VegasEats? Cadillac Mexican Cantina and Tequila Bar at Golden Nugget
The VT10 celebration at Prohibition Bar was a smashing success. Like, that-level-of-drunk-that-should-only-occur-after-10pm success. But with any pre-dinner drinking binge in Vegas, the mind and body produce a step-by-step realization that looks something like this:
1. "Fuck. I'm drunk. I should probably eat something."
2. "No, fuck. I'm actually hungry. I *really* should eat something."
3. "Now my stomach's growling because I'm realizing that I'm hungry and I'm actually getting less drunk."
4. "I really should have eaten like an hour ago."
5. "Now I'm hangry and nobody can decide where to go."
6. "Now I'm even hangrier."
Someone suggested Mexican. Then someone else said the new place at the Nugget. Sure, whatever. I'd eat the casino chips in my pocket right about now.
So we approached the hostess at Cadillac Mexican Cantina and Tequila Bar (but really, just "Tequila Bar" as you'll read on) and are accosted by a busty girl with a bottle of Corzo hanging off her belt. I could have sworn she said "Free shot!" as she held up the bottle. I told her (her boobs, actually) that she's just saying that to get us to sit down at the restaurant and then serve us Cuervo. Corzo's the good shit. But no, she promised the Corzo and we walked inside.
We were seated on a low-slung table. You know, the kind where your knees are in the way of the food. The kind where you have a backache after dinner because you're leaning forward the whole time. The kind where you inevitably get salsa on your crotch and your dining partners across from you inform you that you have salsa on your crotch because, after all, they have a direct view of your crotch. Ugh.
Busty tequila girl returns and, as I suspected, the shots weren't free.
"Shots? Fifteen doooollarrrrs. Anyone want a shot? C'mon, I know you all want a shot. Someone's gotta have a shot. This is Vegas. Only $15 for Corzo."
Did our table of men look like a sorority to her? Were any of us holding an oversized plastic cup of sugary blue stuff informing her that we honestly didn't care what we put in our bodies? And this is downtown. Serve Cuervo for cheap and make a killing. Or at least a ubiquitous "high end" brand like Patrón where people might shell out the dough because they recognize the label.
The least she could have done was acknowledge our hanger and send over a real waitress. Or some fucking chips and salsa.
But we sat there and waited.
And then VT superduperfriend Middleclassbuzz just got up and left. He headed to La Comida on Fremont East. Little did he know that the table would follow.
So yeah, if you're in the mood to get badgered into drinking tequila, I highly recommend Cadillac Tequila Bar at the Golden Nugget. I hear there's a kitchen there, too.
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