So you were too cheap to buy a ticket, and yet you are chomping at the bit to know just exactly what happened in Vegas? Not everything that happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, so here ya go:
July 4th Vegas Trip log 2005
Disclaimer: Times, dates, and quotes may be distorted by the drunkenness of the author. There is no scientific way to be sure exactly what the hell happened on this trip.
It was about 10 O’Clock in the morning on a Friday, as we all drunkenly piled into an elevator at the Four Queens Casino in downtown Las Vegas. Laughing hysterically as we turned the corner – Drunk Brian exclaimed, “And that’s why I can never go back to Thailand….”, to soon to notice the elevator full of asian tourists staring stone faced at him in his cheesey blue plastic Vegas visor, with 4 foot tall cocktail strapped around his neck. We had been drinking for several days, and the Vegas lifestyle of cheap booze and cheaper food was beginning to take hold.
Who was here? How did we get there? How many days was this trip? Who knew what time it was, or whether it was night or day? Not me. I had originally planned to keep some kind of detailed trip log during the trip, to make the publication of the story a bit easier – but after my 5th in flight cocktail, en route to Vegas from Colorado Springs – All planning was set aside, and debauchery became the order of the day. The stewardess (Excuse me – flight attendant) – was giving me the evil eye the whole way as I sucked Jack out of my carry on flask, but I didn’t care….
Seated next to friends: Princess Tanya, Tim, and his girlfriend Bridget – We sped along at 35,000 feet towards Vegas where we planned to rendezvous with Drunk Brian, who was arriving from California a few minutes before our flight. I was struggling the entire way with a large Swiss Army water bottle I had filled with Jack & Coke before the flight, as the air pressure in the cabin seemed to have made the top to this container impossible to open. I passed the bottle around to several people, but nobody could get it open – and I was growing thirstier and thirstier by the minute.
After arriving in Vegas at around 6pm, we found Drunk Brian – who claimed to have been sleeping on a bench near the baggage carousel, and we all made fun of his new short haircut. The wacky and maniacal editor of the Lodi newspaper proceeded to try to sell us on some story about how he was signing up for Halliburton security detail in Iraq, but none of us bought into his web of lies.
There was a shuttle ride, and then a check in at the Four Queens – where the 5 of us dumped our baggage in the room and immediately headed to the “Top of the World” restaurant at the Stratosphere for some fine dining. This restaurant is apparently named after the price of it’s food, because full dinners with drinks were easily running $100 and up.
On the way over – a Vegas cabby tried to take us the long way to rack up his fare – But Tanya caught him in the act, and busted him publicly as he claimed to have missed a turn. I remarked “Jesus, I feel like I’m in Bankok here buddy….” – as he flipped the meter off, and took us the rest of the way for free. We all pretended like it was an honest mistake – but those of us with any experience with Vegas cab drivers knew otherwise.
The view was great, as we looked down on a live episode of cops below – where a giant search light and some police on foot were chasing a perp through the mean streets of Vegas. We could also feel the entire tower rocking every time the roller coaster from above would go past. The tower also spun around a few feet a minute, which added to our enthusiasm about eating a full meal on top of the gallons of booze already in our guts.
Halfway through the meal, Princess Tanya remarked that her lobster bisque tasted too “fishy” to eat, and she immediately snapped the waiter over to communicate her disgust. While the waiter was getting bitched out for the horrible soup – Drunk Brian and I also had bisque in front of us, so we decided to try ours. The exchange that followed went something like this:
Drunk Brian: “Wow… if there is a heaven on earth, it’s in this bowl…..”
Me: “Holy Jesus, this could be the best bisque I have ever had….”
Tanya stared daggers in our direction for the rest of the night.
After the meal, we immediately went back to the Four Queens, still dressed in our formal evening wear – to find that the air conditioner was broken. It was hotter than hell in the casino, and even hotter if you were wearing a full suit & tie. We did the only thing you can do in a situation like that – We went to the bar and ordered more cocktails, and played some video poker. After a few cold drinks, and when it looked like Tim was about to put his fist through the video poker screen — we jumped on the craps table and proceeded to have some crappy luck our first night out – putting us all down a bit.
