And after passing my security clearances, I was initiated into the secret realm of the Reserve, catering to the whims of the world’s wealthiest gamblers. When the resort offered me a staff position serving its penthouses’ high-rollers, roving from butler to bartending stations and everywhere in between, I jumped at the opportunity. It’s a gaming experience so exclusive that not even James Bond could charm his way through the door. The only way in is by invitation, which means fronting over a million dollars (and preferably two) at the Reserve, the hotel’s private, three-room casino on the 71st floor. Its 20-plus suites, known as the Boulevard Penthouses, are the most coveted rooms in town, largely because they’re priceless. In Las Vegas, the ultimate sand trap-turned-capital of capitalism, there’s no better byword for sophistication than the Cosmopolitan.
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