STK
Poltergeist taught you that if you're going to venture into the brilliant whiteness of an alternate dimension, you must have a tether to lead you back to reality. Over-the-top restaurants are no different, but only one will keep you connected to the real world with meat: STK. 
Brother to the same-named Manhattan spot, STK eschews typical steakhouse woods and leathers in favor of a DJ booth, a skyscraper of booze, freak uterus flowers in glass cylinders, and a haunting wall of bleached steer horns (a bristling sub-in for the traditional "Pics of Owner w/ Those Sopranos Guys"). But the cow's legit, from the 8oz loin strip, to the 24oz porterhouse, to the 26oz bone-in NY, all available with toppings like crab, foie gras, and black truffles, the delicious Bauhaus fans of the fungus world. STK also plates up heroic non-bovines, like Maine lobster, roasted lamb porterhouse, and Hudson Valley duck breast ("This duck's made in New York City," "That really chaps my hide").
In at least one respect, STK's shockingly old-school: the atrium is just "open air" enough to allow for smoking -- so puff by puff, you'll step closer to the light, and not even the shrillest midget will be able to pull you back.
