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>Viva Las Vegas

In Uncategorized on October 16, 2005 at 1 am

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Vegas has never been one of those places I’ve wanted to visit. Well, I’ve wanted to visit, if just to see it but haven’t ever really wanted to see it. Maybe it’s the mohaked punk rocker that sits deep inside me, inherently abhorring anything hyped up and popular or maybe it’s just because I’m an honest person, especially with myself. I just don’t understand the idea that you would do things you wouldn’t normally do just because someone more or less told you to. Las Vegas is like the ultimate in peer pressure, and if you fall into it and find yourself doing things your-other-self wouldn’t do, then you’re just a mindless sucker for an elaborate ad campaign. Folks who don’t do coke but hey, what’s a few lines in sin city. Or the men would would never stop on a corner in their city to negotiate the price of a blowjob but find themselves dialing escort numbers in the dead of night because they feel they have to, I mean it’s sin fucking city, you have to! I don’t get it. It’s like bachelor parties, it’s like teenagers and drugs, it’s like a black hole of negligence and regret and I despise every bit of it. That’s not say you don’t have fun in Vegas, it’s a party destination, it’s like going to New Orleans or Key West or a college town, some places are places to party and so you party, but be honest to yourself and do what you want, not what you feel you should. With all that it’s easy to see why I wasn’t on the edge of my seat (I was driving so that wouldn’t of worked anyway, although my brother drives like that, setback at an acute angle and I don’t understand how he’s ever comfortable) when we drove past Vegas on our way to our friend Matt’s house. I knew I was going to get wild in Vegas, but I knew whatever happened I would be able to look myself in the mirror, and since you have to do that everyday I think it’s a worthwhile thing to shoot for.
    So let’s cut right to it, the big night of fun and partying. I’ll admit, I felt a little Vegas pull, my natural inclination against it was fading with every show of excess and exuberance. The high rollers we are we bought a case of the cheapest beer we could find and walked along the strip taking it all in. I was surprised at the whole strip because I pictured it much larger. It’s not all that big and bright really. I thought where one casino stopped another picked up but it’s pretty separated, one big bright casino on a lot and down the road another one. It was disappointing really. I’d really wanted to see Dale Chihuly’s glass ceiling in the Belagio so we went over there. If your ever in Vegas don’t try drinking your own beer and filming in the Belagio, it’s not allowed. After that we watched the water show, during which Matt took off his pants and it was all an ocular delight. We headed over to the Hard Rock, where the youngsters flock to make friends and have more fun. We saw a few celebs which no matter how disenchanted with celeb-culture is always fun and an endless stream of people who looked ecstatic about the prospect of losing hundred of dollars. Thankfully Brian, Matt and I aren’t gamblers, or at least to poor to gamble, we put a few bucks in some slot machines for kicks, I won $6.50 and figuring it wouldn’t get much better than that, I stopped. I got separated from MAtt and Brian and with my sly charm and smooth tongue (“HEY CUTE GIRLS!!!”) I managed to meet three girls, in town for a bachelorete party. Eventually Matt and Brian joined us and to all of our surprise the girls LOVED their mustaches. It takes all kinds I guess. We drank and joked and drank for a while and decided what we needed was some karaoke so we ran out and got a cab. The cabbie would only let four of us in so it was decided that I go with the girls, matt and brian would walk. The driver had no idea what we were talking about and we had no idea where what we were talking about was, so the ride did not go well. A $13 fare and giant circle later we were right back to the Hard Rock and since he did such a poor job this is where the girl declared they wouldn’t pay him. He was irate. They were irate. I was in stitches. He yelled in his Indian (or middle eastern, or maybe spanish or any accent that sounds like those as I’ve always been bad at telling accents apart) accent. “You fucking pay me! You pay me! I need to go home, I have wife, you fucking pay me!” He said this while banging on the steering wheel. “I call cops, I call cops, I call cops on all you! You pay me, you pay me, fuck you pay!!!” One girl started crying, it was a giant circus. One girl finally paid the fare and we stepped out side of our deranged cabbies car. Matt and Brian, who had walked to the place (a two block walk by the way), joined us and we waited for a new cab to take us to the girls hotel for a late night jacuzzi stop. The cab never came and someone eventually offered us a ride. As we got in MAtt threw up his hands and declared “Bad vibes” and without another word he turned and walked off. Brian followed and I shrugged and we drove to the Stardust hotel. More drinks. More flashing lights. Matt and Brian showed up. We headed out to the hot tub with our drinks. It was refreshing and hot and girls and bikinis never bothered me much so we had a blast until the sun was almost up. We headed up to their room, took in the view of the city, that desolate hole of aimless financial optimism, and after making out with and snuggling up with Seana (one of the girls), fell asleep.
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