if i wasn't so exhausted i'd be pretty upset right now. just finished the first day of a trip report and lost it when i tried to preview the post. where's autosave drafts when you need it? ahh well lesson learned, i'll be sure to cut&paste for safety next time i hit the submit button. anyway this TR is sure to be a shadow of its former self, i currently lack the mental fortitude to recall what i have just written. it's also sure to be filled with inaccuracies and omissions both due to memory lapses and to protect the innocent.
woke up at 4am thursday. flight wasn't scheduled to leave for another 15 hours, i was just too excited to sleep. ate a bowl of frosted mini-wheats and tried to watch "the men who stare at goats." it's just boring enough to put me back to sleep for a couple more hours. wake up and work through lunch so i can cut out a little early. probably a good thing, i wasn't doing anybody any good at work because i had a constant drone in the back of my mind going "vegasvegasvegasvegas." emails and text messages from the rest of the bachelor party start rolling in that only make my situation worse.
come home, finish packing, and walk my dog. the wife volunteers to take me to SFO instead of taking the caltrain. awesome. when she drops me off she says something to the effect of "drink a lot, have fun, and you can gamble away my unemployment check." if that doesn't convince a guy she's "the one," her next text to me when i land in vegas is "first round of drinks at the strip club is on me." she's a keeper for sure.
best swa flight crew ever. the pilots must have telepathically knew that i NEED to be in VEGAS RIGHT FUCKING NOW, because they pull away from the gate before the flight attendants are ready. a few items fall from overhead bins but nobody is injured. we don't stop for any cross-traffic on the runway, just take off. i've never felt a 737 ascend so steeply before. we reach cruising altitude in record time and arrive at mccarran 20 minutes early. those dudes must have really had the pedal to the metal.
one flight attendant does disappoint me when i try to order a double jack and coke. "well, it's a short flight and i want to make sure everybody has a chance to finish their first drink. i might be able to bring you another one later." obviously she doesn't know me very well. i dunno if it was the look of disdain on my face or if she just came to her senses but she redeemed herself when she brought me two mini jacks and a can of coke. score.
the bachelor and best man had landed early and picked me up in a black minivan they rented. we were waiting on a few more guys so we went to the ghettoest vons grocery store i've seen in awhile. i realized i hadn't eaten anything since my 4am bowl of cereal, it was now 9pm and i was starving. there was a del taco in the parking lot that pretty much saved my life.
me: can i please have two chicken soft tacos and a macho taco?
del taco girl: are you sure you don't want three for $2.19?
me: hell yes i do
her: anything to drink?
me: not unless you serve beer
her: (nervous laughter)
we get back in the car and head downtown in search of cheap craps which we find at binions. we lose a little money and have a couple of drinks before heading back to the airport to pickup a few more guys. much to my dismay i discover that our party has brought three flip video cameras and one dslr camera to document the weekend. thankfully, they were too drunk to remember or had run out of batteries to capture anything too incriminating. i am not a fan of cameras in vegas. i am however a fan of the breathalyzer they brought. the record for the weekend was a 0.5 (not 0.05) that none of us could believe, but he blew it consistently three times with each reading separated by 10 minutes so who are we to argue?
get back to the venetian and start the epically long walk to our rooms, complicated by multiple wrong turns, heavy luggage, 6 bottles of liquor, 24 of water, 32 of gatorade, plus assorted mixers, limes and snacks. we raid a room service cart in the hallway for a salt shaker and a butter knife to cut limes (not easy to do!) after a few shots of patron we are ready to head out. it's 12:30 and it's very clear we're not getting into tao. no worries, we walk over to tryst and get in with practically no wait.
more shots, more vodka, more redbull. two of our guys sandwich a girl on the dance floor "night at the roxbury" style. incredibly, she seems to enjoy it. i meet a couple from norway who are staying for a week. i don't know who stays in vegas that long, i would literally die. some chick accosts me on the dance floor and it takes her bf way to long to notice what's going on and pull her away. hilarious.
at least three or four guys throw up. i am one of them. i have NEVER thrown up in vegas before (and not for lack of trying!) somehow a motto for the weekend becomes "puke and rally." one guy tries to go 3 for 3 (once each night) and i manage a respectable .667 puking average--although one of them was a double.
outside the wynn now and having trouble rallying. we're waiting for a limo to spearmint rhino. i can't keep my eyes open and i slide down off my bench onto the ground. security tells me to sit up on the bench and amazingly i do. dodged a bullet. the limo arrives and i start to get excited again. yes, rally.
