I'm tardy in posting a trip report, but I'm finally going to get 'er done. I made my first trip to Vegas on my 43 birthday with another six people in tow. I hang out mostly with 20s and 30s and live a pretty young lifestyle, so you can probably read me as an early thirties guy if that helps. Though, I swear to god, I just can't do three in a row anymore, no matter how deep I dig.
Hotel: Planet Hollywood
Dates: Nov 11 to 14, 2012
Parties: Spearmint Rhino & Marquee
Travellers: Me, sis & spouse, bro & spouse, two friends (1F & 1M), all Canadian
Day 1 - Birthday day!
We got in to Vegas around 10 am. After checking in early, sis & spouse and I went for a wander on the strip towards MGM. By 12:30 we were seated in the Centrifuge lounge in MGM with Manhattans on their way. Bro & spouse joined, and so did the two friends (who flew in separately and were staying elsewhere). By 3 pm, I was 5 or 6 Manhattans and a couple of shots deep and suggesting to our server, Amy, that "she is an incredible ambassador for all of Las Vegas, and I love how when I ask you for a drink, you just bring one to me, no questions asked." I may have asked her to come visit me in Canada.
The excellent idea arose to have some drinks back at the hotel and head out to Spearmint Rhino before happy hour was over. On the walk back to our hotel, I arrived at the conclusion that the filthy bastard card snappers were actually handing out hooker trading cards, so I took all I could get my hands on. Once I had secured a suitably-sized stack, I began trying to barter with both filthy bastard card snappers and other strip walkers for tradesies. "I'llwl gibve yoo thareee Jasmines for any hookwer teabm bmember hoos nayme starfts wifth a zed. I meawn zee. Yoo guybs say zee here fir the last letters, amirite?" I was largely ignored.
The Walgreens that was connected was my huckleberry, with a plethora of liquid intoxicants. The old standby of Captain Morgan's spiced was there for me, just when I needed him. Taking much longer to arrive than should have been the case had I not been so enthralled with my newfound hobby of collecting, we didn't have much time for hotel drinks, but managed to put some back.
Having read JC forums before I went, I knew that calling the limousine would get us there for free, and would get us in without cover. I am a wise and knowledgeable man who impressed his peers with his knowledge of Las Vegas, given that I was the only LVirgin. (Thank you JC! (Not Jesus Christ...well...screw it, let's thank that homie too.))
I don't especially recall arriving at the Rhino, but have a clear recollection of sitting down right by the stage. I don't think the place was very busy, though I admit to being highly intoxicated and not just a little bit tunnel-visioned. I was put off by the girls at first for reasons I cannot explain. Friends and family aside threw down twenties so's to get attractive, lithe women to rub against me and try in vain to make intelligent conversation. I couldn't have cared less. At one point, I was just standing there, and I'm pretty sure that one of the dancers bumped me ever so slightly. I stepped back, as anyone would, but my heel landed on the rounded bottom of one of the velvet rope stands, knocking me further akilter, and ass-over-teakettle ensued. Surprisingly, I was not asked to gtfo, and returned to my seat a little chagrined. And then all of a sudden, there was Bianca.
I don't think Bianca was the prettiest girl in the room, not by a stretch. But for some reason, she captured my heart. I think I got one lap dance from her before she advised that we'd have much more fun in the VIP. Being a chap who enjoys things like "fun", I agreed that this was probably our wisest course. I left my entourage with their chosen girls and whatever drinks that may or may not have been there, and ventured to the back.
Greeted by an enormous black man, I handed him some things (I don't know what, but assume it was my ID), and was escorted to a dark table by my new love, Bianca. The next half hour is an utter blur. I know I bought drinks. I know that she had her hand down my jeans. I know that I asked if I could go for the cookie jar even though I wasn't supposed to, and got a surprising yes. And there was some making out, GFE style. Or maybe I was just slobbering my drink. I don't really know.
As quick as it began, it ended, even though it seemed like I had been in there for a couple of hours. They rang my credit card through and had me sign the slip. My lovely Bianca then advised me that the enormous black man thought that my signature looked practically nothing like a signature, and that I was going to need to sign a new one. This would have rung all kinds of alarm bells had I any notion of what was happening, or where I was, or who I was, or if the sun rises in the east. I knew none of these things at that particular moment.
I was let go and returned to my chaperones. Recollection again fails me, but the next thing I recall is being at the bar and there was Bianca again! "Hi Bianca!" We talked a little bit. She was facing the bar and guided my hand back to the cookie jar, hidden by me, the rest of her body, and the bar. Now this, I remember very clearly. Me: "I have had so much to drink, I couldn't get a woodrow if you told me it would magically solve world hunger. But man, do I want to breakfast on your muffin. Let's get out of this shithole. Do you have a car here where we can go so I can eat your beaver? Beavers are the national animal of Canada, you know. We don't eat them there though. But you probably could if you were super hungry."
