Carm’s Vegas: Being Cheap Ruins The Vegas Cigar Experience Carm’s Vegas: Being Cheap Ruins The Vegas Cigar Experience
Carm is back again to lecture the black-socks wearing, sunburned cheapskate tourist how you don’t do cigars in Las Vegas. His point: being cheap... Carm’s Vegas: Being Cheap Ruins The Vegas Cigar Experience

Carm is back again to lecture the black-socks wearing, sunburned cheapskate tourist how you don’t do cigars in Las Vegas. His point: being cheap ruins the Vegas cigar experience. Hold on, it’s going to be a bumpy ride.

Since The Las Vegas Cigar guys had so humbly extended their hand inviting me to come aboard, there was no stricter stipulation than what Oscar Wilde once said: Be yourself because everyone else is taken.

As such, I will pull no punches when it comes to writing about visitors to our fair city who get bent when they have to pay a premium price for a cigar. No, the Las Vegas of 2016 is not the Sin City of 1975 – there are no free rides anymore.

That’s why I always say: being cheap ruins the Vegas cigar experience.

If we may, for a brief moment, rejoin our previous topic, the whole deal about me not holding back my snarky and well-informed opinion. I say this to cigar smokers coming to spend time in the land of dice, debauchery, and douchebags: no one cares what you paid back home!

In all of my nightlife moments as either a host or working operations, it never ceased to amaze me the amount of people who disrupt their party, and current good vibes, to head back to the hotel room or some cheap, back-alley smoke shop to save a few bucks on a stick.  Why? What is this David Bowie Blackstar mystery I’m missing? What’s so important about saving a few bucks that you’re willing to miss that pivotal moment in time of the here and now?

Life is full of moments that we shouldn’t miss. Living in the moment is what it’s all about. Why do these cheapskates turn it into there and was?  When the tightwad gets back from their hotel room, if they even make it back and don’t pass out the moment the temperature from the air conditioner kisses their polished red nose, they are always going to be known as the guy that missed that seven-minute roll of pure bliss at the craps table. Perhaps they missed that split second their party slid past the rope into the VIP room when the bouncer turns his back. Or even something as simple as last call when their buddies all gave a salute and said farewell. No matter what the occasion or moment, why miss it to save a few measly bucks? Again, it’s fact: being cheap ruins the Vegas cigar experience.

These guys know better than to penny-pinch.

Trust me, if there were ever anyone to speak on missed nightlife opportunities, it’s me when I was trying to make a dollar stretch more than it should. Once I realized the error of my ways, I came to the conclusion quickly it just wasn’t worth it.

Seriously, isn’t living in those crazy one-night-only moments the reason you came to the entertainment capital of the world in the first place?

Now let me make a slight amendment, I’m not talking about a specific box of sticks you purchased for that unique evening, or perhaps a gifted generational bottle of scotch. You have my complete support on a move like that. I’m talking about walking up to the cigar kiosk or lounge while you explain in great detail about the price you pay in Buford, Wyoming.

Let me break this down.

By the time you finish making an ass of yourself explaining in the most exuberant elongated reasoning as to why you paid a $150 for a nightclub ticket, yet you insist on saving some lose change on a nice cigar, you’ve started a Lewis Carroll-like adventure that wastes your time in a city where time is money and experiences are missed when you become a penny-pincher.

In all of my nightlife moments as either a host or working operations, it never ceased to amaze me the amount of people who disrupt their party, and current good vibes, to head back to the hotel room or some cheap, back-alley smoke shop to save a few bucks on a stick.

Now, on this adventure you will encounter various Las Vegas characters and forks in the road. It’s not long you realize you don’t even know where you’re going because you already forgot the layout of the casino. As we continue in this John Zachary DeLorean-like journey, you fail to remember your room is three city blocks away, filled with endless amounts of gaming, clock less walls, window less mazes and Japanese tourists with gigantic high powered lens cameras.  Assuming you’re in your hotel and you found your way, amid misguided parents teaching their children how to walk on the casino floor at 3 a.m., or my personal favorite, the passed out twenty-something that simply couldn’t handle Vegas, you come across an elevator bay full of drunkards who pressed every button on the panel.

At last you have reached your room but you left the key at the table because you thought it was cool to show off to the waitress that you booked the suite – in an all suite hotel. By the time you make it back with or without your knockoff Cubans 45 minutes have passed and the night is over for most. Yeah, that guy.

Don’t be that guy. Being cheap ruins the Vegas cigar experience. Are you getting that?

Carm

On the other hand of the spectrum is the renaissance man who gets what this town is about. This individual realizes that that’s why you came to Sin City. You came here to paint the town red. They do themselves and their pals a favor, they indulge. After all that’s what you’re paying for. You’re paying for real estate; you’re playing for the ability to say: “Yes, I drank one of Casa Fuente’s world famous mojitos while firing away at this VSG bellicose.”  You’re paying an extra 10 bucks for that stick so you can sit at the beautifully polished marble counter at Davidoff’s flag ship bar while watching the sunset on the world’s most exciting and vice-laden street in the world.  You’re paying for the deep crushed red velvet couch that, in any other circumstance, would be too outlandish to consider but somehow right here and right now it feels just right and no other couch could possibly do.

“But I’m over paying,” says the Okie from Muskogee. You’re goddamn right you are. You are over paying so that the beautiful busty young hostess that cuts your cigar has the most perfectly manicured French tips. You are over paying for the bar tender to keep top shelf where it belongs, in your glass. You came to indulge so do what feels right and throw it on that “emergencies only” credit card.

Have I reminded you: being cheap ruins the Vegas cigar experience?

Think about it, for those of us that can’t afford to purchase a luxury Jaejer Lecoultre watch or the new F-type Jaguar from the showroom floor, this is your very unique opportunity to be treated like royalty. This is the one time we get to treat ourselves to purchasing a perfectly presented Montecristo No.2 from the Montecristo Cigar Bar & Lounge where Caesar himself began his empire.

This is your time – don’t ruin it as though you’re buying lightbulbs on sale at a suburban Walmart.

Be a man and live like a King. It’s Las Vegas. For shits sake, do it right.

Repeat after me, and never forget it: being cheap ruins the Vegas cigar experience.

Until next time: Good luck and good night Las Vegas.

Carm Style Editor

Carm is one of Las Vegas' eligible bachelors and man about town. A veteran cigar smoker, he is our style guy and opinionated night owl. He tells it like it is and has a sense of style that makes him one of Sin City's most interesting characters.

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