By Erika Turan

May 2025

My husband and I traveled to Las Vegas in early 2024 to see U2 at the Sphere. When the car rental agency in our hotel offered us a Tesla for the same price as something more forgettable, we said sure. Our plan was to spend our first day hiking before we were immersed in the glitz and glam of Las Vegas, but when we couldn’t figure out how to lock the Tesla and it had all of our belongings in it, we ended up driving around the state park instead. (Yes, we know we are supposed to be able to just walk away from the car and it locks itself. It didn’t work. Elon – 1. Us – 0.)

Before we left for this trip, I asked AI for some ideas for off-the-beaten path things to do in Las Vegas. Big crowds and gambling aren’t really our jam, so we wanted to find some activities that might fly under the radar. AI suggested we visit an epic tiki bar where drinks are served in coconuts with flames coming out of them, robotic parrots toss out insults as you pass by, and the adult-themed wallpaper in the restrooms is NSFW. We snagged a reservation and when we saw on the tiki bar’s Instagram that U2’s Bono and the Edge were there two days before we were, we knew we were onto something.

But when it comes to the Las Vegas strip, how on Earth is a business supposed to stand out? Everything is over the top: half-naked women with giant feather headdresses offer photos on the street; garish and blinking and soaring lights surround you; there’s an Eiffel tower, a roller coaster on top of a hotel, a water fountain display that attracts thousands of people every evening, and entertainers like Wayne Newton, Donny Osmond and no fewer than six Cirque du Soleil shows. Everything is vying for your attention and your dollar. What’s a hotel bar to do if it wants to attract patrons?

AI told me we should check out the Chandelier Bar at the Cosmopolitan Hotel, a newer hotel on the Las Vegas Strip. It described the bar as being three stories tall, surrounded by thousands of crystals so you feel like you’re sitting inside a chandelier. Each level of the bar was purported to have its own vibe and menu, so we thought “why not?”

We opted to walk the mile or so to the Cosmopolitan from our hotel. The traffic on the Strip is so heavy that a leisurely stroll gets you there faster than a rideshare can. About halfway there, I saw a TV camera operator and what had to be his reporter-partner, scanning the crowd. The reporter approached me and said “Can I interview you? I’m looking for visitors to get their thoughts on what it’s like to visit Las Vegas the week after the Super Bowl.”

After three decades in public relations, I’m a sucker for a reporter in need. And I felt for her: on the one hand, I was glad it was a slow news night for them. On the other hand: man, the story was supposed be focused on asking people who weren’t there for the Super Bowl what it was like to visit after all the hype was gone? This does not sound like riveting journalism.

I dialed into my media experience, held my hands casually in front of me, and answered her questions on camera. After we finished, she asked where we were headed.

“Oh, will you try the Lemon Verbena?” she asked.

We’d read about this cocktail the Chandelier Bar is famous for: it’s a tequila-based concoction that includes some sort of edible flower that numbs your tongue. Sounds, um, different? Did we want to try it?

“It’s fun,” she said. “You should give it a try.”

We made our way to the Cosmopolitan and found seats on the second floor of the Chandelier Bar. As promised, it did look a bit like sitting inside a chandelier: loops of crystals hung alongside the bar’s exterior, soaring one floor above us and reaching one floor below. Crystals hung from every inch of the ceiling above us. It was pretty. It was different. It was memorable.

We looked at the menu and found a few cocktails that sounded appealing, but no mention of anything with a flower or anything called the Verbena. Oh well, we shrugged, must be offered on another floor of the bar or something. We ordered our drinks and chatted with the bartender.

A few minutes later, a man in a baseball cap sidled up next to me and ordered four drinks. He turned to us and asked us what brought us to town. He said he was there celebrating his nephew’s state wrestling appearance.

He asked us if we’d tried the “drink that makes your mouth go numb.” Nope, we said, motioning to the drinks in front of us.

“Oh, you have to. I’m buying a round for you.” Before we could say anything, he flagged down the bartender.

A moment later, two pale, icy drinks were placed before us. They sort of looked like white lemonade. A small flower floated on top of each. It reminded me of a dried anise flower. The bartender explained it was some sort of Szechuan pepper flower, and the proper protocol for experiencing this drink was to take a sip, then chew on the flower and let numbness take over your mouth.

I looked at my husband skeptically. How long does the numbness last? Is this painful? Spicy? (It lasts just a couple of minutes and no, it’s neither spicy nor painful, our benefactor told us.)

I took a sip, then bit into the flower. My husband did the same, and we both giggled and marveled at the numbing effect. The drink was citrusy, tart and refreshing. The flower was just fun. It made the drink taste fizzier and sharper.

The bartender then told us the fact that blew my mind: the Verbena hasn’t been on the menu in over a decade. It’s only known by word of mouth, he said.

“How many of these do you think you make a night?” I asked.

He thought for a moment. “Oh, easily 50.”

FIFTY Verbena cocktails during every shift, and it’s not even on the menu.

Later, I did some digging into the history of this drink. It was supposed to be on the menu for just a few months, back in 2010: only in the evening, and only on level 1.5 of the bar. But “When the drink went out of season, I took it off the menu,” Cosmopolitan Las Vegas chef mixologist Mariena Mercer said. “I thought people were going to come riot at my house. They were so upset.”

Patrons ordered the drink over and over again. And interestingly, they ordered more of the flowers too, which some coined a “buzz button.” The hotel started charging $2 each for an extra flower.

Consider these numbers about the Verbena, courtesy of Forbes.com. Between its debut in 2010 and 2017, the drink was only available on level 1.5, and only during bar hours 6 PM – 2 AM.

• The price per drink has ranged from $15 to $17 (I think it was $19 when we were there.)
• Gross revenue 2010 – 2017 was a whopping $9.4 million.
• 71, 934 additional “buzz buttons” sold for $2 each in this seven-year period, ringing up another $143,904.

The Cosmopolitan wised up and made the drink available across all levels of the bar starting in 2018. Here are the numbers from that year alone:

• 160,266 drinks sold.
• 181,269 additional buzz buttons sold.
• Gross revenue: $2,431,131.
• Average of 439 Verbenas sold each day (using 7284 bottles of Herradura Blanco Tequila).

So, what is the magic here? How, in a city of hundreds of bars serving millions of drinks every year, did one place create such mythology around a cocktail that it became a significant source of revenue (without even being on the menu)?

The Lemon Verbena became an experience. First off, the drink itself is refreshing and approachable. Second its consumption is fun: tingly, numbing, different, and a conversation starter. Third, “you have to be in the know” to order it. Granted, hundreds of thousands of people have tried the drink, but they had to part of some secret order/behind the velvet ropes/heard it from a friend group. And that creates exclusivity.

Mixology trends come and go, but this secret drink in an immersive bar experience had all the necessary ingredients to become a hit. It was a can’t miss marketing success. And if you’re ever in Las Vegas, I recommend giving it a try. By now, it’s at least a $15 million cocktail.