Mesquite, Nevada still carries a reputation as something of free-wheeling, rugged-jeans-wearing kind of gambling town. It is about the last place you can stop and come to your senses before crossing the border into Utah. And ending up somewhere like Salt Lake City.

It’s gambling without the sometimes overpowering Vegas tourist glitz and LA road party scene. It’s where a guy in work jeans can feel comfortable playing poker next to a guy in a golf shirt. The only way you’d get Paris Hilton to Mesquite is if a reality show sent her there in an RV.

In other words, it’s just about the last place you’d expect to see tuxedo clad waiters serving dinner on silver trays. But that’s what you get at Wolf Creek Golf Club’s Terrace Restaurant every Friday and Saturday night.

This isn’t a New Year’s weekend thing. It’s an every weekend thing.

It’s a little unexpected twist on the dining scene, a dash of theater, a story to tell the grandkids perhaps. Yeah, France was great, but the waiters weren’t as well dressed as they were in Mesquite. OK, maybe not.

But the best thing is you can still come as you want, worn jeans and all. You know, like Paris Hilton or any other celebrity can do at any black tie restaurant anywhere.

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