After plenty of time to get over that "I don't want to talk about it right now" phase everyone goes through after a long trip, I am ready to write. So here goes: the complete stories of my trip Feb. 14-18.
I should mention first that it's always tough to remember details about a trip when so much happens, and I remember having that problem the last time I went to Vegas, so this time I made it a point to kind of jot notes down in my phone. That way, I could put it up here and, regardless of who reads it or not, I will always have it to look back at. Kind of like a diary, but slightly less "teenager girl" and a lot more "geek." Anyways, what that means is that you get a more accurate and complete take on the whole thing.
THURSDAY - Day 1
Our flight to Vegas was on Thursday night at 8:30, so I headed up to Portland after my last class that day, and my dad and I headed to the airport. There really is no other social setting like the airport. A million people from all over the world, not caring about other people, and all pissed off because everyone knows the airport never ceases to aggravate people in one way or another. For me, it's not ever a big deal to be at an airport, just kind of a means to an end for me, so I don't too caught up in it. However, I seem to be the only one, and for some reason when I go to airports and see people all pissed off, it just makes me want to fuck with them. I don't know what's wrong with me, but I want to find some way to push them over the edge. So I'll do things like talking to someone in the bookstore when they clearly want to be left alone, or keep walking past someone causing them to have to move each time to let me past, like in a bookstore, or get in their way and act like I have no idea. Nothing major, just little stuff that would normally be no big deal, but that in an airport is apparently really frusterating.
Anyways, while we were waiting in line to go through security, I was talking kind of loud about all the stuff people can't take on a plane, but may have forgot and me talking would spark an "oh shit" epiphany. Then I would say how retarded people are that do that and also how retarded the whole fluids rule is, hoping to push somebody's buttons. Making passing comments is actually a big part of this trip, come to think of it, but I digress.
We got through security just to learn that our flight was delayed about an hour. Awesome. Nothing better than having to waste time in an airport. We were meeting Scott, one of my dad's work buddies, at the airport, but he had checked online and showed up a little later. When he got there and met us, he suggested we start the trip with some drinks. That's good thinkin' Scotty. So we sit and have a beer or two, and then eventually board the plane. It was Valentine's Day, so there were little hearts all over the plane (Southwest's stock ticker symbol is LUV after all). That novelty wore off fast. After we take off the stewardess, or attendant, or drink lady, whatever you call them now, came around, and we all decided to have a few beers. Again, good thinkin'. (That's not foreshadowing, that's just the truth). Anyways, for some reason, when the lady came with our drinks, she didn't feel like breaking my dad's $100, so she just gave them to us for free. It was going to be a good trip.
After another free beer and the end of I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell, we landed in Vegas around 11:30p. That is a book I definitely recommend to people who think reading about someone getting hammered, doing stupid shit and fucking lots of girls is funny. I do.
When we hit the airport terminal, Scott immediately "ran a $20 through" the machine. That would become his motto over the next few days. Hey, when the man had that feeling about a machine, it needed a $20 run through it, no ifs, ands, or buts. This rang true, because I think he won $60 bucks in like 2 minutes. So, we got our bags, got a cab, got to the hotel, threw our shit in the rooms, and hit the casino and started throwing money into machines. I sat down at the first machine I saw, and on the second pull, boom, up $100. Wow, that was fast. I took it and ran. Dad and Scott hit too, so we were all "playing on house money" (Another Scott original) right off the bat.
We played some more, walked around to other casino's and eventually hit the room around 5:30am. I was up $80 or so on the day. We stayed at the Mandalay Bay, which was real nice. We had adjoining rooms on the 19th floor or something, barely a view of the strip, and a flat screen in the bathroom. It was cool, until I noticed the bloody footprint of the carpet:
It's hard to see because it was kind of dark and my phone doesn't have a flash, but please look at that and tell me it doesn't look like a bloody size 10. It was between the beds pointed to the bathroom, which corroborates my murder scenario. How do you not clean that up, even if it's not blood? It was real noticeable, the size of a fucking shoe, and blood red. Anyways, went to bed, and that was the end of day 1.
