>Las Vegas Running Diary Day 2

Posted: January 11, 2011 by Keith Stone in Uncategorized


7:00 AM-I open my eyes after three hours of sleep.  BoozySleazy is to my left.  The contents of my pockets are spread out all over the bed.  I look over and Hogan’s Heroes is playing on our giant movie screen.  Colonel Klink is watching me.  I want to get up or change the channel but I can’t move.

7:30-Somehow everyone gradually wakes up except me.  Fela yells at me to get up.  I’m still dead.  He asks me what song I want him to play.  I have a bad feeling about what he’s going to do.  “Put on The Quiet Song,” I tell him, “or something by Enya.”  Fela finds an Enya song on Grooveshark and I love her blend of new age and Irish folk music.  All too soon, though, he replaces it with Circle of Life from The Lion King and sings along…loudly.  I want to fight him but first I have to regain my motor functions.
8:15-Circle of Life has descended into Can You Feel the Love Tonight and then hip hop far more loudly than should be played in the morning.  I grab BoozySleazy and tell him we need to get out of there.
8:45- The desert air and the rest of my Gatorade has invigorated me.  Back at the hotel, I was walking like I had been shot six times, but now it’s like I’ve only been stabbed six times.  We go to Walgreens and I get some more Gatorade.
9:00-Along the way, BoozySleazy and I take pictures in front of a few Vegas landmarks with a wanted sign of Fugitive we made.  Backstory alert!  A few months ago, I went away for a weekend and Fugitive and a girl had, um, relations in my bed.  They were so generous, they left the condom wrapper in my sheets as a welcome back present.  The worst part of the story is that his girl is known as Shrek.  So now he is wanted for improper disposal of a condom wrapper.
9:15-We’re back in the room and everyone is leaving for breakfast.  There’s no way I can handle any sort of food, so I pass.  I lie in bed and watch planes land at the airport.
9:30-I hit the hotel pool.  It’s already really hot out and it feels great to lie out in the sun.  There’s a modeling shoot going on at the other end of the pool.  Sherlock Keith goes to investigate.
10:00-The pool DJ is playing plenty of Black Eyed Peas and Ke$ha.  I’m reading magazines and I’m happy.  Unfortunately, a big group of Boston douches take the chairs to the right of me.  One of them is wearing a Superman speedo, while all the others have some sort of Boston gear on.  One has a green Red Sox hat and one has a plaid Red Sox hat.  I wish I were making this up.  You stay classy, Boston.
10:30-I play a little practice blackjack.  I’m still hot.  I’m in the middle of a hand when Green Sox Hat asks if he could borrow my cards.  Or rather, “Barraw ya cads?”
11:00-Green Sox Hat is dominating my cards and doing stupid magic tricks for his lovers.  I go in the pool but for some reason it’s not heated and it’s only three feet deep.  I start to read my book.  It’s a good one called Party Animals by Robert Hofler, about the life of the producer Allan Carr.  Carr was a marketing genius who threw giant Hollywood parties but ruined his career by making everything he did super flamboyant.  It’s a good Vegas read considering all the debauchery in the book.
12:00 PM-I finally get my cards back from Green Sox hat.  I stare him down like Mo Rivera in the 2003 ALCS.
12:30-I head back up to the room.  Everyone is drinking again.  The thought of alcohol makes me sick.  Fela is freestyling.  He’s great at it, but way too drunk too early.  We walk around the stores in our hotel and Fela talks to everything with a vagina he sees.  He gets perilously close to a few landmines.  The highlight is when the girl he’s talking to ends up being 13.  Age fail.
1:00-BoozySleazy, Smooth, and I head over to the Wynn to check out this pool party that everyone is talking about, while the other guys meet up with some of our girls.  When we get there it’s pretty much empty.  TylerDurden is staying at the Wynn and he meets us.  I know there’s a topless pool somewhere, but you need to be a guest to get in.  I borrow TylerDurden’s room key.  That’s what friends are for.
1:30-It’s the holy trilogy.  Day drinking, outdoor gambling, and ………..WAIT FOR IT……..boobs.  I grab a vodka cran, $100 in chips, and enjoy the view of the future cast of Rock of Love.
1:45- Oh no!  It’s a stoic Asian blackjack dealer (or SABD for short.)  The topless pool is supposed to be a happy place and I don’t know what she’s doing here.  Unfortunately, she’s the only dealer with an empty seat.  Not that there’s a reason for that.  I sit down and she promptly deals herself a 20 and then a blackjack.  I get up and decide to savor the ambiance instead.
