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City Cast Las Vegas

Celebrating the offbeat side of Las Vegas.

You may have ideas along these lines, too. Don’t be shy: 

It’s been a week of readjustment. For some, it’s the results of an era-defining election. For all, it’s the autumn ritual of turning back the clock on Daylight Saving Time.

It’s a practice I’ve hated for years. We all seem to agree the summer hours are best — right? — when you can drive home in daylight instead of darkness after a long workday. Why not keep ‘em year-round?

 to do just that. But like everything in Washington, it’s a victim of gridlock. Lawmakers can’t even agree to agree.

Our swing state neighbors in Arizona figured it out years ago, opting to neither “spring forward” nor “fall back” at all. Why doesn’t Nevada join them? Actually, our tourist-driven economy 

. The Golden State would have to do it first — and Californians can’t even decide on vegetables at a farmers market.

So, like many others this week, I chose not to lose my mind over things I can’t change. I’m embracing the winter hours, shifting from night owl to early riser. It’s morning in America again — or at least at Rob’s house, where I got up early this week to walk around a neighborhood park, put together some patio furniture I ordered online weeks ago, and bring my laptop to UnCommons to 

The morning blast of sunshine felt best on Wednesday morning. I was up late on Election Night, watching the results, updating the newsletter, and squeezing in a couple hours of sleep before rising at 5:30 a.m. to make sure the information was still correct before it arrived in your inbox.

That’s when I took a moment to sit in the backyard, sip on some coffee, and decompress. As interim executive producer Layla Muhammad pointed out, absorbing sunlight first thing in the morning helps 

 — setting our bodies up for a productive workday and a night of deep sleep.

Everybody hates to "fall back" and turn back the clocks. I used to be that way too, but I'm embracing it now.

How to Let Go of Daylight Saving Time

Giving In and Letting Go of Daylight Saving Time

Celebrating the offbeat side of Las Vegas. Profiling the people, places, and things that make Vegas unique.

The Las Vegas Appreciation Index

The Appreciation Index

We were walking south from the Arts District along 3rd Street to Dino’s Lounge for karaoke on Saturday night around 10:30 p.m. when we first saw 

A man in a suit with a couple of high-energy friends was walking along the median sidewalk holding the strings to a floating bouquet of red balloons high over his head. Easily marked a noteworthy variation of the oft-spied 

In the Dino’s parking lot, we spied a large, black transport car with words suggesting it was some manner of official “tour” vehicle. Hmmm. Greeted by “Tiny” at the door, we walked into the familiar smoke-filled bar to a wobbly rendition of some song or other. A quick wave to our favorite bartender, Orlando, and Kristen, the owner, both hustling hard behind the bar. 

Quickly, we noticed a hubbub outside. Also, not uncommon at Dino’s, but this time it was that same fella from the street, now with a single, red balloon. It was pretty clear this wasn’t an ordinary patron or tourist, but a 

. Somebodies give off a vibe, this guy was vibing. A little math, consulting with others and brain work, I was at that point in the know of only a handful of people that this was Chris Martin of Coldplay.

As it turns out, it wasn’t completely random: Martin and his crew were intending on filming 

. One set up a tripod, another had him practice an entrance. And then he walked in. A murmur in the crowd was noticeable — maybe more because he was holding a balloon than recognition. Donning a wig and outlandish fake glasses, the suit was distractingly unkept, though still proper. The man got a glass of milk from the bar and sat at an empty table to watch the karaoke. He politely clapped after one person got the room to sing along to Green Day. Then the announcement came: “Chris, you’re up next.”

And the man, who clearly was about to get onstage and sing a Coldplay song to a (mostly) unsuspecting audience with a balloon in hand, did just that. And while I’d hoped for a karaoke standard — Coldplay has their share — it turned out to be a beautiful rendition of the band’s newest song, “All My Love.” The high notes, really the whole voice, unmistakeable. And while there have been some remarkable singers at Dino's on any given night, this was Chris Martin singing his lame-disguised, silly-ballooned heart out. Near the end of the lilting tune, a woman from the crowd, who clearly recognized Martin, approached him after he gave her an okay nod to do so. He wished her something well, then he gave her a hug — and the balloon.

By song’s end, almost all the crowd had figured out the gag — cell phones out, cheering and smiles, and in gratitude Martin tossed off the glasses and wig revealing himself to the unsuspecting remaining few , and then disappeared into the night — a quick stop for some selfies with fans and into that tour transport.

