08.16.2002 - Meeting People Is Easy

Friday started just like that Ice Cube song, "It Was A Good Day." I woke up, no barkin' from tha dogg, momma cooked a breakfast with no hog (damn). Unfortunately, the rest of my day was not spent ballin' or winning at dominoes. Still, I think I came out way ahead.

And I didn't even have to use my AK.

I'd like to eventually stay in a hotel on the strip for the same reason that I'd like to live in a big city-- you can be drunker more often when everything's within walking distance. Still, staying at my aunt's house has its advantages. I have free reign over food in the fridge, someone to cook it for me, a computer with which I can check my e-mail, various musical instruments readily available and a pool steps from the house. Also, it's free. I like free.

I continued my tanning routine before hopping out and hopping online to check my e-mail and chat with Heidi, who planned on driving up to meet me in Vegas on Friday evening.

When I got the e-mail from my mom offering to shoot me out to Vegas, I half-jokingly asked Heidi if she wanted to meet me there. Much to my surprise/delight, she accepted. One of the worst things about last year's trip is that I didn't have anyone to keep me company. I got the feeling that Vegas is not a one man town, and I found myself excited to be able to finally find out for sure.

The most difficult thing about my vacation seemed to be trying to find things to do to kill time before things were popping in the center of town. Today, I decided to take a walk down to a thrift store I noticed when we drove to dinner last night. I originally planned to jog down there because I hadn't gotten any exercise in a while, but when my cousin decided to join me, we decided it would be better to walk. I'm glad we did, because not only was it much farther away than I had estimated, It was about a hundred fifteen degrees outside. Had I jogged, I would have made it almost to the end of the block before I clutched my heart and melted into the pavement. That was easily the most tiring three miles I've ever walked. Remind me to never get stranded in the desert.

It's funny to watch my Metal Uncle eat. After having eaten nothing but prison food for sixteen years, a Ding Dong tastes like a fantastic German chocolate cake, so when The Moms cooks for him, a nearly orgasmic expression splashes across his face. While I enjoyed a fairly average spaghetti dinner, he enjoyed a four star meal. I suppose I shouldn't take what I have for granted.

After dinner and some Whiffle Ball with my cousin, my cell phone rang. After an abnormally choppy conversation resultant of my dying cell phone, I got directions to her place, threw on some clothes and asked said uncle if I could use his truck. It turns out that he was just about to ask me if I wanted to join him out at the local pool hall. Since he planned on using his truck, I had to ask my aunt to borrow her van. She very reluctantly handed me the keys. I didn't spend much time to contemplate why she suddenly didn't feel good about me driving her vehicle, as I was ready to get down, get funky and show Heidi a good time.

Surprisingly, I had little trouble finding the place. Even more surprisingly, our first meeting wasn't awkward. It was kind of like slipping into an old friendship. I'd say it was like meeting an old friend, but that has proven to be invariably awkward every time It's happened to me. We quickly jumped into the van and drove down to the heavy Friday night traffic of the Strip.

Talking online before we both left, I asked Heidi if she had anything specific that she wanted to do while in Vegas. The only thing I could get out of her was "get really drunk," so I tried to make sure we accomplished that.

Our first drink was at Paris. The bartender refused to serve her because her ID was expired and she didn't have her current License on her. What could have turned out to be disasterous ended up being simply fixed with a trip to the security desk, where Heidi was fitted with the ever fashionable "I'M OLD ENOUGH TO DRINK AND GAMBLE EVEN THOUGH I DON'T HAVE CURRENT ID, SO QUIT MAKING ME GO THROUGH THIS STORY OVER AND OVER AGAIN, OKAY, ASSHOLE?" bracelet and we were on our way.

She mocked me because my gimlet was much girlier than her rum 'n' coke. When she felt comfortable enough to take a stab at my masculinity ten minutes into our evening, I knew it was on.

Next, we stopped by the swank Bellagio, passing the elaborate water show as we traveled across the walkway from the street to the casino. One more drink a piece and a stroll through the conservatory and it was time to get down to business at the Barbary Coast.

Now, the Barbary Coast may not be the most glamorous spot on the strip, but they are big on two things: 1) Surly Bartenders, and 2) every drink is a dollar. It's fairly centrally located, so those looking to get plowed and walk around are wise to stop here first. For five dollars (not including tips) you can binge drink your way to a wonderfully hazy trip to any of the big name places without having to pound too much pavement. Heidi and I set up shop here for about an hour where we talked about exes, assholes, roommates and sometimes all three at the same time. Five drinks total into the night and I finally felt marginally buzzed.

Feeling nice, we kept heading north on the Strip. Just before the casino at Harrah's, there's an outdoor stage and bar. We happened to catch quite possibly the worst rendition of Livin' La Vida Loca I've ever heard. Heidi wanted to go down. When I saw a sign that said "$20 Cover for out of state men" I laughed and loudly stated, "there's no way in Hell I'd pay twenty bucks to go see that shit." Just then, some dude came over and said, "well, if you don't feel like paying, how about I give you this card. You'll get in free, the lady will only cost five dollars and you'll get three free drinks." It wasn't until then that I realized the sign and cover were for the night club and not the screeching ahead of us. Without much hesitation, we agreed and went in. Who says bitching and being a cheap bastard won't get you anywhere?

In addition to the free drinks, when we walked into the club, we were handed complimentary cans of a new energy drink called Red Wave. It didn't occur to me until much later that I drank a big twenty four ounce can of a euphemism for menstruation. Surprisingly this was the highlight of the club experience, as it was sparsely populated and the DJ played, of all things, a fucking Lenny Kravitz dance remix. We only stayed until we finished our drinks before continuing on our trek.

Before stopping at the Venetian, we stumbled upon another club with miraculously worse music. I can't imagine why any DJ who doesn't make the bulk of his income from weddings would even own a copy of "Whoomp! There it is," let alone be able to play it to a crowd with a straight face.

We spent approximately as much time at the Venetian as we did at the crappy club because the bars there were either charging too much or the clientele seemed to cool for the likes of us (or possibly vice versa). As far as flashy resort casinos go, the strip pretty much ends at the Venetian. Regardless, we continued walking north in hopes of finding the Peppermill, because apparently they have this lounge there that was used in the filming of Casino and hasn't been remodeled since the early eighties. I thought it might be novel to see the kind of room where many of my contemporaries might have been conceived, but alas, we did not make it to the Peppermill. Instead, we stopped at the Stardust, home of the illustrious Wayne Newton.

To say The Stardust was dead would be an affront to the residents of cemetaries worldwide. Because at this point we had done quite a bit of walking and I was about ten minutes away from being completely sober, we decided to sit down while I had a bottle of water and Heidi had her last drink for the night. We had a nice conversation with a bartender named "Son." Heidi paid for that round and I made some comment as to how I was the prostitute. Son, being the keen bastard he is, simply stated, "we're all prostitutes, my man."

Son is my second favorite new person I met this evening.

Since we had somehow managed to make it about three miles away from the car, we decided to take a taxi back. That might be the best damned taxi ride I'll ever take. No hidden cameras or waivers to sign for HBO, but it was still pretty nice.

It was fairly late, so after a brief stop at the Luxor, I took Heidi back to her condo. I'm very glad we met. She's as comfortable as my favorite old sweatshirt but looks like a brand new Armani suit. I could stand to see her more often. Distance, much like Celine Dion, is often a bitch.

Still, I finally got to experience the joys of Vegas with a partner in crime. I never want to do this alone again.

-- Jeffy