With hindsight, I'm shocked and appalled that this didn't weird her out and have her running in the other direction. But she asked for my phone and put her number in it. At that point, I thought I should clarify. "I'm not paying you any money for it though, we're clear on that right? This is just some good ol' mouth sex between friends. But on the upside, I won't make you pay me, either."
She smiled and said, "You might have to pay a little bit." To which I replied, "well then you might have to pay a little bit." She told me to meet her out back, she'll be pulling up in a black Cadillac. And then she disappeared. I went back to my table and told my female friend that I was going to go out for a little while and don't worry about me, I'll be fine. She was naturally worried about me, but knew better than to try to reason with a highly intoxicated Johnny Pockets.
I went out a door that, for whatever reason, I assumed was "the back". I don't think it was the back. I texted her. She texted back saying she was there. I texted again. She texted again. Finally I called her, but I don't remember at all the instructions she gave me. No matter, I couldn't follow them if they were presented so that a five-year-old could understand. Not that anyone should give a five-year-old instructions about how to find a hot latina for mouth sex in a black Cadillac under any circumstances. Hell, the same applies no matter what colour the Cadillac is.
I never found her.
And then things go very dark. I have vague recollection of being at the Venetian, though I don't know why. I'm told that I became mesmerized by something on the wall, at which point the last two with me, sis & spouse, advised that they were too tired to chaperone any longer and if I'm not going to come along, would I be ok. Please come, but if not, please be ok. I opted for being ok.
I'm also told that I ran into male friend a little bit later, somewhere else on the strip. He says I had a look of surprise upon seeing him that made him think that I'd forgotten he was in Vegas with me. I don't recall this. I recall nothing else from that night. Happy birthday, ya bastard!
Day 2
Given that I think I made it home by midnight, I wasn't in bad shape come morning. I wasn't in good shape, but I wasn't in bad shape. I did, however, sleep off-and-on until about 2:00 pm. We met in the afternoon and walked the strip and had some bites. There's really nothing to note other than I had already lost my affinity for my new trading card collection and wanted to simply throat punch every filthy bastard card snapper.
We lazed. We ate. I had a lobster grilled cheese in a mall.
After a short nap, we partook in the buffet at Planet Hollywood. It was then time to head off to our primo party venue for the trip, Marquee. Thanks again to JC, I had hooked up with Noah before going and had arranged bottle service. Noah had advised me that for our group, the table minimum would be $700 before the all-in. I told him that I would be tipping $200 at the door to our host if he thought that was reasonable. He did.
Hotel: Planet Hollywood
Dates: Nov 11 to 14, 2012
Parties: Spearmint Rhino & Marquee
Travellers: Me, sis & spouse, bro & spouse, two friends (1F & 1M), all Canadian
Day 1 - Birthday day!
We got in to Vegas around 10 am. After checking in early, sis & spouse and I went for a wander on the strip towards MGM. By 12:30 we were seated in the Centrifuge lounge in MGM with Manhattans on their way. Bro & spouse joined, and so did the two friends (who flew in separately and were staying elsewhere). By 3 pm, I was 5 or 6 Manhattans and a couple of shots deep and suggesting to our server, Amy, that "she is an incredible ambassador for all of Las Vegas, and I love how when I ask you for a drink, you just bring one to me, no questions asked." I may have asked her to come visit me in Canada.
The excellent idea arose to have some drinks back at the hotel and head out to Spearmint Rhino before happy hour was over. On the walk back to our hotel, I arrived at the conclusion that the filthy bastard card snappers were actually handing out hooker trading cards, so I took all I could get my hands on. Once I had secured a suitably-sized stack, I began trying to barter with both filthy bastard card snappers and other strip walkers for tradesies. "I'llwl gibve yoo thareee Jasmines for any hookwer teabm bmember hoos nayme starfts wifth a zed. I meawn zee. Yoo guybs say zee here fir the last letters, amirite?" I was largely ignored.
The Walgreens that was connected was my huckleberry, with a plethora of liquid intoxicants. The old standby of Captain Morgan's spiced was there for me, just when I needed him. Taking much longer to arrive than should have been the case had I not been so enthralled with my newfound hobby of collecting, we didn't have much time for hotel drinks, but managed to put some back.
Having read JC forums before I went, I knew that calling the limousine would get us there for free, and would get us in without cover. I am a wise and knowledgeable man who impressed his peers with his knowledge of Las Vegas, given that I was the only LVirgin. (Thank you JC! (Not Jesus Christ...well...screw it, let's thank that homie too.))
