VEGAS INC Coverage
It was a big day for the Pérez-Ferias. And I, for once, was genuinely excited.
When I was seven years old, we lived in Puerto Rico (a condition we quickly remedied with our move to Miami) and on this particular Saturday we had the double-barrel good fortune of not only spending the entire day poolside at Casa Cuba, a chic, private club for Cuban-born expats who found themselves living in San Juan after Fidel Castro’s tyranny took over their homeland, but we were also scheduled to attend a supper club performance by legendary husband-and-wife musical duo Olga & Tony. Yes, this was going to be a great day.
I think my well-documented love of pools began by sipping delicious lemonades under the broiling sun at Casa Cuba. My brother would much rather be doing repeated cannonballs off the diving board while I preferred soaking in the entire scene in a more, well, civilized manner. But the evening’s agenda was what really got me hyped.
Until I became a happy-go-lucky teenager, my family nicknamed me “Meluco”—a funny, quasi-disparaging Cuban nickname for someone who’s grumpy. They had very good reason to call me that. I have single-handedly ruined many a family portrait by my evident sulking about anything and everything. I didn’t want to be at Disney World or on the beach building sand castles or discovering pyramids in Mexico or visiting relatives in New York or be anywhere, really, that involved a family outing. I was, in fact, a silent brat, and my family, bless them all, put up with me for years. The Saturday night concert invitation came in the middle of this unfortunate stage of my adolescence and my mom was unequivocal: “If you ruin this for us, I’ll kill you,” she lovingly warned me as I got dressed in my spankin’ new baby blue suit. She didn’t need to worry. I was excited to go.
The club was enormous and plush and everyone was dressed in long gowns and dark suits and spoke in hushed tones while sipping champagne. I’d never been in that kind of expensive environment before and I realized that my siblings and I were the only kids in the entire venue. I knew this was the sort of place I wanted to be. Then, magically, directly in front of us on stage, Olga & Tony appeared. The long-time married singers were one of Cuba’s biggest acts, sort of the island nation’s version of Steve & Eydie or Donny & Marie or, if this was 2050, Justin & Selena. Olga & Tony were attractive, conversational, immensely talented, gracious performers and I was nothing short of transfixed—even more so when they publicly thanked my parents (and their kids) for being there. That night they also sang with Lissette, their young and gifted daughter who would go on to achieve enormous success as a singer in her own right.
After the show, we were able to meet Olga & Tony (and Lissette) and I saw my mom whisper something to my dad as they looked at me, so I asked her what she said. “Finally, Meluco was happy to be somewhere with his family!” My mom was right: It was a good day for sure.
I was thinking about this initial experience with career entertainers as I sat in the audience on successive weekends for Celine Dion’s show at Caesars Palace and the 30th anniversary performance of Jubilee! at Bally’s. Though both of these quintessential Las Vegas experiences are sort of bookends on the myriad entertainment options in this town, I was equally amazed, dazzled, amused and awestruck, for vastly different reasons, by both spectacles.
What Elvis was to Vegas two generations ago, one could argue Celine Dion has come closest to becoming now. Yes, Celine is technically perfect but she’s also homespun, insanely gifted and a world-class, indefatigable, consummate entertainer. I couldn’t have been more impressed.
Jubilee!, on the other hand, was something I wasn’t terribly excited to go see, but am I ever glad I did. Showgirls (and boys)!, Over-the-top production numbers! Slightly naughty double-entendres! Give me more, please. What a fun, celebratory, cheeky night of classic Vegas extravagance. Jubilee! felt like the holy grail of cruise ship entertainment, or what every cruise tries desperately to duplicate and invariably fails miserably. It’s just F-U-N.
As I sat down to write this, I received my official invitation to Rod Stewart’s opening night run at the Colosseum at Caesars Palace. Besides being aware of how fortunate I am to work at a job I love—though we do work impossibly long hours—and be rewarded with amazing perks such as this, I was also struck by how little my attitudes have changed about big-ticket entertainment. I still love getting gussied up, sipping a fancy cocktail and waiting for that plush curtain to raise ready to be transported wherever the superstar wants to take me.
So here I am thanking Olga & Tony, Lissette, Donna Summer, Bruce Springsteen, Madonna, Journey, John Mellencamp, Gladys Knight, REO Speedwagon, George Michael, U2, Barbra Streisand, Frank Sinatra, Lady Gaga and now, Celine Dion, Jubilee!, Rod Stewart and all the others for showing me that if you’re too busy being a stick in the mud, you might miss the secret of what makes life worth living. So call me a softie, mushy, a musical nerd or anything else you want. But, no one—no one—will ever call me Meluco again.