WITHOUT LOS ANGELES, there would not be a Las Vegas as we know it today.

There. We've said it. We've all thought it but wisely never uttered it among our friends and contacts in Sin City who set us up with comped rooms in the best hotels and gratis tickets to the hottest shows. Aside from not wanting to endanger our prized perks, we've just been too polite to mention L.A.'s contribution to Vegas' jackpot, out of deference to the generations of desert-dwelling dreamers who built and maintain our glitzy getaway in Anything Goes, Nevada. But it's true. Vegas needed us.

Sure, proud Las Vegans will point you to the history books and talk about Mormon trails and railroad convergences and cow town craps joints and postwar population booms and young-men-going-west, Horace Greely style, all leading to the inevitable emergence of the naughty neon playground that exists today. We admit legalized gambling put Vegas on the map, but it took Los Angeles--via Hollywood--to put it over the top.

And here's why: According to legend that handsome, stylish and temperamental L.A. gangster Benjamin "Bugsy" Siegel, while driving between Vegas and his Holmby Hills home to check up on gambling interests in the rough desert destination, dreamed up an opulent Monte Carlo-style gaming haven for rich and famous swingers who liked to rub elbows with unsavory but roguishly charming goodfellos like himself. Sticking closer to the facts, Buggy muscled in on the vision of Hollywood Reporter founder Billy Wilkerson, the celebrity-connected impresario behind luxe nightclubs like Ciro's, who had already begun work on a similar notion, which with Siegel's mob backing would evolve into the Flamingo, the first posh Strip hotel-casino.

No matter: Bugsy's vision--and L.A.'s undying influence on Las Vegas--came into play on the Flamingo's opening night, Dec. 26, 1946, when the game gangster played an ace up his sleeve by chartering a Jet TO fly in a chic coterie of Hollywood high rollers--Clark ,Gable, Land Turner, Joan Crawford, and Caesar Romero among them--from Los Angeles for the big day, which featured then-top-name entertainers Jimmy Durante Rose Marie, Xavier Cugat, and emcee George Jessell.

It was the first time the dazzling sheen of Hollywood glamour would be sprinkled or me city, but far from the last--and the effect was undeniable: Crowds packed into the Flamingo for a glimpse of their movie idols. Sure, once the stars left that first weekend business ultimately became so bad Siegel had to be whacked by his own mob before it turned profitable, but the lesson of his vision--shipping in a patina of L.A.'s distinctive gloss--would become an enduring staple of building the Vegas zeitgeist.

Face it, Las Vegans: Your glory days of the 1960s are almost single-handed attributable to Frank, Dean, Sammy (as on their marquees, no last names needed), and their ilk--heck, even Marlene Dietrich played Vegas back then--who gave the city its cuckoo-cool star-wattage credibility, letting Middle America know it could come to town to indulge its various vices and be naughty alongside L.A.'s entertainment elite. The fact that Sin City was just a one-hour airplane trip away from the place the stars called home made it all too easy and all too alluring. The Rat Pack lived here, played there.

Cut to 2003: Stuff magazine throws a wild weekend bash at the party-hardy Palms (a pique typically so packed with young, hip, and beautiful Angelenos that it should practically be annexed by the city). Stilt following Bugsy's lead, the laddie mag, its sponsors, and the hotel imported a wealth of celebrities--an even more valuable commodity in this age--to lend luster to a two-day bacchanalia at the Palms' poolside Skin and neighboring Rain in the Desert clubs.

Actress Jaime Pressly and a collection of girls from The Man Show sashayed onto an airplane filled with a fraternity-sized collection of contest winners; Tom Green commandeered c cabana filled with curvaceous cuties; the blond and tan Hilton sisters turned heads swimming by; the rock group Live entertained outside; and stars including Damon Wayans, Laura Prepon, Michael Vartan, Aisha Tyler, Lance Bass, and Orlando jones were spotted romping throughout the casino into the wee hours.

