As most of you are aware, and are probably tired of hearing about by now I’m sure, some of us here at DFO got together this past weekend in Las Vegas for fun and fellowship.  It was our 2nd consecutive year in Vegas.  And though our numbers may have been smaller this year, we more than made up for it in enthusiasm.  And alcohol consumption.  And lost bets.

But we’ll get to all of that and more, I promise.

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Touchdown Vegas

This year, we decided to all stay in the same place to avoid as much of the running around trying to find one another as possible.  As it turns out, we chose the MGM Grand.

My schedule worked out such that I was able to arrive in Vegas on Thursday.  Which of course meant I had a day and a half to kill, unsupervised.  In a place where gambling is legal.  And now, also weed.  And also prostitution under the right circumstances.  So you can see how I might be able to find trouble.

My plane touched down, my rental car pick up and my hotel check in both went very smoothly, and the MGM was all gussied up for Christmas.

After checking in, I head up to my room to drop my stuff and decide what to do first.  I needed sleep and I needed food.  I definitely needed a shower.  I wanted a drink.  Finding some scantily clad women would also be OK, of course.  Then I opened my curtains and looked across Tropicana Ave. to see the view from my room…

Ahhhh shit, that didn’t take long.  You found me faster than usual this time, Temptation.

Well I quickly hustled my arse back to the car and hit Tropicana Ave.  But I headed in the other direction, off the strip to the west.  So what was my first stop?  Duh…..I did some “shopping”.

Welcome to Essence Cannabis Dispensary – Tropicana West.  Aside from having no signage to speak of and shitty visibility from the roadway, it’s a pretty good place.  The gal who assisted me was very friendly and engaging (even promised me a free pre-roll if I came back on my birthday on Monday, but I couldn’t swing that).

And so I “bought a few things”.

Next, I headed to get booze and snacks.  Then I hit Burger King for a pre-emptive strike on the munchies.  Then finally I returned to the MGM, got a little baked and a little drunk, and hit the casino floor.

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Casinos At Night

I enjoy walking the casino floors late at night.  When the heavy weight of humanity has more or less given up and called it a night.  Late at night, or early in the morning depending upon how one views it, you can move around much more easily.  And while it would appear there is much less action happening, it’s the hardcore folks who still remain.  Those folks are generally more interesting anyway.

When I finally made it downstairs however, it was anything but that.  It was a Thursday night, but it was busy.  Cowboys/Redacteds TNF was about to kick off for one thing.  Regrettably, I didn’t bet that one.  Stupid.  I spent most of that game in two different bars adjacent to the sportsbook, mostly because MGM’s sportsbook is being renovated currently and thus the portion which is open is quite small.  This became a running theme on the weekend, in fact.

But for this night, at least, I bounced back and forth between the sportsbook itself, the adjacent bar(s), and walking the casino floor.  I was keeping an eye on the ‘Boys/Redacteds, but having decided to stupidly not bet it, I was detached.  Mostly, I was looking at other games/sports and deciding which I felt OK enough about to bet.  When that game ended I placed a few bets, went back upstairs and got baked as hell, then returned downstairs and continued about the business of drinking.

Now, when I’m high and also a little drunk, I can be very charming and engaging if I do say so myself.  Also, at times I tend to “air drum” without realizing I’m doing it, especially when drunk or high.  So after TNF, as I’m sitting in one of these bars looking over the bets I’ve just put down and watching sports highlights on the screens in the bar, a familiar face speaks to me and giggles a little.  She was the same cocktail waitress who’d been serving me earlier in the sportsbook.  Due to the aforementioned renovations, they were serving the sportsbook out of this bar apparently.  Her giggling was due to me having been caught air drumming as it turns out.  But she did say it was one of her favorite songs…

True to my nature, I didn’t bother to tell her how much I really actually suck at real drumming.  But as she repeatedly came back into the bar to fill drink orders for the sportsbook, she always came over while waiting and we talked some.  Finally, we agreed to meet after her shift was done and “have a drink or whatever”.  So I excused myself for a nap and a shower and told her I’d be back.  And true to my word, I arrived back downstairs on time.

Now, remember when I told you I can be quite charming and engaging when I’m high and a little drunk?

Apparently, when I’m no longer high and hardly drunk anymore, and have napped for a couple of hours, I’m not very charming or engaging anymore.  And frankly, she was much less interesting when I was no longer high and hardly drunk as well.  Whatever “click” had been there between us earlier certainly was no longer there.

She went home (I presume) and I walked the casino floor for a little while.  It was pretty dead by then relatively speaking.  But as I said before, I kinda like it that way.