we get to the rhino and stuff happens. we split into two cabs on the way back. both pull into the parking lot of a shady looking warehouse with blacked out windows and small neon signs. a chick starts talking to the guys in the other cab before we realize what's going on. suddenly it registers with one of our guys "OH HELL NO I'VE BEEN HERE BEFORE! IT'S $200 TO GET IN THE DOOR AND ANOTHER $250 TO EVEN LOOK AT A GIRL! they wanted $1000 to get into the next room and i don't know what happens there but i didn't do it. i didn't do it man. i didn't do it."
i still have my wits about me and realize the meter is still running so i calmly say to the cabbie:
me: hey dude the meter is still running you can just take us back to the venetian
him: (no response)
me: it's cool dude we're not into this just take us back
him: what, you guys don't know how to have fun?
me: nah dude the meter is running so just take us back to the venetian
this continues for a few more minutes before he reluctantly drives us home. we wait for what feels like 5 minutes but must have been 30 for the other cab to arrive. we later learn that they got detoured to two or three more "massage parlors" on their way home.
it's starting to get light out but somebody says it's time for craps. we stroll into casino royale. all the lights are on and we're the only ones there, but it looks like a craps table is open. it's only $3 but i know i shouldn't be playing right now so i just watch for a bit. the pit boss is giving me the evil eye and i can understand why. we're drunk, disheveled, smoking cigars, and some of us can barely stand. he lets us play anyway and the bachelor hits the pit boss in the face with one of the dice on his first roll. i know we are getting kicked out for sure at this point, but somehow we stay. the pit boss is still annoyed that we're having trouble hitting the back wall with the dice. either we stop short or a die bounces off the table. we're losing money so i guess he doesn't mind. the cocktail waitress won't give me water unless i play so i do. i keep betting on the yo trying to win stripper money. i say if it hits twice that's $450 and we're going back to rhino! it never does. i switch back to beer but the waitress doesn't understand what "silver bullet" means so i have to spell out "coors light" for her. the bachelor goes on a hot streak and is hitting points left and right. we come up. i make back all i had lost at binions. we crap out, cash out, and are about ready to pass out. i'm even and even is winning in vegas. it's way too bright out and we're way too happy and loud for 7am. i chastise the guys for forgetting their cameras to capture this moment. i go in search of pizza unsuccessfully. we head back to the room and pass out. i can't remember the last time i stayed up till 7am.
three hours of sleep and day two to follow. . .
woke up at 4am thursday. flight wasn't scheduled to leave for another 15 hours, i was just too excited to sleep. ate a bowl of frosted mini-wheats and tried to watch "the men who stare at goats." it's just boring enough to put me back to sleep for a couple more hours. wake up and work through lunch so i can cut out a little early. probably a good thing, i wasn't doing anybody any good at work because i had a constant drone in the back of my mind going "vegasvegasvegasvegas." emails and text messages from the rest of the bachelor party start rolling in that only make my situation worse.
come home, finish packing, and walk my dog. the wife volunteers to take me to SFO instead of taking the caltrain. awesome. when she drops me off she says something to the effect of "drink a lot, have fun, and you can gamble away my unemployment check." if that doesn't convince a guy she's "the one," her next text to me when i land in vegas is "first round of drinks at the strip club is on me." she's a keeper for sure.
best swa flight crew ever. the pilots must have telepathically knew that i NEED to be in VEGAS RIGHT FUCKING NOW, because they pull away from the gate before the flight attendants are ready. a few items fall from overhead bins but nobody is injured. we don't stop for any cross-traffic on the runway, just take off. i've never felt a 737 ascend so steeply before. we reach cruising altitude in record time and arrive at mccarran 20 minutes early. those dudes must have really had the pedal to the metal.
one flight attendant does disappoint me when i try to order a double jack and coke. "well, it's a short flight and i want to make sure everybody has a chance to finish their first drink. i might be able to bring you another one later." obviously she doesn't know me very well. i dunno if it was the look of disdain on my face or if she just came to her senses but she redeemed herself when she brought me two mini jacks and a can of coke. score.
the bachelor and best man had landed early and picked me up in a black minivan they rented. we were waiting on a few more guys so we went to the ghettoest vons grocery store i've seen in awhile. i realized i hadn't eaten anything since my 4am bowl of cereal, it was now 9pm and i was starving. there was a del taco in the parking lot that pretty much saved my life.
me: can i please have two chicken soft tacos and a macho taco?