FRIDAY - Day 2
We woke up around 11, got ready, and headed downstairs right about the time Bill, my dad's other work buddy, was supposed to come in. He took a later flight because, among other reasons, it's probably hard to tell your wife you're going to Vegas and skipping Valentine's Day. We didn't blame him.
Anyways, we gambled a little bit, played some craps, then got a few drinks in the casino bar. The waitress who served us was hot too, which isn't rare in Vegas, but is always nice. Then we needed to eat, so we hit up a buffet and gorged. It was delicious, as you can see:
Not the healthiest way to go, but fuck health, it's Vegas. After stuffing myself to the point of uncomfortably full, we hit the tables. Craps and blackjack put a little money in my pocket early, but then I tried a $25 blackjack table and proceeded to get my asshole ripped out. In about 20 minutes I was out $300. Fuck that. Not too happy and not wanting to blow more, I headed over to a sushi bar where Bill was and enjoyed a lot of really good sushi and watched Taylor vs. Pavlick 1, the first fight they had that was playing because part II was happening at the MGM Grand on Saturday. It was a good fight, but there'll be more on that later. I tried sake for the first time, and enjoyed it. The first little cup Bill poured me I took like a shot. He looked at me all funny, so I guessed that wasn't how you drink it. Hey, it looked like a shot glass. He pours me another one after saying, "Jesus, sip it" or something along those lines. The food and break from gambling put me back in a good mood.
We sat there until it was time to go change because we were seeing LOVE later that night. So we changed, taxied over to the Mirage and got our tickets. We had about an hour before the show actually started, so Bill and I sat down at a blackjack table to see if our luck had changed.
We had been playing a while when Dad shows up behind me having just won a couple hundred at roulette. He tells me to bet $50 next hand, and that it was insured. No arguments there, so I dropped $50 on the next hand. Deal comes 6, 5, with the dealer showing a 5. Wow, the perfect scenario. What can I do? I have to double down. I get a 6 or something, which is alright. She's going to bust after all, right? Nope, she pulls out a nice little 4 under or something and hits a 10 for 19. Fuck. Dad hands me my insured $100, but I was pissed. That's not how the game goes, the dealer is supposed to bust on that! So I'm out for blood now. A few hands later I drop that $100 down. I'm going to get this back. So the deal comes 6, 5 again, with the dealer showing a 6 this time. God damn it, here we go again. I double down, so I have $200 out there. This determines if my luck has changed. I nail a 10 for 21. That's how it's supposed to go! I think she busted, or might have had 18 or something, but I wasn't paying attention at that point. So I take my $400 off the table, hand my dad his $100, and get the hell out of there. Whew, it's time for LOVE.
LOVE was great, as it was the first time I saw it, but there was this guy behind us this time just yelling and being obnoxious the whole time. When it was over, my dad stands up and turns around to the guy and yells something like. "Hey, you're lucky you weren't thrown out tonight, you were being very rude." Not bad pops, still keeping it polite. Well played. But then this fat bitch he's with yells back, "hey, we paid for these tickets just like you." I hear this shit come out of her mouth and just get annoyed at how stupid some people can be. After a huge cup of frozen margarita, I don't really have that edit button in my brain, so I yell back, "Yeah, we paid for these tickets, but we didn't pay to hear your stupid mouth, bitch." Real smooth Kev, you got her good. I should have said something like "too bad the buffet doesn't serve Hot Pockets huh?" or "hey everybody, watch your leftovers", but whatever, it's the best I could do at the time. Then Bill, playing the role of mediator, tells us to chill out and just get going. We agree, and as we're walking out, people that were sitting around us kept commenting to us about how annoying that guy was. It was good to know we weren't the only ones. At this point, oblivious to us, Bill has got his arm around the guy trying to calmly explain that he was being disruptive. Apparently this guy had no idea he was obnoxious. He thought that was acceptable behavior I guess. Dumb ass. Anyway, we left and hit the Mirage floor for some more gambling. I got $300 in my pocket baby!
