Friday, September 26, 2008

Las Vegas, Day 1 - Let me upgrade ya

I’m not cheap. Overall I would say I’m a liberal spender in the realm of frugality.

Still, en route to Las Vegas, we rode Marta to the airport, arranged to bring mini bottles on the plane to avoid buying cocktails, and we stuffed six people in our friend from L.A.’s car to avoid a taxi fare.

Once in Vegas, frugal is a little different.

My bribe to the woman at the front desk was $20, not $100, I preferred my chips in the red $5 variety, not the green $25, and I collected ‘free’ passes to the clubs vehemently.

They know my type in Vegas. I’m the type that doesn’t keep the city going, but I certainly don’t hurt. At the front desk of the Treasure Island they responded to the $20 bill that I not-so-coolly placed between my license and credit card appropriately. Our room near the top of the hotel with a strip view was adequate, but more importantly they acted like they gave a damn.

From work, for weeks leading up to the trip, I’d proposed lists of ideas for each night. Before I could finish my first unpleasant drink, consisting of whiskey and Rockstar, I knew that none the plans that I’d longingly anticipated would take place. And this was perfectly ok.

We left our room and gambled, uninterrupted, for the next five hours. It didn’t matter that our combined salaries couldn’t buy the Lamborghini parked in front. When you’re young and bright, sometimes you bank on what’s to come. Knowing you’re going to succeed and giving yourself a little a preview - an incentive to work hard. I’d say that’s the American Way.

It took a little work, but by 2 a.m. we’d all congregated, and were ready to try to get in a club. We were on a list at Tao, one of the more popular clubs in Vegas, and we crossed the street to try our luck.

It’s my experience that there are quite a few types of lists. Lists that actually mean something, lists that get you to the front of the line, lists that get you in a different line, and lists that don’t exist.

I’m not sure what we had. We kept dropping our contact, Jessie’s, name. Unfortunately we thought Jessie was a girl, so our pronoun form was she, instead of he. Eventually we bypassed the line, and were granted entry for the bargain rate of $30. As a group we declined, and proceeded to aimlessly wonder around the Venetian Casino.

The Baby Maker found a group of drunken Eastern Europeans, and attempted to hold all three of their hands at once. The Red Lobster, Hyphen and Westin went off for untold gambling adventures. So that left me and The F Man.

We spotted two good looking girls headed toward Tao, and asked them if they would help us get into the club. We talked to the same guy as before, and he put is in the final queue for entry. We paid $20 to get in, and the girls got in free. After entry, they didn’t say another word to us. I won’t say this act alone shattered my confidence, but over the next couple of hours, and countless uninterested dance partners, it was crushed.

The place wasn’t a complete bust. A substance I still believe is most closely associated with snow fell from the ceiling, there were beautiful women in bathtubs covered only by rose petals, and I danced near some pretty hot girls.

We got back to the room just before 5 a.m. The Hyphen was in an unknown location gambling. I was slightly concerned he was out by himself, but my general exhaustion and the fact there was nothing I could do comforted me as I fell asleep.

We’d been in Vegas less than 12 hours, and already I was dreading Sunday, when we would return to reality.

1 comment:

the knock said...

i believe you were referring to fuckman and the 10k cotton candies. just a guess though.