08.14.2002 - These Are Dangerous Amusements

After staying up incredibly late on Tuesday night taking care of innumerable last minute trip preparations, the first half of work was all heavy sighs and head buried in hands. However, as the day wore on, a smile grew across my face because I knew that soon enough I'd be out of the office and on a plane heading for a four day escape from reality. When time came to clock out, you'd think I had a little friend going to Fellatiotown under my desk judging by the expression on my face.

VEGAS, BABY!

I sped home from work, got my belongings together and waited for Jackson, who graciously offered to drive me to the airport, to arrive so we could depart.

I've always entertained fantasies of flying first class. The legroom, the free drinks, the passengers who have all their natural teeth and belt buckles smaler than their heads. Instead, however, every flying experience I've ever had has been with Southwest, which offers roughly the same accomodations as a Greyhound bus. There is a reason it's the cheapest national carrier, and because I'm a cheap bastard, I will continue to patronize Southwest until the rest of the world acknowledges my fame and showers me with the love and money I so deserve.

I somehow ended up in the Creepy Old Singles section of the plane, where circumstances forced me to observe some bastard Beverage Salesman from Georgia eyefuck and close talk this recent divorcee who appeared to have signed up for some Buy Nine Facelifts, Get The Tenth One Free program while Señor Bumpkin sitting next to me tried to look up her skirt. At least I didn't pay too much attention to them, as I had somehow managed to seat myself in the emergency exit aisle and I found myself consumed with the worry that I would be forced to clumsily toss my fellow passengers during an unfortunate landing.

Thankfully, however, the flight went quickly and smoothly, and I found the party waiting to pick me up without any trouble. I had expected my aunt and The Moms to be there, but I hadn't planned on seeing my uncle. I met him once when I was three years old, but shortly thereafter, he was incarcerated. He recently got released and has been living with my relatives in Vegas to work.

It was cool to see him at first, but it suddenly became way cooler when he reached down to pick up my luggage and his shirt sleeves pulled up to reveal a Metallica tattoo on one arm and an Iron Maiden tattoo on the other. I have a metal uncle who's been in jail. I win the cool relative sweepstakes.

Contrary to the last two times I came to Vegas, I showed a genuine interest in spending time with my relatives, so when I got to my aunts house I sat down with everyone and tried to have a conversation. The talk turned to their impending move to Oklahoma, and my Non-metal Uncle smirked and asked if I'd still visit them after they move, implying that I only visit them now because they're located in an exciting place and it's convenient to use their house and cars while I'm there. I felt horrible when they said this partially because what they think of me, but also because it's somewhat true. I'll blame the infrequent visits on distance rather than nightlife though, and hopefully everyone will feel better.

Speaking of nightlife, it didn't take me long to get started. My Metal Uncle let me borrow his beautiful new truck and I hit the town. I never fancied myself a truck person (probably because I use the word "fancied" regularly), but this changed my mind.

Truthfully, though, I was so happy to be cruising the street, Mike Tyson could have used my scrotum as a speed bag while someone forced me to watch Cast Away, and I'd still have a mile-wide smile across my face.

Thanks to Vegas.com and lots of free time at work, I was able to do considerable research on what to do in town to give my wandering some sort of focus. I decided not to do much gambling before I left because a) I don't have very much money to spend, b) it's naive to think I'll break even in Vegas and plain retarded to think I'll win any money at the big casinos, and c) well, I don't know, but it seems like there should be three things in this list.

After dumping the laundry quarters I swiped from my desk just before I left home into a video poker machine and playing just long enough to get a free drink from the lovely Venetian cocktail waitstaff, I got up and headed to the joint that seemed coolest to me through all my findings.

Venus is a tiki lounge in the Venetian, and the interior is designed completely by Shag and Bosko. While the interior is cool, it's kind of, um, disappointing to drink a seven dollar beer and listen to Nelly even if I'm sitting in space age bachelor pad furniture.

At least I didn't have to pay to get in. They charged the four European dudes ahead of me twenty bucks a piece to get in, but for some reason they just waved me past. It's not like I'm attractive or well dressed. All I can figure is that my fame has somehow spread to Southern Nevada. It was only a matter of time.

After a quick stop by the Hard Rock Hotel and Casino, I succumbed to the fact that I'm a huge, gaping vagina and went home to sleep at half past two.

Besides, Vegas couldn't handle too much Jeffy in one night. I'm giving her a break.

-- Jeffy

This is just Part One of the whole Vegas shebang. Check back soon for the rest>