So after leaving the Bellagio with my sister our newly pedicured toes, the boy decided he was hungry and needed to eat something. We asked my sister to suggest something "diner-y, but not Denny's or IHOP." We ended up at Blueberry Hill.
There was a short wait for a table, but not too bad for a Sunday morning. Our waitress was nice, but had a beer gut and looked like she hadn't showered recently. The restaurant had a desert motif, which I thought was kind of strange. I mean, sure, we're in the desert but the last thing I equate with the desert is blueberries. Blueberries grow in cool moist places. Not in places where your flesh will boil right off your body if you stand in the sun too long. Anyway. The bathroom was a little run down but still use-able.
Mixed reviews on the food. My hash browns tasted sort of undercooked. But the pancakes were phenomenally good. I was mad that I didn't order them, and the boy probably was too since I kept stealing bites of his.
I would probably come back here again (for the pancakes if nothing else). You know, it's diner-y, but not Denny's or IHOP.