In a town in which great suites, famous eateries and cool nightclubs are de rigueur, casinos in Las Vegas have developed new forms of exclusivity to stand out from the pack

The Paiza Club is a club in the truest sense of the word: if you're not invited, you're not welcome. Nestled on the 36th floor of The Venetian Resort Hotel Casino in Las Vegas, it functions as a hotel within the hotel, designed specifically for the highest of high rollers. Only someone who blows into town with a six-figure or higher credit line will even know that the wood-paneled enclave exists.
Like its Sands Macau counterpart, the Paiza at The Venetian has its own casino, its own 8,000-square-foot suites and its own staff. The private restaurant within its walls is a round-the-clock operation, serving sublime dim sum, Peking duck and shark fin soup, thus allowing players from around the world to remain in their local time zones as they put small fortunes at risk. Waiters discreetly push silver serving carts, loaded with delicacies that appear to have time-traveled straight from a gourmet room in Hong Kong to this skyscraping sprawl in Vegas. The wine list boasts bottles of 1982 Chateau Lafite, 1982 Chateau Petrus and 1999 Harlan. A glassfronted humidor showcases Davidoffs, Fuentes and Ashtons. As is the custom in Macau – and this floor most assuredly
caters t Asian players – private dining rooms are outfitted with large, flat-screen TVs. Patrons enjoy their elaborate banquets with programming from the homeland blaring away.

Best of all: your money is no good here. The Paiza, which was built at a cost of $30 million, is strictly for players who have been
given the run of the house. Everything within its walls is comped and the place illustrates the degree to which Vegas casinos
must now go to land highly coveted, free-spending whales. From one end of the Strip to the other, VIP hosts grapple in an
environment that has become increasingly competitive and mind-numbingly luxe. In a world in which outré suites (the Palms
has one that boasts full-size bowling lanes), famous eateries (Le Cirque’s Sirio Maccioni just announced plans to open an
eponymous eatery at the MGM Grand) and cool nightclubs (Vegas arguably has the largest concentration of happening spots
in the world) are de rigueur, this form of exclusivity is what’s required to stand out from the crowd.

Nevertheless, the Paiza is not completely unique – at the MGM Grand, for example, the ultra-exclusive Mansion provides
discreet luxuries that rival those of any four-star resort in the world – but it is indicative of an increasing de-emphasis on
attracting the mid-level guys who were once bread-and-butter moneymakers for Vegas casinos.



The era of being a good guy, using a winning personality and gifting hosts to enhance your comps is pretty much over.
“Traditionally, a $100-per-hand bettor could always get a free room and dinner,” says Max Rubin, author of Comp City:
A Guide to Free Casino Vacations, the handbook to snagging casino freebies. “Now it might not even get you a
discounted room rate. With what they are charging for rooms, it makes no sense to give anything away to the smaller
players.”

That’s because rooms and amenities currently account for more profits in Vegas than gambling. With accommodations
routinely going for $300 per night and dinner entrees selling at Manhattan prices (in restaurants that are increasingly
owned by outside entities, which means that casinos need to pay full freight for the most delectable meals that they
comp), the bar has been raised dramatically. “Vegas has gotten a little arrogant,” admits Steve Cyr, the high-roller host
at the Hard Rock Hotel & Casino and coauthor of the book Whale Hunt in the Desert. “It’s hard for me to do something
for a $5,000 guy [that is, a player who puts $5,000 on deposit or takes out the same amount in markers]. At $10,000,
we’re starting. And if you put up a $25,000 and bet an average of $250 a hand for three hours a day, then the world
starts to become your oyster. Your wife goes to the spa and we give you limos to go wherever you want.”

In the heart of what might be called New Comp City – the leaner, meaner, dizzyingly upscale Vegas – I am enjoying
the Paiza’s impossibly tender Kobe beef alongside my dining companion, Marshall Sylver. If you’ve spent any time in
Las Vegas, you’ve probably seen Sylver’s smiling face on those light-up ads that top taxis around town. He’s famous
for producing a hypnosis show at Harrah’s and for leading self-improvement seminars across the country.