After weeks of hyping it up, the big trip to Vegas finally happened. While it wasn't the outrageous disaster many were anticipating it to be, it was still an incredible (and incredibly hot) time.
Sometimes I get a little bit off track when writing entries (I already deleted an entire paragraph explaining why Mike, Jim and I only by Natural Ice. Why I found that to be relevant to our Vegas trip is unclear), so I'm going to give a day-by-day.
Thursday.
I always knew there was going to be an issue when Jess arrived in LA. Everyone has jobs out here, and she was landing at like 2 in the afternoon. It all worked out, though. I had her take a shuttle to downtown. Of course, I was out of the office when she got there, which meant poor Dangles had to lug a giant suitcase around and fend off the aggressive Mexicans. I told Jess to wait for me at First Cup Cafe (note to Jess: they just filmed CSI: New York at First Cup yesterday), and then when I finally get back downtown, I have no idea what to do with her. So I have her sit at another cafe for a few hours. It was a cool place though. Good atmosphere, even if it was 105 degrees inside. Talk about a scorcher! That night Mike, Jim, Jess and I went out for Margaritas. They were weak. I've had Kool-Aid Popsicles that had higher alcohol content. After two pitchers and a plate of melted cheese, we decide to bounce and take the party home with us, via a thirty pack of Natural Ice (oh, I guess that's where the aforementioned Natural Ice tangent came from). We go to bed somewhat early.
Friday.
I had a half day at work. Went and picked up Mike and Jess. We sit in traffic forever but finally get downtown. I park my car at work to save money, but we soon discover that Union Station is a little bit over a mile away. And it's like 102 degrees out. And we have to cross the freeway. Just so everyone knows, Jess does NOT do well in heat. It was a sweaty, miserable walk. We meet Zach at Union Station, because his roommate dropped him off. Zach gives us TERRIBLE directions on how to get to the bus (long story short, he told us to go all the way to the back of Union Station, when in actuality the bus was parked in the loading dock around the corner from the entrance) We are convinced that we are going to miss the bus. Mike is swearing, Jess is struggling, and I'm mentally preparing a playlist of all the songs to play in the car, since driving to Vegas seems inevitable at this point. Luckily, we finally find an employee who knows what the fuck they are talking about, and we get on the bus. God bless air conditioning. Traffic was a shit show. Apparently everybody in LA drives to Vegas for Labor Day. Who knew? At one point our bus driver stops in the middle of the freeway and gets off. We all laugh nervously. Due to the delay, we get in at about 11 or so. Zach tries to shmooze the lady into giving us a cheap room upgrade, but I get nervous and tell her we don't want one. Our room is in a "Manor" which is just a fancy way of saying "hotel addition circa 1988." To say we were still on the Strip would be a gross embellishment. We went out, anyway. Walked the strip and what not. Mike won a lot of money, while the ATM refused to let me take money out. I used my only dollar on the slots, won five instantly, and bought a beer. Once that was gone, I took it upon myself to find an ATM that would give me money. Long story short, I wandered off for about a half hour. Everyone got mad at me. Mike offered to lend me cash, because apparently he doesn't know me well enough yet to know that I REFUSE help from people. We get drunk, but it's so hot and we walk so much that everyone sobers up. At 4 am we are at Mandalay Bay hanging out with Zach's friends from high school. They are being entirely inappropriate and we decide its time for bed.
Saturday.
Piss the day away with naps, walks, and Notre Dame football. We finally go out at about four. Mike and Jess buy cheap margaritas. We walk to the Venetian. Said margaritas do not do right by Mike and Jess. We eat and decide to start drinking/gambling. Since Mike is wearing a shirt with his name on the back, people find him to be quite approachable. First there's the Asian guy with the giant mug hat that says "Got Beer?" who asks Mike (who REALLY REALLY has to pee, which is why this story tickles me so) where the party is. Mike finally passes the guy over to Zach so he can hightail it to the bathroom. Zach tries to tell the guy about this club called Krave. His accent is thick, I'm drunk, and it sounds like he's saying "Queef." This tickles me also. Mike meets two guys in the bathroom. They are part of some American tour adventure from all over the world, and we decide to combine groups. We walk around and share champagne with people from New Zealand, Australia, England, and Ireland. It's fun at first, but soon the random silliness wears off, people get hot and frustrated, and we find out that three of the guys are 18. That's the end of our collaboration with the United Nations. We go back to O'Sheas, a ghetto dive of a casino and drink more cheap beer and do shots. We eat Burger King. Zach eats enough for a family of four. A cute girl is excited to sit with me. Unfortunately she has braces and is with her parents. It takes forever to find a cab. Some guy in front of us in the cab line is unresponsive and throwing up. He very well might be dead at this point. We get back to the hotel, act silly for about an hour, and pass out.
Sunday.
We get back. Apartment is hot as fuck. Jess and Zach sleep in Jim's room. I don't sleep.
Monday.
Drive Jess to the airport. It's really fucking hot out and I'm in a bad mood all day. In order to escape the hotbox that is our apartment (not joking. Butter was melting in our fridge), Jim and I go see Superbad.
And that was the weekend.
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3 comments:
YAY! I met an English guy in Brighton that said he was in the Brit mob and would take care of me. That is he would take care of me only if when he came to Ohio, I would take care of him... you know, with my... Ohio mob?
I hope the Brit you found was the same one. Though we'll never know because he wouldn't give his name!
I brought ice from Las Vegas that melted the second I got in your apartment- hot enough for ya???
I remember calling Krave, douche for most of the trip. How's Jim????
See now, jess hid all of the unattractive parts of the trip from us in her Vegas blog. But you, steve, you are all about REALITY. Sounds like the trip was a real gas!
By the way, I've switched to blogger and blogged there a grand total of once. http://bagblag.blogspot.com/ But the conversion is complete. MySpace no longer gets to hear me talk about myself.
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