Let Me Get This Started
Posted: Mon Oct 05, 2009 11:34 pm
I am mainly going to focus on my experiences because I don't give a fucking if things stay in Vegas or not; I am proud of every action I make, stupid or not! That said, I didn't do anything embarrassing anyway.
I showed up Saturday morning at 10AM and my first thought upon meeting everyone is goddamn are they boring. That thought last about five seconds as their stories quickly taught me that they weren't boring ... they were ruined from the previous 48 hours.
I don't really gamble anymore so I go to lunch with Jeff and his buddy Dale. And that's where it started going downhill. Ya see, there are two things about Vegas that I did not know about: 1) you can just run around the place drinking and 2) you drink for free while gambling. I didn't learn the second one until Sunday morning, though as I hadn't placed a bet.
After just fucking around for a bit, we made our plans to go to this club within Planet Hollywood called Prive; with accents and shit, pronounced pre-vay. It was Jeff, Stan, Dale, Joe, two British dudes, and myself. I somehow got nominated to be the one in charge of the money so I was bullshitting with the hosts. Meanwhile, Wes managed to get me yelled at by one of them because, earlier, he apparently brokered a deal with the host of this club (he didn't) and the guy recognized me and was getting all pissed, he was like 5-foot-4 and a douchebag so I couldn't give a rat's ass. That aside, I had as much fun on the fucking line as I did in the club.
Right about now things get dicey. You know how people say they were "fucked up" but they are exaggerating? No, I was approaching doom. I had to make a side trip to a strip club for my boss so I was away from the group for an hour. Two things I took away from that trip.
1) I am the only fucking moron who could spend $300 in a strip club with touching a single girl or seeing a tit.
2) Don't EVER EVER EVER let Jeff make the transportation plans. I swear if we had to make one more trip he would have commandeered a fucking helicopter. Jeff can't have a simple cab ... noooo.
So, I return and the group is fucked up beyond reason. We had started the evening hanging out with the Joy Luck Club and they were cool but I quickly came to two more conclusions
1) They ain't putting out
2) I am in serious danger of not making it out of this club alive. I had befriended (re: paid off) the host (named Dragon) and he was taking excellent care of everyone. Too much.
I sat down for about 10 minutes at the table and I was sweating profusely and shaking. I estimate that, at this point, I had about 10-14 beers, ten or so vodka drinks (I like vodka/pineapple or vodka/tomato), a bloody mary, and some Jager shots. I ain't right. I drink A LOT but this pushed me to the limit.
So, getting desparate, I just run out on the dance floor. Looking back, I am surprised I didn't get arrested; for about five minutes, I just stood in the middle of the dance floor with my shirt wide open, my jacket over my shoulder and I didn't move. I was just straight up grilling girls. I found this one that I was somewhat interested from earlier (dressed like a complete tramp) but when I started dancing with her, she had the WORST BREATH EVER. And if you are THAT drunk and can still be turned off by the breath, well, that says something.
I go back to the table, put my jacket down, go back to the floor. Black. I wake up naked and the base of my dick hurts bad. I don't really know who I slept with but I have an idea and she was a total meh, if I am right.
I awake at 9AM and go down to the sportsbook to meet AJ, Nole, Wes and Corey. I am still piss drunk. I get a bloody mary and then I go play blackjack. I caused a commotion at the table, but in a harmless way.
For starters, I have no idea how to play BJ without a mouse; I never played at a table! So, the dealer and the two guys are helping me out. Meanwhile, I am two drinks into my morning before the third one came.
"Make it strong and spicy."
MOTHERFUCKER TRIED TO KILL ME! I swear to god, I was about to call the EPA and inform them that I found a uranium deposit. I was basically screaming at the waitress to get me some water. The two guys at the table are laughing their ass off. With all this chaos, I forget to place my bet so I have to sit out the whole fucking shoe. Now I am sitting there with my volcano of a Bloody mary, the water, and I have nothing to do until the new deck comes out. I can't even sit up straight. I am shaking and so hot I could have cooked an egg on my head. I get to the new shoe and, wouldn't you know it, I forgot to place a bet again. Fuck! I have to wait another ten minutes. I get a fourth Bloody mary and now I am in bad, bad shape. You'd think I'd just stop drinking? Nope, too intelligent.
