From promoter to connector.
I moved to Las Vegas at 19 and became a nightlife promoter. By 24, I had started my own promotions company, which grew into a massive network before COVID, with hundreds of promoters operating in some fashion under our umbrella and taking advantage of the contracts and opportunities we had built.
When COVID shut nightlife down, I started experimenting. A group of us bought a chicken restaurant with plans to turn it into a BBQ concept. We quickly realized it didn’t make sense, got out, and sold it for essentially what we had invested.
From there, I built a large online business that identified opportunities and loopholes in the digital marketplace, which led me heavily into affiliate marketing.
Then I went back to something I understood: people.
We created a party-bus experience built around strangers coming to Vegas and partying together. I leveraged my old promoter network, and the business eventually grew to more than 1,500 tickets sold per week.
An unexpected situation in that business introduced me to a well-connected attorney. I asked him a simple question:
“Do you know anyone with a bar, nightclub, or restaurant available on the Strip or Fremont Street?”
He did. That question eventually led me into owning and operating a nightlife venue on Fremont Street. It also taught me one of the biggest lessons of my career: old connections and new connections don’t always make sense when you make them—but eventually, they have a way of coming together.
The venue ultimately closed when the people involved no longer shared the same vision. But the relationships, lessons, and network remained.
Today, I’m still building. One of my current focuses is developing a rental-car fleet built around something I’ve always cared about in business: does the math actually make sense? Rather than chasing flashy vehicles or vanity numbers, I’m focused on cash-on-cash returns, operational efficiency, and building a fleet that can scale because the underlying economics work.
After nearly two decades of building businesses, meeting people, making mistakes, creating opportunities, and connecting dots, I’ve realized my biggest asset isn’t any individual business. It’s the people I’ve met along the way.
People. Connections. Solutions.
Increasingly, I’m focusing that network on the moments when people need connections the most—their darkest days. If you’ve been injured at work or involved in an accident, my role isn’t to pretend I’m the attorney, doctor, claims professional, or expert you need.
My role is to know who is. I know a guy.