Viking Blood and Bad Decisions: DECF Does Vegas 2: Saturday, Part 2

Posted: March 17, 2011 by kaostheory in Uncategorized
Tags: , , , ,

As it is St. Patrick’s Day, I will…still not be writing this article in an Irish brogue because that is one of the most overdone journalistic/Internet website article attempts at being “fun” that exists. It’s not fun, it’s not cute and it’s not original. Instead, I’ll just listen to Dropkick Murphys and Flogging Molly and the Real McKenzies and drink Guinness. A lot of Guinness. Like, a six pack to this point in the night. And a Harp lager. I think that’s a reasonable compromise, yes? Let’s get to this.
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After the massages, we were told to drink plenty of water to flush all the toxins out – and not “that kind of water” which my masseuse made a point to mention, to which I just grinned. So what then did we do? Went back to our room and drink most of a bottle of not-great white wine. Yes, we is smarterest brothers. Soon enough after that, though, we suited up and got ready to head to dinner. I will say with no hyperbole that we looked fantastic. Superfly was in his black suit with a pink-striped white shirt and I borrowed his light gray suit and wore my red shirt underneath. Yes, you would be correct to label us “hot bitches” in that moment. Downstairs, we snagged a cab with a crazy-ass Asian driver who whipped us around on back roads to get us to The Venetian, bitching about traffic and throwing out some incomprehensible diatribe about Osama bin Laden. No, I am not kidding. But it was hilarious.

In The Venetian, up an elevator, was our restaurant, Bouchon. It’s a fancy French place and it was, to say the least, awesome. We were attended to almost as soon as we sat down by our waiter who, hand to God, looked like Chris Kattan but sounded like Aziz Ansari. He was great. He talked with us, made us feel welcome and make sure we were taken care of. Hell, he even managed to slip us a free appetizer of some really good salmon mix. Superfly got the lamb and I got some fantastic braised short ribs to go with some solid wine. Of course, the meal can never be completely free of mistakes. Next to us for the last half of the meal were sitting a really hot MILF-ish lady and her nerd douche husband or boyfriend. Yes, there is a difference between douche and nerd douche. Regular douche are those idiots walking around with popped collars, calling each other ‘bra’ and drinking Natty Light. Nerd douches are the stuck-up, bespectacled jackasses with an unearned sense of superiority. Anyways, near the end of our meal, there was a crash and wine splattered our table, miraculously missing my pants leg. Seems Nerdouche was playing around with his glass and used the extent of his physical strength to snap the glass stem, hurtling his wine to the floor. We left soon after when another guy, clearly blacked out, at the table behind us spilled his beer and fell out of his chair. Still, great meal and Superfly left the waiter a very good tip. He honestly earned it.

Our next move was to trot on over to The Wynn to gamble a little and hop into Tryst, one of the newer clubs located there. Just a warning, The Wynn has some really shitty slot machines and winning there is just…it doesn’t happen much, if at all. One might actually call the casino the “Loss”…if one was a terrible pun-maker, of course. Anyways, due to my bro buying this big VIP package, we were in possession of VIP line passes complete with no cover. Yes. It’s just as awesome as you think it is. There’s not a whole lot more that’s more gratifying (especially in Vegas where money talks) than hearing some whiny fat bastard bitch and moan about not being let in even though he “has a table” and “will be calling the owner”, coming up in front of him, flashing the passes, having the bouncer nod and let us in and then walk past a good 350 people on our way straight into the club. The shocked and offended glares are wonderful.

Anyways, Tryst was…alright. We snuck in right near the beginning so there wasn’t a whole lot of traffic in the club yet. That made it easy to hit the bar, snag our Patron and Sprites (the official Viking Blood drink of Las Vegas), gawk at the dancing girls who really didn’t look into it at all and find a phenomenal spot outdoors. See, Tryst is half open-air with a huge, gorgeous waterfall and beautiful blue pool to hang out by. Which we did. It was mostly a pretty quiet stay, even though we helped out some Australian cougars by taking their pictures and having them take ours, those few pics basically the only time that we look presentable and/or not drunk. No, we didn’t tag the kitties, but they weren’t all THAT hot anyway. Soon enough, we got bored with Tryst and decided to take our talents to Tao, in The Palazzo, one of – what I have been informed – the hottest clubs in Vegas and maybe the world. Bitchin’.

Tao was…well, it’s one of the hottest for a reason. It’s awesome. It’s multi-level with a ton of rooms and lower lighting that, according to Superfly, made me look like Gordon Gekko. Now, here is where things go all weird for us. You see, as I’ve previously mentioned, money talks in Vegas. Vegas sluts are drawn like moths to flame to the wallets of rich dickheads. Regular dudes like Superfly and me have about as much chance of dipping our wicks in Vegas crotch wax as we would of…doing…something impossible. Shut up. Anyway, we were waiting in a quite long line to grab our (at this point) third go-round of Patron and Sprites when two things happened in the course of a few minutes.

First, a couple girls behind us started to fall on my brother. In an incredible act of bravado, we struck up a conversation with them and I whispered to my bro to get them to join us outside on the patio (a quieter area to talk). About this time, I felt someone run their hand down my arm. I turned to find a second pair of girls looking at me. One was…well, my brother’s later description was “wildebeest” but the other was very cute and for God knows what reason, interested in talking to me. Now, Superfly and I to this day disagree on whether or not she was Asian (I maintain she was, he insists she wasn’t), but she was definitely attractive enough to be puzzling. Apparently, she really liked my color scheme. Yes, that’s right, bitches. I can match colors very well. Anyways, I invited them outside as well and wanted to wait for them but Superfly hustled us out there to hang out for a while. I don’t think he actually knew what he was doing because, long story short, we left the club without seeing them again. My dick is still angry at me for leaving him out to dry like that.

Anyhow, our next stop was Pure in Caesar’s Palace. Honestly? It sucks. Well, maybe not sucks but both times we’ve gone, we’ve left within twenty minutes because it just doesn’t work. Not the best place at all. I mean, $10 for a damn Bud Light? That’s pretty shitty expensive, even for Las Vegas. By that point, our feet had really started to hurt, so we hitched another ride back to the Cosmo for a little more gambling. There, I proceeded to get fucked six ways from Sunday with a lousy-ass lying slot machine that sucked twenty bucks from me faster and with less impact than a drunk hooker. I’m still mad about it, actually. From there, it was off to bed since we were exhausted. Want to know why?

BECAUSE FUCKING DAYLIGHT SAVINGS TIME STARTED THAT NIGHT. Yes, at some point during the night, we lost yet another hour of sleep. We only realized this the next day when it dawned on us that we had gotten back to our room around 5AM. Long night, but honestly a really fun one.
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With that, “Sunday” begins tomorrow for you lovely readers. Yes, this is going to be an almost-series for a few days while I try to recap this behemoth of a trip. You better enjoy it.

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