Scott and I hit a craps table, and I threw pretty bad, but Scott got hot, and then so did the guy next to him, so between the two of them, I got up about $200, and Scott even higher. We took our money and decided it was dinner time. At 1:15am. We went to the Carnegie Deli, where Dang from Saigon (you know how they all have those name tags with where they're from on them) served me the most delicious swiss cheese omelet I've ever had. After we ate, we headed over to Ceaser's Palace for some drinks, cigars, and relaxation. In Bill's case, more of the relaxation than anything else:
You can't blame him for being tired, he had flown in early, and was working on his 24th hour of being awake. We hung out here for a while, but right as we had showed up the piano player was leaving, so there wasn't much going on. However, Scott had brought these $25 or so cigars, which were really good, easily the best cigar I had ever had. I also had a Manhattan, which I have never had before, but tried since I am all about whiskey. This prompted a conversation about how Manhattans are alcoholics' drinks and that I apparently had a great aunt who loved them. Putting those two facts together means pops' aunt was an alcoholic. Cool. Glad it doesn't run in the family. (Seriously, it doesn't).
Anyways, when we were done with that, we decided to head back to the hotel so Bill could get some sleep. While we were waiting in the taxi line, I looked over into an ash tray on top of a garbage can and saw one of those slots receipts for $8.75. I picked it up and showed Scott. I know it's only $8.75 but it's just as easy to redeem one of those as it is to throw it away. You have to be really trashed or a high roller to just throw $8.75 in the garbage. So Scott takes it, runs inside and redeems it just in time to come out and catch the cab. Well played, sir. So we split it and taxi on home.
When we got back, Bill went upstairs, and we hit the floor for some more blackjack. I played for about an hour before I got a text from my dad saying they were all in bed. They just straight up left on me, but whatever. So I cashed out for the night and headed to the elevator.
When I got into the elevator lobby, there was this guy there, totally hammered, using the wall as a 3rd leg. He sees me look at him, which clearly meant I wanted to start a conversation I guess, because he starts right up with a slurred version of his night, or something. I thought it was hilarious, so I acted like I cared trying to encourage him. We got in an elevator, and before the doors closed, some black girl got in with these huge heels and gum in her mouth. Hmm, not too obvious I guess. Clearly a "pro" (short for prostitute, another Scott original), she kind of looks both of us over while I'm still listening to this dude ramble, and then asks me, "Are you two friends?" Whoa, that threesome request came pretty quick, take it easy lady. I laughed and shook my head no. He was way too trashed to notice I was mocking him. So she's clearly on her way up to do work, why else would she be in the elevator right? As I get out, she says to me, "Bye hottie." I start laughing, which I'm not sure she took as mocking either, so I turned around and said, "Night hooker." No I didn't, but the look on my face hopefully said that. Sort of a "I don't really want syphilis tonight, thanks" look. That was the first time I'd been picked up by a hooker, or whatever you call it, and I didn't really know how to feel about it. I should have asked her for a ZJ.
After that, I hit the pillow, and day 2 was in the books.
SATURDAY - Day 3
I woke up way late this morning, and only got up because we had an appointment to get royal shaves at The Art of Shaving. A guy named Craig did work on my face. I hadn't shaved in a few weeks, knowing we were going to do this, so he earned it. Craig was cool, dressed real nice, and had everything shaved himself. His face was shaved, his head was shaved, I bet his balls were even shaved, cause this man knew how to work a blade. It was amazing. It was about 30 minutes full of hot towels, hot lather, and almost falling asleep because it was so relaxing. Only thing missing was the reach around to finish it off, but since it was Craig, I'll let it slide. I kid. But seriously, I wish I could start every day like that. The shave was so close that we were told not to touch our faces with our palms for a while because "that part of your hand is contaminated and could irritate the skin with the oils" or something. I believed her, cause it was really close.
