Of all the days we spent in Vegas, this day was probably my favorite, as we left behind the Strip and all its illusions and explored downtown Vegas, a section of town that exudes unfiltered character, shabby realness, and genuine imperfections, warts and all. We also had quite a few things planned, requiring us to arrive at a few special events on time. When I travel, I love having at least one day when I get to do lots of things… and this day delivered in diamonds and spades, as it were.
Quickly getting coffees from the Roasted Bean at the base of our tower in the Excalibur (it was fine; much too expensive for the quality), we grabbed a Lyft to take us to the infamous Fremont Street in downtown Vegas. The route took us north along Interstate 15, and to our east we could view the tall, ridiculous resorts of the Las Vegas Strip. Viewing the various structures from this vantage allowed us to more fully comprehend how big and spread out each of the megahotels are, appearing as—without all their glitzy marquees clearly visible—giant silhouettes of ugly behemoths, walls of boring steel and uninspiring glass rising tall out of an otherwise perfectly gorgeous desert landscape. To our west, however, were the glorious, snow-peaked mountains of the Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area; and while we won’t be visiting Red Rocks during our trip, the incredible landscape offered a tantalizing glimpse of the driving tour later in the week when we’ll be visiting Hoover Dam and Valley of Fire State Park.
We eventually arrived at Fremont Street (so named after 19th century explorer and politician, John C. Frémont) and suddenly Vegas seemed so much more real and alluring: cracked pavements, smokey windows, marquees with busted light bulbs all unapologetically on display for us to enjoy. One of the most prominent features of Fremont Street is the Fremont Street Experience, more specifically a 4-block long and 90-foot high arched canopy affixed with an LED screen displaying various animated colorful patterns spinning and twisting and turning—sometimes abstract, sometimes literal, blooming flowers, floating fish, spinning roulette wheels—all the while “Swingtown” by the Steve Miller Band blasted loudly and satisfyingly, inviting us to all “come on and dance” to the tune’s electrifying synthesizers, driving drum beats, and gorgeous sweeping melodies.
We briefly stepped inside the Golden Nugget—dating from 1946, one of the oldest casinos in Vegas—and its decor radiates that old, classic, vintage Vegas character: a white-and-gold building facade adorned with an ostentatiously golden marquee, countless light bulbs declaring GOLDEN NUGGET in all caps in a timeless, serifed font; inside, a casino bursting with activity, even at 10:30 in the morning, gambling devices trilling their incessant arpeggiations, a man in a wheelchair attached to an oxygen machine as he smoked a cigarette, garish chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, globes of rusty auburn and hazy mustard recalling a wild decade. This is the Vegas that I imagine in my head when I think of Vegas. And here it is: it’s real… and it exists!
Not able to dawdle very long as we had an appointment for a food tour, we made our way to Downtown Container Park, an outdoor shopping mall with its various shops, restaurants, and bars housed within repurposed shipping containers painted in bright, bold colors. Greeting us at the park’s entrance was a giant sculpture of a praying mantis, standing ominous and tall and constructed of rusty scrap metal, its two antennae piercing the sky and its giant, alarming claws reaching out and intimidating passersby.
Our 11:00 appointment was with Katrina, our food tour guide with Secret Food Tours. Katrina was bright, energetic, incredibly agreeable, and extremely eager to tell us so much about what we were about to eat and see as we made our way from stop to stop. Our first destination, located right in the Container Park, was Bin 702, a wine bar in a silvery grey shipping container. Its interior was gorgeously shabby, its structural supporting beams littered with numerous, colorful stickers, its bar lined with sturdy, reliable metal stools, while the sound system satisfyingly playing “Everybody Wants to Rule the World” by Tears for Fears, elegant melodies supported by dreamy synths with the electric guitar’s reverb on overdrive.