By midnight we were heading down Fremont street to chase lady luck into another casino or two, when Bridget crapped (health wise) and had to return to the room to pass out. Tim joined her, promising to return – as Tanya, Brian and I ducked into the famous Binion’s horse shoe. They say that all the mobsters in Vegas are gone, but all the guys running the joint at Binion’s still look like guidos with heavy NY/NJ accents. After having mediocre luck on the craps table in Binions, I decided to switch over to my old stand by – which is Baccarat. Tanya stayed on the craps table, and Brian walked up behind me at the Baccarat table and sucked numerous cocktails down, as I hob-knobbed with a group of asian businessmen. Brian made numerous comments like “How’s it going there Mr. Bond”, and “I don’t get this game – it’s like you are betting on the flip of a coin”, as I continued to bet fast and furious.
I was betting $25, then $50 a hand, then $100 a hand… and after about 20 minutes I was up quite a bit and pretty bored with the game, so I went to put $500 on a hand, and then I said “No guts no glory” – and decided to put every penny I had out there on “The Player”. My total bet amounted to about $1558 bucks, which was about $558 above the table limit. The pit boss came over, who I had met earlier, and took one look at my stack and gave a knowing nod. He had just approved my bet. I could hear Brian over my shoulder as he just noticed the size of my bet – all in Green chips, stacked practically up to the ceiling. The cards came out, and it was player 4, banker 5. I held my breath as she dealt a card to the player and increased my hand to 7 – giving me the win. She pushed my initial bet back to me, along with $1558 of house money I had just won. Not wanting to leave a winning streak, I decided I would make a $100 bet on the same “Player” bet until it lost, and so I watched as my bet hit 4 more times in a row. All of the guys at the table were harassing me for not “Letting it all ride”, as I would have had “Chips up to the roof” – as they said… But this was easy for them to say, as they were all betting $5 and $25 bets only. I think my total win for the night was up around $2500, so I was pleased to say the least.
When the clock struck around 5am, Tanya, Brian, and I retired to the Gold Spike for their famous $1.49 slice of pie special at the lunch counter. The Gold Spike is one of the oldest casinos in Vegas, and not somewhere that you would want to send your wife or daughter alone on a dark night. Along the walk there, we noticed several hobos wallowing in their own vomit in the street, a lone dancer in an alley, and one bum who appeared to be shadow boxing on the side of a 7-11. To get a rush in life – some people sky dive, some people race cars – but I like to walk through really bad neighborhoods with about $5000 cash in my pocket. You haven’t lived until you have done this, take my word for it.
Next door was the El Cortez, which is the oldest standing casino in Vegas, and the home of it’s owner – a guy that we got to know on a first named basis, Jackie. After hitting the craps table, and playing small stakes (They had a $3 10X your odds table) – We were all up a few hundred bucks, so I decided to try my luck in the poker room. Who did I sit down next to, but the owner of the casino himself.
“Hi I’m Jackie, I own this place” he said, extending his hand for a handshake.
“Well Jackie, I must say I love what you’ve done with the place….” I said, returning his handshake and turning my head to look around the luxurious wood paneling and vomit stained carpet, “It’s a real dump”.
He must have liked my audacity, because he didn’t have me thrown out or roughed up or anything – He just laughed it up and puffed on his huge cigar.
On the way back to the hotel at some point some human debris walked up to us and tried to beg us for 23 cents, or some ridiculous amount.
I chastised to bum saying “What do you want 23 cents for – That’s not even enough to put into a slot machine? These slots all only take dollars now anyway…” (Refering to the ticket in, ticket out systems that no longer accept coinage).
The bum replied, “23 cents will be enough to get me off the street Mister, please!”
Drunk Brian piped in, “Buddy, 23 cents isn’t going to get you off the streets, and besides – it’s almost day time anyway….”
The bum gave us a perplexed look, and we walked on.
Back at the hotel, we crashed hard as the sun was already up and high in the sky. Tim and Bridget were passed out in their bed, and Brian regailed everyone with drunken bed time stories about gambling and all of our adventures of the day.
The next day began without even a hangover, which was a shock. The casino had comped us a full breakfast with 2 cocktails each – So we all headed downstairs and piled into the restaurant. Since the bartender on duty had no idea how to make bloody maries – I ordered us all 2 top shelf screwdrivers with Grey Goose Vodka, to help get our day jump started. Screw drivers are great with breakfast, because they help give you that little boost of vitamin C you need in order to stave off the scurvy.
