Ramblings from a bloke with his head in the clouds, literally

Vegas part 2: An education in to Olde English n cheap beer.

So there we were relaxing in Vegas. The details of the next few days are pretty hazy so if I get anything wrong here don’t blame me…..blame the booze Cause there was plenty of it. But we will get to that in good time.

I’m pretty sure it was the morning of the 4 or 5th day on the strip. We hooked up with the rest of the crew in the lobby of the lux. Big Rob, one of my best mates since back when we were all pre-pubes n would get smashed on 2 longnecks. Josh a long time tripper and awesome dude who me n Rob went to school and who would later become my educator in all things vodka and lastly Kaos, a dude that I was unfamiliar with in previous organisational conversations with Rob but on siting realised I used to play ball with at the gardens back in the day and it was like long lost buds.

So there we were, the 5 of us readying up to party for the next 3 days. We still had a bunch of time before Liam and Chelsey were due to arrive. Now I can’t remember for the life of me which way this happened so I’ll tell it like I think it went 😛

The whole purpose of being in Vegas was so we could catch Liam and Chelsey for their buck/hens night. All I remember is meeting up with them at miracle mile shops and having some foods. There were a few photos, a bit of looking in shops and planning for the bucks’ night events. We spent a bit of time patrolling the strip and sussing stuff out as a group and somewhere along the line lost josh and Kaos. After making it down past the Bellagio again we decided to cruise back as we were all pretty knackered. On the way back, Big Rob introduced me to Fat Burger. Another source of greasy greasy goodness that would later become somewhat of a staple diet in Miami. If you ever get the chance, seriously, try their burgers just once.  It’s about now I believe that most of the restaurants in America should just have the CPR machines attached to each table.

Fat Burger, Greasy but delicious...my heart hates me 😦

We headed back out onto the strip and headed back to the lux with no sign of the other 2 anywhere.

By now it was late, I was tired and the Mexican flickers on the sidewalk were giving me the shits I was seriously considering a re-enactment of some of Hitler’s not so finer moments. Lacking any gas chambers or firing squads I had to opt for keeping my eyes firmly on the ground.

Some way ahead, a white arm came into my field of vision and a distinctly Australian accent told me to take the cards. As for the rest of the journey they had been mocha-chino or caramel coloured arms I kind of freaked out and had to look. I got to admit a few potty mouthed words escaped as I looked up and realised that the arm and accent indeed belonged to Josh. Having lost these 2 clowns earlier they decided to get some 40s and plan their next move which resulted in them wearing the bright neon t-shirt uniform of the flickers and working hard for their money.

I can’t begin to explain the lengths they had to go through to be allowed to do this job, but they wore those t-shirts with the fervour of a home team supporter at their grand final. Fucking clowns. Apparently not only did they get to keep the t-shirts as souvenirs they also made a whole 10bucks or so for a good couple of hours work.

The J & K working the strip, forgive the blurry....i was shitfaced 😛

Somewhere in there between jetlag, an appalling night sleeps, a bought of getting really really home sick and probably more beers I ended up getting out of bed at some half assed hour after lunch.

The new day was to be Liam’s bucks’ night involving poker, beers, more poker, more beers and possibly some Vegas style boobies.

It all began with me stumbling out of bed, getting dressed and rolling my still half asleep ass onto a bus with the rest of the gang. Taking up position in my look out post on the 2nd floor of the double decker, we headed for old Vegas. Many people get confused by that. The Vegas strip that you see in movies and hear so much about is actually new Vegas, the tourist Vegas. Old Vegas is a short drive away right down the south end of the strip. And driving down there in the bus, you could tell pretty easy it was old Vegas. Between the intermittent bullet holes in the walls, the vacant lots and derelict buildings there were the casinos that made the place famous. The Sahara being the first one I recognised. I swear it hasn’t been updated since the day it was built.

