I’m back from The Vegas with Keith, Paul, and Larry. I am alive. So lets get right to some of the highlights.
Wednesday Night: Pretty uneventful except for the flight. Any person that has ever flown has entertained the fantasy of having the hottest person available sit next to them. For four hours, I lived the dream. I figured it was a “good omen” for the trip once I got her number and the “agreement” of meeting up later.
Upon making our way to the baggage claim, I remarked to Larry that Vegas smells like “hope and broken dreams, mixed in with the scent of a used condom.” You may laugh, but it is true.
Larry, Keith, and I stayed Wednesday night at Binions on the Old Strip. As I stated before, except for exposing the nonexistent “open intox” law, it was pretty uneventful.
Thursday: Paul arrives (and so does his picture taking ability)! The day was spent preparing for night: Checking in to Treasure Island (TI), getting liquor, and (as Keith so eloquently put it) doing a “Box Scan” of the pool.
At night we went to Caesar’s Palace for The Pussy Cat Dolls performance. More pictures of this night will be posted as soon as I get them from Paul. Not only did we have the lead singer pose for us, but Paul was also thrown a glove from one of the ladies during the performance. The glove smelled like the first time you lost your virginity; a little awkward, very exciting, maybe a little overrated, but something you will always remember. The Dolls were clearly the most beautiful women we had ever laid eyes on. During the show, all the men were wide-eyed with mouths agape, while all the women had their arms crossed, jealously cursing the Dolls because they were not as good looking.
We also met two very cool female teachers from Toronto. This was the first really classic story of the night weekend involving these two girls and male genitalia… Unfortunately, some events cannot be made public (although the story has been told numerous times, during numerous voicemails).
After the show, the drunk dials started and held strong throughout the week. I am not sure how many, or even who received one, but I have heard roomers they were pretty legendary (along with being nearly incomprehensible).
Friday Night: During the day we walked around The Strip sweating out hangovers in 100 degree heat. The night was all about blacking out and going to the Ghost Bar at the Palms. After a good hour of Jack and Cokes, we made our way out of the room and stumbled upon (for lack of a better phrase) a “drunken Mexican ready to party.” After meeting “Antonio,” Paul clearly had to invite him out with us. Once we arrived at the Ghost Bar, it apparent we were not getting in based upon the long line of sausage. Paul then (thankfully) made the executive decision to ditch “Antonio” and head back for The Strip. It was during this cab ride I made some regretful (but sweet) drunk dials. As I have said before, if you did receive one, can you please tell me what I said? During the cab ride back there was another futile attempt to meet up with “hot airplane girl and friends,” but we quickly headed back to the club at TI. As the details become hazier, I do remember running into some “nice young women” from the pool earlier in the day. Larry had already retired to the room, so it was three on three for a short while at the bar. Regrettably, this was too good to be true, because after 15 minutes, the “fat friend” appeared and unmistakably wanted her friends to watch her be fat and obnoxious at another club. Alas, after three Michigan alums were undermined by a “fourth-wheel, fat, drunk Canadian,” we retired to… I’m not going to lie, I really don’t remember what happened after this, just that I may have made some more regrettable phone calls.
Saturday: What better way to end an excellent Vegas trip with a night filled with strippers and a Canadian Television cameo?
Strippers: For the last couple days we would head back to our room at all hours of the day/night and hear what sounded like, hot women across the hall. While pre-drinking for the night, Keith picked up the phone and called their room. He was posing as a “Detective Rick” and asked them to come down to the front desk because there had been a noise violation. The girls bought it, and we called them back minutes later saying instead of going to the front desk, they have to come across the hall (our room). It was at this point Keith loudly confessed, “please be hot, please be hot, please be hot.” Well, sometimes the Lord Giveth, and sometimes He Taketh… This was certainly one of those “Giveth” moments. Now, the ladies did not say they were strippers, but while pre partying with them, I observed and asked some questions. You can make the call.
1) Each of the five (from Decently Hot to Hot) had tattoos on their ankles, backs, necks, and forearms. All the markings of a stripper.
2) Aside from a used condom, they had everything lying about the room that lived and breathed “skank.” My favorites were the nipple pasties worn by Keith and “Heather.”
3) When I asked the question, “so what do you girls do?” The last time I witnessed an awkward silence like that, my pants were around my ankles. The only one that answered (Jenny… So appropriate at this point), said she was a “waitress” and quickly changed the subject.
Pictured are Keith and Heather. I really haven’t seen a girl work that hard to fuck one of my brothers since my ex-girlfriend. At least I was there this time…
After a little more partying with the strippers, and realizing we did not have enough money to collectively go out with even one of them, we bailed for Pure at Caesar’s Palace. Incredibly inebriated, we arrived early to wait in line with the Toronto Teachers (their names were Lisa and Laura… I still don’t remember who was who). Unfortunately, by the time we got to the front, the bouncer said we were in the wrong line… Yep, too drunk to get in the RIGHT LINE… The fun begins...
Head Butt and Cameo: Larry and I then bolted for the bathrooms. Although I’m sure grown men have peed their pants in Vegas before, we did not want to be another statistic. (ed. Note: Early in the day, Keith and I were making fun of a ton of guys from LA at the pool. All with shaved heads, same black glasses, tattoos on their arms, and drinking the same Budlight… Frat-tastic… Totally Ricks). As Larry and I emerged from the bathroom, we walked right into a flood of people around a camera crew. In my current state of mind, a couple rows deep of people, and a television camera was not going to deter me from finding an exit out of the casino. After cutting through the crowd, I went right in front of the camera and asked for directions. Before I was to receive an answer (or taser), I noticed the cameraman had a baldhead, leading to this little nugget of knowledge: “Hey! This guy has a baldhead! (Rubbing my hand on his head like a bowler massaging a bowling ball) I love this guy!”
Larry and I then met up with Paul and a bloodied Keith. Apparently, upon finding out we could not get in to the club, Keith head butted the nearest glass pane. Trust me, it was a lot funnier than it sounds. Once we left the casino, there are definite parts of my life missing. Kind of like time travel. I was at Pure, then teleported back to TI’s casino, then to Little Creaser’s with Paul, then getting a wake up call at 520am from the strippers across the hall and a sign that read “I love butt plugs” at the foot of the bed. Yeah, you tell me what happened. So to cap off our crazy trip, Paul, Keith, and myself went across the hallway to watch the sunrise, or after a night like that, “God’s Flashlight.”
Over the last year and a half, things had been pretty tough, and then you go on a trip with some of your best friends, from the best years of your life. Through all the fucked up jobs, relationships, and the gossip, I know there are a lot of people out there who actually want me in their life, and vice versa. Larry, Keith, Paul, and myself may regret some of our decisions on this trip, but we will never regret the trip as a whole. See you next time Vegas.