I don't especially recall arriving at the Rhino, but have a clear recollection of sitting down right by the stage. I don't think the place was very busy, though I admit to being highly intoxicated and not just a little bit tunnel-visioned. I was put off by the girls at first for reasons I cannot explain. Friends and family aside threw down twenties so's to get attractive, lithe women to rub against me and try in vain to make intelligent conversation. I couldn't have cared less. At one point, I was just standing there, and I'm pretty sure that one of the dancers bumped me ever so slightly. I stepped back, as anyone would, but my heel landed on the rounded bottom of one of the velvet rope stands, knocking me further akilter, and ass-over-teakettle ensued. Surprisingly, I was not asked to gtfo, and returned to my seat a little chagrined. And then all of a sudden, there was Bianca.
I don't think Bianca was the prettiest girl in the room, not by a stretch. But for some reason, she captured my heart. I think I got one lap dance from her before she advised that we'd have much more fun in the VIP. Being a chap who enjoys things like "fun", I agreed that this was probably our wisest course. I left my entourage with their chosen girls and whatever drinks that may or may not have been there, and ventured to the back.
Greeted by an enormous black man, I handed him some things (I don't know what, but assume it was my ID), and was escorted to a dark table by my new love, Bianca. The next half hour is an utter blur. I know I bought drinks. I know that she had her hand down my jeans. I know that I asked if I could go for the cookie jar even though I wasn't supposed to, and got a surprising yes. And there was some making out, GFE style. Or maybe I was just slobbering my drink. I don't really know.
As quick as it began, it ended, even though it seemed like I had been in there for a couple of hours. They rang my credit card through and had me sign the slip. My lovely Bianca then advised me that the enormous black man thought that my signature looked practically nothing like a signature, and that I was going to need to sign a new one. This would have rung all kinds of alarm bells had I any notion of what was happening, or where I was, or who I was, or if the sun rises in the east. I knew none of these things at that particular moment.
I was let go and returned to my chaperones. Recollection again fails me, but the next thing I recall is being at the bar and there was Bianca again! "Hi Bianca!" We talked a little bit. She was facing the bar and guided my hand back to the cookie jar, hidden by me, the rest of her body, and the bar. Now this, I remember very clearly. Me: "I have had so much to drink, I couldn't get a woodrow if you told me it would magically solve world hunger. But man, do I want to breakfast on your muffin. Let's get out of this shithole. Do you have a car here where we can go so I can eat your beaver? Beavers are the national animal of Canada, you know. We don't eat them there though. But you probably could if you were super hungry."
With hindsight, I'm shocked and appalled that this didn't weird her out and have her running in the other direction. But she asked for my phone and put her number in it. At that point, I thought I should clarify. "I'm not paying you any money for it though, we're clear on that right? This is just some good ol' mouth sex between friends. But on the upside, I won't make you pay me, either."
She smiled and said, "You might have to pay a little bit." To which I replied, "well then you might have to pay a little bit." She told me to meet her out back, she'll be pulling up in a black Cadillac. And then she disappeared. I went back to my table and told my female friend that I was going to go out for a little while and don't worry about me, I'll be fine. She was naturally worried about me, but knew better than to try to reason with a highly intoxicated Johnny Pockets.
I went out a door that, for whatever reason, I assumed was "the back". I don't think it was the back. I texted her. She texted back saying she was there. I texted again. She texted again. Finally I called her, but I don't remember at all the instructions she gave me. No matter, I couldn't follow them if they were presented so that a five-year-old could understand. Not that anyone should give a five-year-old instructions about how to find a hot latina for mouth sex in a black Cadillac under any circumstances. Hell, the same applies no matter what colour the Cadillac is.
I never found her.
And then things go very dark. I have vague recollection of being at the Venetian, though I don't know why. I'm told that I became mesmerized by something on the wall, at which point the last two with me, sis & spouse, advised that they were too tired to chaperone any longer and if I'm not going to come along, would I be ok. Please come, but if not, please be ok. I opted for being ok.
I'm also told that I ran into male friend a little bit later, somewhere else on the strip. He says I had a look of surprise upon seeing him that made him think that I'd forgotten he was in Vegas with me. I don't recall this. I recall nothing else from that night. Happy birthday, ya bastard!
Day 2
Given that I think I made it home by midnight, I wasn't in bad shape come morning. I wasn't in good shape, but I wasn't in bad shape. I did, however, sleep off-and-on until about 2:00 pm. We met in the afternoon and walked the strip and had some bites. There's really nothing to note other than I had already lost my affinity for my new trading card collection and wanted to simply throat punch every filthy bastard card snapper.
We lazed. We ate. I had a lobster grilled cheese in a mall.
After a short nap, we partook in the buffet at Planet Hollywood. It was then time to head off to our primo party venue for the trip, Marquee. Thanks again to JC, I had hooked up with Noah before going and had arranged bottle service. Noah had advised me that for our group, the table minimum would be $700 before the all-in. I told him that I would be tipping $200 at the door to our host if he thought that was reasonable. He did.
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