Kristin Flickinger – Gay Travel Guru Finalist

The MGM Grand is one rocking Las Vegas hotel. Sure, they gave me a kickin’ room and access to a ton of amazing stuff. But you know I wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true. Honey, this place is

unreal – in the best way possible.

So here’s how the gay friendly MGM rocked my world. I woke up in the super-comfy bed in my West Wing room, looking out over the strip. After I

headed down the elevator to one of the three Starbucks on the property

for my morning cappuccino, I did a spot of work at the comfortable desk

in my room (the hotel provides wireless and high speed internet). Before

my evening packed full of exciting shows and events at the Las Vegas

hotel, it was off to the Spa.

The Grand Spa has luxurious treatments like hot stone massages, which is what I had. First, though, I was shown to my private locker, handed a

bottle of water and an enormous, fluffy robe and guided into the

Jacuzzi/cucumber steam/sauna area, then told to wait in the “relaxation

room.” The dark, warm room had overstuffed chaise lounges, magazines,

and orange-infused water. It also had granola bars. Which made me

extremely happy.

May, my massage therapist quietly called my name and then gently guided me down the hall into a wonderfully warm room, where she tucked me under

the covers and asked me if the music, temperature and lighting were

okay. Then she started.

When the stones touched my skin, I think I made a little noise. They were on the verge of searing, for one, brief moment, and then they were melting

into my skin, releasing the tension and stress of the past 24 hours.

I walked out of the spa energized, relaxed and ready for the rest of the day. Which was good, because my day included pool parties, dinner at

Fiamma, the Crazy Horse Paris show, and the Restaurant Week event, Wet

Your Appetite at Wet Republic, part of the enormous pool complex at the

MGM Grand.

Let’s talk a moment about Fiamma, MGM’s Italian entry in the Las Vegas restaurant scene. No, let’s talk about my love of food. Italian food,

specifically. It’s deep and it’s real, people. So when the general

manager came by to suggest that we have the chef prepare his choice of

dishes for us, I was intrigued.

“Bring it on,” I thought to myself.

And he did.

When the pizza margharita arrived, I could tell just by looking at it that it was the real deal.

“Do you have a forno? A wood fired oven?"

He smiled as he placed a piece gingerly on my plate. “Yes, we do.”

Excellent.

Course after course came: caprese salad with colorful, heirloom tomatoes, and bufala mozzarella; eggplant Parmesan; lasagnette of artichoke;

house-made linguine with fresh, black truffle that we could smell as it

approached the table.

This meal was seriously good. I discovered that there is a fine line between needing to eat in order to fuel your body, and eating so much that your

body demands sleep. I danced a delicate dance at Fiamma, aided by an

espresso lovingly prepared and greedily consumed.

And when we thought we could eat no more, a delicious plate of dessert was placed before us. Two diners…three desserts. Perfect.

We had a bomba of crema and raspberry gelato coated in crisp, dark chocolate, a Hazlenut torta, and, of course, tiramisu. All of which were

delightful. Delicate, chocolate, and delicious.

And thus began my love affair with the MGM Grand, a truly grand Las Vegas hotel.