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Finally, The Gang’s All Here

Saturday, everyone was coming in.  Dok Zymm decided to alter her plans (ie she didn’t want us stupid boyz cramping her style I think) and ended up heading directly to the hotel for a spa day, and then later off to the poker tables.  Which left Low Commander and YeahRight (when he finally got his ass into town) and myself left to fend for ourselves.  Not surprisingly, we drank.  And smoked a little.  And just enjoyed the time together.  Then we ended up reconnoitering with Dok Zymm and decided to meet her for dinner, off site.

The three of us, drunk and wandering around and looking for Dok Zymm and The Peppermill.  What could go wrong?

We decided to utilize the monorail because we’re smrt.  However, our smrtness was sidelined by the monorail’s lack of closeness to The Peppermill I guess.  We exited at the stop which was closest to it, and then we walked.  And walked.  And walked some more.  On one occasion (but only one, don’t believe them if they tell you otherwise) I announced how badly I had to pee and all that fucking walking was not helping.

Then, we saw a sign….

Photographed by the lovely and talented Low Commander here just before we re-emerged onto the strip, I think we all realized this could very well be an omen of things to come.  And it kinda was.

But anywhoooo….

Not long after that we found our restaurant (and Dok Zymm too!!!) and had a very lovely dinner…

…and then a few drinks in the adjacent lounge.

And floating around somewhere is photographic proof of our presence here.  The little photo girl might have taken the freebie back tho I guess when we didn’t spring for the purchased photos.  Or maybe we left it as part of the tip.  I really can’t remember.  But we did go ahead and make our way back to the MGM after dinner.

Upon our arrival back “home”, we hit a sports bar adjacent to the sportsbook, drank some more, and began making plans.  Betting plans, that is.  Made right there, about midway along the right side of that bar right there in the middle.

Admittedly, Low Commander and YeahRight were the brains of this operation.  Which was a good thing.  I’d mostly retreated into my own little glass house by this point and had become a silent and willing conspirator.  But I was in good hands because their picks were gold.

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The Parlay That Almost Was

Many of you have already heard about this, but here it is again for those who missed it.  On Saturday night in Vegas last weekend, those of us in attendance decided to pool a little cash and bet a six game parlay.  We spent a great deal of time drunk and sitting at the bar late that night, deciding which six games we felt most OK about for the following day.  Finally, we (they) decided on these six…

The next morning, during my early morning casino floor walk, I hit the sportsbook when they opened and placed the bet.

Now I can’t speak for my compatriots, but I really didn’t think too much about it after that.  Hitting on six games is difficult to do and this was mostly just to make the day’s games more interesting, at least for myself.  Winning really never was a consideration.  But then, after we’d hit the first 3 or 4 games…?  Well, at that point I think we all started to feel it.  Then the Saints game came in in our favor as well.  Now we were genuinely getting excited.

All that was standing between us and a $5,700 payoff was the Raiders -9.  And currently, they were leading the Giants by 10 as the 4th qtr ticked away agonizingly slowly.  So like all people do, we started talking about how we were going to spend the money.  You know, that money which technically wasn’t ours yet.

The Raiders lost the 10 pt cushion once during that 4th qtr, but got it back relatively quickly.  And now, as the game ticked down to its conclusion, the straight up outcome no longer in any doubt (Raiders’ victory) and it looked like the spread was safe too, we began drinking more heavily and celebrating.

Which is about the time the fucking Giants decide it’s a good time to have some FG practice.

Meh, big fucking deal.  52 yard attempt, and with nothing on the line.  No way he makes it.  Right?

“Aldrick” is a stupid name.  Besides, who wants money anyway?

The kick was never in doubt, FWIW.  We knew we’d lost as soon as it left his foot.  Woulda been good from at least five yards further, too.  It didn’t win the game for the Giants, or even keep their coach from getting canned.  But it sure as shit kept some dough out of our pockets.  And I suppose it probably did make the Vegas books happy, and not just because of us.

Sooooo…. yay for them, I guess.

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The Hooker Who Shamed tWBS

After our “close but no cigar” effort on the six game parlay, we decided to drown our sorrows in food and drink.  And drown them we did and it was a very, very good time.  We talked each other into believing that the story about the parlay coming so close but not hitting was just as good as the cash.  It’s a good friend who will tell those kinds of lies.  Just saying.

A little later, we decided to retire.  It had been a long day of drinking, betting and losing and we all had to fly out the next day.  After a little “partaking” by myself and YeahRight, we decided to call it a night.

But I couldn’t sleep.  And it was still fairly early.  So I decided to get dressed, get even more baked and head back downstairs, once again heading to the bars adjacent to the sportsbook area.  And at the time I re-arrove it seemed quite dead.  But about an hour later there was a flurry of activity as a show was letting out just as I decided to have a cigarette and walk for a bit and take some photos of the casino floor.  Among those photos was this one….