2:00-I try my luck again at a table manned by an older guy named Jim.  My partners-in-crime are two guys from Chicago.  It may have been the slowest game of blackjack ever played, but we’re all too busy enjoying the view.  Every time a new rack appears, we try to casually turn and look.  It’s about as casual as a tuxedo.  I tell Jim he has the best job in the world and he smiles.  It’s the only time I lost all weekend playing blackjack but honestly I’m not paying attention.  I’m just trying to stay alive long enough to get a few drinks and see some boobies.
2:30-Back to the pool party with the guys.  Business has picked up.  There’s slutty girls all around in some of the skimpiest bikinis I’ve ever seen.  Of course, I’m an idiot and forget to wear a bathing suit so I sulk on the side and watch some craps.
2:45-The guy and girl playing craps win six times in a row.  I bet on them.  We lose.  Twice.  They leave.
3:00-I’m sitting by our stuff and some Asian girl asks me to take a picture of her and her friends.  Then another one asks to take a picture.  Then another.  Then another.  Then another.  I have five cameras on my lap.  If you have no idea what’s going to happen next, you’ve never met me before.
3:01-I drop one of the cameras.
3:15: And now a public service announcement from Las Vegas Surgeon General Dr. Keith:
“Ladies, tattoos are a great way to show that you love barb wire or draw attention to the area above your box.  However, in recent years the number of tattoos in America has reached epidemic proportions.  Please do not get more than one small tattoo unless you are a stripper or are super hot.  Tattoos are supposed to be an expression of yourself.  If everyone is covered in them, then it’s less special.  Nobody wants to see a fat girl with an incorrectly spelled Italian proverb on her back.  You’re better than that.  This has been a message from the Surgeon General of Las Vegas.”
3:30-BoozySleazy convinces me to get into the pool with my shorts on.  It’s a good call.  The water is warm and there’s hot girls all around.  Fela is wearing a white Miss Daisy hat with a flower on it for some reason.  He looks like Jessica Tandy if Jessica Tandy was a jacked black dude.  Everyone in the pool is drinking.  This has to be some of the dirtiest water outside of Philadelphia.
3:45-BoozySleazy and I start talking to two pretty girls.  I’m not gonna lie, I think mine is cuter than his.  All of a sudden, some guy that looks like Jessica Tandy moves in and starts talking to my girl.  I have no chance against Fela and swim away.
4:15-This is a classy pool so of course there’s a platform in the middle of it with a stripper pole.  Two chicks get up there and start dancing with each other.  It’s nice.  All of a sudden, some old guy appears out of nowhere and gets up there with them.  The girls get off and everyone starts cheering for the old guy to dance.  He obliges.  It is awesome.  He looks a bit like John McCain and he is the oldest person at the party by at least 15 years.  All of a sudden, the “lifeguards” whistle for him to get off but he can’t seem to figure out how to.  They have to help him get off the platform.  It’s like a Vegas version of Cocoon.
4:30-I finish my drink and I’m too cheap to buy another one so I go watch some more craps.   The shooter is a guy from Houston and I decide I like him because he has season tickets to the Texans and because he has a hot hand.  I decide to play.  We win 1 out of 4.  He leaves.  Hey, it’s an improvement.
5:00-I look around and my crew is gone.  The pool is starting to clear out so I decide to head back to the hotel.  On the way back, I hear from Kanye and he says everyone is accounted for except for BoozySleazy.  I wonder if he is on the roof.
5:30-I get back to the hotel and Fela is passed out on the couch.  Poor little guy had a big day.  His hat is gone, but BoozySleazy is found.
6:00-BoozySleazy, who by now is very boozy, says he’s going to a steakhouse with some of his other friends who are in town.  Fela, Smooth, Kanye, Fugitive, and I decide to try and get into P.F. Chang’s.  We luck out and settle into a nice booth at the restaurant.  It’s a little tight but we’re all hungry after a day of drinking and, you guessed it, no lunch.  All of a sudden BoozySleazy shows up with his two friends.  And so began the infamous Dinner of Animosity.
6:15-We were tight with five people so it didn’t look like Team BoozySleazy would stay but Fela, in his inebriated state, gregariously insisted on it.  BoozySleazy, in his inebriated state, accepted.
6:30-We are crammed in tighter than a Tokyo subway.  We are barely talking.  It is silent except for Fela who is having a great time and doesn’t seem to notice that our limbs are going numb.  He asks the waiter to take a picture.  I haven’t seen smiles that forced since Kobe and Shaq were co-MVP’s of the 2009 All-Star Game.
