Though a full-tilt night of spot-hopping can make you feel like a big swinging beast, it's rarely worth the hassle of driving, the agony of parking, or the stigma of breathalyzation. Save the drama by starting -- and ending -- your night at the new club/restaurant Eleven.

Opening next week, Eleven's a self-contained playground set in the expansive space of a one-time recording/orgy/duck-duck-goose studio for top artists like Prince and Michael Jackson. On arrival, you'll feast on California-Cuban cuisine from ex-Spago-er Vincent Manna, who learned his skills watching his grandfather cook for (and refrain from poisoning) Castro. When the clock strikes... Eleven, the tables are disappeared and overblown clubbishness kicks in, with features like a neck-breakingly high DJ/band/"performance artist" stage, and a fountain designed by the team responsible for the Bellagio's water show -- which you would have watched if not for the distracting losing-all-your-money-at-paigow show.

When you inevitably slip into a food/whiskey coma, retreat past the smaller, get-out-and-dance upstairs bar to the who-the-hell-is-capable-of-dancing lounge in back. About the only thing Eleven doesn't provide is a slurpee machine, meaning you've still got one more number-based stop between you and passing out on your front lawn.

Check out their dinner and bar menu