The Strip Diary, Day Twelve: More Vegas Hotel Reviews, in Haiku Form

Right now, most of my stories are still spinning around in my brain -- not quite ready to land. So here's the second part of my weekly round-up of my accommodations, written in the form of haiku.
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As I demonstrated yesterday -- when my trip to a spa rendered me incapable of writing proper sentences -- Vegas and daily deadlines don't always mix.

In the past few days I've had some remarkable experiences. On Wednesday, I interviewed "Gazillionaire" and "Penny" about what it takes to put on a show like Absinthe at Caesars Palace and what on earth Caesars is thinking in allowing them to do so. (Spoiler alert: on that latter question, they have no idea.) During the interview, we got kicked out of a strip club.

On Thursday I visited Cirque Du Soleil's show "" at the MGM Grand, and was given a backstage tour by the technical director while the second performance played out above, below and beside us. (Spoiler alert: holy shit.)

Yesterday, after my spa treatment, I sat down over bar food with the Vegas Courtesan (NSFW -- duh) who gave me some insight into what it's like to be an escort in this town. (Spoiler alert: it involves fewer old, fat people than you'd think.) I've also made a couple of new friends who are certainly worth writing about -- and of course I've crossed three new hotels off my list.

Right now, though, most of these stories are still spinning around in my brain -- not quite ready to land. Tonight I'm taking a second group of friends, including Mindy from the spa, Dr. Scott and James from London to see Absinthe. Now that I know how dangerous the show really is, I want to see it a second time before I write anything. I still have to get some facts and figures straight about Cirque before writing that one either: I'm thinking it'll make a nice cross-posted TechCrunch column on Sunday. Finally, the sensitive -- and illegal -- nature of the Courtesan's work urges caution: I think that's one best left 'til Monday.

For today, then, that leaves the hotels. And so here, a day early, is the second part of my weekly round-up of my accommodations, written in the form of haiku. Remember: don't book a Vegas hotel before reading the following five-seven-five syllables...

Saturday: Imperial Palace ($155)

Warned me about the noise
But not the dead hobo smell
Surrounding the bed

Sunday: Riviera ($109)

Won't let you check in
Like Hotel California
But the opposite

Monday: Stratosphere (Comped)

Room fit for a king
But iron tethered to board
Hints at peasant guests

Tuesday: Planet Hollywood Towers ($239.00)

Awesome, large condo
Complete with washer dryer
Did all my laundry

Wednesday: Caesars Palace ($70)
My best room so far
Chocolate coins were a nice touch
And the staff were great

Thursday: Excalibur ($45)

Stranger in my room
Was not a bachelorette
Everyone else was

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