Vegas, Baby -- Everything & the Kitschin' Sink!

Springtime in Vegas! The neon flowers are in bloom, slot machine bells are chirping a cheerful tune and even the poker-faced pitbosses are wearing what looks like a smidgen of a smile. The temperature outside is comfortably warm but not summer-stifling, and the hotel pools are again populated by swarms of lithe and lubricious ciphers trying to meaninglessly pair-bond before outright fainting. Ah, 'tis a glorious, godless ritual — who needs April in Paris?

I've just returned from a stellar, golf-punctuated, four-day weekend in the City of Sin, and but for a slight diminution of my wallet's customary girth, am happy to report that now is as good a time as any to leave reality behind and head west to the city that so many Teamsters drove so many miles to erect. Being from Detroit — and a bit of a lay mob-historian — I am ever cognizant that Cosa Nostra corruption borrowed liberally from that union's Central States Pension & Welfare Fund to build the desert outpost's first pleasure palaces. Corporations took the smoking baton from their criminal first cousins and the city exploded with development.

Pressing infrastructure problems aside — water, adequate schools, etc. — Las Vegas is enjoying a bit of a boomlet after the twin tsunamis of 9/11 and the world financial meltdown slowed tourism to a crawl in the last decade. CityCenter — the $8B, 76-acre, ultra-modern/multi-use magnet on the Strip — is going great guns, even though it's comparatively expensive to stay at one of the gleaming new hotels there.

WHERE TO STAY

I bunked in there at the stunning new Mandarin Oriental, a casino-less enclave that hews to the chain's penchant for unostentatious luxury and discreet charm. Think of it as a big boutique hotel, even though at 392 rooms, it is one of the city's tinier towers. And it also boasts the three-star Michelin magic of chef Pierre Gagnaire's restaurant,  Twist, where the food is as stunning as the 23^rd floor views and the interior design. My fave: the Nebraska Rib Eye Two Ways with house-made potato chips and an impossibly rich Bordelaise sauce gracing the high-end steer.

WHERE TO EAT

As you probably know by now, it's hard to get a truly bad meal in Las Vegas these days. All of the celeb chefs are here, from Batali to Lagasse to Bobby Flay, but you needn't empty your coffers to fill your gullet anymore. The Great Desert Burger Wars are in progress, as evidenced by the arrival of Holstein's at the Cosmopolitan Hotel, a wee tram ride from the Mandarin Oriental. I went with the Gold Standard, a dry-aged sirloin patty with smoked bacon, aged goat cheddar cheese and a garlic-chive aioli — not your father's cheeseburger! For dessert, head down to Munchbar in Caesars Palace for another great, 100% Angus burger, as well as some of the best fish tacos to be found in any desert, anywhere. And they tell you to lay off the seafood when you're landlocked — not in the new Las Vegas.

WHERE TO PLAY GOLF

As I've always said, four days in Vegas without a little fresh air can wear one down to the nub, so bring those gleaming golf-sticks and prepare for some painterly vistas and challenging designs. Coyote Springs Golf Club is the latest and greatest 18 holes, located 50 minutes from the Strip but well worth twice the trek. Anchoring a future real estate development, the Jack Nicklaus layout has earned the enthusiastic plaudits of architecture buffs and is plunked down smack in the middle of a serene desert valley. But don't let the landscape lull you — this is championship golf at its most demanding, with water and wind set to wreak havoc on your plans to go low (prices have come down, though!).

Another must round (or three!) is to be played at the Paiute Golf Resort, 54 holes of confounding Pete Dye design and another stunning piece of land. The "Wolf" layout checks in at 7,604 yards from the back tees, but Snow Mountain is eminently playable at 7,104 and features water on seven holes. And down the road a half-hour from Vegas proper are 36 holes of Tom Fazio-designed golf, Primm Valley Golf Club, as conscientiously manicured and maintained as any private club and studded by tall pine trees and numerous bunkers. You can't even see it from the nearby interstate, but once you've arrived, it's hard to believe such a lush property is smack in the middle of the desert.

IT'S SHOW TIME

After a tough day fishing your golf ball out of water hazards and the like, a dollop of sexy kitsch is always in order, wouldn't you say? Peepshow — featuring ex-Hef paramour Holly Madison — is one of many such Fleshapaloozas on the Strip, deftly straddling the midpoint between silliness and sultriness, and a worthwhile diversion for the testosterone set. To cap it all off, my manly foursome checked in for a flawless repast at the Capital Grille, a steakhouse that ranks right at the top in a city crawling with high-end beeferies. With glittering views of Steve Wynn's palatial hotels just outside the window, we went from refreshing pineapple-infused vodka martinis to their signature Delmonico steaks and some sinfully rich lobster mac 'n' cheese and never looked away from our plates again. Someone said Howard Hughes was hitchhiking outside, but we were too busy making knife and fork music at the incomparable Grille to even notice. Howard Who?

Now is the time to book a trip to Las Vegas — when both the temperatures and the tariffs are well below the boiling point. And while you're out there, buy a couple of snowbird condos for your portfolio. Foreclosures are as common as jackrabbits nowadays — you can pick up a nice two-bedroom unit for well under $100K. Blame Bush or Bin Ladin for the downturn of the American Dream, but now's the time to profit from the misfortunes of our dear desert neighbors and the ruthless speculators who contributed to their downfall. Buy American!!