While at Bin 702, we were treated to our first delight: a montadito (a mini, open-faced sandwich from Spain), this one made with lobster meat and dressed with crushed-up flaming hot cheetos, reminding me of the episode of Ghosts where Jay prepares a meal using a similar technique. While I felt the sandwich could’ve been a little spicier (I have a high tolerance for spice), it was still an enjoyable little feast, a satisfying introduction to our food tour. I also ordered a vodka tonic, but had to quickly down it; while Vegas may be dubbed “sin city,” carrying open containers in this part of town was not allowed, something that surprised me and made me love New Orleans even more (a city I already quite adore), where such things are allowed.
As we made our way to the next stop, Katrina cheekily told us of Nevada’s state flower, the traffic cone, as she jokingly complained about road construction while also pointing out El Cortez, a hotel and casino that still features gambling devices that spew out actual coins. We eventually arrived at Evel Pie, so named after daredevil Evel Knievel, their website declaring, “No fancy lentil-crusted, tofu-topped asparagus pies here. Like in Evel’s day, just cheese and pepperoni New York slices (among others).” Evel Pie’s indoor aesthetic was similar to Bin 702, reveling in a scrappy appearance that I just love: walls littered with stickers and more stickers; dim and hazy light fixtures hanging lazily from the ceiling; an outdoor patio with a colorful mural of Elvis painted in a style similar to the Garbage Pail Kids; countless framed photographs cluttering a long wall, each one capturing moments from Evel’s life as he flew his motorcycle across long rows of junky cars.
As we sat in this incredible ambiance, scooched up together in a long booth, Queen’s “Crazy Little Thing Called Love” playing on the loudspeaker (one of the few Queen songs I actually don’t like, if I’m being honest), we enjoyed a pizza not with marinara and pepperoni, but with barbecue sauce, pork, bacon, and onions. The pizza was on the sweeter end of the spectrum (but not too sweet), and the sugar was counterpointed satisfyingly by the salty bits of meat.
Our next stop brought us to Flippin’ Good, a chicken, burger, and beer joint. This stop was the only miss on our food tour, I’d have to say. It’s not that it was particularly bad, it’s just that it also wasn’t especially memorable. We were served coke floats (the ice cream made in house), and coke floats are, well, coke floats. Nothing to write home about. That said, as we enjoyed the classic concoction, Katrina told us about how Wayne Newton was underage when he first started performing, so they’d go to various soda shops and have coke floats. So Flippin’ Good ended up being more a stop to fill in a bit of local history rather than to try a particularly memorable local food.
Next we made our way to Dirt Dog, a small chain with a handful of locations in Vegas and Los Angeles, its name derived from founder Timothy Cam’s memory of eating bacon-wrapped hot dogs on summery days in LA, buying them from a street vendor, Timothy’s mother complaining that he’s just eating dirt because of all the dust the traffic was kicking up onto the vendor’s flat grill. Our dogs, however, were free of dirt (as far as I could tell), and instead of bacon were dressed with elote, that delectable Mexican concoction of grilled corn, mayo, chili powder, cheese, and limes. The dog itself was beefy and juicy, and the elote was mouth-watering perfection. We also were served complimentary strawberry margaritas, which was a real treat, especially as we listened to this stop’s musical selection of “Still into You” by Paramore, Hayley Williams’s vocals a satisfying mix of punk and pop, a grittier vocal quality to match Dirt Dog’s equally gritty decor: black ceiling, exposed ventilation ducts, and dim red lights that affected the thick, colorful brush strokes of the hues of a the painting of a city hanging above the counter.
