Singer loves spin around Las Vegas

When you think of celebrities in Las Vegas, you may think of Paris Hilton dancing topless in a champagne room. You probably don't think of Chris Barron, lead singer of the Spin Doctors, playing penny slots and watching men joust at "Tournament of Kings."

But Barron is like a secret shopper for the city, occasionally popping into Vegas on his own dime and eschewing VIP services, making him a sort of one-man focus group on what's good and bad on his tourism path.

Some weeks ago, he and his girlfriend flew in from New York on the sly, stayed at the Stratosphere, hiked around Red Rock, dined at the Omelet House, played penny slots, and paid to see "Tournament of Kings," "Jersey Boys" and Bette Midler.

So how did Vegas fare?

Starting out, they checked into the Stratosphere for $40 a night.

"Our first room looked like a prison cell. It was really, really small," he says. "We had a view of a wall -- like a big, gray brick wall and some weird air-conditioning compressor. And the bathroom smelled kind of funky."

Barron and his girlfriend, Lindsay Chambers, went down to the desk and explained their criticisms, and were rewarded with an upgrade by friendly, apologetic faces.

"They gave us a beautiful room with a bit of a view -- not a suite -- but they were totally, totally nice about it," he says.

He preferred gambling at the Stratosphere, rather than at "fancy-fancy hotels," because it's "more relaxed and fun" to be around "regular people."

"In New York City, it would have been $180 a night," he says. "So given that Stratosphere is a 'B'-level hotel, I'd give it an 'A' on the B-level."

Barron and Chambers went to Caesars' Bette Midler show, because they're friends with backup singer Jordan Ballard. Bette put on an "A" show, he says. But it was kind of girlie, so Barron told his girlfriend and Ballard they needed to do a "boy thing" at Excalibur that he had heard about, "this joust thing called 'The Tournament of Kings,'" which went like this:

"It took us a long time to get a drink. It was looking pretty corny," he says. "You know how Vegas can be. It was a little of that soulless, sad kind of Vegas. There weren't a lot of people there. ... You start looking at the people in the costumes and wonder if they're OK: That kind of thing."

They were served Cornish hen and a soup called "Dragon Blood," which tastes suspiciously like tomato soup. A guy in a Merlin the magician outfit mocked a midget jester by saying, "Don't get short with me!"

Barron's ladies looked at him as if to say, "I can't believe Chris dragged us to this thing." Barron thought, "Oh God, I'm so embarrassed."

"It was kind of scary and tragic before we were hammered," his girlfriend says.

"But then, they do this really silly thing where they teach everybody to cheer," he says. "You throw your hands in the air and go 'Huzzah!' They taught us to do a toast. You're supposed to drink and then be like, 'AHH!' And all this ridiculous stuff."

The trio kicked up the boozing, got in the spirit and started digging "Tournament of Kings."

"Then these guys come out on horses, and they're all super, duper good looking. I look over at Lindsay and Jordan and their jaws hit the floor!" Barron says. "They're like Marlboro men, stunt guys, stage-combat, good-looking dudes. And they're riding around and saluting us."

One of the "kings" on horses started eye-flirting with Ballard. She blushed, Barron says.

"We cheered our lungs out," he says, for the jousting, the hand-to-hand choreographed combat, the flame-throwing villain, the dancing damsels, the pyrotechnics and the backflipping gymnasts.

His graded review: "With alcohol, 'A-.' Without alcohol, 'B.'" His girlfriend gives it an "A-" after booze, but without alcohol it's "at best a solid 'C'."

After "Tournament of Kings," they stayed at Excalibur for low-roller gambling.

"This is how you have a ball on the cheap in Vegas: penny slots," Barron says. "For like $10 or $20, you can hang in there for hours.

"Every time you win anything -- if you win 20 cents or 8 cents or 40 cents -- you start cheering and yelling like you just won $1 million.

"And then the waitresses start coming over and bringing you drinks for free.

"Every time we won 20 cents, we were, like, 'Huzzah!' And shouting the cheers from the 'Tournament of Kings,'" he says. "I'm actually afraid if you print that, they'll catch onto that, and it'll blow my whole scheme. But I'll have to take that risk, because it's a public service."

Back on the showroom scene, they thought "Jersey Boys" at the Palazzo was "fabulous," even though Barron's interest level was initially "very low" in seeing a musical about Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons.

But it blew him away with the story, songs and choreography. He'd give "Jersey Boys" an "A."

And to top all this off, he and his girlfriend ate at the "A++" Omelet House at Charleston and Rancho:

"It's a kitschy, quaint diner with Cupie dolls and plates with kittens on them, and little dollies -- that kind of grandmotherly place. But they have like 60 different kinds of omelets."

"The check came and," he says, "it was like $21 for the three of us! And the huevos rancheros will blow your doors off."

Some other plans went awry. They tried to eat at the Stratosphere diner late at night, but never got served so they left and went to bed.

And they blew off an idea to see the campy topless vampire show "Bite" due to fatigue.

They never once thought about doing a strip club.

"I'm used to standing on the lip of a stage with women reaching for me," Barron says. "Why would I willingly relinquish that?"

Barron -- whose solo album, "Poncho and the Kid," comes out Tuesday -- flies back to Vegas this Thursday with the Spin Doctors, to perform "Little Miss Can't Be Wrong" and "Two Princes" at the Rio pool.

"I'm totally psyched."

Doug Elfman's column appears on Mondays, Tuesdays and Fridays. Contact him at 383-0391 or e-mail him at delfman@reviewjournal.com. He also blogs at reviewjournal.com/elfman.