David McKee

Far on the outskirts of Sin City, the Kingdom of Make-Believe (aka Lake Las Vegas) is the newest and — in terms of acreage — biggest metaphor yet for the unrealistic expectations and sometimes insane assumptions which have laid our metropolis low. Heck, I can vividly remember the anxiety and gloom (mostly the latter) that hung over LVA HQ when it looked like Dubai World was going to walk out on CityCenter. That would have been such a crippling and painful blow — think battlefield double-amputation, followed by gangrene — to our economy and to civic morale that it might have taken 10 or 20 years to recover … especially coming on the heels of so many other failsinos (™ Chuck Monster).

That’s no “pub.” Nosiree, Bob. When tours were being given of Crystals, we were vaguely assured that Todd English was bringing “a new concept in pub food” and that’s as specific as it got. It could have been cannibalism for all one knew. Instead, it’s something worse. You see, Mr. English is not opening a mere, humble pub — as in your friendly, local “publican.” Bloody hell, he’s unveiling a “P.U.B.” Not being sufficiently with-it, I had to read an explanation that it is a “Public Urban Bar.” Hence the acronym. Because, crikey, don’t we all get tired of saying, “Let’s have a pint at the public urban bar, mates”?

Judging by its description, Todd English P.U.B. sounds pretentious as all get-out. Since I’m obliged to show the flag at a media event there tonight, I’ll soon know Continue reading →