6:45-The food comes.  We scarf it down faster than Rosie O’Donnell at a clam bake.  The mood is loosening up a little bit and we’re friends again!  That’s the big difference between guys and girls.  If we were chicks, the entire trip would have been ruined because we didn’t have leg space.
7:15-I’m still mad about losing at blackjack and craps earlier in the day.  I’m a horrible loser.  I decide to earn my money back playing roulette like my college statistics professor taught me.  Every time you lose, you double your bet.  That way when you win, you earn back your losses plus your original bet.  All I have to do is win 12 times at an original bet of $10 to make my money back.  The only catch is that tables have maximum bets.  As long as I didn’t lose five times in a row and exceed the max bet, I would be golden.  I decide to grab my lucky charm BoozySleazy and get going, but the Boozy One left the restaurant in a hurry and I can’t find him in the bustle of the casino.  I’m on my own.
7:45-A cool thing about everyone working at the Planet Hollywood Casino is that they have their favorite movie on their nametag.  I search for a table whose croupier has a good movie and settle on an Asian woman that likes The Wizard of Oz.  I go with black the whole time.  Win, loss, loss, then four wins in a row.
8:00-Croupier change!  Wiz leaves and surprisingly I go from an Asian woman to an Asian woman.  Except this lady’s favorite movie is some Chinese movie.  I ask her what it’s about and she says, “Is good.”  I should have gotten up, but a cute Hispanic girl started playing with me and I can’t leave.  Four losses in a row.  I try to calmly place my next bet but I’m a wreck.  My heart is in my throat.  She spins and…..black!  I’m safe and halfway home.  I get two more wins.  I’m feeling a lot better.  What are the odds that we get 4 reds in a row and then 5 reds in a row a couple minutes later?  It’s impossible.
8:15-I was right, it’s impossible.  However, 2 reds, a green, and 2 more reds are quite possible.  $310 gone just like that so I could try and win back my $120 like a bitch.  The lesson as always, I am an idiot.  I’m not in the mood to go back to the room so I wander around the stores in the hotel aimlessly.  There’s only one thing that can make me feel better: a random reality star sighting…
8:45-It’s Kosmo, the winner of The Pickup Artist on VH1!!!  I’m not gonna lie.  I followed him for a good 10 minutes, deciding whether or not I should say something.  I can’t think of anything so I stalk him Fatal Attraction-style.  For some reason, this cheers me up.  If Mystery? can take this stuttering kid and turn him into a globetrotting pickup artist, then why shouldn’t I be able to rally?
9:00-I go back to the room with my newfound enthusiasm but only BoozySleazy is there, and he’s passed out on the couch.  I “accidentally” make some noise and he wakes up.  We start drinking.  I break out the Red Bull.
11:00-We decide to hit the Strip and see what’s going on.  We end up at the Bellagio and debate going to a club, but settle for the blackjack tables instead.  We find a fairly empty table with a nice older man dealing.  BoozySleazy is still a rook and after staying on too many 14’s with the dealer showing a 10, we have the table all to ourselves.
11:30-We’re treading water for a while, but BoozySleazy is learning that being aggressive is the best way to play.  I’ve switched over to vodka crans.  Every time the cocktail waitress comes over I order another one even though I’m not finished with the last.  Pretty soon, I have a collection of vodka crans.
11:45-BoozySleazy and I are both pretty toasted and that means one thing: it’s time to bust out my British accent.  I like to think of myself as Keith Perriwinkle, a constable from Southminster.  Since we have the table all to ourselves, we can be as loud and obnoxious as we want to be.  After a few wins, BoozySleazy yells, “winner winner chicken dinner.”  It’s our new battle cry.  Every win.  Winner winner chicken dinner.  We break out the Boozy Dance.  I’m sure the dealer wanted to shoot himself.
12:00 AM-With all our carrying on, we attract some company.  A couple from San Antonio sits to our left and some sketchy European guys with a lot of cash are on our right.  There’s nothing better at a casino than playing with a loaded foreign guy that you know has definitely murdered somebody in his life.  We’re all supporting each other and having fun.  It’s a hot table and I’m up about $150.  After that afternoon, I decide to quit while I’m ahead.  However, I do keep drinking.
1:00-BoozySleazy is a blackjack savant.  He’s like rainman if rainman was a drunken Englishman.  If he stays on a 13 against a 9, the dealer busts.  If he hits on 16 against a 4, he gets a 5.  It’s uncanny.  The Texans and Europeans have left and we’re joined by some other younger guys.  BoozySleazy says “winner winner chicken dinner” every time he wins.  He has more chicken dinners than Colonel Sanders.

