“This is a hot Nevada night, so come out to the dance floor. Let’s shake a leg. Let’s get some steps in.” The evening begins with a little “Country Girl Shake,” and we’re learning how the 32-count, four-wall line dance is done.
Well, sort of — this stuff is complicated, like trying to solve a scrambled Rubik’s Cube while being colorblind.
“Left, right, left / Cross back together, cross back together.”
So commands instructor Kari Cozine-Butchko, outfitted in stylishly ripped jeans and a headset microphone.
“Up, up / Bring it around / Heel and heel and heel.”
She punctuates her moves with a demonstrative swirl of the hips and a clap of the hands. And with that, it’s time for the fella on stage in the black cowboy hat to start singing and everyone else to start moving as he enjoins the crowd in song to shake it for the birds and the bees and the catfish swimmin’ down deep in the creek.
They oblige: An older gent in glasses and a white shirt mouths the lyrics to the Luke Bryan hit as he kicks out his heels; a brunette with a sparkly belt buckle cools herself with a white hand fan as she spins herself around the dance floor.
It’s a quarter past 6 p.m. on a Thursday, and things are heating up at The Hideaway Tavern, 3369 N. Thom Blvd.
The sign out front promises some “honky tonkin’ Vegas style.”
What does that mean? That depends on where you’re at.
Now, cowboy culture has been as synonymous with Las Vegas for as long as there’s been a Las Vegas, and it’s become especially big business on the Strip, where country music arena-fillers like Jason Aldean and Blake Shelton own lavish, multilevel bar/restaurants that glimmer in unison with all their gold and platinum records and the burgers cost north of a 20-spot.
But here, Vegas honky-tonkin’ means something different entirely: The occasional pair of steel-toed work boots on the dance floor; Wednesday night meatloaf specials; a familial vibe that’s not quite like home, exactly, but definitely feels down-homey.
Yet The Hideaway is just as bustling as those popular tourist hangs right about now, a crowded house mingling beneath a low-slung ceiling with exposed piping, walls aglow with neon beer signs, where American flags hang next to framed Southern Comfort riverboat mirrors.
True to its name, The Hideaway is a bit hidden, tucked along a side street off North Rancho Drive. The property itself has been around since the early ’60s, though the building doesn’t date back nearly as far and was renovated in the 2000s. (Dino’s Lounge owner Kristin Bartolo bought it two years ago.)
An older, blue-collar crowd fills the room on this night (and most others), and everyone seems to know everyone else. They’ve come to drink, dance and occasionally have a little fun at the expense of a stray nonregular — one cowboy playfully chides us for not wearing boots.
Speaking of which, we hear those boot heels squeak for a full hour as Cozine-Butchko leads her charges through one increasingly elaborate number after the next — “Redneck Angel,” “Trashy Women,” the Tush Push, but of course — offering her unflagging encouragement amid a whole lot of sharp-right turns and flying ’dos.
Just keep going. Just keep going.
Yeah, we know, she’s talking about mastering the complexity of some of these steps, but we decide to indulge in a little creative license and apply her affirmations to another round of beers.
We can do hard things. We can do easy things.
She’s practically singing her words now.
Just keep going.
A Night Out in Vegas is a monthly immersion into local nightlife and happenings. Contact Jason Bracelin at [email protected] or 702-383-0476. Follow @jasonbracelin76 on Instagram.