas spots in Vegas. There's nothing more fun than picking up a friend from McCarran on a Thursday or Friday afternoon, no dropping off luggage, just head right for the neon, go four twists up the corkscrew ramp to the parking garage with the same breathtaking view of the Strip that Nomi Malone took in while munching an In-N-Out burger in Showgirls, so close that she could throw it up on the pink lights of the Flamingo afterward. Then down to the casino, along gaslight-studded walls papered in red velvet and gilt, through a maze of drunken PBR fans in cowboy hats hollering around the craps tables, the roulette tables, the poker tables, the blackjack tables. Brush past the waitress in a brocade bustier and foam neck brace and make a beeline for Big Elvis' corner, where a 400-pound man in a jumpsuit booms through "Suspicious Minds," as a procession of tipsy Midwestern housewives scuttle forward, throw their arms around him and then stumble, giggling, to the Bud Light, Louis Vuitton knockoff and paunchy husband back at the table.
Big Elvis, also known as Pete Vallee and billed as the "possible son of the late Elvis Presley," has been doing the afternoon show at the Barbary Coast for years. Big Elvis being very ... well .... big, does the whole show sitting down—the motion is supplied by a projection television flashing scenes from Viva Las Vegas and a series of tourists who are pressed into service to gyrate and shake maracas with varying degrees of effectiveness.
Tuesday nights are host Tom Stevens' Dean Martin tribute—which also includes a Tom Jones tribute, a Bobby Darin tribute, a Kenny Rogers tribute and even a Cher tribute. It makes one wish for a bit more Dean but, as a couple in matching green turtlenecks was heard to say while walking away after the last set, "We got as much outta that as the one we paid for." Other evening acts include the mandatory karaoke, the required chick-fronted country act—if she's brunette, she thinks she's Shania Twain; if she's blonde, she thinks she's Faith Hill, and this night would be the latter—and the de rigueur funk cover band, although here they all bear a creepy family resemblance and wear matching black velour and purple lamé outfits.
The Barbary Coast bar is a great place to kill time, be it morning, afternoon, evening or morning. The bar makes a 360-degree circle around a double pedestal of low-lit booze displayed in bulk—24 bottles of Tipperary Irish Cream—and offers a fine view of both the gaming and entertainment. The bartenders are cheerful and quick with a refill. If all of this were not lure enough, wait until the weather warms up again (I promise it will, someday). For during the summer—it might be the whole month of June, might be from Independence Day until the beginning of August, you never know just when—all domestic beers and well drinks are a dollar. But don't wait until then to spring the Barbary Coast on out-of-town visitors: The dancing waters can get tired, but you're never sick of Big Elvis.
Barbary Coast Casino, 3593 Las Vegas Blvd. S. at Flamingo Road, 737-7111.
Lissa Townsend Rodgers learned to make a martini at age 6. E-mail her at
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