After breakfast, we headed down Fremont and got some of those 2 foot high frozen hurricane drinks from LaBayou. This place is awesome, and they make all of their drinks with 151 in them, so you know they are potent. After a couple of those – the drunkenness began to set in a little, and so we headed into the Golden Gate, which is the home of the famous .99 cent Vegas Shrimp Cocktail. Envisioning something horrible, I was skeptical to try it – but when I saw them, they didn’t look half bad, so I ordered 6 of them. 2 for me, 2 for brian, and 1 each for Bridget and Tanya (Tim doesn’t eat seafood).
The horse radish sauce was enticingly harsh on the senses, as I tried my first bite – surprised by how good these things actually were. Brian joined in the taste test, and nodded with approval as well. Princess Tanya just looked at hers and exclaimed “There is no way in hell I’m going to eat that! I don’t eat cheap seafood! Get it away from me!”. I can’t remember if we ever got her to try a bite or not, but we sure gave her hell over the incident. Bridget was feeling sick still, so we let her off with a pass after she tried a few bites. During the next couple days, this place would be the source of numerous, numerous shrimp cocktail runs for Brian and I.
After shrimp cocktails, we all piled into a cross town bus (Yes a city bus), and headed down Vegas blvd towards “The Strip”. Along the way, the bus got filled up with lower income types and the bathing challenged, when Drunk Brian began to whisper comments such as, “I adhore public transit…. It’s nothing but filthy riff raff and welfare Moms in here….”
A few more blocks would pass and I’d hear him say “What’s next? Are people going to be getting on here with chickens and farm animals like old Mexico? Filthy! Filthy wretches!”
Finally when we reached the Frontier (The home of the 32 oz $1.99 Margarita) – Brian breathed a sigh and shouted “Sweet relief!” as we exited the bus, and headed towards the bar. Once we got inside, we loaded up on cheap margaritas and got some coupons for a free bull ride in Gilley’s bar, towards the back of the Frontier. Gilley was clearly a name too “Mobster” sounding to be given to a country & western bar, but as we entered and noticed there was no shortage of scantily clad waitresses – this concern quickly left us.
We lost Tim along the way, leaving him on a Video poker machine he refused to part with – as he was staring at it and screaming “Fuck! Fuck!” like he had just caught the machine banging his sister.
Inside Gilley’s, we used our coupons for free shots – which were spicy Bloody Mary shots, and then we turned in our tickets for free bull rides. The chick working the bull riding counter was smoking hot, was clearly wearing a top 2 sizes too small for her huge fake breasts, and had quite the sassy mouth on her. After yelling at us to sign the disclaimer, I asked her if anybody had ever really been hurt doing this and she replied “Not really….”
I don’t want to bore you with the details of each of our bull rides (We have pictures for that), but I can tell you that none of us should probably consider a career as a professional bull rider. Rodeo Clowns maybe, but bull riders – no.
A few more drinks, and we were on our way out – retrieving Tim from his video poker machine and heading down the strip towards Tanya’s favorite “Excalibur” casino. Somewhere along the way, we each acquired more 2 foot tall drinks (I think Pina Colladas this time?) – and Brian found himself one of those giant 4 foot tall drinks that can only be carried safely by strapping it around ones neck, and drinking it up through a huge 4 foot straw.
“How much was that?” I asked – thinking it had to be pretty damn expensive.
“$38 bucks, but man… that’s a good deal…. He put a whole fifth of Jack Daniels in here!” Brian replied, sucking on his huge Jack & Coke cocktail.
“My god….” Was all I could reply, in slight disbelief. I knew that when a gauntlet was thrown down, Brian wouldn’t shy away until either he – or that giant Jack & Coke was dead.
By the time we made it to the Excalibur, we had stopped several places along the way to pick up more booze and check a few things out that had changed since we had been in town last. The Wynn resort was the biggest disappointment – earning the nickname “The Bellagio, All Over Again”, because it looks exactly the same as the Bellagio on the inside. I really didn’t see what the big deal was about a couple of water falls on the property, but what do I know? Atleast there was a shopping mall there (I think it was there!?!?) where I was able to spend some of my winnings, and pick up a styling new pair of Maui Jim sunglasses. The girls disappeared to the Channel store or god knows where.
Once inside the Excalibur, we retreated to the “Sherwood Forest Bar”, to let Tanya try her luck on the craps table here. She always does best when she gambles alone, and at this casino – so we all wanted to give her time. Tim bellied up to a video poker machine at the bar, and Brian tied his huge drink (Like a horse) to the railing, so he could give his neck a rest from holding up the 20 or so pounds of weight. The damn drink must have been like carrying around a small child all day, and by the bloodshot look in his eyes – it was beginning to have an effect. I began ordering drink after drink, until my speech began to slur and my walking became a bit difficult. At some point Tanya showed back up battered by the tables – apparently her luck and love for this shit hole had finally faded.
