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Why Cosmopolitan Loses The Whale Wars





The numbers are out on Cosmopolitan's first full quarter of operations: $34 million in room revenue, $58 million in food and beverage, and $31 million in gaming. As reader Chris77 mentioned on the board, the overall performance is weak and the gaming numbers are downright worrisome.

Such little casino action seems strange. Sure, a few tables might not have the best blackjack odds, but they've definitely got some decent games, a nice variety of slots, possibly the best comp club in the city, gobs of feel-good-even-when-you're-losing atmosphere, and a strip presence that sucks pedestrians in like a vortex. Just stand by Bond and count how the majority of strip foot traffic naturally gravitates into Cosmo - it's downright eerie.

The issue, at least in my suspicion, is the six-figure-and-up bankroll club who in the last few years, has been placed on an even higher pedestal. Responsible for a vastly increased share in gaming revenue, those Russian arms dealers and Japanese degenerates we all know and love - and who were least affected by the recession - are the single most responsible customers in helping the major luxury resorts ride out these financial times.

And Cosmo can't handle these guys.

There's a problem that arises with that much wealth - a problem that is hard to sympathize with, but nevertheless, a serious issue: anonymity. Let's put aside the marketing talk of exclusivity found in Wynncore's Tower Suites and posh privacy of Aria's Sky Suites. These concepts serve a real function: to expose foreign dignitaries and other ultra-wealthy patrons to as few people as possible.

This isn't a new concept exclusive to Wynncore and Aria. Bellagio's got a villa entrance in addition to an unmarked VIP lounge with its own set of speedy elevators. Mirage's Industrial Road entrance is heavenly, serene, and ultra-secluded. Top players at Caesars rarely see the main port cochere and are frequently dropped off at both Augustus and Octavius Towers, while MGM's Mansion is a world unto its own.

Now imagine if any one of the patrons that frequent the above hideaways took a top floor penthouse at Cosmo with a million in credit and anywhere from, say, $100-$500K in their coat pocket at any point. A crowded main entrance, elevators at capacity, a consistently packed third-floor commons, not a single private room, and a high limit salon that's impossible to access conveniently from any elevator - all this makes for one nervous whale, even with a security detail present.

I still admire Cosmo for doing the best they could with the sliver of land provided, even if it doesn't lend itself to securing the biggest fish in the sea. Hopefully this just means better comps for those of us who aren't afraid to take our wallets out in public.

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