I actually make it through one full shoe without fucking up, but now I am aggravating the dealer because I can't manage to slip my cards under my chip when I want to stay without touching the chip with my other hand. Nevertheless, I miss another bet and now the dealer says - in a nice way, wasn't mean or condescending, "You wanna go up to your room?"
"Yeah, sorry." We laugh and I barely make it up there. I wake up at 6 and we go have dinner. Then I lose my fucking phone.
ALSO..... DON'T EVER LISTEN TO YOUR FRIENDS. BRING MORE THAN JUST CASH!!!! I brought just under $2,000 in cash; no credit, no ATM. I am sort of happy about this because by the time I put my bags down in the hotel room, I was down to $1,500. I upgraded my flight from coach to United Coach Plus or some shit for $100, paid for the taxi, paid the balance on my room, ordered room service and boom. $1,500.
I dropped close to a grand on Saturday and I was in money trouble. Also, by the way, I now have my vegas box! I grabbed a small lockbox I had at my Dad's house, went to the bank with him, withdrew $200 and put $100 in a box solely for Vegas trips. I will do this every week. I also need to get a name bank; not Emigrant Savings Bank with branches only in New York.
So now everyone is winding down, but I still need to go out and this is where Stan comes in. Stan is a one-man woman magnet and wingman. This fucking guy wouldn't even introduce himself to a girl. He would be like, "Hey, what's your name? Oh, Aubrey, this is my man Trendon, he is from New York and he is awesome!" That's all he fucking did! I loved it!
Meanwhile, we had made our way to some off-the-path place (forget the name) that was SOOO FUCKING AWESOME. It was like a Manhattan joint. People everywhere, girls everywhere, and we end up playing beer pong, making friends, and drinking ourselves silly until 7AM.
Also, and this is where it gets corny. Trendon is like super in love. I got a wedding to attend in South Carolina next month and I met this chick from Columbia and I was like milkweed in a spring breeze around her; kissing up on her and shit. Her fucking drunken ass stupid friend prevented me from doing anything that night despite Stan dropping "We got a suite" about 100 times. But I am so meeting this chick. Awww, Trendon.
Then I missed my flight because Stan will fall asleep anywhere. Boo!
I can't wait to go back. My feet are still terribly swollen, I've shit about 30 times in the past 24 hours, I spent a good part of yesterday changing my boxers because my ass was literally leaking for no reason, and I can't wait to go back.
I showed up Saturday morning at 10AM and my first thought upon meeting everyone is goddamn are they boring. That thought last about five seconds as their stories quickly taught me that they weren't boring ... they were ruined from the previous 48 hours.
I don't really gamble anymore so I go to lunch with Jeff and his buddy Dale. And that's where it started going downhill. Ya see, there are two things about Vegas that I did not know about: 1) you can just run around the place drinking and 2) you drink for free while gambling. I didn't learn the second one until Sunday morning, though as I hadn't placed a bet.
After just fucking around for a bit, we made our plans to go to this club within Planet Hollywood called Prive; with accents and shit, pronounced pre-vay. It was Jeff, Stan, Dale, Joe, two British dudes, and myself. I somehow got nominated to be the one in charge of the money so I was bullshitting with the hosts. Meanwhile, Wes managed to get me yelled at by one of them because, earlier, he apparently brokered a deal with the host of this club (he didn't) and the guy recognized me and was getting all pissed, he was like 5-foot-4 and a douchebag so I couldn't give a rat's ass. That aside, I had as much fun on the fucking line as I did in the club.
Right about now things get dicey. You know how people say they were "fucked up" but they are exaggerating? No, I was approaching doom. I had to make a side trip to a strip club for my boss so I was away from the group for an hour. Two things I took away from that trip.
1) I am the only fucking moron who could spend $300 in a strip club with touching a single girl or seeing a tit.
2) Don't EVER EVER EVER let Jeff make the transportation plans. I swear if we had to make one more trip he would have commandeered a fucking helicopter. Jeff can't have a simple cab ... noooo.
So, I return and the group is fucked up beyond reason. We had started the evening hanging out with the Joy Luck Club and they were cool but I quickly came to two more conclusions
1) They ain't putting out
2) I am in serious danger of not making it out of this club alive. I had befriended (re: paid off) the host (named Dragon) and he was taking excellent care of everyone. Too much.