As we made our way to our next destination (stopping by Binion’s Gambling Hall on the way, a casino that opened in 1951 and named after Texas gambler Benny Binion, where we got to view a display of $1 million in cash, the $100 bills stacked in the shape of a pyramid), Katrina told us of how neon signs began to be displayed on building facades following prohibition to lure in unlucky gamblers (“Hoover Dam just opened, so providing energy to all these signs wasn’t a problem,” she quipped). Eventually we arrived at hotel and casino, Circa (but not before Katrina pointed out Vegas Vic, that famous neon sign of a cowboy standing tall, one leg relaxingly crossed in front of the other, his left arm raised and bent at the elbow, his hand pointing the way with his thumb), which housed Saginaw’s (Katrina told us the name comes from a town in Michigan on account of Circa owner Derek Stevens’s Detroit roots, when in fact Saginaw’s co-founder is Paul Saginaw, also from Michigan), a delicatessen known for its sandwiches but that also serves a Vegas classic, the shrimp cocktail (“60,000 shrimp are consumed per day in Vegas,” Katrina said). What makes a shrimp cocktail, of course, is the sauce it’s served with. And the sauce at Saginaw’s was so strongly infused with horseradish that nasal passages not only became miraculously free and clear and open, they may have bled a little bit as well. It was fantastic! So zesty, so tasty, and so invigorating. A celebration for the senses!
We soon made our way to our next destination, the California Hotel and Casino (its founder, Sam Boyd, an avid bingo fan), where we visited Aloha Specialties, a Hawaiian restaurant that fit in well with the California’s history of deliberately attracting guests from Hawaii. Aloha Specialties was the first Hawaiian restaurant to open in Vegas, and so naturally we got to try two classics: chicken teriyaki (a dish with Japanese roots but incredibly popular in Hawaii) and Spam musubi (a dish inspired by Japanese sushi but with a definite Hawaiian twist). While the teriyaki was inoffensively fine (you’d have to try really hard to mess that up), the Spam musubi was a delightful little twist on that Japanese classic: rice and Spam wrapped in nori. Spam is curiously popular in Hawaii due to GIs voraciously introducing it to their diet during World War II. And while Spam is, of course, very bad for you, this moderately-sized roll was a curious little treat that offered the tiniest little preview to a place I’ve long wanted to visit.
Within the California, we made one final food stop to Ethel M Chocolates (its founder, Forrest Mars, Sr., the inventor of M&Ms and the Milky Way chocolate bar) to enjoy some small-batch chocolates. We first got to try a lemon chocolate truffle and then picked out our own selection, a champaign truffle for me (the chocolate shell dazzlingly gold in color) and a creme de menthe truffle for Matt (its sea-green hue a preview of the mint inside). While the truffles were a delight, I can’t say there was anything particularly special about them that made Ethel M stand out from any other small-batch chocolatier. So go seek out Ethel M if you want (or don’t)—I won’t be particularly bothered either way what you decide.
Our final stop was Main Street Station, another Sam Boyd hotel and casino, not for more food but simply to enjoy its classic design. While the building opened in 1978, you would be forgiven if you thought it opened in 1878, as it revels in timeless Victorian decor: tall, elegant, white pillars topped with capitals all golden and ornate; ceilings gilded in more gold, intricate and opulent patterns a feast for the eyes; an upstairs gallery featuring Winston Churchill’s stoutly robust snooker table elevated by eight, lavish wooden legs with more ornate carvings. The whole casino was dripping with a velvety atmosphere and perfumy opulence, a real delight to experience. “It’s like being in the Wild West,” Matt commented, and I agreed… as if stepping back in time to old San Francisco.
All in all, I highly recommend Secret Food Tours and their historic downtown Vegas tour. Katrina was amazing, the tour was informative and fun, the food was a nice eclectic mix, and each stop—even if Flippin’ Good was a bit disappointing—provided a glimpse into the lore of Vegas, alluring stories delivered through food.
After such a satisfying food tour, it was time to take a moment to relax with a drink for a bit and enjoy some good old fashioned people watching. We saddled up to an outdoor bar at Four Queens Hotel and Casino, ordering an old fashioned for me and beer for Matt. My old fashioned was definitely a tourist’s old fashioned, served in a tall plastic cup, lots of extra bourbon, extra cherries, extra simple syrup, turning it into more of a drink to be inhaled rather than a classy drink to be sipped. But I couldn’t help but enjoy it regardless. We found some high top tables nearby on Fremont and 3rd to sit and watch the multitudes of people amble about, up and down the street. The crowds in this part of town on a Monday afternoon seemed more relaxed, slightly frumpier, slightly older… a crowd very different from the one on the Strip.
