Shit That Doesn't Involve Drinking or Trying to Get Laid

POOLS Provided you take a long enough breather to even be hungover, there are few more effective cure-alls than slipping into some water and letting all the toxins seep out and intermix with everybody else’s. Pretty much anywhere you’re going to be staying will have its own pool, but you shouldn’t let that fact or piddling concerns like “guests-only” policies stop you from traveling further afield. If you haven’t realized by now, everything in Vegas is up for sale and you will be not be putting anybody’s job in jeopardy by slipping the pool attendant a ten or twenty—the house already accounts for this by paying them utter shit. During the week when it’s less crowded a greased palm isn’t even necessary for access, just strut in like you know what you’re up to and keep a reserve in your shoes to be safe.  Hard Rock (4455 Paradise Rd) We know, we know, enough with the fucking Hard Rock already, but in all seriousness this is one of the only pools that is neither chockablock with gelatinous Midwesterners and their brood nor glutted with visor-bedecked Daytona-Beach-types. As good a scene as you’re getting if you’re young, and host to a decent weekly party called Rehab every Sunday. Four Seasons (3960 Las Vegas Blvd) If you can manage to bribe your way into this one, welcome to paradise. The staff brings you fresh orange slices and scented towels and refreshes your drink so stealthily you won’t have the faintest clue of how you’ve already gotten so drunk. Also, because they do such a good job of keeping the rabble at bay, it’s one of the city’s few-to-none islands of tranquility.  Mandalay Bay (3950 Las Vegas Blvd) More of a sprawling network of waterworks than a conventional pool, they’ve got a running river, a wave pool, a couple regs spots, and one of the only paid-entry topless pools in town worth going to ($5 for guys, ladies free). It’s located in the same complex as the Four Seasons and is a little easier to breech, but it’s still a good idea to pack a couple extra 20s in your trunks. They’ve also got an expansive aquarium that’s not too crowded during the week and used to house the world’s only hammerhead in captivity until it died (which is what happens when they’re kept in captivity). OTHER STUFF  Red Rock Canyon (Take Charleston Blvd west until you hit mountains) Not the one U2 rocked the shit out of in the 80s— that’s in Colorado. If you’re looking for a completely douche-free environment in which to recuperate, the rock climbers this cluster of outcroppings draws in from across the country may bum you out a little, but there’s plenty of shady space amidst the crags to steer clear of the bleach-jobs-and-Ray-Bans crowd. Red Rock is in the opposite direction of the Grand Canyon and Hoover Dam too, so at least you know you won’t be running into as many drooling fatties.  Jillian’s (450 Fremont St (702)759-0450) The downstairs is one of those awful “grown-up arcades” with overpriced VR machines, a room of pool tables, and about 30 sports games on projection TVs at any given moment, but upstairs they’ve got a 12-lane bowling alley that has $1 games and $2 beers every Wednesday—all you have to do is find a way to stomach all the goddamn 50s retro-tripping.  TUNES It’s been nearly two decades since the days when local skatepunk legends Fuck Shit Piss would haul a generator out into the desert and put on shows with bands like Fang and NOFX, but you can still catch some decent passers-through. Jillian’s clears out the Skee-ball every other week to give space to young guns like Futureheads, and for all the suffocating kitsch you have to wade through to get to it, Beauty Bar (517 Fremont Street (702)598-1965) has a pretty comfy back porch which regularly plays host to out-of-towners (watch out for the first Friday of the month though—funk night).