After that, we hit the buffet again, and then headed over to the sports book to bet on the Oregon and Oregon St. games. I bet $50 on the Ducks to beat Washington St. $50 on the the Huskies to beat OSU, and $50 on the over/under of that game's total score. The games weren't until later, so Bill and Scott went to the spa to work out a little while my dad and I spent some time gambling. We were up and down, mostly down, and then we went over to watch the games. Washington absolutely smoked OSU by about 35 points I think, which meant I won that bet, but because Washington put up 97 points, my under bet for the 135.5 point over/under was a loser. I was alright, I split. Then the Oregon game came on, and just like in the elite 8 game last year when I bet on them, Tajuan Porter decided not to show up and they lost. God damn it Tajuan, that's bad timing! Anyways, it was still fun to watch.
The Taylor vs. Pavlick fight was on tonight too, so I decided maybe I could get lucky and make my money back betting on it. I know relatively little about boxing, but had watched the fight the night before, so knew who these guys were and how they fought. I called Ryan, my go to boxing analyst, who told me basically it's a toss up and was going to be a good fight. The last fight, Taylor knocked Pavlick down early, and then in the 7th, Pavlick got lucky and knocked him out. So I figured I would take a chance and bet on Pavlick knocking him out. Odds were 20/1 that Pavlick would knock him out in rounds 7 and 8, and 12/1 for a knockout in the 9th, 10th, and 11th. So I put $20 down on each round, meaning if he did I would get either $400 or $240. It was a risk, but I wanted to do it. Then Dad bet against me, putting $200 on Taylor. Thanks for the support pal! It's never a good thing when two people are on opposite sides when money is involved. You may win, but then the other guy might be pissed. But it was cool, it's my dad. So, basically, the worst possible outcome happened: Pavlick won by decision. That means they went the length and Pavlick was judged the winner. So I lost all my money because he didn't knock him out, and Dad lost his because Taylor lost. Pavlick did knock Taylor down in the 7th, so I got close, but close doesn't pay.
We got over it though, because tonight we were going to miX, a really nice restaurant on top of the Mandalay Bay. The view was amazing. The picture at the top of this post is from the restaurant, and they have this huge chandelier made out of something like 20,000 individually hand-blown glass balls. Pretty impressive:
I had duck of some kind, which was kind of ironic. It was first time I'd had duck, and it was pretty darn good. We also had a $225 bottle of wine. Wow. I felt bad drinking it because I didn't feel like I could appreciate it. It was good, but that's meaningless coming from me. It ended up being an $800 dinner (wow), but the service was awful.
One of the coolest parts about this restaurant was, believe it or not, the bathroom. So you walk in, and everything is black, so it's initially hard to see, and the layout isn't traditional by any means, so you don't exactly know where everything is when you first walk in. But, when you finally get your bearings, you see there is a stall tucked away with the toilet turned around. Like, backwards. When I first walked in there it was confusing. I wasn't sure why it was turned around until I thought about sitting on it. Then you notice the floor to ceiling window. So you can shit with a view! It was at the top of the hotel, and the windows were obviously tinted, so nobody could see you. Pretty damn cool. No picture of that though, the combination of other people in there plus a bathroom guy standing basically over my shoulder made that idea a little uncomfortable. You'll just have to see it for yourself.
After dinner, we went back into the casino, and Bill and I decided we were going to play poker. So we sat at a $1/$2 no limit table and dropped $200 to buy in. About 5 minutes into it Scott came in. He couldn't help himself. So we must have sat there for about an hour and a half, and I swear the best cards I got were A J off suit, which is the hand I got taken out on. After just pissing my money away without getting cards, Bill and Scott had gone out, and I had A J. I raised it to $10 before the flop, only one caller. The flop came A 7 3. I, like an idiot, checked it. So did the other guy in the hand. The turn came A. So I had a set and about $40 in my stack. This was my all-in hand, had to be. But, again, I checked. This guy had been folding a lot, and with a set, I was trying to suck anything out of him, hoping if I check-raised all-in, he would call his chips away. Anyways, he went all-in, so I called. I turned over my A J, he looked at them and I figured I had him beat. But then he turned over A 3. So he had a full boat. I said fuck that, asked myself why I didn't raise more before the flop, but seriously, A 3? Fuck that shit. The lucky bastard had me the whole way too. I rationalized my loss away by telling myself I got no cards the whole night, which was true, and really frusterating.
