I don't count the one time I've been to Las Vegas since turning 21. I was a month into my legality & was invited by a friend whose birthday is just a few weeks after mine. Our room was free & we didn't have to share with her like we thought we did. Turns out her grandma died more than half her family decided not to go. So there's a buzzkill right there. My friend received a visit from Aunt Flo & kind of turned into a bitch. She said she was feeling sick & didn't want to go out. It was our only full night there & she didn't feel like doing anything. Biggie T & I ended up walking to the casino across the street, in search of a bar that wasn't actually there. I didn't gamble. I didn't drink. I didn't do anything adults do in Vegas.
We were invited to a bachelor/bachelorette party weekend & Taylor happened to have complimentary rooms for the same dates. Fate! Queue the angels & their weird, long trumpets. We set a budget for ourselves & I was super stoked. Biggie T was telling me all about Pai Gow & Roulette. I rarely leave my post in the kitchen & he's been a few times in the last two years. I figured he knew what he was talking about & would know how to show me a good time.
The trip started off really well. We left early in the morning & about a hundred goodbye kisses to the boys. No traffic. Sweet! We even managed to have enough conversation to last us the entire three & a half hours without repeating ourselves or boring each other. Then I noticed the temperature had gone from a comfy 77 at home to a blazing 105. That, my friends, is the very definition of hot as balls. The 45 second walk from the parking garage to the hotel lobby was death. It didn't help that my back was so packed I couldn't carry it. I had taken to filling the extra space in Biggie T's bag with more of my essentials. You know, like three more pairs of shoes that didn't fit into mine.
My first mistake was blurting out, "TOP FLOOR!" When the man at the check-in desk asked which we preferred. Our room was on the 19th floor; I thought it would be good for the views. The views were pretty decent, but it was my no means worth it.
It was FSM-damn cheerleader weekend. WHAT. THE. FUCK!? Cheerleaders & I have never been friendly. Probably because I was in that group of girls in high school that made fun of everyone, wore band tees, & didn't do girly things like lead cheers. So our elevator ride up was full of 10 year old girls with southern accents & way too much fucking makeup. I think someone told us there were 1,900 cheerleaders staying at our hotel--as if we asked for fucking cared. Which meant cheerleaders on every floor. That makes for a terrible fucking ride when you're hungover the next afternoon.
Our room was very nice. At least, it was nicer than I expected, staying at an off the strip hotel. The King size bed meant I didn't have to touch my husband while I slept (WIN!). We had some time to kill before Biggie T had to make a phone call to the government (super secret intelligence type information...loljk he was calling about his unemployment checks--SCORE!) so he showed me what Roulette was all about. Twenty-five on black. WINNER! Fifty on black. WINNER! Ohh man. I realized gambling is too adventurous for me & I made him walk away.
After some antiques shopping (er, window shopping? No way am I paying $1,000 for a used faux fur jacket THANKS!) we headed back & I got to play the roulette myself. Stoked! Biggie T kept telling me to bet on black or red. BO-RING! I started betting on Odds. WINNING! I switched it up. WINNING! Did you know roulette is really freakin' fun when you're winning? It's like a high. Seriously. I just wanted to keep playing, but every time I would listen to Biggie T & bet where he told me to bet, I would lose!
Eventually it was time to meet up with our friends. They said we were going to a strip club. Yeah, that's what I want to do in Vegas; see titties that aren't mine. And pay. Why do I need to pay for something I have? Hello, it's called a mirror & imagination. I can pretend my fat ass doesn't sag, can't I? Plans eventually changed though & we ended up just walking. Word to the wise: Before you drink, EAT! Don't forget dinner. Dinner is very important if you plan to take shots of Ouzo & Everclear. Or, you know what? Maybe just stay away from those things altogether. Because you'll wake up in the morning with a wrist band to a club you're not sure you went to. You'll have puked in your hotel room's trash can even though you don't remember actually getting back to the hotel. And your hangover will last for 3 days.
Biggie T didn't have much a good time that night either, I suppose. We split up into groups of boys & girls, much to his chagrin. He didn't really know anybody & didn't think he'd enjoy himself. But he got a really cute tuxedo shirt. He was lookin' pretty hot if I do say so myself.
The next afternoon I was feeling too sick to do anything until I ate. I asked Biggie T if we could go to the pool. "No." I asked if we could drive down the strip. "No." I'm surprised I managed to get him to buy me ice cream. You know what we could do though? Gamble. In fact, that's all he wanted to do. And he got mad at me for yelling at the stupid video poker machine. It's not my fault that thing is stupid & cheats. Vegas tip #23: Video poker & slot machines suck serious ass. Seriously. Ass.
So far in the trip I hadn't really done what I wanted to do. Biggie T managed to stay out until 7 in the morning & won extra gambling money. Money he said I could get a cut of. Yay! More roulette! When we finally got around to not feeling like total shit, I was super excited for the buffet. If there's one thing you should do in Vegas, it's visit a buffet. It's the fat kid in me, but it's the best place to be if you love food.
We were FOUR FUCKING MINUTES LATE. They closed at 9 & we walked up at 9:04. And though I tried in vain, I could not convince Biggie T to take me to the Rio buffet. That place is Fat Kid Heaven & costs a small fortune, but dear FSM is it worth it. "We'll go to one tomorrow." That seemed to be the theme of the weekend. "We'll do that tomorrow ... We'll do that later." He failed to realize that we were leaving Sunday morning.
We ended up at a stupid cafe & I ate a shitty steak. Like seriously, this steak was gross & the only thing I managed to eat were the steamed vegetables. And the soup burnt my tongue. After dinner we were given directions to the Oktoberfest beer garden to meet our friends. I wasn't completely looking forward to it because I don't drink beer, but I figured Biggie T would have fun at the bar. Turned out it wasn't a bar at all. It was a Bavarian restaurant that happened to serve beer & close at 11, so we spent maybe 15 minutes there. Oooh SO FUN!
We ended up at the bride & groom's hotel, where we waited for everyone because they decided to walk 3 blocks instead of take a taxi. By the time we met back up with them it was one & we were bored as shit. I had further declared slot machines as my nemesis & was ready for bed. Instead of swimming in our underwear, as my friend had suggested we did, we went back to the hotel. My hangover was in full force so I went to sleep. Biggie T asked if I wanted to go back down to the casino with me, but I declined. The room started spinning again & I needed something stable to latch onto.
He turned it into another late night. And wasted my portion of the extra gambling money, trying to "win more for me." The next morning we hardly spoke. I was furious with him & he was too tired to argue with me. I didn't make it down the strip. I didn't buy any cute souvenirs for the boys like I told him I wanted to. I didn't go to the pool. I sat in the car, staring at the clouds coming in.
"So I owe you big time."
"Don't fucking talk to me."
Unfortunately, with rain comes accidents & we were stuck in traffic. It took us 4 hours to get to Baker--which is roughly 90 miles from Vegas. That meant loads of time in the car with Biggie T. I had to eventually talk to him. He apologized profusely & I told him it was fine--but I'm a woman, so I'll hold it against him for the rest of his life. He knows he had a hand in ruining my trip. Simple conversations turned into friendly jokes & eventually laughter. I let him think I was over it, because didn't do any of it to spite me. He's just...stupid.
I think I'm going to quit my job & become a spokesperson for Murphy's Law.