I talked with owner Kristen Bartolo who said it all came about fast. She got word he wanted to come, she said “Great,” and then it just happened. Afterwards, she told me how nice he and his folks were and how it was a special night. As we stepped outside to see Chris drive away, we heard the convergence of folks who had clearly moved on with a singalong, rip-it-up version of The Killers’ “Mr. Brightside.” Another karaoke night at Dino’s.

City Cast Las Vegas co-host Dayvid Figler shares a firsthand account of watching a rock star prank the karaoke crowd at Dino's.

Chris Martin of Coldplay Performs Karaoke in Disguise in Las Vegas

Chris Martin of Coldplay Performs Karaoke Undercover in Las Vegas

Hang around Las Vegas long enough and you’ll figure it out: Every hotel or casino seems to have its own distinctive smell.

I first noticed it when the SLS opened in 2014. I “covered” the grand opening — a free-for-all celebration of food and drinks throughout the property — and always thought back to that night whenever I returned and caught a whiff of the casino’s unique aroma. In the years since, the property has changed hands, undergone renovations, and reverted back to its original Sahara name. And yes, the scent has changed too. It’s a much better resort now — but I kinda miss the SLS. I think the smell has something to do with it.

The concept of pumping scents throughout casinos dates back to 1996 when the Monte Carlo became the first commercial building in the United States approved to diffuse an odor among visitors without their consent. That sounds a bit sinister, but the pomegranate and sage combo proved to be a winner.

The practice spread quickly. When the Venetian opened in 1999, a scent named Seduction was used, modeled after then-owner Sheldon Adelson’s cologne. A few years later, the resort switched to a woodsy burnt orange recipe that was more on-brand for its Italian theme.

If some scents seem familiar, you’re not imagining things. MGM Resorts uses Asian Garden as its standard scent — an ambient, floral smell with notes of vanilla and linens to produce a comfortable, cozy, at-home feel. However, the same scent might smell one way at the Aria and another at the MGM Grand — based on the surroundings and environmental influences. (This is one of the reasons you can’t copyright a smell.)

The Bellagio is an MGM property that breaks the pattern, opting for its own strong cedar-citrus scent in the casino and a lighter, floral, cucumber-melon blend for its VIP check-in area and spa.

, one of the leading companies in the world for environmental scenting. The business develops diffusers that are connected to an HVAC system, mixing compressed cold air with fragrance molecules for a dry mist that provides even coverage with refills serviced once or twice a year.

While casinos are often the last refuge for smokers, the scents aren’t about masking cigarettes. They’re about improving the feel and tone of an environment. Research shows that gambling increased by more than 40% when certain scents were added and people are 100 times more likely to remember a scent than something seen, heard, or touched.

So maybe that’s why I was so fond of the SLS. Funny enough, the scent was originally designed for the Central Church megachurch in Henderson — an amber fragrance with touches of frankincense and myrrh (of course!) — but repurposed for the then-new resort.

In a similar twist of fate, a scent named Allure Noir was originally produced for Magic Mike Live at the old Hard Rock, but the Cromwell adopted it, believing the masculine scent of bourbon, leather, dark wood, tobacco, and florals fit the image of the boutique hotel.

I learned some of these fun facts by talking with the CEO of 

, a company with its own extensive history of scenting casinos and other businesses — which now sells those same formulas to the public, either online or at the company’s 

 near the Strip by Valley View and Russell. I may need to pay a visit and take a virtual tour of Las Vegas, one sniff at a time. The SLS may be gone, but I’m tempted to bring that scent — and the feeling of opening night — back home with me.

Why do casinos have their own scents?

The Allure of Casino Scents

My mom was a bingo fiend. Out of all the Vegas gambling available in the ‘70s and ‘80s, bobbling balls and the monotone reciting of numbers was her siren call.

She’d coordinate every new session with her buddy Edith from the apartment complex. Back home and reeking of their own cigarette smoke, they’d relive the experience over coffee (and more cigarettes), discussing the big win they had to split multiple ways because EVERYONE hit on the same final number or how they were “cased” (one number short of victory) so many times only to fall.

Security wasn’t super tight back then. Even underage, I’d scoot into the Paddlewheel or El Rancho and sit in awe of my mom and other ladies tracking the columns of cardboard and gel-playing boards with red manicured nails like a telemarketer scanning a directory for the right mark.

Over the years, I’ve had hipster friends who love the goof of a good bingo night, fueled by cocktails and the thrill of screaming “BINGO!” to the disdain of longtime regulars. I joined in once and chose electronic cards, which I found boring because they do all the work, even including the “beep” when you win. My friends derided my choice, opting for hands-on paper sheets and bringing their own collection of campy daubers (hand-held markers) to do the deed.