Tim, Bridget and Tanya wanted to go on some rides at the New York New York, so we all headed in that direction, drinks in hand. We found our way to the coney island experience, inside the NY – and found it to be crawling with little children. There were video games, and parlor games throughout, so Drunk Brian and I decided to keep ourselves busy while the others stood in line for the rollercoaster. After briefly considering hitting on some 16 year old hotties at the video games, we moved on. 2 foot drink in my hand, and 4 foot drink in Brian’s hand – we shoved the little brats out of the way at the shooting gallery, and grabbed ourselves a couple of rifles. Hunter S. Thompson would have been proud, as we shot everything in that gallery – pausing only to take sips out of our huge drinks. The prize tickets were piling up out of the machine by our feet as we continued to blast everything in the place, whilst shouting comments like “We’ve got Charlie in the wire!” and “Charlie is all around us!”, and “Die you commie bastards DIE!!”….. You get the picture. Soon families had retreated with their small children elsewhere, and I was growing more and more amazed that we weren’t getting thrown out for this type of drunken behavior…. But after all, it was Las Vegas. Finally when we had finished, and we had about 2000 reward tickets, Brian wanted to try and find some kid to give them all to – But I suggested he give them to the Mom with the hottest ass in the arcade. After a quick vote, we found a hot Mom and Brian approached – drunkenly slurring about how he had these tickets, and blah blah…. Her husband walked over looking quite upset, and snapped the tickets up – and we got the hell out of there, just in time to meet up with the gang, and head for the door.
At some point we ended up in a cab and headed back towards the 4 Queens, as reality faded in and out and sunlight faded to a starry sky above. I suggested an “Alone Night” since everybody seemed to be wanting to do their own thing, and Brian and I quickly decided we were going to head to one of our favorite places in Vegas – The Speermint Rhino strip club. Tanya and Tim went back to the El Cortez (Or Jackie’s place as we call it now), and Bridget hit the sack.
We were already really drunk when we got to the Speermint Rhino, but Brian was actually feeling kind of sick from drinking that huge Jack & Coke earlier, so I didn’t know if he was going to lose his cookies or what. Since it was a holiday (ho-liday) weekend, the club was PACKED – and it took awhile for me and Brian to squeeze up along the rail at the main stage. 3 girls at a time danced on the stage, which was the first time I’ve seen that – so we called the waitress over to bring us lots of $1 bills. We each ordered $100.00 in $1 bills, and some 5’s, 20’s, etc…. It wasn’t long before we each had a stack of $1’s, so thick that it still had the paper wrapper from the bank around it – and the antics began. I was fanning myself with my money, I was spanking stripper’s asses with my money, and of course we were doling it out pretty heavily to the girls that we deemed worthy. I tell you what – there is nothing more powerful in the world than judging beautiful girls, and deciding which ones to vote for (With your dollars), and which ones to shake your head at in disgust. And all the girls at the Speermint are easily 9′s or 10′s, so it’s really hard to find girls to be dissapointed with here — but being true masogonists, we did our best.
At one point JayZ came on singing “Big Pimpin”, and all hell broke loose in the club. Brian and I began lobbing hand fulls of 1’s on the stage, and all 3 of the girls instantly were only giving attention to our side of the stage. Guys with their meager $1.00 a dance tips were getting neglected, but who cared? We were rolling like big Gangsta Rappers, practically dripping in dollars and byotches. I think at one point I even lobbed a $20 onto the stage, bouncing it off of some girls ass.
“You know I – thug em, fuck em, love em, leave em
Cause I don’t fuckin need em
Take em out the hood, keep em lookin good
But I don’t fuckin feed em”
At one point I was ordering us shots, and Brian was a little timid about drinking them. I had 2 Kamakazees and a Jack and Coke sitting in front of me, and then an angel from heaven tapped me on the shoulder. After being propositioned by girls all night for table dances – and not being impressed, I was ready to tell this girl to take a hike as well. When I turned my chair around she said, “Would you like a table dance?” – and as my eyes glanced over her, my scowl turned to a smile and I said “Hell yes I would!”
“parts with nothin, y’all be frontin
Me give my heart to a woman?
