viva las vegas 2025 chapter 2, day 1

LINK: viva las vegas 2025 chapter 2, day 1

Currently listening to: Love Song – Sara Bareilles

I won’t write you a love song
‘Cause you asked for it
‘Cause you need one, you see
I’m not gonna write you a love song
‘Cause you tell me it’s make or break in this

I was over the moon when Five Star told me she scored last-minute rezzies to Carbone in Vegas, even though the restaurant is located inside ARIA (click to read more about it), which I’m still to this day very salty about. This place has been sitting on my foodie bucket list for years, taunting me. It’s notorious for being one of the hardest places to get reservations in the city. Every month, they release the reservation slots and they are snatched up within minutes. I’ve tried for months, but I’m always at work when they open up the reservations and by the time I have a chance to finally check, everything is gone. They don’t fuck around either: there’s a $75 per person cancellation fee, the whole party must be present in order to be seated, and there is only a 15-minute grace period. High stakes dining.

Their other location in New York may have lost its Michelin star in 2022, but it’s still pulling celebs—Rihanna, Justin Bieber, Taylor Swift, JLo, Obama, Adele, Leonardo DiCaprio, and etc. Since we weren’t going to NY this year, Five Star was determined to try the LV location instead.

And then my flight was a hot mess.

Throughout the day, I was alerted about twelve delays to the flight. At that point, I genuinely thought that they were going to cancel my flight due to the government shutdown. Our reservation was at 22:15. My original arrival time was 20:30—plenty of time to check into the hotel, change clothes, and lazily make our way to ARIA. But with each delay, I watched that buffer evaporate. When my new ETA was announced to be 22:30, which was when the restaurant closes but diners can stay to finish their meals, I felt deflated.

I apologized to Five Star via text about my flight debacle and offered to pay for the cancellation fee. But she was on a mission since we had planned this for six months. She said that she was going to the restaurant (since she took an earlier flight) to see what she could do since they weren’t answering their phones. She went to Carbone, pleaded her case, explained the unique situation, and somehow was able to convince the hostess to seat her—on the condition that I get there ASAP and she would have to order like I was there. I told her that I would get there as soon as I could since it was only a 45 minute flight. I texted her my order and asked her to send me updates as I would have Wi-Fi on the flight so we could coordinate.

When we got in the air, the captain announced on the overhead that the air traffic controllers in Las Vegas were requesting that the pilot slow down. Ugh. Murphy’s Law, right? When the flight touched down, the flight attendant asked that we let the connecting passengers off first otherwise they could miss their flight. Normally, I’d be more empathetic but I was late as it already was. It was 22:40 and the clock was ticking. But everyone behaved, let them deplane first, and when it was finally my turn, I put on my backpack, grabbed my suitcase and ran like I was back in high school track.

I skipped Uber because I didn’t have ten minutes to spare. I made a beeline for the taxi line. I hopped in and the driver immediately looked at me and asked me where I wanted to go. I told him ARIA and then asked him if he was Korean. When he said yes, we started chatting in Korean, and I told him I was late for a very important dinner. I felt like the rabbit from Alice in Wonderland—”I’m late! I’m late!” He could feel my urgency and turned into an F1 driver. As he sped toward ARIA, he complimented my Korean for someone born in the U.S. I grinned like a fool and thanked him. When he pulled into the hotel casino, I thanked him profusely and gave him a generous tip.

I wanted to drop my luggage off at the hotel desk but there wasn’t time for that either. I sprinted through the casino with my backpack and luggage, up the escalator, and reached the hostess stand completely out of breath. The hostesses were already in their coats, ready to leave. They looked at each other, sighed, and one of them finally shrugged off her jacket and led me to the table.

It was 23:00 on the dot. I was so damn late but I made it nevertheless.

ARIA – Carbone outside. Inside.

Complimentary: cheese, pickled cauliflower, salami, and bread.

I apologized to the captain (our waiter, Humberto) and to Five Star, who was already sipping vino and enjoying all the complimentary starters. She looked at me and said, “This place is marvelous. It feels like old New York”. She told me how Humberto was key to having the food come out slower so that she didn’t feel pressured to eat dinner alone. She already ordered my pasta, which was being prepared and urged me to relax. I ordered an Aperol spritz to celebrate that we made it.

Humberto whisked my suitcase away and let me settle in. The antipasti octopus pizzaiolo was hands down the best octopus I’ve ever eaten. I could tell that they used sous vide because it melted like butter in my mouth. I could have eaten three plates of this and called it a night.

She ordered the branzino while I had the fettuccini con funghi.

For dessert, we split a lemon cheesecake and I had an americano because exhaustion was creeping in. The cheesecake was incredible and decadent. The complimentary Italian cookies were forgettable and tasteless, but hey, they were free. At midnight, they politely kicked us out, and we were happy to roll away completely stuffed and satisfied. We made sure that Humberto was given a nice tip because he really did make the dinner feel special and not rushed.

We grabbed an Uber to the Palms, where Five Star had gotten comped rooms. I don’t know how much she gambles and I prefer to stay blissfully unaware, but we are not turning down a free room. Plus, I liked knowing it’s the first Native American owned casino hotel in Vegas.

Five Star wanted to gamble, so I tagged along and went downstairs with her. The lights, the noise, the adrenaline, woke me up. She started teaching me slot strategies she learned from a slot influencer on TikTok. A slot influencer. I didn’t even know that was a thing, but here we are.

I decided to try the whole “change denomination every few spins” trick. I signed up for a players card because if I was going to lose money, I might as well try to get rewards for it. As I slipped money into the machine, I felt immediate fear, and lost $90 in twenty minutes. But then the trick kicked in and suddenly I was winning. After about half an hour, I was up $150 and cashed out right there and then. This was proving to be too stressful for me and I realized that I’m not built for gambling.

After that, I became Five Star’s sidekick. I pulled a chair next to her and chanted nonsense at the machines like a deranged, unhinged, cheerleader. “I’m a genie in a bottle!” for the lamp game or “Balls to the walls” for the Chinese themed slots because they had ornamental lantern ball looking things on the screen. People probably thought I had Tourette’s but it didn’t matter, she kept winning significant amounts of money. She said I was her lucky charm, despite her winning the grand jackpot a week ago (without me being present). But she hasn’t been the only to tell me this, several of my friends have said the same thing as well. I’ve witnessed them winning thousands of dollars. Unfortunately, the luck doesn’t really apply to me when I play. Meh.

She played for four hours and finally cashed out her winnings. By the time we got back to the room, it was 06:00 in the morning. Usually, I shower before bed but I didn’t have the stamina to do that. Instead, I had just enough energy to wash my face, brush my teeth, floss, put on sweats, and go into a delightful coma.