On the last night of my Vegas trip, I found myself pissed drunk – yet wide awake, glancing at the time on my watch (6am) – and then back to the gorgeous brunette stripper (Calico) who was riding me like Zorro in the VIP lounge at “Treasures”. It’s times like these when I wonder if this is really my life? She had just got done shoving my hand down the front of the thin lycra-spandex triangle, which was her panties – when I proclaimed, “Thanksgiving isn’t for another couple days… Isn’t it too early for warm apple pie?”
As she giggled, all I could think about was if there was anti-bacterial soap in the restroom.
“Oooh, I have an idea” – She cooed into my ear, after we had an hour long make-out session in the dark black booth. “Why don’t you take me into the bathroom, punch me in the face – and fuck me in the ass? – I have a total pain fetish…. Then maybe we could do some cocaine, and go to breakfast?”
“Where am I? Are you actually Satan?” I whispered to myself, below the pounding beat in the background, “I have got to get the fuck out of here right now….” – I said, after actually considering her lewd offer and giving her my phone so she could put her number in it. Then I started wondering if they had any mouthwash in that bathroom.
Drunk Brian overheard her from the next booth, where he was sitting with a curvaceous brown sugar honey perched on his lap – where they were both smoking long white cigarettes with strange looks of satisfaction on their faces. “When did Brian start smoking?” – I thought.
“No white lotus for you buddy? Coco? Chinaman’s Night Cap?” – He yelled over. “I’ll do some, fuck it! Can I do it off of a girl’s ass? I’ve always wanted to try that….”
Later that morning after getting back to our hotel room, Drunk Brian and I would be standing side by side brushing our teeth when he would make the spot-on observation, “Man… this toothpaste isn’t strong enough… Not for where we’ve had our mouths…”
A shiver went through my body, then a cringe – and next thing I remember I was crashed out in my bed until the 2PM wake up call. I’d fight traffic for 12 straight hours after that to get home and bring my story to you.
During the course of my stay, I calculated that I had won something like $3000 in 4 days, but you’d never know it from the contents of my wallet. I think I was even $500 short of what I brought, which meant I obviously had a great time.
Vegas – November 2006 Trip Log
The drive from Colorado Springs to Vegas is not short – it’s 12 hours, if traffic and weather conditions are ideal. I set out at about 3pm on the Saturday before Thanksgiving and began my grueling journey with nothing by my IPOD and an ice-chest full of beer to keep me company. During the drive I had plenty of time to think about things, and I realized that lately I have been letting you all down. If you complained to me about my page getting sad on you the past couple months – you know what I’m talking about. I made a vow during that drive that for the rest of this year – I’ll be the best 30+ drunken misogynistic bachelor you all know and trust. No more mushy blogs about this girl or that girl that broke my heart or disappointed me, or whatever. It’s just not me, and I can’t stand being that much of a pussy.
I drove along I-70 and eventually made my turn south onto I-15, where I would get a little tired around the small gambling town of Mesquite Nevada (About 75 minutes from Vegas). After checking into the Oasis Hotel/Casino – I couldn’t resist the urge to walk over to the casino from my hotel room and do a little gambling. After about 2 hours of playing craps I was buzzed off the free drinks and up about $300, so I went to bed. Nothing too exciting there, except the hordes of teenies who showed up for the opening of their new night club. When I asked one of the kids if there was a strip club in their little town, he replied, “Dude, I wish…”
(Quote of the day: (When shuffling a Baccarat deck, there is a phenomenon where the dealer counts out 16 cards and discards them. Drunk Brian sees this and says, “Why 16 cards? That must be to signify our love of barely legal, hot teen ass!”)
The next day, I woke up late and drove the rest of the way to Las Vegas. One of the things you notice when you get close to Vegas is that the radio stations immediately get a lot better. Instead of your choice of 2 country and Spanish stations, you all of the sudden have about 100 really good stations that play everything. The soothing beat of Taking Back Sunday crushed my hangover, and by the time I was checked into the Golden Nugget I was feeling right as rain and ready to go again.
When Drunk Brian showed up from the airport, we immediately downed a couple beers in the room and went down to Fremont Street to get sauced. We ate dinner at the “Pasta Pirate” (Best kept secret of North Las Vegas, by the way) – and then we played Baccarat in the Golden Nugget, where I won $500 over the course of 5 hours – and after downing about 20 free cocktails each, we dropped in and had a drink at each casino on the street – making out way towards the Glitter Gulch strip club, at the end of the road. As you approach this strip club you immediately notice a huge lighted sight with pictures of girls taking their tops off, and colorful adjectives covering their bare breasts like “Zoinks!” and “Oops!” or “God Zooks!” – it’s pretty damn funny, but I think you have to be there to appreciate this.