We all decided to go over to Bally's because there was this spot right next to a stage you could see while playing blackjack, and the music was good. Bill stayed and went to bed, he was tired. But we hit the table running.
We were up pretty quick, I got up to about $300 at one point, but the whole time we were drinking vodka cranberries. Scott convinced me I needed the antioxidants in the juice. What were you trying to say Scotty? But Scott, my Dad, and I were all tipping the drink lady really well, so she was bringing them out quick, and they quickly went from monarch vodka crans to Kettle and crans. We were getting some pretty good vodka. We were all being loud and getting into it, in the good way, because the whole table was winning. It was easily the most fun I've had playing blackjack. The dealers were all great, but one was named Rosalina, and she was hilarious. She was spanish, so she had an accent, and she was pretty cute for a 38 year old that works at a casino. But she came along when we were pretty far into the bottle of Kettle One, and she just egged us on. She asked Scott his name right off the bat, and then said oh, you look like my ex-husband. Lady, you just opened up a can of worms with Scott. They're going back and forth shooting shit the whole night, everyone is cracking up. At some point, she asked the guy next to Scott his name, which was Shane. She said "uh oh, that was my ex-boyfriend's name." I think she was being serious too, which made it even funnier and just encouraged Scott more. We ended up all losing our money, but I think we made it up in liquor and entertainment.
So we're all pretty trashed, but decide to go out a little more and have a few more. We lose a little bit, and then head back to the hotel and hit the bed right before the sun comes up around 6am:
Needless to say, we slept in the next morning.
SUNDAY - Day 4
When my dad and I eventually got up, we decided to take it easy this morning, for a number of reasons. We taxied out to the middle of the strip with the ultimate goal of finding somewhere to eat after I nixed the buffet. We had the buffet 2 mornings in a row, I was not about to hit that again.
We checked out the new Venetian hotel and the Planet Hollywood casino, which was new since we were their last. We checked out the Flamingo and the pool because that's where we're staying when we go for Spring Break. Then we decided we really needed to get some grub.
The last time we were in Vegas we ate at Margaritaville, which I really liked, so we decided on that. While we were walking there, we saw a dude laying on the ground with his head on his friend's knee like he had just fallen down. His friend was yelling, "God damn it!" over and over, and there was puke EVERYWHERE. For those of you who remember that bum in Canada that puked his whole life out, this was more. And it was everywhere. All over the sidewalk, him, his friend, the garbage can, everywhere. There were cops standing around him already, so he was jail-bound. But as I was looking at the whole situation, I had to step over one pile of puke, only to almost step in another one. Everywhere. It was 3pm. What kind of night did he have?
So we got over that, I thought it was funny, Dad thought it was not. To each his own. But we hit up Margaritaville for another delicious experience, and all was good. We could now go gamble again. Scott wanted to check out Hooters because it was one casino on the strip he hadn't been to, so Dad and I decided we'd head over there and he could meet us. Well, it was definitely a waste of a trip. Hooters sucked. It was disgusting looking, was totally cluttered with slots and other stuff, and the girls weren't even hot at all. There were no hooters at Hooters. Probably because all the hot girls can make way more money working somewhere else. But we called him, told him not to come, and that we'd meet him back at the hotel.
Today was kind of a down day. It's right about this point that I think we all realized maybe this trip was one day too long. I mean, we were still having a lot of fun, but there's only so long you can go with no sleep and lots of alcohol before you just kind of die out.
