McFadden's Las Vegas at the Rio

Las Vegas Bloggers Hard At Work At McFadden's 

Those of us who write about Las Vegas are very lucky—especially those of us who love to eat out. Since I'm in the "If God wanted me to cook, He wouldn't have invented restaurants" category, I am particularly pleased when I get to visit places I haven't been before.

Late in October, I got invited to a Las Vegas bloggers event at McFadden's at the Rio. Las Vegas has almost as many Irish pubs these days as it does French restaurants (which really seems appropriate, if you think about it—ours is a city with an affinity for drinking and dining). I was pleased to try out McFadden's. I'm always up for beer and comfort food.

I was surprised that on a Wednesday evening, the valet parking at the Rio looked like a used car lot. (I was also running late, which means that "surprised" really means "irked.") "Is there a special event?" I asked the valet attendant, after I waited ten minutes to get someone to take my car keys.

"Just the dinner rush," he said. I thought that was a good sign. If that many people were eating out on a Wednesday night, the food must be pretty darn good throughout the Rio.

To find McFadden's from the main entrance, just bear to the right and once you reach the Masquerade Village—a.k.a, the shopping area—you can't miss McFadden's. It's got a  comfortable ambiance,  a sports bar/pub feeling. You will not feel out of place wearing jeans. There are no items on the menu that will leave you wondering if you should watch the Food Network more often to keep up on culinary trends. All of which, in my opinion, is a good thing.

McFadden's was happy to bring out plate after plate of food to our group of writers, and they were also thoughtful enough to bring out camera-ready plates of food bearing little labels. This food was not for eating… a fact I discovered after eating one of the labelled Mac & Cheese Bites. Oops.

And the food that was for consumption? I think I gained weight. Shepherd's Pie… yummy. Rueben Sandwiches… oh so yummy. Southwest Chicken Wrap… why didn't I get this first? Fabulously yummy. Mini Gourmet Burgers… please stop now. Guinness Battered Deep Fried Twinkie with Guinness Chocolate Sauce? Need I say more than "deep fried twinkie"? Don't even ask why there's no picture of that dish.

I admit that I was too buy eating and socializing to order one of their specialty beers, and instead had the green beer provided to everyone. I believe this means I must return.

Thank you to Wicked Creative and McFadden's, who hosted this event.


Update - January 17, 2012: Sad to say, McFadden's closed on December 5.  

A Trip to the Buffet

So there I was, writing about buffets.

And I don't mean writing one or two things about buffets. I had an assignment that kept me writing for an entire day about limitless quantities of all kinds of food: Sushi. Barbeque. Beef. Pork. Chicken. International dishes that I couldn't pronounce. Lobster. I'm sure you get the idea. I mean, what's more Vegas than a buffet? Apparently, my editor thought the same thing.

"What would you think about going to a buffet?" I asked my husband.

"I thought you didn't like buffets," he said.

"I'm reformed," I said. "And I have a player's club card. We can get a discount."

Soon we were standing in line at the Red Rock Feast Buffet. Just beyond the cashier, yards and yards of food awaited us.

When our waiter seated us, he said, "Remember you're in the section next to the Asian food. Otherwise, you'll get lost and won't find your table." My husband, son, and I dutifully took note of the big sign that said "Asian," then we set off to explore the vast offerings of the Feast.

My 13-year-old son was so overwhelmed with the food choices that he brought back a plate of salad. Salad. Oh my God, I thought, he's been traumatized.

I was delighted to find the sushi, conveniently located close enough to our table that I was never in danger of getting lost.

My husband brought back everything barbequed and fried that he could find. And my son recovered from the shock of so much food that he set his salad aside and bravely tried new foods.  

When we rolled out of the buffet, we were certain we'd never want to eat again.

As we waddled to the car, I had to stop to take pictures of the pretty waterfall at the front of the hotel. Since I'm a Las Vegas native, I'm rarely impressed with a hotel casino, but I do think the Red Rock is one of the prettiest in town. Had we not pounced on our buffet plates like ravenous beasts, I might have a buffet picture to share with you. Instead, you get to see the waterfall. 

A Rocky Surprise

This rock labyrinth sits just off the path at the Red Rock Overlook. I discovered it one afternoon when I drove to the Overlook for an emergency attitude adjustment.

The first time I stomped past the rocks, I never even saw them.