Following our drinks and people watching, we next made our way to the SlotZilla Zipline—a zipline that offers a couple different packages—and Matt and I opted for their Super Hero Zoom, a zipline elevated 11 stories and spanning 5 blocks of Fremont with zipliners positioned prone as if flying through the air like Superman. I first tried ziplining in Puerto Rico in 2022, and then Matt and I did it together in Mexico just last November, and we both absolutely loved it. As my previous two ziplining experiences were particularly special and wonderful and exhilarating, I was prepared to have quite low expectations for this one, since it was so short and not terribly high in the air. And even with setting expectations low, the experience is more a novelty than an exhilaration, ziplining down 5 blocks of an iconic street, a cacophony of music blaring from casinos, hoards of people milling about, the sky an impressive LED screen. Is it worth $70? Maybe not. Matt and I agree, however, that we should’ve done this at night so all the glitz and glam of the neon lights would’ve impressed even more.
Feeling a bit peckish, we decided to revisit a stop from our food tour, returning to Saginaw’s to enjoy some of their sandwiches, and I’m so happy we did, as our dinner at Saginaw’s ended up being one of the more memorable dinners we enjoyed in Vegas. And while Saginaw’s may not be quite as amazing as Katz’s Delicatessen in New York (a tall bar to surpass), Saginaw’s still delivered some fine sandwiches indeed. I got a classic reuben and Matt got a turkey/coleslaw sandwich, and the sandwiches were excitingly zesty and enticingly delectable.
We next explored a section of Fremont Street that—for whatever reason—hasn’t quite caught on: Neonopolis, a three-level, 250,000 square foot complex designed to attract restaurants, bars, nightclubs, and live performances. Essentially designed like an open-air shopping mall, it bizarrely attracts very little traffic even though the hordes of people walking Fremont street are mere yards away. That said, the space does provide a respite from all the riff-raff if crowds aren’t your thing. The third level also has a bridge that spans Fremont Street and that allows for an amazing view of the famous street looking east, desert mountains in the far distance, a long line of fairy lights criss-crossing over the street from building to building, marquees lit up in gaudy neon lights inviting unlucky gamblers to enter, the moon a perfect floating disc rising in a sunsetting sky, hues of crystal blues high in the sky slowly fading to vibrant golds at the horizon. The bridge was so high up and open to the expansive air that it activated my intense fear of heights, as I might lose control of my senses and throw myself off over the edge. Fortunately, I didn’t.
We had one last appointment to get to for the day, this one with the Neon Museum, a 15-minute walk north along Las Vegas Boulevard. I wouldn’t describe this walk as a pleasant walk but rather, to use Matt’s parlance, a dicey walk. This part of town wasn’t particularly well lit, and it necessitated walking underneath the dilapidated overpass of Interstate 515. I’m particularly thick-skinned when it comes to exploring urban decay, but on account of the rapidly diminishing daylight, this walk tested even my determination. So if you are in any way bothered by tricky areas of town, I would recommend taking a car to the Neon Museum.
All this said, the Neon Museum is a must-see stop to anyone traveling to Vegas for the first time. It is an outdoor museum best visited after sundown, a collection of famous street- and road-side neon signs, most of them lit up in those characteristic Vegas hues of gaudy pinks, seductive reds, oasis greens, and glorious golds. The Moulin Rouge sign was particularly memorable. Designed by Betty Willis for the first racially integrated casino in Vegas (opening in 1955 for a mere 5 months before filing for bankruptcy and since then operating just enough hours per year to maintain their gaming license), the sign spans several yards and stands several feet tall, swooping and elegant cursive typeface lit in a glitzy rose, the giant letters exquisitely looping up and down and around in a pleasing and stylish aesthetic.