Upon walking into the Glitter Gulch (And shouting, “ZOINKS!”), we remarked how seedy this club looked – and we said to each other, “Under no circumstances do we get any private dances at this place… We’re likely to get robbed or stabbed – so stick together”… Well, that lasted about a whole 5 seconds, because almost as soon as we walked into the club I was picked off by the most beautiful gorgeous beach blonde I have ever seen in my life. Her name was Melissa, she was 22, and I was in love. Not the type of love where I wanted to buy her flowers or take her to dinner – but the kind of love where after about 5 minutes of talking I looked her deeply in the eyes and said, “Let’s go see what you look like naked in the VIP room.” – by the end of the night she was buying me drinks, and listening to my stories with great eagerness. She was doing a great job of pretending like she was hanging on my every drunken word.
When the girl asked if I wanted to go VIP with her for another hour, I delivered the following monologue: “Listen… Sweetheart… If I was going to go VIP with another girl tonight, it would definitely be you – but I have to go to bed. I realize this sounds a lot like I’m drumping you – but this isn’t my usual stripper dump speech, I swear.”
Drunk Brian would later remark that he was about to leave me for dead – sure I was getting murdered in the back room. Instead of leaving me, he decided to drink all 4 of our drink minimum required drinks – and then went and had 4 or 5 dances of his own with some filthy whore that he would piss off with one of his drunken rants. “Why don’t you just go make your money?” – I could hear him shouting at her from across the bar.
After mingling with more ladies – We met back up at the front door and fled the scene around 4am, heading back to our room where we would crash into a drunken restless sleep until the next afternoon.
(Quote of the day: “You’re trying to find truth in a god damn stripper!?! Jesus…” – Drunk Brian)
Monday I was awakened at about 3pm to the sound of Drunk Brian crawling across the hotel room floor and sticking his hand into the ice chest, fumbling for a beer – which he immediately cracked open and downed in about 3 gulps. Our day had begun.
“Nick Cage? From Leaving Las Vegas? Is that you?” – I remarked from my bed. The only thing we were missing from our drunken adventure was a hooker with a heart of gold.
We went down to the bay city diner, where I had the $4.99 prime rib special, along with about 4 bloody maries – courtesy of Drunk Brian who kept running to the bar and buying more about every 5 minutes, due to the fact that he had the shakes really bad. I left the restaurant feeling right as rain with a full stomach, and my buzz back – firmly intact. The waitresses gave us a slightly dirty look as they cleared the 8 cocktail glasses from our breakfast table.
As the sun went down, we suited up – I wore Dior, with new tiger-eye cuff links I had just bought off the strip for $120 (Left my lucky ones at home this trip) — and Drunk Brian wore his suit with the boot mark in the middle of the back, still there after our last Vegas trip where he got knocked down wearing it while in the mosh pit at the Double Down Saloon. I was a little worried about gambling seriously without my lucky cuff links, and my fears would soon come to fruition.
After sitting down at the Baccarat table at the Golden Nugget, I became concerned when I lost $1000 bucks in about 30 minutes. After leaving the Nugget and taking a Taxi down to the Palms, I made back the $1000 – along with almost $2000 more dollars, so I was again happy. The pit boss was on the phone yelling for a casino host, because I had said I wanted free passes to the new Playboy club on top of the building – and if the host didn’t get here quick, I was going to break the bank. A few minutes later our host “Pat” appeared, and personally escorted us up to the club, where our eyes were feasted on a bevy of corseted Playmates in a very swanky lounge atmosphere, filled with more gaming. We immediately ordered cocktails and crashed on a couple of black leather chairs to take in the Vegas lights and enjoy the experience. The view was amazing, both outside and in.
After leaving the Playboy club, we grabbed a couple of cigars from the hotel lobby shop and went upstairs to the Ghost Bar where we smoked those huge Fuente Cigars while surrounded by wanna-be’s and fat chicks on the huge balcony of the club. We stayed exactly long enough to finish our cigars and a couple of drinks, and then we went to the Bellagio for more cocktails, gambling, and atmosphere.