Next time would be different. Inspired by a suggestion in the recent 

 episode of City Cast Las Vegas, I chose bingo at the Plaza for my latest birthday celebration. You get a free card on your big day — and who doesn’t love a 

!? I had one condition though: paper and dauber. This needed to be an activity!

The numbers came fast and furious. We bought far too many cards and were struggling to keep up. My mother-in-law gasped at the pace, prompting a fast-acting “bingo agent” to explain that acclimation will happen and being overwhelmed was common. We didn’t win, though there was a moment when one of us mistakenly yelled “bingo” — because 

, just not the right one for that particular configuration. (Note: this isn’t your classic, five-across bingo. Nowadays they run patterns like “Large Crazy Kite” and “Flyswatter and Fly”). Cocktails and a light joke about “practice bingo” helped ease the temporary mortification.

Our table was a mess with enough discarded sheets of colorful ink blots to make Rorschach blush, but we left happy. For the first time, I understood my mom’s devotion to this old-school game and why it’s endured. A little risk, mania, time away from the world, and maybe the thrill (with bonus cash) of yelling “BINGO” in a crowded room — for real.

City Cast Las Vegas co-host Dayvid Figler looks back on the legacy of bingo in Las Vegas (and how to do it right).

Looking Back Fondly on Bingo in Las Vegas

Bingo Evolves, but the Appeal Is Timeless

I first met Dr. Robert Rock Belliveau two years after his wife, Rita Deanin Abbey, passed away. He spoke about his late spouse in glowing terms, his voice emotional as tears filled his eyes. “The fact that she's not here now, this tears me up,” he said.

Their 40-year relationship was the love story that built the 

, a magnificent 10,500-square-foot gallery next to the couple’s home in the Northwest Valley. Rita was a UNLV art professor whose creativity was limited only by her imagination and ambition.

While browsing the rooms and corridors, it’s hard to believe the museum features the work of just one artist. Paintings and drawings are displayed alongside sculptures, murals, and large-format pieces — including a few in an outdoor courtyard — created with a variety of materials and inspiration from Nevada’s desert environment.

I met Robert again a few months later when I brought my parents to see the museum. He was very friendly though quiet, resting often, using his walker as a chair. In many ways, Dr. Belliveau was a caretaker of sorts, overseeing the legacy of his wife, absorbing her presence in every piece on display.

Robert couldn’t narrow the exhibit down to favorites. He was drawn to different pieces depending on the day and mood. Sometimes, he’d sit and admire a single work for up to 30 minutes at a time. "Artists like my wife look at a different world than you and I do — and see things that would never occur to us," he told me.

However, Robert was an artist in his own right — a botanist whose intricate plant photography was featured in the pages of the New York Times and Smithsonian as well as a Springs Preserve exhibition. Leading a full and rewarding life, the doctor served his country as a captain in the Air Force, founded his own Las Vegas practice in 1963, and was chief pathologist at UMC for more than 25 years.

Yet Robert was more interested in his wife’s spotlight than his own. The two were married in 1985 and built a desert estate on 10 acres in a remote area that eventually saw Las Vegas development grow and catch up with them. The couple supported arts in the community and planned the museum to preserve Rita’s legacy and share it with the public. She passed away shortly before it opened.

Robert took an active role in finishing the museum and has much to be proud of, even as he now lets go of it.

Dr. Robert Rock Belliveau died at 92 years old on July 3 and is reunited with Rita. I’ll remember meeting him at the museum and seeing his love and passion for all it represented. Robert was already in heaven. He was just missing the person he wanted to share it with the most.

The Rita Deanin Abbey Art Museum welcomes guests 

 and is well worth a visit. Tickets begin at $15.

Remembering Dr. Robert Rock Belliveau, the co-founder of the Rita Deanin Abbey Art Museum.  

 Rita Deanin Abbey Art Museum Co-Founder Dr. Robert Rock Belliveau Dies

The Doctor Who Finished His Late Wife's Art Museum

 on Interstate 15 is a sharp contrast to the joy I usually experience driving between Las Vegas and Southern California.