Even if none of these names ever reach Sinatra-level status it didn't matter to the hotel guests, who craned their necks, squealed in delighted recognition, and worked up the nerve to ask for photos with the stars on hand, thrilled to bask in the reflected glow of Hollywood heat of A, B, and C list varieties. It made the already impressive Palms all that much more spectacular, and L.A. says both "Thank you" and You're welcome."

We're more than happy to lend our limelight, because vegas has learned--and learned well--to cater to our rarefied appetites. We share a bond. The city's showmanship, of course, has appealed to L.A. residents since the beginning: Be it tacky or tasteful, neon soaked or ultra-lounged, showgirl stacked or showstopping, we appreciate the urge to entertain. And somewhere in the last decade, Vegas also remembered that posh, pampering amenities and top-tier dining were at least as alluring as an all-you-can-eat buffet. It took hype, hoopla, and hospitality over the top--even by our extravagant standards--so how could we resist Vegas's splendors and spectacles?

For sheer showmanship alone, the Mirage has cornered the market with a multi-tiered collection of the hottest tickets in town. We'll give credit where credit is due: The standard-bearers Siegfried & Roy--whose enduring popular magical show the Royal White Tigers of Nevada and the Magical White Lions have entertained nearly ten million people--are an entirely Vegas phenomenon. Impressionist Danny Gans is a local sensation who has had the most highly praised shows in town for years; L.A. deserves some credit for his popularity, given that he expertly mimics just about every Tinseltown icon there is. But--and don't let his sitcom title fool you--the latest Mirage headliner's all Hollywood: King of Queens star Kevin James brings, his Everyman stand-up to the stage there several nights a year.

The Joint at the Hard Rock Hotel is a much more intimate alternative to fighting for decent tickets at the cavernous and costly venues here in L.A., with a regular roster of hip anti-lounge lizard acts (sanguine songbird Norah Jones, tetra rockers Duran Duran, and Jack Johnson recently played there). Cirque du Soleil has carved out a special niche in Las Vegas, and the troupe's latest show, "Zumanity" at New York-New York, merges its arty French style with edgy New Age erotica. But if you prefer your exposed flesh with more old-school flash, the Luxor's "Midnight Fantasy" is a perfectly modern take on the classic showgirl review, pouring on production value while stripping off the tops for a playfully naughty -but not too naughty--vibe.

And there's offstage bravura as well: Hollywood delivers sweeping, glittery bird's-eye visuals of the Strip for a few seconds each week on CSI, but Vegas lets you check out the real thing in the exact same kind of luxury jet helicopter they use to get those shots. Through Look Tours, as many as six people can climb up to 1,000 feet into the evening sky for breathtaking views of the millions of lights illuminating landmarks like the dancing fountains at the Bellagio, legendary Caesars Palace, the electric Eiffel Tower at Paris Los Vegas, the top of the Stratosphere Tower, and the brilliant space beam at the apex of the Luxor pyramid. And you'll do a low-altitude cruise past the dazzling displays of the Freemont Street Experience in style, sipping complimentary champagne oil the way.

For an even more intense in-flight experience, Vegas is home to Flyaway Indoor Skydiving, a vertical wind tunnel and "bodyflight" facility that allows you to imitate free-falling Nicolas Cage in Honeymoon in Vegas (sans Elvis suit) Without actually having to risk leaping out of on aircraft. After just 35 minutes of flight training and preparation, you'll find yourself lifted aloft by a column of air 12 feet across and up to 22 feet high--with vertical airspeeds of up to 120 mph--for a three-minute stint as Superman. Like we said: showmanship we dig.

But sometimes the only action, fantasy or otherwise, we seek is at the blackjack table, having exercised our thrill-seeking urges at home navigating the 101. Fortunately, for those times when our famously laid-back natures elude us, Vegas has embraced, imported, and raised the stakes on one of our favorite de-stressors, a day at the spa, often one-upping even the best of Beverly Hills.