After I’d spent some time gazing at the Calico Hills and watching the tourists, I felt better. I got a good laugh when a group of teenagers screamed and did a dance when a flying insect buzzed them. (To be fair, it was a big bug.)

With my mental attitude adjusted, I headed down the path.

The light was fading, splintering through the cliffs to the west. This time I saw it: the small swirl of rocks, the spiraling path with a cairn in the middle. How could I have missed that? Talk about a case of blind anger.

The Truth About Mystery Shopping in Las Vegas

Have you ever wondered if mystery shopping was a legitimate job? I recently found out the truth about mystery shopping, and the answers were surprising.

Since I’m a freelance writer, I look through the online job boards frequently. A couple of months ago, I was scanning the postings when I saw an ad for mystery shoppers (also known as secret shoppers). My son, who was hanging out in my office, saw it too. "It would be great to get paid to shop," he said.

"What the heck," I said. "Let's see what they have to say."

The job posting didn't ask for anything fishy. They didn't want my social security number or any kind of payment, so I sent them an e-mail asking for more information.

Now, I know that online job listings are loaded with scams. That's why I don't spend too much time looking for work on Internet job boards. I evaluate ads based on three points:

• Is there a business or website name? No name often indicates a scam.
• How bad is the grammar and spelling? All uppercase text, numerous misspellings, and outrageously bad grammar are not good signs.
• What wage are they offering? Wages that are ridiculously high are usually scam bait.

The only point in the ad that raised any of these warning signs was the lack of a business name. When I got an immediate response to my email, something else caught my attention: the payment for a mystery shop was over $100. That seemed very high, so I started doing some research. And in an  email back, I asked for the business' name, address, and website.

My research turned up some interesting facts. Did you know that Nevada's mystery shopping regulations are the strictest in the United States?  If you want to become a secret shopper in Las Vegas, you must be a licensed private investigator or the qualified employee of a licensed PI. You have to have a special permit to legally perform mystery shops in Nevada. Legitimate mystery shopping companies in Nevada are very upfront about these requirements. Fines for illegal mystery shopping start at $2,500 and go up.

And that tempting $100-per-shop wage? The Mystery Shopping Providers Association of North America posts legitimate secret shopper jobs—most of which pay $25 per shop or less.

My son was crushed to hear the results of my investigation.

The person at the other end of my emails—I'll call him Mr. X—had already sent me the details of my first "assignment," which required me to cash money orders and wire the funds out of the country. In response to my questions about his business, he invented a really bad fake business name and told me their website was down. I emailed him that I was no longer interested in his mystery shopper job.

Mr. X didn't take this news well. His next email was peppered with threats about breach of contract.

I wrote back to tell him the regulations about mystery shopping in Nevada. And that his money-order-cashing scheme was an old and well-known scam. And not to contact me again.

Two days later, two money orders arrived at my house. The next step in my mystery shopper experiment: a drive to Metro.

Metro referred me to IC3, an online complaint center that works best if you have actually been victimized. I wasn't a victim of anything, so I had no luck with them. A little more digging turned up Consumer Fraud Reporting, which lists several agencies you can contact about Internet fraud and scams. Anything sent through the mail can be reported to the United States Postal Inspector, which was where I wound up… although nothing ever happened. I received an automated phone call to let me know they had my information, and that was it.  

I suspect Mr. X is still out there, looking for uniformed and desperate people.  

Have you ever responded to a mystery shopper ad? Or do you do legitimate mystery shopping? Either way, I'd love to hear about your experience. 

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Photo courtesy of Helga Weber

Remembrance and Honor at the Southern Nevada Veterans Memorial Cemetery

On Memorial Day, I drove to Boulder City to visit my dad. He's buried at the Veterans Cemetery. He did not die in the service of his country, but his time as a Marine in World War II left an indelible mark.

I arrived not long before the memorial service in the chapel. I got there just in time to hear the bagpipers practicing. I listened to a hymn—I could not remember its name—as I sat with Dad and looked at the sea of flags around me. Every grave, without exception, was marked.

I left Dad for a while to visit the memorial plaza, where the breeze gracefully helped the flags to fly proudly. 

Honor guards of all kinds, from every branch, retired and active duty, gathered around the chapel for the service.

And some paid tribute quietly alone.