Not for nothin, never happen
I’ll be forever mackin”
Brian was rocking in his chair with the cold sweats, as this delicious brunette with a porn star body was all over me in the chair next to him. I was trying to enjoy the dance while subconsciously hoping my buddy wouldn’t be waiting for me in a dumpster out back for puking in the club. After she was done, the girl asked me if I would like to go into the VIP room with her, where things could be a little more private. Normally I wouldn’t even consider such an expensive endeavor – but I was up a lot of money, and so I asked “And what does something like that cost me?”
“$200 for 30 minutes, or $350 for an hour.” Was her reply.
I’d heard that you can talk these girls down, but all of my negotiation skills were out the window at this point, and I’ve got some mad skills too. I was pissed drunk – She was a hot porn star, and there was no way I was turning her down….
“Allllllllright, I guess….” I replied, and before you know it – I was out of there. Brian saved my seat and shook his head as I was leaving, perhaps mentally reliving an episode he once had at the Crazy Horse, where he didn’t get out of the VIP for less than $600 bucks.
30 minutes flew by like nothing, and we actually had some good conversation in the VIP lounge while this chick was all over me the whole time, of course. I guess we had just missed Ben Affleck and Matt Damon a couple weeks prior to our visit – who we learned were actually regulars at this club. Not too much of a surprise, I thought to myself, as I told the girl that my friend Brian and I were actually a low rent version of Ben Affleck and Matt Damon.
She laughed, I got to slap some ass – and before I knew it, I was back out in the lounge sitting by Brian – who curiously, had 2 empty Kamakazees and 1 empty Jack & Coke sitting in front of him.
“Hey man – What happened to all my drinks?” I asked… pointing to the empty glasses.
“I didn’t want them to get warm man… I had to drink them up, sorry – I got next round” – he replied. The old Brian was back, and the hungover sick Brian was gone once again.
When we left the club, it was easily 9 or 10am in the morning. We got back to our hotel and walked into a room full of sleeping corpses, and Brian exclaimed “Oh we’ve got stories, but we’re not telling them now….” – and then we both collapsed and slept for 5 hours or so.
Day 3 is a blur, if it is even day 3 I am thinking about. We woke up at some point, ate at the Golden Gate where the Prime Rib was $5.75, and the shrimp cocktails were still .99 cents. At one point during the breakfast, Brian was shaking so bad from the dee-tee’s he shouted “I’ve got the ICE IN ME!” – and then he sprinted from the restaurant. We didn’t see where he went, until we looked outside and saw him collapsed on a bus stop bench in the sun. Apparently after about 10 minutes of “Warming up” in the sun (I think he went to the bar and got a couple of shots of Jack also) – he was “right as rain”, and seated back at our breakfast table, downing a huge Pina Collada with one hand, and a bloody Mary with the other.
After that, we went back to LaBayou for some more frozen drinks because it was about 115 in the shade outside. The whole place stank like puke today for some reason, and Brian made the observation “Man, that puke smell… do you guys have that piped in here or what?”. It was truly strong, but what do you expect from a place that dishes out fru fru drinks made with Bicardi 151?
At some point we knew we had a limo arriving to take us out to my parent’s house, just outside of town – so we each loaded up on cocktails, and got ourselves some 2 foot high Jack & Cokes to take for the road. Once our driver arrived (He turned out to be a 60 year old gray haired guy), we piled into the limo (Obviously loaded big time) – and proceeded to crank up the stereo with very loud Gangsta rap and high roller tunes. We played Big Pimpin over and over, In Da Club, Shake Yer Tailfeather, etc etc… to the point where I’m sure the driver was disgusted with us. When we arrived at our destination, I tipped the guy $50 bucks to keep us in his good graces, in case we needed his services again.
Upon arriving at my parent’s house, we were greeted with lots of hard booze, and a newly constructed swimming pool (Which team pealed off his shorts, and promptly ran across the yard to jump into). After drinking several cocktails and getting caught up with all the people who were staying at the folks house (Sister, Brother, random guests) – We retired to the pool area where Drunk Brian gave a stirring speech at the head of the pool.
“Ladies and Gentlemen… we’ve all been through some serious shit the past few days…. And I feel that I’ve grown closer to you all in that time…. I want you to all know that you mean so much to me, and there’s only one word I can think of to sum up what I’m feeling right now……………………………………… CANNONBALL!”
