You know that shitty book by that shitty sportswriter, The Five People You Meet In Heaven? I never read the thing. But I did take too many quaaludes one night and sat through most of the TV movie in a haze.
I figured out the Five People I'd meet in Heaven would be Liquor, Pills, Gambling, Titties and Five-Dollar Buffets. All have had major impacts upon my life at some point or another. Since I'm not dead, I decided to visit the only other place besides Heaven where I could meet my Five People all at once while on a spiritual quest. No, not Monaco. Even better - Vegas. Less tuxes and more flip-flops.
Due to the free drinks the casinos ply you with while you throw your money haphazardly across their felt-covered sacrificial altars, most of the time I spent there was a blur. Add to that the fact the CVS by the Venetian has no problem filling out-of-state, questionably-legible Valium prescriptions and that blur was actually more like a staccato melange of disincorporated sights, sounds and smells strung loosely together to form what I refer to as the memory of my wonderful desert vacation. Allow me to share with you some of the highlights.
Apparently the Miss USA 2009 pageant was held at my hotel during my stay. I did not find this out until after I returned home. I originally thought there were just a bunch of girls staying at the hotel who were very enthusiastic about where they were from.
Let me answer some questions I know you are having right now. Yes, they are hotter in real life. And smaller. Yes, they wear those sashes everywhere. The sashes allow tourists to easily find their state's representative and stare and point at her while she eats her breakfast. Finally, yes, security will escort you out of the buffet area if you attempt to touch their hair to see if it is "really real or like those motherfuckers in The Matrixes real".
I'm not sure exactly what I was getting at. Neither did the pageant contestants nor security. Hence the escort out.
The Double Down Saloon is a quaint punk bar located about a mile off the Strip. The bar is not a gay one itself but its location in the vicinity of a handful of gay clubs will have your cabbie questioning your sexuality the whole way there. Even if your lady friend has her shirt pulled up and is loudly requesting you suck on her nipples because she's not sure she can feel them.
I had something the bartender called Ass Juice because it was red. It also tasted fruity so I had two more immediately following the first. I usually follow the simple maxim of Whatever Tastes The Most Bitter Will Get You The Most Drunk. That was an error in this case. Luckily, the walls in the bathroom are heavily stickered and graffitied so no one noticed (or cared, presumably) that I pissed on them.
Old Downtown is the stuff of Las Vegas Legend. Now, it's something called the Freemont Experience. You can still find four-dollar surf-and-turf dinners. The Golden Nugget and Binion's are still there. It's cheap, loud, lit too brightly and crowded. But a fella can blend in easily.
A friend of mine knew a janitor at the Stratosphere who could get us white crosses for a song. I washed a handful down with some Red Bull, which, even though it was sugar-free, was an unfortunate whistle-whetter. I had the jitters and the sweats within minutes. The public tram was crammed full but no one wanted to be near me. Even a harmless statement such as, "Excuse me, this is my stop" came out sounding like the maniacal ravings of a lunatic. But when I got to Freemont that all changed. Every brand of fucked-up is represented so no one feels the need to try and hide who they are.
Like I said, a fella can blend in.
I ran into Sir Ben Kingsley at the hotel pool. 'Nuff said.
Thinking he'd eventually go Don Logan on one of his entourage, I hung around watching from the shadows of a close-by cabana. Boy, was I wrong.
Sir Ben sounded like a queer Gandhi throwing around all those dah-lings and showing concern for a woman who showed up late. I got bored and left when the daiquiri hut wouldn't serve me any more piña coladas.
Okay, kids, that's all the Captain is able to piece together for the day. I will leave you with this interesting fact I learned on my trip: There is no in-between when it comes to paying for liquor. It's either very expensive or very cheap. For fifteen bucks you're either going to get one frozen berry rum drink or two dozen shots of tequila.
It all depends on where you're at.
