
I remember a time, probably around 1994, when my dad and I were cruising the Strip with young Alex Curtas.
It was late-afternoon and our hungry 4th grader was starting to squawk. Suddenly, out the car window, the Circus Circus in all its tackiness loomed before us.
(When quality reigned over quantity)
/GettyImages-517357578-5c4a27edc9e77c0001ccf77d.jpg)