Now, before anyone asks…

Yes, I knew they were hookers.  Or strongly suspected it, at least.  But I wasn’t taking the photo because  they were hookers.  Honest.  I was just taking photos of a lot of things on the casino floor.  Like this…

Or this…

And as far as I know, my having gotten them in one of the photos has absolutely nothing to do with what happened next.  Though if I’d known what would happen next, I’d have been more careful to get a better photo of them.  Or more specifically, “her”….  The brunette on the right of that photo up above.

So as I said, I’m walking around smoking, drinking and taking photos.  Also, I’m still pretty fucking high (this is important).  So about five-ish minutes later, on the other side of the sportsbook, the brunette approaches me.  In a very  friendly fashion, let us say.

“Hi there, what are you doing tonight?”

“Are you staying here at the hotel?”

“Oh no, don’t tell me you’re calling it a night already?  Me and some of my girlfriends were thinking of…..”

You get the gist, yes?  My responses to these (and other) inquiries mattered not one iota as she was on script.  Though admittedly, I was trying to give the soft brush off so far.  Of course I knew what this was, but no need to be a dick about it.  But after a little while of this, and her still sticking to the script and not taking a soft “no” for an answer, but also not acknowledging the truth of the matter, I finally told her that while she seemed perfectly lovely and I appreciated the attention, I just wasn’t into it.

Now admittedly, she was a very lovely girl.  And up to that point she had been very friendly and engaging (duh).  And while I just wasn’t going to pay for sex on this night, if I was of a mind to do so she would have been a fine choice.

But when she finally realized I knew this was a business deal and not courting, and I wasn’t into it, her demeanor changed rather quickly.  After a quick brush off and turning briskly on her heels away from me to go find her next target, I have to admit that I felt a little bad.  How fucking funny is that?  I felt bad for hurting a hooker’s feelings.  Holy shit.

So I said the only thing that came to mind (remember, I’m really fucking high right now)…

“Well, if you need a break, I’ve got a bunch of weed I need to use up before I leave tomorrow.  I’m happy to get you high, no strings attached.”

My thought was…well I don’t remember exactly.  But I put the offer out there at least partially to see what she’d do/say, I will admit that.  But I didn’t expect what I got.

She stopped and turned back towards me, a very nonplussed look on her formerly very pretty face and said (I’m paraphrasing but this is at least close)…

“I DON’T do drugs, and YOU’RE a terrible person for doing them.”

Now, I can’t say she’s wrong.  I know, in fact, that she is correct and I AM a terrible person.  Also, I don’t know if she meant those words or if she was just trying to out smartass me (I really hadn’t been trying to be a smartass, but I could see how it might have come across that way).  But either way, I was stunned into silence.  I suspect my jaw hit the floor at least twice.  And for a very short time as she walked away again, I was rendered speechless.

Then the irony of what she’d just said to me hit me, and I began to laugh like an idiot.

Fortunately, all of the smartass replies I might have unwisely said in the moment didn’t occur to me until later.  So at least I’ve got that going for me.

But yeah, when you get shamed by a hooker in a Vegas casino;  a hooker you didn’t even pay OR have sex with?  Well, then it’s time to reassess all of one’s life choices, don’t you think?

So I went back up to the room and got high again and thought about it.  And while I AM a terrible person, I like me this way.

So, Thank you, Vegas hooker.  Too bad you missed out on some good weed, though.  And possibly also my penis….though admittedly that’s more my loss than yours.

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Going Home

The next morning we drank a little and had breakfast.  Then headed toward the airport.

We all made our flights on time and arrived home safely.  Though YeahRight tried to steal my thunder of being the last one home by getting naked* and as a result had to sit on the LAX tarmac for an extended period.

*as far as I know he did not really get naked, but he did sit on the tarmac for a while.

I had a great trip home.  Other than the whole “going home” part.  I had edibles left I didn’t want to waste, so after getting my rental car returned, I ate ’em before going thru security.

This was my flight attendant for my first leg home.  She was a very attractive petite little Asian gal.  Unattached I’d learn only some time after this photo was taken.

Also, apologies for the photo quality itself.  I was trying to be cool and not be noticed taking a photo of the flight attendant’s very nice ass.  Also, as I think I might have mentioned already, I was kinda high.

But yeah, we’re all home now for better or worse.  And no one got arrested.

And again, fuck Aldrick Rosas and the Giants.

FWIW, we had fun but we missed all of the rest of you not being in tow.

So when we get organized for next year, we expect you all to be there.

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