Columnist John Katsilometes: A memorable cheesburger in paradise

Monday, July 23, 2001 | 8:21 a.m.

John Katsilometes is the Sun features editor.

Last week I had the best burger in Las Vegas.

Backstory:

I happened upon a friend late Thursday night who had not much on his plate. He never does. His favorite saying, the line that would prompt Pavlovian applause from a sitcom studio audience, "Whaddya got goin' tonight?"

It's a question as loaded as a young Hunter S. Thompson, whom my friend happens to greatly resemble. I wasn't in the mood to do anything, or nothing, so I just said, "What's up, Doc?"

That's his nickname. No kidding.

"You wanna have dinner at Binion's?" Doc said, his eyes shielded by blue-tinted prescription glasses.

"Yes," I quickly answered. Though I've known Doc only briefly, I've learned to ride along when he shifts into planning gear. "I was just thinking how much I'd enjoy dinner at Binion's."

"Well I've got two comps for dinner at Binion's," he said. "You look like you could use some dinner. I'll drive."

It was good to meet up with Doc. He's bald (intentionally so) and his head peels in the summer because he sometimes works outdoors and swims a lot. In fact, he swims so much he occasionally has trouble hearing because of water in the ear. But he's a fine listener, and behind those tinted lenses are wise eyes that can spot a bothered soul at 50 paces. On this night, that happened to be me.

"You can't beat free dinner at Binion's," Doc said as we readied to leave. He then approached another friend, who had provided him the food tokes, and asked which restaurant we should visit.

"Snack bar," he said. "The snack bar food is better than the food at the restaurants."

Clutching a coupon worth $12 in Binion food and blasting his new car stereo, Doc sped and weaved down to Fremont Street (he drives like Hunter S., too). The only open snack bar was packed with patrons, a couple of them hotel employees, and we watched as a few tiring cooks toiled over an open fryer, plopping greasy fare onto Styrofoam plates. It was just before midnight and the service was sluggish.

A gruff guy wearing a beat-up green John Deere hat suggested that we order the cheeseburger. "It's big and there's a lot that comes with it: pickles, tomato, lettuce, onions. It's all fresh. Lots of cheese. It could put McDonald's out of business."

There is no higher praise.

Doc and I ordered, and Doc made sure I'd leave the tip. A young couple sitting next to us opted for the burgers, too, and Doc noticed the woman seemed a bit pale and slightly shell shocked.

"We just saw Amazing Johnathan," she said as we asked how she was feeling. She'd never seen the manic comic/magician and was shocked at his off-color act. He made her composure disappear, apparently.

"You should look into these things before buying tickets," I advised. "Next time try Dixie Dooley. He's got that Houdini-milk can thing wired."

She laughed but I wasn't joking.

We scarfed our burgers and they were as delicious as the John Deere guy promised. I felt better and Doc was grinning, too.

"Doesn't get much better than that, does it?" Doc said, taking his silver lighter to a post-burger smoke. "That was one good cheeseburger."

"Very nice," I said. "I'd say it's the best in town."

Or maybe it was the company.