Upon arriving Freemont St in the late arvo, it was decided that for breakfast we would hit up the liquor store n start the day off right. Big Rob came back with a suss looking can in a brown paper bag and told me to drink it quick cause the warmer it got, the worse it got. I cracked it, skulled about ¼ of then realised that I was drinking Olde English 800s.A near vile high percentage, highly potent malt liquor; this stuff was just plain rotten. But I had to get through the can as Josh told me on numerous occasions “it was good for my street cred”. As we cruised down Fremont St past classic casinos like the Golden Nugget and The Pioneer the boys regaled me with tales about their experiences with “o.e” 40s and just how bad it can mess you up.

Olde English Cans,slightly larger than a can of mother..

Put it this way, by the time I got to the other end of Fremont St and finished the can, I was messed up. A healthy was to start the day. We went into some crusty ass dinge hole casino that had a sign saying free beer. The bastards, their $5 marketing sign had indeed foiled my attempts to resist.

Next thing I know we were all sitting around pokie machines, some playing some not and being delighted in watching the goings on around us. It basically worked out that if you tipped the waitress a dollar, she would bring a round of beers for all of us. The beer was watered down horse piss. It was so bad that I would rather inject VB or 4X into my main vein hypodermically than drink this stuff on a regular basis. But for a buck for 5 of them…..it certainly suited the purpose.

Between some small and decent wins on the pokies throughout the group, Juzzy stopping to try a deep fried Twinkie, the smoking pregnant redneck waitress having a full on scrappy bitch fight with our waitress cause she was supposedly not sharing the tips and the allure of getting mardi gras style necklace beads every time we won I ended up pretty mashed.

The simple fact that our “favourite waitress who wasn’t sharing the tips” could come back with a tray of beers and give them to us by our names and ask us what Adelaide was like should have been the giveaway that she had perhaps frequented our group a  few too many times. But alas, it was too late for me. Roughly around this point, I was crabbed….smashed crabbed. I have little to no memory of what happened after that old school casino visit. But I will amuse you with the tales of what I do recall and keep in mind this is all effectively hypothetical.

There was a point where we were standing in Fremont St watching the light show across the ceiling and I remember looking up at it with so much amazement I could barely move. Well, that and I could barely move I was that drunk. As an indication of this I believe I burnt a hole in my t-shirt and burnt my neck with the cigarette that fell out of my mouth as I gawked upwards, but was too oblivious and unco-ordinated to do anything about it anyway.

I recall something to do with the world’s most expensive shot of tequila and a bunch of $1 dollar notes going missing. Don’t what that’s about tho, still trying to piece that together.

But my coup de gras, my outstanding achievement award, my Oscar winning performance was the bus ride back. Apparently we were to meet Liam and Chelsey and some others back in new Vegas in front of the hard rock casino to hook up for some poker. I never made it.

Crabbed and enjoying the Fremont St light show....i think

I was so fucked up from drinking Olde English and dollar-a-round beers that I couldn’t get off the bus. The rest of the lads tried to coerce me off the bus and to come with them but I couldn’t move.

I’m not sure what happened or how long I was on that bus, but I do remember being left on the bus. I remember doing a couple of laps on the Vegas metro strip bus, I working out that I was cruising down the strip and thusly breaking into a rendition of Easy E’s Boys in the hood.

I remember belting out at the top of my lungs “Cruising down the strip in my 6-4, Jacking the bitches, slapping the hoes”. I remember freaking out cause if people thought I fucking around I would get ghetto slapped or shot or something n then quietly doing another lap of the bus trying to muffle my giggles.

Easy E- Boyz in the hood

I’m not sure what the hell happened but somewhere along the line I got off the bus and with no clue how, made my way back to not only the right casino, but the right room. I don’t remember anything at all from the bus laps onwards other than waking up the next morning and realising that my head was indeed pounding like that clapping monkey you see in the Simpsons. I would never drink again…..

Rightly so I messed myself up and spent the majority of the day in bed. I missed out on going downtown again and going to some outlets and the like but Big Rob was nice enough to hook me up with some Nike Slip-ons that since getting have barely left my feet. I ventured out for some food but that was about it. Back to bed for me. Sadly that’s pretty much how I finished up Vegas. Come the morning last morning, we said our farewells to the boys and checked out. We would be seeing them again in 4 days’ time in Banff, but for now it was back to just me and the Juzzy making our nearly insignificant dent on the USA and Canada.

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