It’s a reliable routine. Leave on a Thursday or Friday. Spend a few days on or near the beach somewhere along the Pacific Coast. Then drive back to Vegas on a Sunday afternoon. It’s an easy, breezy drive without a care in the world. I’m listening to my favorite podcast, powered by a tank full of (relatively) cheap California gasoline, and marveling to my wife about making “good time” between Victorville and 

I’m having the time of my life after a weekend vacation. I can't say the same for the traffic moving — or barely moving — in the opposite direction. I usually notice it around Baker. It’s one of those perks of being a Las Vegan that nobody tells you about: the joy of watching Californians battle congestion while returning home after blowing on their money at the Vegas casinos.

I relish in their misery. It’s not me! I ease down harder on the pedal, pushing the car past the speed limit while sipping on a tall, frosted travel mug of schadenfreude — and maybe a Monster energy drink I picked up at 

But while those drivers grapple with the progressive stages of road rage — denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance — I’m overcome with another emotion. Gratitude. Not just for my 4 hour, 22-minute drive, but for the crowds of tourists spending money in my hometown while I was away.

Vegas will continue to be driven and funded by the travel dollars of visitors for the foreseeable future. They’re the reason we have rapid development, a thriving economy, and a booming job market while other cities see their employment numbers move in the opposite direction (as the editor of 

If Portland is going to envy Las Vegas — at least in a few departments — I’m going to appreciate Las Vegas and the visitors who continue to spend money here. On my last drive home on Interstate 15, I recall thinking, “If each person stuck in those cars on the other side of the highway spent just $100 in Vegas over the weekend, that’s a huge amount of money.”

than a hundred bucks (especially if they caught a 

.) So, cheers, departing tourist 🥂 I hate to see you go, but I love to watch you leave.

It’s fun to watch other drivers stuck in traffic — especially if they’re Californians. 


One-Way Traffic Jams Between Las Vegas and Los Angeles

The Joy of Driving Back to Vegas from L.A.

City Cast Las Vegas co-host Dayvid Figler shares the following advice on the best way to return home after a well-deserved holiday break.

I recently spent a week on vacation in the Pacific Northwest. It was a magical time of high-60s and pristine water all around. We even took a ferry to Victoria, British Columbia and saw a pod of orcas. It was truly heaven to be reminded of the cooler environments, aquatic bliss, and general non-Vegasness possible in the summertime. There was a steady teetering throughout the vacation from “We’ll never go back” to “Ugh, we have to go back.”

You know what’s coming. It’s confirmed the moment you step off the plane and feel the Las Vegas tarmac doing what it does worst. It’s reiterated when you pass through the sliding doors at Harry Reid International Airport to the passenger pickup. You’re back in hell! So do you just go home and return to summer survival mode?

In our case: No. A hack we discovered a few years back is to book a single night in a local hotel upon return. A nice one. Pack an extra bag just for the overnighter. If you can plan a show on property — in our case, Garth Brooks at Caesars Palace — do that too. This gentle, but admittedly decadent re-acclimation to Vegas is an ideal way to adjust the mindset and ease back into the fever-display outside. You forgo the immediate responsibilities of daily life, while enjoying a clean multi-head shower, the joy of superblast air conditioning, a pool, and great restaurants without a thought about standing in front of a hot stove.

You’re still technically on vacation — but not really. You’re home, you get it, you understand that tomorrow won’t be as wonderful, but it's a little less jarring than going from orcas to arid without that needed transition. You support the local economy, buy another day to adjust, and honestly, have time to reflect on the notion that no matter how great the rest of the world may be, Las Vegas is still the best, most wonderful 

The best way to wrap up a vacation? With another vacation. Dayvid Figler explains. 

The Coming Back Hack

How to Master the Coming Back Hack

 for no particular reason. Killing time in between rows of plants, flowers, and trees is like visiting an “instant park” with fresh air, new smells, and scenery that contrast sharply with the urban landscape outside.

It’s quiet and calm from the moment I walk through the front door. And there’s something comforting about the subtle scent of fertilizer and plant food that greets each customer. But the backlot is where the greenery is — and a welcome change of pace as Las Vegas continues to set heat records. You see some of the familiar staples of desert landscaping: varieties of cacti, agave plants, and succulents as well as the ever-present Lantanas in a choice of colors.

Do I know much about plants? I bought a few from Star Nursery while designing our backyard and I’ve already forgotten their names. (The exception is the Mexican lime tree in the corner, which has yet to grow any limes.) The layout is a bit haphazard with a few surprises, including fruit trees and grapevines advertising the likes of Zinfandel, Merlot, and Chardonnay — although fantasies of making wine with my own grapes drift away almost immediately. I’m not here to work. I’m here to relax. (And we’ve got 

 feels more like an attraction. You’re greeted by metal dinosaur sculptures and the engaging aroma of hibiscus and rose bushes that line the entrance. The stairs descend to a huge 12-acre lot — dense, lush, and full of vegetation you won’t see anywhere else in Vegas. You could almost get lost in the aisle-like walkways between the towering trees that dominate the business. Moon Valley Nurseries, a Phoenix-based chain, is actually the largest grower of box trees in the United States with 300,000 sold annually.