del taco girl: are you sure you don't want three for $2.19?
me: hell yes i do
her: anything to drink?
me: not unless you serve beer
her: (nervous laughter)
we get back in the car and head downtown in search of cheap craps which we find at binions. we lose a little money and have a couple of drinks before heading back to the airport to pickup a few more guys. much to my dismay i discover that our party has brought three flip video cameras and one dslr camera to document the weekend. thankfully, they were too drunk to remember or had run out of batteries to capture anything too incriminating. i am not a fan of cameras in vegas. i am however a fan of the breathalyzer they brought. the record for the weekend was a 0.5 (not 0.05) that none of us could believe, but he blew it consistently three times with each reading separated by 10 minutes so who are we to argue?
get back to the venetian and start the epically long walk to our rooms, complicated by multiple wrong turns, heavy luggage, 6 bottles of liquor, 24 of water, 32 of gatorade, plus assorted mixers, limes and snacks. we raid a room service cart in the hallway for a salt shaker and a butter knife to cut limes (not easy to do!) after a few shots of patron we are ready to head out. it's 12:30 and it's very clear we're not getting into tao. no worries, we walk over to tryst and get in with practically no wait.
more shots, more vodka, more redbull. two of our guys sandwich a girl on the dance floor "night at the roxbury" style. incredibly, she seems to enjoy it. i meet a couple from norway who are staying for a week. i don't know who stays in vegas that long, i would literally die. some chick accosts me on the dance floor and it takes her bf way to long to notice what's going on and pull her away. hilarious.
at least three or four guys throw up. i am one of them. i have NEVER thrown up in vegas before (and not for lack of trying!) somehow a motto for the weekend becomes "puke and rally." one guy tries to go 3 for 3 (once each night) and i manage a respectable .667 puking average--although one of them was a double.
outside the wynn now and having trouble rallying. we're waiting for a limo to spearmint rhino. i can't keep my eyes open and i slide down off my bench onto the ground. security tells me to sit up on the bench and amazingly i do. dodged a bullet. the limo arrives and i start to get excited again. yes, rally.
we get to the rhino and stuff happens. we split into two cabs on the way back. both pull into the parking lot of a shady looking warehouse with blacked out windows and small neon signs. a chick starts talking to the guys in the other cab before we realize what's going on. suddenly it registers with one of our guys "OH HELL NO I'VE BEEN HERE BEFORE! IT'S $200 TO GET IN THE DOOR AND ANOTHER $250 TO EVEN LOOK AT A GIRL! they wanted $1000 to get into the next room and i don't know what happens there but i didn't do it. i didn't do it man. i didn't do it."
i still have my wits about me and realize the meter is still running so i calmly say to the cabbie:
me: hey dude the meter is still running you can just take us back to the venetian
him: (no response)
me: it's cool dude we're not into this just take us back
him: what, you guys don't know how to have fun?
me: nah dude the meter is running so just take us back to the venetian
this continues for a few more minutes before he reluctantly drives us home. we wait for what feels like 5 minutes but must have been 30 for the other cab to arrive. we later learn that they got detoured to two or three more "massage parlors" on their way home.
it's starting to get light out but somebody says it's time for craps. we stroll into casino royale. all the lights are on and we're the only ones there, but it looks like a craps table is open. it's only $3 but i know i shouldn't be playing right now so i just watch for a bit. the pit boss is giving me the evil eye and i can understand why. we're drunk, disheveled, smoking cigars, and some of us can barely stand. he lets us play anyway and the bachelor hits the pit boss in the face with one of the dice on his first roll. i know we are getting kicked out for sure at this point, but somehow we stay. the pit boss is still annoyed that we're having trouble hitting the back wall with the dice. either we stop short or a die bounces off the table. we're losing money so i guess he doesn't mind. the cocktail waitress won't give me water unless i play so i do. i keep betting on the yo trying to win stripper money. i say if it hits twice that's $450 and we're going back to rhino! it never does. i switch back to beer but the waitress doesn't understand what "silver bullet" means so i have to spell out "coors light" for her. the bachelor goes on a hot streak and is hitting points left and right. we come up. i make back all i had lost at binions. we crap out, cash out, and are about ready to pass out. i'm even and even is winning in vegas. it's way too bright out and we're way too happy and loud for 7am. i chastise the guys for forgetting their cameras to capture this moment. i go in search of pizza unsuccessfully. we head back to the room and pass out. i can't remember the last time i stayed up till 7am.
three hours of sleep and day two to follow. . .
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