I didn't fear or loath las vegas, but I did leave it
2003-11-18 @ 11:46 p.m.
Here is the account of my recent trip to Las Vegas. The following took place between the hours of 11:30 pm November 13, 2003 and 9:00 am November 17, 2003.
So we left Dulles around 8:00pm on Thurs and arrived in the City of Sin around 10:00pm. AND THUS CRAZY TIME DIFFERENCE BEGAN.
Patch had never gambled before, but I waged a fair bet that he would lose by the end of the trip. I won, 10-fold. But those are the cards he was delt. It was an unlucky hand. He didn't know when to fold 'em. Or when to hold 'em.
Okay now that I got all those retarded puns out of the way, let's begin. We were lucky enough to stay at the Mirage, which was a pretty cool hotel. And if you are unaware, this is the same hotel that Siegfried and Roy raped tigers, err I mean "Performed Magic" *sparkle sparkle* We thought it was odd that the Mirage still had ads for their act all over the hotel. But they still had the tigers because Patch and I visited the 'Tiger Area Thingy'. Well that wasn't really the name, but that's close enough. There was only one tiger. Woop woop.
That first night I decided to show Patchie a few things about Blackjack. (which is the only game the Legs' family plays) And right before his eyes in about 5 minutes, I lost $20. I played it off that I was showing him how to lose money quickly, but I think he called my bluff. Dammit, there I go again...
Anyway, the next day Patch and I ate at The Mirage Buffet. It was mediocre. No lobster, -30 pts. No cheesecake -1,334,205 pts. But they did have cheeseSTEAKS. So ehh. They broke even...
That day sucked for me because I lost like $200. I decided that automatic shufflers are unfair and should be outlawed. If you are unfamiliar with blackjack. Most casinos use 4-5 decks and hand shuffle between each run. Then they give a card to one of the players to 'cut'. With the completely unfair machine shufflers, there is never a pause. We never see the cards be shuffled, and no one gets to cut. Well at least, not intentionally.
Ahem. So that was unfair and lame. That night Patchie and I went to the club at Rio. It was either 'Mist' or 'Rain' or some other one-word-ecological-term. Seriously, all of the clubs were named like this. It became a joke between Patch and I. 'Rain', 'Mist', 'Light'. I think 'Wind','Earth',and 'Fire' were the clubs yet to be built apparently. The rio club was alright. The only time I dance is if I'm drunk. So I drank. And thus, I danced. But since I wasn't wearing like super slut outfit no cute guys danced with me. There was the 57 year old creepy guy that offered to buy me a drink, and told me I had a 'beautiful face'. Which my brother told me later that that meant he wanted to sleep with me. I told him that it was because I was wearing two long sleeve shirts and pants, so that is all he could see anyway. I told him I wanted an Absolut cranberry and he then yelled in my ear, 'I'm only drinking beer'. And I was like 'ooookay. See ya later then!'. I mean I'm not trying to get free drinks, but if you are offering to buy me one, at least go beyound your spectrum of knowledge of alcohol and buy the lady a REAL drink! Sheesh!
While all this was taking place Patch was playing blackjack. Well not so much playing, but 'watching blackjack dealers in bikinis deal'. Whatever that's his deal..ha ha get it? Deal?
Saturday I tried to sleep in. But the CRAZY TIME DIFFERENCE was messing with my head. But I DID manage to achieve a major hangover. My head was killing me. And Las Vegas is the worst place to have a hangover during the day because upon going outside all you hear are car horns, people passing out prostitue flyers, and my dad yelling 'YOU HAVE A HANGOVER? WHAAAAAAAA?? SO DOES IT HURT WHEN I YELL AT YOU???'. Thanks Dad.
That night Patch and I got to see Cirque de Solei. Or however you spell it. That was really awesome. We managed to get center fifth row seats. And that's when BETHIE IS GOOD LUCK began. From that time forward wherever I went good luck followed. I stood behind my mom, dad and brother as they played blackjack. They won a million dollars each. I walked down the aisle in the Mirage struttin my stuff to the tune of 'Dance Fever' pointed to random people and winked to a few others. A woman was choking, I gave her the Heimlich. A baby cried, I threw it out the window. A man had a heart attack, I gave him my RSVP to dinner. It wasn't CPR, yeah but it WAS an acronym, and that should have been good enough. Nothing could go wrong. I was on top of the world. Suddenly the record player screeched to a halt. The luck was gone. My money was gone. It was all gone.
Okay so none of that really happened, but I did have a luck streak for a while. I ended up breaking even as they say, so that was cool by me. The last night there my dad treated us to the Stratosphere Top of the World Restaurant Thingy. I swear you would think people would come up with better names for their restaurants. But I guess it's easier to remember when there is a 'Thingy' at the end. Thingy was 900 feet above Vegas. AND it rotated. AND it was expensive as hell. Due to the fact that there are now 3 different 'thrill' rides above the restaurant, between toasting of our eventful weekend the entire building would shake as we heard screams of horror. I have to say that that was planned a little unfortunately. You would think a classy place like that would only have Screams of Horror when the check came, not throughout the dinner exactly 6 1/2 minutes a part.
We left that night after dinner and came home yesterday morning at 7. All in all, a great time was had by all. Except for that man I gave my dinner reservations to.