1:15-BoozySleazy spills his drink on the table.  Wish I could have put a bet on that one.  He looks at me like a little kid that just wet his pants and I tell him it’s OK. He totally killed the momentum but he somehow still keeps winning.  He has an avalanche of chips.  I’m staying out of it.  I’m like the Flavor Flav to his Chuck D.  I let him do all the lifting and yell every once in a while.

1:30-BoozySleazy is up around $500 and decides to call it quits.  I give him a standing ovation and he stumbles out of his chair.  Some girls in our crew are in the casino playing roulette.  We go over and tell them the stories of our bravery and valor.  I know I had a tough day playing roulette earlier, but the croupier at their table is a French Canadian guy named Armand and that’s my cousin’s name.
2:00-I’m pretty drunk at this point and try to exchange chips while the wheel is spinning.  Armand is not pleased.  He tells me to get my $10 chip off the table but he has a thick accent and I can’t understand him.  The wheel stops.  It sounds like he’s telling me to take a pile of losing chips from the last spin, so I grab them.  Wrong chips.  He proceeds to give me a condescending speech and bans me from playing.  I want to play with my friends so I defend myself and we yell at each other, but I don’t think either person can understand the other.  The play is delayed and he asks me to leave the table, but I tell him this is America and I’m not going anywhere.  Finally, he says I can play again, but I say I don’t want to anymore.  America 1, Quebec 0
2:15-After that awkwardness, the crew plays for a couple spins and then we bolt.  We head over to a craps table and I decide I want to exact my revenge on craps as well.  Unfortunately, I still have horrible luck at craps.  I sneak out a win but lose three times.  I retire from craps for the weekend.
2:45-I want to stay and finish my drinks but I have 2 left and everyone is ready to go.  I drink quickly and BoozySleazy and I Boozy Dance our way out of the casino and take our shirts off along the way.  That’s just how we roll.
3:00-We watch the fountain show in the lake outside the Bellagio for a while.  I’m still steamed about the Armand debacle, so I throw my glass into the lake.  Take that, Bellagio!  At that point, it is apparent I need to go to bed.  BoozySleazy and I race up the escalators leading to our hotel while everyone on the Strip watches in horror.  I win.
3:15-BoozySleazy and the girls decide to get sandwiches but my legs can literally take me only the exact amount of steps that will get me into my bed, so I pass.  My nose starts bleeding and I am wearing a white shirt.  Passersby stare at me as I stagger back to my room while holding my nose.  I get back to the room and some people are passed out on a bed, but one of our DJ’s is still blasting house music.  I collapse on my pull-out bed and hope that my nose isn’t bleeding anymore.

Continue to Day 3: Broken Heart Kidnapping

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