Initially you threw us with this one, on account of the fact that the sentence you quote came not from Question of the Day, but from Today's News, and actually appeared on August 27. Still, who are we to split hairs? In the end, we tracked it down.
The news item in question was about The Act nightclub, an avant-garde late-night human circus that's currently an unwelcome tenant of the Venetian/Palazzo, which is attempting to evict it on the grounds that the behavior of its patrons and performers allegedly is frequently in breach of obscenity laws -- a charge that the nightclub refutes. The Act has, apparently, toned it down a notch of late, however.
This whole furor brought to mind the period, in 2009 to 2010, when Sin City's exploding nightlife scene showed possible signs of implosion, amid a series of scandals that resulted in state regulatory authorities -- which generally choose to use their muscle behind the scenes to nip potential tourist-deterring problems in the bud before they erupt into the public eye -- taking an unusually high-profile public stance against venues that were seen to be jeopardizing the integrity of the city and its reputation.
When, in July 2009, Prive nightclub inside Planet Hollywood was forced to shut its doors following its denial of a liquor license by the county's Business License Department, it was a final blow struck just hours after its landlord had coughed up a $500,000 fine as punishment for permitting a spectrum of unacceptable behavior at the nightclub that included: open use of illicit drugs; public nudity and sex acts; intoxication leading to disorderly conduct, disturbances, and DUIs; not to mention members of security ejecting unwanted patrons unceremoniously out the door of the club and onto the casino floor or taxi rank or valet area.
This was the same summer when the Rio's experiment with a pool run by a strip club ended ingloriously with the facility's voluntary closure following a failed "integrity check" that uncovered illicit drug dealing, prostitution, and all the other predictable illegal activities.
Later the same year, celebrity resident at the Palms, Adam Goldstein, better known as DJ AM, was found dead in his New York apartment from an apparent overdose involving a massive cocktail of crack cocaine and prescription drugs.
The Gaming Control Board had been monitoring the escalating deterioration of the daylife/nightlife scene since as early as 2006, when letters were first issued to casino licensees warning that violations would not be tolerated, whether by the owners or their tenants.
Apparently, however, those involved failed to heed the warning, or were simply making too much money and having too much fun to quit, despite the severity of the accusations cited by regulators, which again included: excessive drunkenness, public sexual acts, date rape, prostitution, extortion/misquoting of service charges, drug distribution and abuse, violence, the admittance of minors, the dumping of incapacitated club-goers into casino venues; and failure to cooperate with law enforcement.
Metro continued to work undercover, allowing the offenders plenty rope with which to hang themselves. Next in the line of fire was the Hard Rock, as instances were recorded in which a security officer at the off-Strip hotspot took a Metro narcotics detective to a locked private restroom used for smoking marijuana, while hosts and security officers -- at times high themselves -- sold ecstasy and cocaine to undercover cops, sometimes supplied by club patrons, who'd in turn receive a kickback. We even heard from a former senior surveillance operative at the property, that occupied guest rooms were being seconded by security for use, for a fee, by prostitutes and their clients when it was known the accommodations would be temporarily empty of their guests (that particular racket was uncovered when someone returned unexpectedly and found a couple of strangers in his bed).
When a well-known NFL player was rescued by paramedics from the property's notorious Rehab pool party, after apparently being stricken by the ill effects of "dehydration," no one with a clue needed too much help reading between the lines; it thus came as little surprise when a member of the public subsequently drowned -- in broad daylight, surrounded by hundreds of other people -- at the same event, nor that intoxication was cited as a factor in his tragic and untimely end.
Later came incidents like the high-profile arrests of both Bruno Mars and Paris Hilton for cocaine possession at the Hard Rock and Wynn, respectively and there was a growing sense of the apocalyptic as party-centric properties started giving away bottles of free liquor as part of their room deals, while the whole bacchanalian meltdown was being broadcast on national TV in "reality" shows like TruTV's "Rehab" and MTV's "The Real World."
Finally, enough was enough and Gaming Control, in association with fellow regulators, instigated a clampdown that made public example of a few notorious high-profile offenders, doling out some serious public raps on the knuckles. This included that half-million dollar fine for Planet Hollywood, followed up by a $575,000 fine for the Hard Rock, and finally in 2013, a $1 million fine for the Palms in settlement of a 17-count complaint for a litany of offenses by club employees that echoed those at Hard Rock and Planet Hollywood. For a while, Ms Hilton was distinctly persona non grata, having been read the trespass act by the Wynn; baby-faced Bruno got probation. (In a twist of supreme irony, the DA who prosecuted them both was later busted himself for buying crack cocaine; he first fled, then later committed suicide.)
The message, though loud and clear, apparently needed to be issued a few times to be heard over the din of the ongoing party; finally, however, the nightlife industry seemed to get the message that it was for time for everyone, without exception, to clean up their respective acts. Aside from that recent storm in a teacup at The Act itself, all seems to have been relatively quiet on the nightclub/daylife front of late (as long as you're not actually inside one of the venues, that is). While the hegemony of the Vegas club scene currently sees seven of the nation's Top 10 venues calling Sin City home, no Strip resort is going to risk the suicide that losing its gaming license would constitute, no matter how popular or hip its nightclub or pool party may be, and that's the ultimate weapon that Gaming Control can -- and would, eventually -- wield, should anyone overstep the mark.
