A trip report I never posted...

[_2000Flushes]

Sorry, to take so long to reply. It's about 5:30 pm, and I just got up for the day.

Ahhh, yes. The Ford cliTaurus. We partied like rock stars, and that PoS was our vaginal chariot.

For the record, we started pounding as soon as the captain turned off the seatbelt sign. The whorehouse-bound NASCAR fan next to us was ready to get hammered like he was ... I don't know ... on his way to a NASCAR race in Vegas. The drinking continued and escalated until the end of the trip. The unnamed friend and I stocked the penthouse with every kind of alcohol we could find, way more than I thought we could ever drink by the next day. Wrong. One of the last things I remember about that night is walking from game to game at the Bellagio while double fisting bottles of cabernet.

One night, Cup and AA were passed out in the bedroom, so friend-not-worthy-of-a-name and I decided to order strippers off the Internet to wake them up. We were both pretty inexperienced at ordering strippers off the Internet to wake up our slumbering, prepubescent friends, so we were elated to see that you could order specific girls based on their picture and profile. Yeah, right. I'll chalk my naivity up to drunkeness and our no-named friend's to idiocy. When the strippers turned out to be compeletely different girls, we sent them walking. Shortly after that, we began to regret sending them away on principle (they were still hot). So we decided, "Let's just find some whores. Surely they'll strip for money." Again, inexperience kicked in. What exactly is the protocol in this area? Do you just walk up to a girl and say, "So, you working?" Luckily, the whores found us. This really freaked me out because I knew one of the whores from back home. I never have figured out what to make of it. Either this girl had gone pro or she and a friend decided to pull a great practical joke when they spotted me in Vegas. Regardless, they pulled a bait-and-switch on the price, and I told them to forget it. Again I backed out of the deal based on principle. Did I really expect the stipping/streetwalking industries to hold such high regard for ethics? Bah.

He whose name I will not mention (or that no one can remember) still found a girl who was willing to render her services for free. At one point, he came out into the living room in a towel and said, "I just want everyone to know that I'm in the hot tub back there with a hot girl. I just wanted that to be on the record." I took that as full license to wait five minutes, strip naked, and jump canonball-style into the Jacuzzi with them. Unnamed friend was not happy, but I know she liked it. Also, the bubbles were a nice complement to my artful tuck-under.

The Bellagio certainly made a great deal of money off of us, but I imagine that we minimized their profits. We tore that penthouse to shreds. There's no way to make this sound like we weren't starring in a gay porn, so I'll just say it. There was a lotion fight. (That last line should be read with the same intonation that Willem Defoe manages in Boondock Saints.) It got all over this furniture that I'm sure was imported from some medeival French chateau. Things were smashed against the walls from beer bottles to large china bowls of whipped cream. I can't be sure, but did we roast a goat in there?

The girl who upgraded us to the penthouse was pretty hot. Her name was Nina. I took the liberty of calling her from one of the bathrooms for instructions on using the bidet.

On to the poker. I honestly don't remember that much of it. Permafrown may have been my favorite example of how much fun we had. This old lady had such a reputation that the dealer heralded her arrival with, "Oh, great. This woman is such a grouch. I don't think I've ever seen her smile." The first hand she played, she griped about some random rule that the floorman dismissed out of hand. After two orbits, however, she was playing hands blind to the river. She was the one who delivered that note to the girls in the purple shirts. She was even taunting Cup, saying, "He bets like a girl," in her thick German accent.

The note, as I recall, read something along the lines of:

Dear Purple Shirt(s),

I love you. Will you go out with me?

(check one) YES no



If you want to loosen up a table, just pay everyone's blinds for the next hand. I've never seen a ten-way pot before.

The great thing about Mick was that he could be summoned wherever there was a phonebooth or revolving door. I've seen pictures of him, and we in no way resemble each other. So it surprised me quite a bit when I was allowed to sit back down (post-transmogrification) and continue playing as Mick. I actually talked to a girl I met there after returning from Vegas. She was remarkably indifferent to hear from me, but said, "Anytime Mick wants to make an appearance in North Carolina, we'd love to have him."

I'm not going to lie. I'm still jealous that Cup and AA got to go shoot the [censored] with Clarknasty and Dynomeister while I was having security cameras diverted to table 13.

The only people at the Mirage who didn't like us were the guys in the cage. I bought thirty $1 chips three or four different times, and then requested ten racks of blue. He started to pull out reds, and I said, "No, I want ten racks of blue." He said they didn't have that many blue chips to give me. (BS. You're the freaking Mirage. How do you run out of $1 chips?) The line was starting to grow behind me, so I said, "Alright, just give me four $500 chips." This was even worse for them because it ended up causing the dealers to have to ask for a fill every ten minutes. Especially after Cup waited a few orbits to go to the cage and say, "I'd like four $500 chips for the 3/6 game." They hated us, and we them.

[ QUOTE ]
We had decided we wanted to play golf, so we found a course way out and set a tee time sunday morning for 9 AM. when we got back from the mirage at 4 AM, we called the pro shop and left the message "Hi Debbie, we can't make our tee time. something came up." I think we still got charged.


[/ QUOTE ]

Debbie didn't give a flying rat's ass. I wasn't surprised to see that $520 on my Visa statement.

All in all, each night seemed like we partied to our fullest. But each night was outdone by the next. I intend to continue this trend whenever in Vegas.

-2kF