Barack Obama supporters rally their troops with a “Fire it up, Read to go!” chant at the end of the Jefferson-Jackson dinner Thursday night at Paris Las Vegas (Tiffany Brown/LAS VEGAS SUN)

LAS VEGAS — The initial stroll down the cobblestone streets of Paris Las Vegas do not hint to the casino ready to spring up from the fork in the path ahead.

No, not with a polka band playing in the background, or quaint shops and cafes stretching to the top of the faux sky ceiling overhead of Le Boulevard. The scene lends itself more to a trip on the Champs-Elysees in France’s capital, rather than a tour of a replica casino on the heart of the Las Vegas Strip.

And nothing — at least yet — could reveal the presidential pandemonium about to unfold in a large banquet room, minutes ahead on what is the biggest political night in modern Silver State history.

“We had no idea this was all going on tonight,” said Jim and Dixie Culp, a retired couple from Fayetteville, Ark., who chose to people-watch in Paris rather than view the Democratic Presidential Debate being held less than three miles away at UNLV.

“But then again we are Republicans,” said Jim, through a wide grin, before pinning his support to his favorite 2008 hopeful, Rudy Giuliani.

It was the first of a series of diverse scenes Thursday night. A night that will go down as part politics, part play — intricately intertwined with one another in a European-themed casino in the world’s top destination town.

“He supports the working man. That’s what we are, and that’s why we’ve endorsed him,” said a proud Matt Truax, tipping his hat to Democratic candidate Chris Dodd, as he stood outside the Rivoli Ballroom — a couple hundred feet from the Culp’s on Le Boulevard, and site of the Jefferson-Jackson dinner, which would be held later Thursday evening.

Truax was one of 70 firefighters in attendance from across Nevada, decked out in gold T-shirts emblazoned with their support for Dodd — who wrote the 2000 FIRE Act.

“He’s got a strong history of supporting fire fighters’ issues, and he’s got our union’s support. So that’s good enough for me,” chimed in Clint Walker, a Las Vegas firefighter, taking a sip from his beer as he chatted up fellow International Association of Fire Fighters during pre-debate festivities.

Back down Le Boulevard, host Lui Bonilla takes a break from seating people at Le Café Ile St. Louis.

“Oh yeah, it’s serious business tonight,” Bonilla’s says, about the political people lining up on the other end of the property.

But venturing into Paris’ casino for the first time, it takes only seconds to realize the contradiction of the two venues despite their juxtaposition.

Slot machines clamor constantly in the background as buxom cocktail waitresses, silhouetted by the blinking neon lights, request drink orders as eager men engage in small talk.

A tiny white roulette ball spins inside the double zero corridor for a split second, before popping out at the last possible instance to the chagrin of a couple who quickly looked down at their chips still marking the corresponding felt. Meanwhile a small group of Asian tourists quickly snap photos of the fake Eiffel Tower legs that protrude through the top of the building.

How in the world (let alone Paris) could anyone care about politics in this place?

From the look on Lynette Lum’s face, few — if any — do.

As Wolf Blitzer kicks off the debate at Cox Pavilion down the street, not a single TV at Gustav’s Bar inside the casino is carrying the contest.

“I didn’t know that was here. But I don’t really care either,” said Lum, who on the three screens in front of her had the choice of watching ESPN’s coverage of Barry Bonds’ indictment, CNBC’s “Fast Money,” or Keno.

The three sets on the other side of the bar don’t fare much better for an aspiring legislator. Two more sports channels and a VH1 “100 Most Wanted Bodies” dominate the airwaves.

That didn’t bother Lum, who was in town for a real estate convention.

“I think most of it’s all BS anyway,” she deadpanned.

The black hole for civics continued outside the casino’s doors.

“We are just here to have fun. It’s not that we don’t care, but we are on vacation,” said Jeanne Davis, who was visiting with her sister, Sharon, from the state of Washington.

“We might check it out when we get home,” Sharon insisted. “But when you only have two or three days a year to get away, you want to get your money’s worth.”

The two certainly seemed to be cashing in on that claim on the cool evening in Las Vegas. The water from Bellagio’s fountains across the street swayed as Frank Sinatra serenaded a standing crowd with “Fly Me To The Moon.”

As the Davis sisters walked away with the postcard view of the glowing half-sized Eiffel Tower in their rearview, it was back inside to find someone who actually cared about the debate.

That certainly wasn’t going to be Ross Hataway.

“Hell no,” the Big Spring, Texas, native blurted out, when asked if he had any desire to watch Democrats duke it out.

“I’m a Republican anyway,” said a smiling Hataway, who was double-fisting Coors Lights while his Texas-sized belt buckle put itself on display.

Even if Hataway had wanted a view, he had no choice at the circular bar dotting the center of the casino’s floor.

The four televisions that surrounded him were glued to sports. Three were showing the Kansas-Washburn basketball game (a contest if any Jayhawk fans had watched, they would have seen star Brandon Rush return from injury — but no money could have been wagered since the Ichabods are an NCAA Div. II squad). The fourth screen featured talking heads screaming of A-Rod’s possible return to the Yankees.

It was time to backtrack to Paris’ bizzaro world of politics.

Sure enough, in the span of two footballs fields, hundreds of Democratic supporters were out in full force — showcasing their signs: John Edwards ’08, or Turn Up the Heat (by those in the Hillary Clinton congregation).

Gone were the flip-flops, baseball caps, and beers of the casino. Now it was double-breasted suits, evening dresses, champagne, and finger foods.

“I’m particularly interested in this debate, because I’m not sure which Democrat I want to endorse yet,” said Steve Havens, a union labor member from San Jose, Calif., who was in Vegas on business.

“Plus I don’t gamble, so why not watch it while I’m here?”

That’s all that Mike Gravel could do as well. The former Senator from Alaska could only catch the CNN debate on TV, as he was excluded from participation when he did not meet the $1 million fundraising threshold.

Next door, in yet another ballroom, another long shot was creating quite a stir amongst his crowd of supporters — at times even playing up his diminutive size.

As Dennis Kucinich strongly stated he was “the only one on this stage who voted against the war,” a Kucinich supporter, Richard Haber, became the most boisterous member at the Representative from Ohio’s table.

“Yes he has a real shot,” the retired New York City transit work exclaimed. “This is America, right. All it takes is for people to elect him into office.

“And why not? He’s the one Democrat who most closely resembles all the principles of a Democrat.”

Democrats or Republicans, it takes a crew of men to ensure security for an event of this magnitude, and Paris’ guards needed a helping hand.

That came from Metro Sgt. Tom Jenkins. Although TJ (as he is known to his officers) would not reveal the exact number of officers from the LVMPD in attendance — nor talk specifics about the presence of Secret Service — he did say the force had a large contingent.

“I can tell you we would have really had to beef it up if this were after the nomination process,” Jenkins said. “But let’s just say it was no where close to the numbers needed for NBA All-Star Weekend last year.”

Numbers is what dealer Mike Ennis knows best. That’s why even during a presidential debate held in his backyard, you won’t catch him brining up politics.

“Nothing creates arguments quicker than when you bring up religion or politics,” Ennis says sheepishly, obviously having committed the no-no once or twice during his years of gaming service.

“My goal certainly isn’t to alienate the customers. I want them to have fun.”

So does Jon Ralston, but his customers are political consumers. Few politically-active Nevadans have ever experienced the national spotlight like this night.

“Nevada is the center of the political universe,” Ralston said. “Now how much they are aware of this going on, I don’t know.”

At times Thursday night it certainly seemed that Sin City’s sexier side soaked up some political knowledge. Then again, that all depended on what part of Paris you were in.