For now, I’ll stick with my stubborn Mexican Lime tree, but I’ll continue to visit these nurseries in Las Vegas. Sometimes you need a splash of nature to interrupt your daily desert routine.

Walking among aisles of plants and trees is a summertime escape from the heat and urban landscape that dominates Las Vegas. 

Nurseries in Las Vegas for Calm and Zen

Getting Lost in Your Thoughts with Plants and Trees at Local Nurseries

I didn’t care much for Celine Dion during her mid-’90s heyday. While she was singing ballads about love, loss, and sinking cruise ships, the multi-disc CD changer in the trunk of my car was packed with albums by the likes of Van Halen and Alice in Chains. Power chords and distortion were the soundtrack to my youthful angst.

Years later, I no longer operate compact discs from my trunk, but I still don’t have a Celine Dion playlist on Spotify. Yet something’s missing. Las Vegas isn’t quite right without Celine Dion around. I’m even more sure of it now that the singer’s back in the spotlight to promote the release of a new documentary: 

 which chronicles her career and the medical condition (“Stiff Person's Disease”) that derailed it.

We talk a lot about the American dream, but in many ways, Celine Dion represents the Las Vegas dream. The Québec-born singer sold more than 200 million records, grew into a global concert attraction, and at the height of her drawing power, came to Las Vegas and showed that a Strip residency wasn’t something reserved for a career downswing.

She performed more than 1,141 shows between 2003 and 2019 at Caesars Palace, setting an example for the likes of Bruno Mars and Adele on the Strip. But while performers come and go, Celine Dion never left. She continues to raise her kids at the Lake Las Vegas home she bought with late husband René Angélil in 2003.

The star was set to launch a new residency with the opening of Resorts World (at a theater she helped design), but never took the stage. She has been unable to perform in public since 2020, yet a 

 suggests a comeback of some sort is in the works — and watching Celine 

sing an impromptu “Don’t Worry, Be Happy”

 in the courtyard of the Lake Las Vegas Hilton made even this inner metalhead smile.

I’ll watch the new documentary and maybe one day, I’ll watch Celine Dion perform again onstage. She represents the best of Las Vegas and is giving what she can to fans — first her talent, now her vulnerability — in a way all of us should admire.

Celine Dion hasn't performed in public since 2020, but the singer remains an inspiration in the Las Vegas community. 

Celine Dion Returns with a New Documentary

A True Las Vegas Canadian 

City Cast Las Vegas co-host Dayvid Figler shares some thoughts on how former Las Vegans often view their old hometown upon returning.

My younger sister, who was born and raised here, left Las Vegas for good around 2002. A lot of people leave Las Vegas. It’s something we get used to. But the ones who grew up here and then leave are my favorites.

Think of it this way: The traditional way to cook a lobster is to bring it to a slow boil. Then, it becomes dinner. A lobster never knows what hit it and all it can remember is a nice bath. That’s me, a lifelong Las Vegan. 

 Las Vegans, on the other hand, escaped the tank. When they come back, they notice everything with clear eyes: what used to exist, but doesn’t anymore. How people once engaged with the city, but don’t anymore. At least not in the same way.

Specific example: When I drive around with my sister on a visit, she’ll point out, “Oh, the Enigma Garden Café (4th and Charleston) is totally gone,” or “Remember when you did a show at the Fremont Street Reggae & Blues Club?” or “I miss the Mariposa.” (A café on Paradise near Trop).

Oh, I miss those things, too, sis! Honestly, the details are dim if not forgotten. But the people who once lived here and have the mental snapshots 

It's true for all my old friends, too. When they come back, it could be the corner doctor’s office or a quirky furniture outlet. Funky local characters who used to sit on the back stairs near the Café Roma by UNLV or the real splendor of hotels long imploded. A downtown music venue called Tongue & Groove off Ogden!

As present-day locals complain about things like parking fees, the people who used to live here say, “Parking garages? I remember when your car baked in the sun on the asphalt in front of the casino!” It’s perspective. It’s a view from our former selves we should celebrate as we piece together where we’ve been, what we’ve become, and who we really are.