Other memorable signs included the sign for the Stardust Resort and Casino, which operated from 1956 to 2006 and reveled in a space age aesthetic, its neon sign designed with tall, sharp, jagged letters and lit in countless, golden bulbs; an immediately recognizable Hard Rock Cafe sign, used for the Vegas location from 1990 to 2016, a recreation of Pete Townshend’s guitar, standing 80 feet tall and lit with over 4,100 feet of neon tubing; and a smattering of smaller signs that were a delight to behold (the Yucca Motel sign, lit in a pleasing green and topped with flowering yucca plant; the sign for one of the first openly LGBTQ+ bars; the Red Barn, its typeface lit in a sultry red and adorned with a tall martini glass; and the sign for the Flame, a steakhouse establishment from the 1960s to the 1990s, its tall, single, wide flame lit in pink and red with a giant red arrow pointing downwards in a graceful arc).
There was so much more to see that I’m not covering, so I encourage you to visit for yourself to discover which signs strike your fancy. The museum is expertly curated and the self-guided tour is enhanced with an informative web-based listening guide accessible on your phone, providing a detailed history of each of the signs. All in all, the Neon Museum was a real highlight of our trip and I encourage you to prioritize a visit when you go.
The night was closing fast, so we made one, last, dicey walk back to Fremont Street where we were able to catch a show on the giant LED screen. The shows screen at the top of every hour, and it was pretty neat to see but I’m not sure it’s something you need to necessarily prioritize. After we finished watching the show, I had to ask Matt, “Who was that singer on the screen?” And Matt, ever so patient with my lack of knowledge of popular culture, replied, “That was Shakira.” (Don’t ask me to pick this “Shakira” person out of a lineup, as I probably still would fail.)
Feeling ready to head back to the Excalibur (but not before we spent one last moment on top of the bridge in Neonopolis to view Fremont Street at night all lit up in its numerous neon signs), we returned to Container Park to call a Lyft driver, our evening coming full circle as we revisited the praying mantis sculpture, but this time its antennae spewing real flames, bursting and exploding toward the sky in sync to music. When we arrived back on the Strip, we spent some time sitting at an outdoor table in an area of New York New York just slightly away from all the hubbub of the Strip, but just near enough to gaze upon the hoards of people reveling in all the ridiculousness. It was so lovely to take a moment to reflect on our busy day, feeling so grateful for all that we saw in a single day.
Stray observations:
- Be sure to check out the various murals in the downtown zone while you explore Fremont Street. The murals span entire buildings and deliver incredible explosions of color, a delightful counterpoint to the explosions of light provided by their electronic, neon cousins.
- While we were on our food tour, we passed by Heart Attack Grill, a ridiculous establishment I would never be caught dead in, where diners wear hospital gowns, and those weighing over 350 pounds eat for free. The menu features “bypass burgers” with up to 8 hamburger patties (nearly 20,000 calories). Those who finish at least a triple bypass burger are wheeled out on a wheelchair. It all seems pretty dumb.
- As we were entering Circa on the food tour, we had to show our IDs. One of our fellow foodies on the tour was from Hawaii, and Matt and I enjoyed comparing our licenses to hers. The person who was checking our IDs was tickled pink when she saw us doing this. “That was so cute!” she beamed.
- Main Street Station also features a men’s room with one of its walls literally a giant slab from the Berlin Wall. Women may also view the bathroom as long as they ask for help from security.
- Nearby our table while we were people watching at Four Queens was a person wearing a hat indicating he was going to vote for a felon-to-be for president (except, of course, that the hat merely mentioned this deplorable man’s name, a name I refuse to allow space here), and I don’t have to tell you he was a white, straight man (or, at the very least, passably straight; I wouldn’t be surprised if he may feel inclinations to have sex with men in airport toilets while espousing so-called “family values”).
- Our Lyft driver who brought us back to the Strip from Fremont Street was a young man called Daniel who enthusiastically exclaimed, “I read a lot!” when we told him we went to the Titanic exhibit the previous day and who proceeded to tell us about his interest in forensics and body identification.
- I really, really, really enjoyed downtown Vegas, so much more than the Strip itself. When we go back, I want to stay at Circa, as it’s the tallest building in downtown Vegas where the right room would provide glorious views. And the hotel’s rooftop pool is a plus too!