Christine and I first visited Las Vegas in 1996, with children in tow, when our eldest was barely two and our baby was still very much a baby. It was a one-night stay, at the tail-end of a four-week road trip (half work, half vacation for me; no vacation, as it turns out, for Christine). Knowing nothing about Vegas except its Sin City reputation and looking to save a buck at the end of what had been an otherwise expensive month, I booked a $49 room at Circus Circus, primarily on the expectation that a two-story circus tent with trapeze artists would fill the two-year old with glee.

Now mind you that was 17 years ago, and I have no idea what they’ve done with the place since, but what a dump Circus Circus turned out to be! And what an awful idea that stop in Vegas was. Oh, sure, the high-flying performers did entertain the boy at times — those brief moments when we weren’t being chastised and goat-herded for bringing a kid so near the slot machines, and when we weren’t dodging and weaving the ubiquitous clouds of smoke that triggered the little guy’s asthma. But our obligatory stroll down The Strip (and I do mean “stroll,” what with us pushing a baby-buggy built for two) was more an exercise in eluding strip-club buskers than it was a sight-seeing adventure. And our room … Ugh! Long before that night was over, Christine was begging to get the hell out of dodge, and on finally getting her wish the next morning, she made it perfectly clear that she’d be thrilled never to return.

Christine’s mantra for 15+ years

But we have returned, on several occasions now, each of them to the soundtrack of Christine’s “I Hate Vegas!” lament, and most of them for the purpose of watching that same little boy compete in the Blackjack Invitational Gymnastics Championships as he grew into adolescence and then young adulthood. Over the years, with each visit, we would get a little wiser, learn just a bit more about how to do Vegas and, more importantly, how not to do it. We would learn, for example, that Sunday afternoon is a horrible time for the return drive to Southern California on Interstate 15, UNLESS that Sunday just happens to boast a certain big football game, in which case the person heading out of town has the freeway entirely to himself. And we would learn, too, that suffering through four hours of time-share presentation is NOT a cheap way to score show tickets (more on that another day).

But we, the foodies and theater-lovers that we are, would also discover a sliver of appeal, however thin it might be, in living just five hours from this otherwise god-forsaken town. Two slivers, actually: One, the far-Western outposts of some of Manhattan’s top eateries, like Nobu and Tao; and two, world-class entertainment from the artistic genius and athletic freakiness that is Cirque du Soleil. It is Cirque, in fact, that deserves all credit in opening Christine’s mind just wide enough to give Vegas a (fourth, sixth, eighth?) chance. But, in quite a surprise turn, it is a grand new experiment in the Vegas hotel scene that might finally have sealed the deal on her acceptance of Sin City as a legitimate destination, for at least a two or three-day stay.

This story really begins at Christmastime 2011, when I treated Christine and her parents to a weekend getaway at the Aria Hotel & Casino, complete with tickets to see the Cirque show “Viva Elvis” that was running at that time. (Elvis is very much their thing, and equally so not mine, and so I was happy to take one for the team and sit out the weekend to give Christine and her parents some quality time together over the holidays.) Christine enjoyed the show, to be sure, but what brought her home raving was Aria, with its über-contemporary, meticulously clean, and extraordinarily comfortable accommodations. She carried on and on about the place, that I would love it and must stay there some day. Oh, she still hated the smoke and despised the cacophony of the casino, but these newer hotels were doing a good job of masking the former, and she had been able to skirt, or at least selectively mute, the latter. It became clear immediately that, while Christine certainly hadn’t been bitten by the Vegas bug, she had made peace with Sin City; she could finally see that an occasional urge to visit might not be a sign of insanity after all.

And so, after allowing some time to go by, I dared plan a return trip to The Strip, under no guise, for no purpose other than to enjoy much of what makes Vegas Vegas. I knew that, for that bold an endeavor, I had one shot to get it right, one shot to show Christine a Vegas so attractive that she’d have no choice but to concede that she’d had fun and might enjoy going back again. So I began stewing — stewing and brewing — in hopes of devising the perfect plan. And the perfect plan I did hatch. Well, I really should say … we did hatch. “We” would include one of Christine’s dearest friends, a friend who had, not too long before, suggested that we all should get away to Vegas some day. A friend who had already planted the seed that a return trip to Vegas — sans kids and sans parents — was something Christine needed. A friend who gave me the perfect in-road to test the Vegas waters.

And so this friend and I worked together to choose the perfect dates on the calendar (my birthday weekend, of course); to assemble the perfect entertainment itinerary (ample time by the pool for my sun-worshiping wife, of course); and to find and book the perfect hotel (a challenge for which Christine had already given me a head-start, of course). I needed little time with my head in Vegas.com search results and TripAdvisor reviews before discovering that Aria has a very beautiful step-sister, one who answers to the name Vdara.

Vdara Hotel & Spa on the Las Vegas Strip

Vdara Hotel & Spa. A 57-story, all-suite luxury hotel that opened adjacent the Aria in December 2009. A luxury hotel in which the smallest rooms (the “Deluxe Suites”) weigh in at 550 square-feet apiece, each with king bed, a sofa & two comfy chairs, a cooktop kitchenette (with microwave & mini-fridge), and a breakfast nook built for two … all for the decidedly non-luxury price of $119 per night, Sunday through Thursday, even during the peak gambling season of March Madness. Another $100 per night scores a veritable condominium — the 820 square-foot “Panoramic Suite,” with more complete kitchenette, larger living and dining areas, and a 270-degree view of The Strip and the city around you. And first-time visitors who book two of these suites just might find themselves upgraded to the “Hospitality Suite” (oh, yes, they just might), which boasts over 1600 square-feet of space, including two large bedrooms with dual master baths, full kitchen and living area, and a dining table that easily accommodates six people.

The 820 square-foot Panoramic Suite

But, wait. I haven’t gotten to the good stuff yet. I haven’t mentioned the one … no, make that two … features that make Vdara the PERFECT hotel for my “Vegas-hating” wife.

• NO CASINO

• NO SMOKE

No joke! Vdara is one of only two smoke-free, casino-free properties in the Vegas City Center, and it is the only one of the two that offers rooms at anything less than $250 per night (and, at $119, a far cry less at that!). Apart from the one evening we spent in a club, I’m not sure I smelled a single waft of smoke the entire four-day weekend. And the only casino I saw was the one I purposely sought out (Casino Royale, next to The Venetian — the only $5 Blackjack tables I’ve found on the The Strip). Even our field trip to the Aria, to see the newest Cirque production Zarkana, had us riding an escalator to the mezzanine level before we were even so much as within earshot of the casino bells and whistles.

To say the trip was a success would be a tad modest. Perhaps Christine would say that I’m overselling her enjoyment of the weekend; but, then, our friend would probably tell you that I’m underselling it. I know this: Christine had fun. I had fun. We all had fun, and we were all simply “blown away” at the quality, the luxury, the spaciousness, the cleanliness of Vdara, especially at the price we were paying. And, most importantly, Christine can no longer say that the things she hates most about Vegas are the smoke and the casinos. Because this Vegas — her Vegas — has neither smoke nor casinos.

~ JD

(Cover photo: My son, Philip, descending Mt. Meru, Tanzania, in the glow of early dawn, with the slopes of Mt. Kilimanjaro looming in the distance.)