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All pictures by Terrisa Meeks

Calico Basin & The Red Rock Overlook

A few weeks ago, I was out looking for desert wildflowers. I went to Calico Basin and the Red Rock Overlook, where visitors don't have to pay an entrance fee. The entry into Red Rock Canyon NCA is only $7.00 per vehicle, but not only was I on a budget, I didn't have enough time to drive the 13-mile, one-way loop through Red Rock.

When I was a kid, my family picnicked at Calico Basin. In those days, there was no boardwalk—no one knew how fragile the marshy meadow and springs were. That was also before about a million people moved to Las Vegas, increasing the visitation to Red Rock and the number of people tromping all over the meadow. Now there's a big picnic area and an elevated walkway around the meadow. The squirrels seem to be pretty happy with the changes. They've learned that picnic area = suckers people with food.

Only a few flowers were blooming at Calico Basin, so my son and I headed to the Overlook.

Surprisingly, the areas outside of the Red Rock Loop have the most picnic areas. The Overlook is right off Highway 159, and it's stocked with tables, a really big outhouse, and a roughly paved path that leads up a little hill.

The wind was acting up, but that didn't seem to deter the insects from doing their jobs. After all, even with so few wildflowers out, there was pollinating to be done.

Where's your favorite place at Red Rock?

Photographs by Terrisa Meeks

Las Vegas Urban Wildlife - Watch Out For The Mockingbirds

My backyard is a popular place for the local wildlife, in no small part because of the giant shrub-trees.

Mockingbirds particularly like our yard. They've nested in just about every suitable shrub-tree. As far as I know, they're the only type of bird that has nested in our backyard—unless you count the woodpeckers' unsuccessful attempts to peck holes in our house.

We haven't had any nests this year, but the season is young. Mockingbirds nest more than once each season, so we may yet have our aggressive avian friends raising their babies in our backyard. When they're nesting and raising their chicks, they will dive-bomb anyone who gets too close. If you have particularly ticked them off (like the time my husband climbed the fence to stick his head in the shrub-tree—bad, bad idea, by the way), they will remember you and attack you as soon as they see you.

We found this old mockingbird nest in our largest shrub-tree. The plum nuts and other food debris made us think that rats may have been using it. It's a marvel of construction, a masterpiece woven with twigs.

A Trip to Las Vegas-McCarran International Airport

Do you remember when air travel was fun? Me too. I miss those days.

Yesterday I picked up a friend at McCarran. I remember when going to the airport to pick up a pal was easy. Now it's a test of your patience and pre-planning skills. Specific rendezvous point established? Check. Flight information set to alert you via e-mail? Check. Fully charged cell phone? Check. Big bunch of change, dollar bills, and debit card to pay exorbitant parking fees? Check. All physical needs taken care of—food, water, bathroom—prior to leaving the house? Check. Psychic abilities dialed to high? Check.

I've added this last point because at McCarran, they apparently don't believe in adequate signage. Don't know where you're going? Too bad.

After I exited the 215 and passed through the airport tunnel, I had an option for left or right. Neither direction had "passenger pickup" on its sign. I chose left because that's the way it was the last time I was there, and I figured I had a 50-50 chance. Fortunately, I was correct, and when I finally saw "passenger pickup" on a sign, I drove like a cabbie to make sure I was in the right lane.

If you haven't been to McCarran in a while, you probably don't know that the Airport Officials (I'd guess it's the same people who make decisions about signage) decided that metered parking was not good enough, so it's a minimum of $2.00 to park there. But, of course, there's no sign to tell you this. Had I been forewarned, I guess I could have kept driving loops around the airport, but instead I found myself stuck in the mandatory entry, screw-you-if-you-want-to-turn-around lane with the "press my button" machine staring at my driver's side window. I accepted that I'd have to cough up $2.00—in my case, for a grand total of about 20 minutes. 

But, hey, there I was at the airport, with photo opportunities all around me…. except that since I was at the airport, I started to wonder if I was going to be detained and questioned for taking pictures of the parking garage. (Government-issued identification ready in handbag? Check.) 

While I don't find airports or air travel to be fun anymore, I have to say that McCarran is a photographic place. It's jumbled and assembled like Victor Frankenstein was the lead architect, but it's interesting. And interesting, especially in Las Vegas, goes a long way to make up for aggravating and expensive.

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Photographs by Terrisa Meeks