The party was originally supposed to start on the Thursday night with 12 of us coming down from Toronto. Somehow 8 of us ended up there Wednesday to warm things up. Get off the plane at 10:30 and waiting for me are 2 two bedroom suites at the Mirage, 3 bottles of grey goose, two bottles of whiskey, and a few cases of beers. Nice start guys.
We're three hours behind coming from the EST so we decided we better start drinking before we fall asleep. Many shots/tunes later we're walking down the strip towards Bills Gambling Hall an old favorite. More drinks, lots of gambling and a stumble home at 5:00 feeling more like 8:00am. Don't remember much more of the night.
Up three hours later and decide to have breakfast at BB Kings and then split up. Some guys are here for the first time and want to see the sights, some are too hung over to leave the hotel, and everyone just does their own thing for a few hours. Fast forward to one more guy arriving, $90 worth of pizza, and pounding out tunes and beers back at the room with a couple of NJ girls. One hot, one stupid. (I don't care about rap and don't need lessons from white suburban girls) Rest of the guys show up a couple hours later and half of us head to JET where one of our dear friends gets asked to sign the bill as he is getting thrown out for puking on at the table and some poor 65+ plus guy cleans it up. Girls super impressed I'm sure. 1 Bottle left hardly touched. (who orders Gin anyway?)
Friday.... up and lazy. Everyone feeling rough. Dirty breakfast in order so we head to Denny's at 12:00. Sitting at the booth jokes flying, smelling worst than usual, not enjoying our complimentary "Pancake Puppies". They apparently are out of ice cream or can't understand my Canadian accent. My throat continues to hurt. The subject of beer pong comes up.... it's up to the bachelor so we head back to the hotel, clean up, don Maple Leaf's Jersey's and head to challenge the riff raff at O'Shea's to a game. Around 1:30 we realize we've spent almost 12 hours at one of the worst casino's on the strip playing beer pong with dudes, flip cup with cougers, and generally making a completely foolish spectacle of ourselves. Mission accomplished? Half way through the day/night I'm up $260. Walk up and down the strip, drinks here and there, and then crash hard a couple hours later. I somehow end the night down $300.
Saturday's our last full day so we better make it count. Too bad we have trouble getting up under our own power. After a while we finally drag our asses down to the pool, order some buckets and meet some southern belle's on a bachelorette party that tell us they think we're "safe" because half of us are married. Make plans to meet them at our room for a drink later in the night. End up in the hot tub and somehow a bucket of ice gets thrown in some chicks face. She storms off and her friend quietly walks out. Probably to tell everyone how awesome we are (facepalm... don't invite us to your pool parties). On the way out meet some girls from O'Shea's the night before and invite them as well.
Home, change, shots, we're ready to go. Southern girls comes by to drop us off a bottle of Sweet Tea vodka they say we have to try and after a drink head out to a show with plans to meet up with us at Pure later on. (Thanks to Brandon Ring at Pure for everything) 10 minutes later second group of girls show up and we keep things lively. Head over to Pure, great seats on the patio and booze if flowing freely. Decided to get rid of the girls we showed up with (as Big Mike the security guy puts it "It'll be like a fucking tornado"), and security has them out of there stat. Few more drinks and the southern girls show up after bottle whoring on another table. Everyone's feeling good and somehow the original girls are back at our table after an hour of standing by the rope with puppy eyes. Things start getting stupid and we're up to six bottles, loving life, and making mistakes. I leave at 3:45 to catch an awful flight home as $100 bills are getting smoked around cigarettes and $20's are getting thrown off the terrace. Apparently a common problem when you hang out with investment bankers. Terrible flight home and I'm out of the Vegas black hole. Next trip already being planned.
Moral of the story? I have no idea, but we had fun everywhere we went. How we never made it too a strip joint? I have no idea.
We're three hours behind coming from the EST so we decided we better start drinking before we fall asleep. Many shots/tunes later we're walking down the strip towards Bills Gambling Hall an old favorite. More drinks, lots of gambling and a stumble home at 5:00 feeling more like 8:00am. Don't remember much more of the night.
Up three hours later and decide to have breakfast at BB Kings and then split up. Some guys are here for the first time and want to see the sights, some are too hung over to leave the hotel, and everyone just does their own thing for a few hours. Fast forward to one more guy arriving, $90 worth of pizza, and pounding out tunes and beers back at the room with a couple of NJ girls. One hot, one stupid. (I don't care about rap and don't need lessons from white suburban girls) Rest of the guys show up a couple hours later and half of us head to JET where one of our dear friends gets asked to sign the bill as he is getting thrown out for puking on at the table and some poor 65+ plus guy cleans it up. Girls super impressed I'm sure. 1 Bottle left hardly touched. (who orders Gin anyway?)
Friday.... up and lazy. Everyone feeling rough. Dirty breakfast in order so we head to Denny's at 12:00. Sitting at the booth jokes flying, smelling worst than usual, not enjoying our complimentary "Pancake Puppies". They apparently are out of ice cream or can't understand my Canadian accent. My throat continues to hurt. The subject of beer pong comes up.... it's up to the bachelor so we head back to the hotel, clean up, don Maple Leaf's Jersey's and head to challenge the riff raff at O'Shea's to a game. Around 1:30 we realize we've spent almost 12 hours at one of the worst casino's on the strip playing beer pong with dudes, flip cup with cougers, and generally making a completely foolish spectacle of ourselves. Mission accomplished? Half way through the day/night I'm up $260. Walk up and down the strip, drinks here and there, and then crash hard a couple hours later. I somehow end the night down $300.
Saturday's our last full day so we better make it count. Too bad we have trouble getting up under our own power. After a while we finally drag our asses down to the pool, order some buckets and meet some southern belle's on a bachelorette party that tell us they think we're "safe" because half of us are married. Make plans to meet them at our room for a drink later in the night. End up in the hot tub and somehow a bucket of ice gets thrown in some chicks face. She storms off and her friend quietly walks out. Probably to tell everyone how awesome we are (facepalm... don't invite us to your pool parties). On the way out meet some girls from O'Shea's the night before and invite them as well.
Home, change, shots, we're ready to go. Southern girls comes by to drop us off a bottle of Sweet Tea vodka they say we have to try and after a drink head out to a show with plans to meet up with us at Pure later on. (Thanks to Brandon Ring at Pure for everything) 10 minutes later second group of girls show up and we keep things lively. Head over to Pure, great seats on the patio and booze if flowing freely. Decided to get rid of the girls we showed up with (as Big Mike the security guy puts it "It'll be like a fucking tornado"), and security has them out of there stat. Few more drinks and the southern girls show up after bottle whoring on another table. Everyone's feeling good and somehow the original girls are back at our table after an hour of standing by the rope with puppy eyes. Things start getting stupid and we're up to six bottles, loving life, and making mistakes. I leave at 3:45 to catch an awful flight home as $100 bills are getting smoked around cigarettes and $20's are getting thrown off the terrace. Apparently a common problem when you hang out with investment bankers. Terrible flight home and I'm out of the Vegas black hole. Next trip already being planned.
Moral of the story? I have no idea, but we had fun everywhere we went. How we never made it too a strip joint? I have no idea.
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