I sat down for about 10 minutes at the table and I was sweating profusely and shaking. I estimate that, at this point, I had about 10-14 beers, ten or so vodka drinks (I like vodka/pineapple or vodka/tomato), a bloody mary, and some Jager shots. I ain't right. I drink A LOT but this pushed me to the limit.
So, getting desparate, I just run out on the dance floor. Looking back, I am surprised I didn't get arrested; for about five minutes, I just stood in the middle of the dance floor with my shirt wide open, my jacket over my shoulder and I didn't move. I was just straight up grilling girls. I found this one that I was somewhat interested from earlier (dressed like a complete tramp) but when I started dancing with her, she had the WORST BREATH EVER. And if you are THAT drunk and can still be turned off by the breath, well, that says something.
I go back to the table, put my jacket down, go back to the floor. Black. I wake up naked and the base of my dick hurts bad. I don't really know who I slept with but I have an idea and she was a total meh, if I am right.
I awake at 9AM and go down to the sportsbook to meet AJ, Nole, Wes and Corey. I am still piss drunk. I get a bloody mary and then I go play blackjack. I caused a commotion at the table, but in a harmless way.
For starters, I have no idea how to play BJ without a mouse; I never played at a table! So, the dealer and the two guys are helping me out. Meanwhile, I am two drinks into my morning before the third one came.
"Make it strong and spicy."
MOTHERFUCKER TRIED TO KILL ME! I swear to god, I was about to call the EPA and inform them that I found a uranium deposit. I was basically screaming at the waitress to get me some water. The two guys at the table are laughing their ass off. With all this chaos, I forget to place my bet so I have to sit out the whole fucking shoe. Now I am sitting there with my volcano of a Bloody mary, the water, and I have nothing to do until the new deck comes out. I can't even sit up straight. I am shaking and so hot I could have cooked an egg on my head. I get to the new shoe and, wouldn't you know it, I forgot to place a bet again. Fuck! I have to wait another ten minutes. I get a fourth Bloody mary and now I am in bad, bad shape. You'd think I'd just stop drinking? Nope, too intelligent.
I actually make it through one full shoe without fucking up, but now I am aggravating the dealer because I can't manage to slip my cards under my chip when I want to stay without touching the chip with my other hand. Nevertheless, I miss another bet and now the dealer says - in a nice way, wasn't mean or condescending, "You wanna go up to your room?"
"Yeah, sorry." We laugh and I barely make it up there. I wake up at 6 and we go have dinner. Then I lose my fucking phone.
ALSO..... DON'T EVER LISTEN TO YOUR FRIENDS. BRING MORE THAN JUST CASH!!!! I brought just under $2,000 in cash; no credit, no ATM. I am sort of happy about this because by the time I put my bags down in the hotel room, I was down to $1,500. I upgraded my flight from coach to United Coach Plus or some shit for $100, paid for the taxi, paid the balance on my room, ordered room service and boom. $1,500.
I dropped close to a grand on Saturday and I was in money trouble. Also, by the way, I now have my vegas box! I grabbed a small lockbox I had at my Dad's house, went to the bank with him, withdrew $200 and put $100 in a box solely for Vegas trips. I will do this every week. I also need to get a name bank; not Emigrant Savings Bank with branches only in New York.
So now everyone is winding down, but I still need to go out and this is where Stan comes in. Stan is a one-man woman magnet and wingman. This fucking guy wouldn't even introduce himself to a girl. He would be like, "Hey, what's your name? Oh, Aubrey, this is my man Trendon, he is from New York and he is awesome!" That's all he fucking did! I loved it!
Meanwhile, we had made our way to some off-the-path place (forget the name) that was SOOO FUCKING AWESOME. It was like a Manhattan joint. People everywhere, girls everywhere, and we end up playing beer pong, making friends, and drinking ourselves silly until 7AM.
Also, and this is where it gets corny. Trendon is like super in love. I got a wedding to attend in South Carolina next month and I met this chick from Columbia and I was like milkweed in a spring breeze around her; kissing up on her and shit. Her fucking drunken ass stupid friend prevented me from doing anything that night despite Stan dropping "We got a suite" about 100 times. But I am so meeting this chick. Awww, Trendon.
Then I missed my flight because Stan will fall asleep anywhere. Boo!
I can't wait to go back. My feet are still terribly swollen, I've shit about 30 times in the past 24 hours, I spent a good part of yesterday changing my boxers because my ass was literally leaking for no reason, and I can't wait to go back.
