The last time I went through the floor of the Mont Bleu Casino, I was carrying a pair of twin-tip skis and heel-toed it past the craps tables in my ski boots. I'd just finished skiing the Face, Heavenly's classic 800-vertical-foot bump run that's spawned two generations of eccentric bump skiers: The Face Rats of the 1970s and, later, in the '80s, Glen Plake and the Mohawks. In the melting April snow, we flew down the 30-degree slope on top of car-sized mounds of Slurpee snow, the two snowboarders in our group trailing in unraveling plastic lais picked up at an on-hill ski BBQ. But nobody looks at you funny for being that guy on the floor of a casino in South Lake Tahoe, California (technically, Stateline, Nevada). If I wanted, I could have rested my boards against the wall and popped a crisp Andrew Jackson into the nearest Wheel of Fortune slot machine. During the Frank Sinatra days—OK, Barry Manilow, too—the Mont Bleu was known as Caesar's Palace and competed with its

The last time I went through the floor of the Mont Bleu Casino, I was carrying a pair of twin-tip skis and heel-toed it past the craps tables in my ski boots. I'd just finished skiing the Face, Heavenly's classic 800-vertical-foot bump run that's spawned two generations of eccentric bump skiers: The Face Rats of the 1970s and, later, in the '80s, Glen Plake and the Mohawks. In the melting April snow, we flew down the 30-degree slope on top of car-sized mounds of Slurpee snow, the two snowboarders in our group trailing in unraveling plastic lais picked up at an on-hill ski BBQ. But nobody looks at you funny for being that guy on the floor of a casino in South Lake Tahoe, California (technically, Stateline, Nevada). If I wanted, I could have rested my boards against the wall and popped a crisp Andrew Jackson into the nearest Wheel of Fortune slot machine. During the Frank Sinatra days—OK, Barry Manilow, too—the Mont Bleu was known as Caesar's Palace and competed with its next-door neighbors Harrah's and Harveys casinos for top-bill acts and skier visits. The town draws a quick-moving set that's a healthier, more active version of Vegas or Reno or Atlantic City. Unlike those places, while you're here you actually want to go outside.

South Lake Tahoe is home to three resorts—Kirkwood, Heavenly, and Sierra-at-Tahoe—with another 17 within 60 miles. Heavenly is the megalith—a 4,800-acre collection of mostly mellow terrain spread across six mountains. Kirkwood is the local's favorite—thanks mostly to their unrivaled gully skiing and 300-plus inches of snow—where it's not unlikely for the power to go out or to hear reggae in the lift lines. Homey Sierra-at-Tahoe doesn't have any hotels, condos, or ultra-lounges, but the skiers there like it that way, and a newly opened backcountry in Huckleberry Canyon spices things up just the same.

Be sure to save your energy for a nightlife scene you won't see in Breckenridge, Park City, or even Aspen. This is the southern Californian's home away from home, and you'd better pack a trendy shirt. Each of the major casinos has nightclubs ranging from comedy sideshow to Paris Hilton—and Mont Bleu has a variety to challenge that of the surrounding resorts. There's the lobby bar HQ, a 360-degree affair warmed by a synthetic mass of burning goo; the Opal ultra-lounge provides a little more exclusivity like bottle service and waitstaff prone to dancing on tables; and the nightclub blu brings in famed SoCal DJs. And while most people never see it, going straight from the slopes to the slots, the pool at MontBleu features a rock waterfall and several hot tubs, indoors and out. Some may complain that the rooms are noisy—and, if you're a family of four from Omaha, they are—but when you're staying on the 14th floor after a day skiing in the Sierra Mountains and a night of having your senses titillated and your pockets cleaned out, you won't care. Buses to and from the airport run all night, so if you're just there for 36 hours, a hotel room is completely optional here anyway.

A former senior editor at Skiing magazine, Pieter van Noordennen owns more ski jackets than any man should.