We got back to the hotel and just kind of chilled out until dinner. We were going to see another show tonight, O. It gets its name from the French word for water, "eau", which is its theme. So we decided to check out a Mexican place in the Mandalay Bay. Just like at miX, the service here was pretty crappy, but the food was good. We had a nice view of the hotel from the patio too.
After dinner we taxied over to the Bellagio for the show. This was the second Cirque du Soleil show I had seen, so I would finally have something to compare LOVE to. On the taxi ride over, we had the encyclopedia of Vegas as a driver. He knew everything, including that Wynn's new tower is costing $2.4 billion and Trump is struggling to get a gaming license. Good to know. Right when we walked it it was a different experience. The theater was big, with a huge red curtain hiding the stage, which was essentially a big pool of water. Some dude took a picture and an usher came up and told him no pictures, which just made me want to take one:
This curtain was huge. We were sitting there, and some pretty huge dudes came in a sat near us, and Dad made a solid crack about the Packers being in town. Good one, Pops.
The show was really good, with a lot of diving and acrobatics and straight up talent. Plus, the "stage" of water and platforms and all the synchronization and "water management" was really impressive. It's probably the most expensive stage out there.
After the show, Bill and Scott decided to call it a night. Bill had to leave early the next morning, and Scott felt a little cold coming on and didn't want to lose anymore money. Who can b
lame him for that one? So Dad and I decided to hit up Bally's again because we both really like that area we were at earlier.
When we get there, we sit down at a $15 table with three other people and start playing. In the span of about 30 minutes, we had both doubled our money. We couldn't lose. I probably hit five 16's and didn't bust on one of them, and the dealer was busting on everything. The guy sitting in the very middle of the table was playing SO bad, but it didn't matter. It was like he was a cooler hired by the casino to play awful. He was hitting 14's against 6's and all this ridiculous bullshit. However, the guy playing 3rd base couldn't do anything wrong. When he stayed, it worked out. When he hit, it worked out. It was all perfect. Plus, he was playing the "pair in the hand" spot and hitting it all the time. It paid 12 to 1 I think. He was money. Dad played really well too, besides splitting 10s once. It worked out though, he got 10s on both and the dealer still busted. That's the kind of crap I'm talking about though, we couldn't lose!
Eventually, after about 2 hours, I had $600 in front of me and Dad had $500, so we got up and walked away. We went back to that cigar bar in Caesar's and I, for the first time all trip, bought my dad a drink. He bought cigars, and we enjoyed a nice relaxing break with huge wads in our pockets.
When we walked into the place though, before we sat down I noticed soccer was on the TV, which made me then notice the 3 English guys watching it in the corner. They had a bunch of Budweiser's in aluminum bottles, so I figured they were pretty drunk. I don't notice them for a while, but then one stands up. He takes a beer, pours it over his head, which gets all down the front and back of his shirt, and yells, "That's what I feel, nothing!" His friends just kind of sit there stunned, so I wasn't sure if it was a joke or what. His friends tell him to sit down, to which he replies, "Fuck off!" a few times, then gets his stuff and starts walking off. One friend yells at him to "sit the fuck down, don't be a twat!" He just leaves. It was fucking hilarious! Especially since they were stereotypical English guys: they had accents, were watching soccers, and called each other twats. Awesome.
After that, we hit the hotel and get in bed pretty early. We flew out around 3 the next day, so we had to get up kind of early.
MONDAY - Day 5
We got up, packed our shit, and headed out. Bill had left earlier that morning, so while Scott and Dad checked out, I picked up a few items in the gift shop. Then we taxied to the airport.
We had Sbarro, my favorite pizza ever, and then got on the plane. Seamless flight, went through Reno, which is beautiful, and didn't have to wait at all. Got home, got to the car, got back to Portland, and then I headed back to Eugene.
It was a GREAT trip, I had a TON of fun, and can't wait to go back for Spring Break! Thanks for reading.