From there on in it was mayhem and chaos until the last of us passed out. There was a real shortage of beds in the house due to all the guests, so everyone took it upon themselves to pass out drunk in the strangest positions in random nooks and crannies of the living room, mostly. I woke up out of a blackout at about 3am, dry mouthed and looking for water – only to trip over about 8 bodies in the middle of the living room floor on my way to the refrigerator. The funny thing was that nobody could find any blankets our pillows, since my parents were the first to pass out – so everyone had dirty laundry, and bath towels, as they huddled together for warmth in the cold of the air conditioning.
At one point I was awaked to the sound of “Eeeee-Eeeee-Eeeeee” like a knife sharpening in the living room…. I shouted to Brian “What the hell is that noise?”
“Grinding teeth” Brian replied, as if he had been awake for some time listening to the noise himself. We’d later isolate the noise to Tim, who was a known teeth grinder.
The following day, or maybe the day after that — We all woke up and decided to visit the Pahrump Valley winery… An uppity establishment in the middle of the desert, catering to wine lovers and snobs alike. Upon entering, we immediately bellied up to the bar for a “tasting” at 10am. We slammed several glasses of wine, to the dismay of an older couple staring across at us from the other side of the bar. After some off color humor within our group — the old lady exclaimed “Sure, or you could just sit here and make fun of people all day! — And then she stormed out of the place. I gave a look of confusion to her husband, as he walked past me and gave me one of those shrugs like “Hey buddy, I don’t know either”. The bartender came over and told us that the lady was upset that we were all drunk (At 10AM? Even for us that would be a stretch) — and that Princess Tanya was making fun of her from across the bar.
Unphased, we marched into the main restaurant of the winery — clearly a 5 star joint — in t-shirts and shorts, and demanded a table. Upon receiving a table, Brian proposed the idea that we all drink a bottle of wine to see who could drink it the fastest. Tanya and Tim misheard Brian and thought he said a GLASS of wine, but no — he had said a bottle, so upon hearing the clarification — they both backed out of the deal. This left only me to defend against Brian’s challenge, so I threw my hat into the ring — ordering 2 bottles of wine, which we promptly started slamming as fast as possible.
After observing our antics — the hostess, an older lady — came over to the table with a big plate for of bread for each of us and exclaimed “Here, have some bread — it’s wonderful with the wine!” — But we knew this was just a sly tactic to try and fend off our drunkeness, so we pushed the bread asside. The waiter was pacing back and forth behind us for about 20 minutes as the contest wore on, until I finally claimed victory — beating Brian by a full 1/2 glass of wine. Brian was disgusted, and protested drunkenly that he thought the whole thing was a challenge for us to both drink a bottle, and not a “who finishes first” kind of contest — But I waived off this feeble defense.
To top things all off, we ordered lobster bisque to chase our wine, and then we stormed out of the restaurant to wait for our taxi in the bar area, where we proceeded to publicly bash the local county commissioner who is trying to outlaw prostitution in the area. Brian and I had the opportunity to spend some time with this young lady on a previous trip, and we had a lot of stories to tell the locals.
As I was called up to the bar to be told our cab was outside, I could hear Brian in the background shouting, “Yes, and the bitch won’t even eat a fucking Taco… Can you imagine? Eat a Taco… live a little” — and then we got the hell out of there.
There was a big 4th of July BBQ the next day, and then we left the day after that – feeling broken, battered, and shells of ourselves. Upon returning home, while driving from the airport – I felt compelled to pull into a 7-11 and get everyone slurpees, so we could fill them with 151 to quench our thirst.
It took several days to return to our normal sleep schedules, and some of us still haven’t been able to make the adjustment from staying up until 10am every night, and sleeping all day. I find myself craving a .99 cent shrimp cocktail, or the slice of pie special, or legal prostitution at 5am sometimes, with no way to really satisfy my craving. Sure I went to the grocery store and bought some shrimp and tried to make my own shrimp cocktail, but I ended up throwing it out in disgust since it was nowhere near as good as the ones we had at the Golden Gate that trip. I’ve tried the local strip clubs as well, but all the girls have c-section scars, and don’t look near as good as the porn stars of the Speermint Rhino.
You see, having the true Vegas experience is like dating a gorgeous, younger woman. She’ll keep you up all night – make you feel better looking, younger, smarter than you are. Then one day you wake up with one hell of a hangover, she’s gone with a lot of your money – and you are scratching your head wondering – “Just what the hell happened?”
But would you change a thing if you could go back in time? Absolutely not…….