Last Call: Wednesday, December 20, 2006
Vegas, Baby!, Nev.\r\nIn the Mojave Dessert, \r\nin the shadow of the \r\nSpring Mountains.\r\n\r\nRed Goose Saloon\r\n306 Houston St, FW. \r\n817-332-4343.
Pilgrim’s Progress

As a devout nightlife columnist and professional social drinker, I need to make a pilgrimage to my mecca every now and then, just to reacquaint myself with my inner-Foster Brooks and adjust my priorities (and vision) accordingly. So last weekend, my partner and I hopped aboard Northwest Flight 777, bound for Vegas, Baby!, and got down to the business of prostrating ourselves before Caesar (Caesar’s Palace), The Great Sphinx of Giza (Luxor), and Merlin (Excalibur).

But something was off. I mean, we had fun. We were in good company, we laughed a lot, and I challenge anyone to produce a more kick-ass roller coaster than the Manhattan Express at New York-New York. Maybe I was more attuned to my circumstances than normal, or maybe I was just more sober, but while crossing the skywalk between Barbary Coast and Bally’s, admiring the Neonopolis and breathing in the stale essence of the party people around me, I had an epiphany: Take away the bright lights and the romance of Vegas, Baby!, and, honestly, you gotta ask yourself, is there much there there?

Seriously. You sit at a blackjack table. Play a few hands. Win some. Lose a lot. Have some complimentary drinks. Then you look up and around you: Is there any difference between your surroundings and a casino in Atlantic City? Or Monte Carlo? Or Branson, Mo.?!

I can’t think of anything appreciable. Same goes for the nightclubs. Yes, on any given night, there are probably more attractive, finely dressed young men and women per square inch in Vegas, Baby! than any other place in the world per square acre. But if you’re visiting primarily to club-hop, you have to wonder if the caliber of hotties is great enough to warrant a $500, four-hour flight outta town. The only party I’d pay $500 or more to attend happened about 10 years ago at a University of Maryland sorority house during a very balmy homecoming. I think I’d rather wait until time travel is invented before I head back to Vegas, Baby! to the tune of about five bills.

Burlesque at the Goose

About a year ago, Jana Edele quit her job as director of the Red Light Burlesque Revue at Hyena’s downtown. A couple of months later, the entire operation folded. Edele said she left because she was tired. “We ran the show every weekend for, like, nine months straight.”

But just a few months ago, Edele got her strength back. She rounded up some of the performers from Red Light and began touring Big D as The Cabaret Burlesque featuring the Velvet Kittens. They played their first Fort Worth show last month at Bent. With less bump and grind and more acting and comedy than in their previous incarnation, the Kittens hit town again tonight (Wednesday) and Friday at the Goose. The show tonight, at 10 p.m., is free, but there will be a $5 cover for Friday’s performance, at 10:30 p.m.

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