As we got drunker and were moving around the strip from casino to casino, Drunk Brian would keep remarking “It feels like there is a bag of ice in my head… My hands are frozen like bags of ice are on them” – I just ignored this drunk talk, as we continued over to Caeser’s Palace, where we paid homage to Bachus (The Roman god of debauchery) by throwing some money into his fountain there. Where would Drunk Brian’s bags of ice end up next?
Around 3am we would somehow find ourselves wandering back into Glitter Gulch, where we were each greeted like Norm on “Cheers”. (How all of these strippers remembered our names, I have no idea). We would immediately grab a couple of strippers and head for a dark corner. As we were slapping high 5′s over there heads, Drunk Brian was asking one if she’d let him eat a Pastrami Sandwich off of her ass while she stripped – but she seemed to be a little put off by this request. After hours of bad behavior, I asked the girls what they were doing after they got off work in the morning – in hope of getting them to come with us for breakfast, but when they both said something like, “Taking my daughter to the petting zoo” – I backed off, and was actually disgusted. I guess it just got too real for me in there, so we had to leave.
Bed came around 5am that morning, and we would both get about 6 more hours of restless drunken sleep before the next, last, and best day of our adventure would begin.
(Quote of the day: “You know when Han Solo got frozen in Carbonyte at the end of Empire Strikes Back? Well I think he should have gotten a hard-on right before, and then Princess Leah could have fucked his big carbonyte cock whenever she wanted!” – Calico the stripper, from “Treasures”)
After waking up around 2pm, clutching our guts and shivering with the DT’s — we started the day with the Golden Nugget buffet – which was a horrible idea. Wed both spend about 2 hours in the bathroom, shitting out the buffet and then another hour each laying on our beds and moaning. After our system’s were completely purged, we met up with one of my old Sacramento buddy’s who was in town (Blaine) – and we went to the new show at the Stratosphere called “Bite”.
The show was OK, but there was no drink service at all during it – and the female vampires were only so-so even without their tops on, so when the show ended – we high tailed it out of there and back over to the Palms. As we were jumping into the cab, some lone Australian guy asked if he could hang out with us since he was in the US alone and didn’t know what was fun to do – so we said OK, and off we went.
A short time later, said Aussie was asking each one of us if we knew where he could get a hold of some “smack” – and talking about how much he loved to do hardcore drugs. When he discovered this wasn’t really our scene, he wandered off with a couple of coked out looking girls at the Ghost Bar and was never seen or heard from again.
I returned to the Palm’s casino, where after sitting down for about 2 hours – I won another $500 on the baccarat table – quickly cashed out, and met the boys for drinks in the bar. It wasn’t long before the 3 of us decided we’d go to “Treasures”, which was a new strip club I’d never been to. I heard it was classy and sophisticated (boy was I misinformed) – So we all piled into a Taxi and headed over.
We only got a few blocks before Blaine pussed out, saying he’d never been to a strip club before and that he wasn’t comfortable going – So we got dropped off, and he headed back to his hotel (He did have his whole family back at the Stratosphere, tucked in bed – So I understand where the guilt comes from). It was actually a good thing he didn’t join us – because Treasures is not really something for your first strip club experience. The girls there would end up to have the filthiest minds, and the willingness to back up all that talk with action.
“Excess!” cried Drunk Brian as he walked towards the club – “I want more… more of everything!”
We stepped to the bar upon entering (Like a couple of strip club pro’s), and my favorite Love & Rockets song was playing – “I don’t know what color your eyes are baby, but your hair is long and brown” – Next thing I knew, a girl with long brown hair threw her arms around me from behind and asked me to join her for a Jaeger Bomb (Jaeger/Red Bull). I don’t even like Red Bull, mainly because it always leaves me paranoid that I’m going to stroke out or have a heart attack – but, one Jaeger Bomb turned into 6 then 8 – and the rest is history.
The rest of the evening I’d sit with Calico perched on my lap, listening to her talk a mile a minute about her fascination with Harry Potter, and how if he was a real person – she would totally fuck him. She also really enjoyed talking about her Star Wars toy collection, and how she thought Han Solo was way hotter than Luke Skywalker. She’d next run down a list of famous rock stars she had slept with, which included Trent Reznor, Marilyn Manson, and a bunch of others.
I just kept wondering what kind of wacky card fate had dealt me, to give me only the whoriest geekiest stripper in the entire universe. Yes kids, fate does have a sense of humor – and so I laughed, and let the drunken haze surround me like a warm blanket of debauchery. I sank in. I felt the comfort.