Sorry David Lynch, but your Twin Peaks can’t compare to the new Vegas version.
On the Strip, Twin Peaks means busty women in tiny plaid shirts serving you burgers and massive mugs of beer. No TV drama, just sports on TV.
In a true life camp fantasy come to life, this part ski lodge/part sports bar/part Hooters is a mancave stocked with all the essentials.
Like women in painted-on khaki shorts hula-hooping through the crowd. Or parading around with a long wooden stick stuffed with beer flights.
Blackened fish tacos, steak sliders, and the fried egg-topped Hangover Burger are to be enjoyed beneath an imposing pyramid of TVs over the weathered wood bar. Waitresses serve up 29-degree drafts of Newcastle in frosty mugs and “premium shooters” Midnight Brew of Kahlua, Absolut, and Knotty Brunette beer.
You can also stumble around the cabin-style playpen of exposed wood beams and stuffed dead animals with as many bourbon-based Gold Rush cocktails as you can carry.
Then it’s time for the ultimate challenge: a bleary-eyed ascent of the 39-foot rock climbing wall.
Remember: don't look down. Or do. Yeah, this one could be a challenge.