Vegas June 8th-11th..."Did you wash your ass?" Very Long, Comments welcome

Intro::::
Ok, so we're (the lovely Mrs and I) of to Vegas for the wedding of a couple of our closest and coolest friends, with most of our core group of 20 or so friends making the trip. Seperate from the wedding, there is a different bachelor party featuring 3 old bandmates of mine who are also part of the core group.

First day, Thurs 6-8::::
We wake up early (6 am) to take the boy to school and split for the aeropuerto (I will try to make the post as Bi-lingual as possible to help our ESL friends) for a 10 am flight. All goes well and we arrive nice and early with NO traffic to the fabulous Ontario International airport. Now, how Ontario is an "International" airport is beyond me but what the hell, I'll go with it. We get through security with no problems and go to the arrival and departure board. Now, usually the Mrs will handle all responsible duties as I'm a complete knucklehead, but this time I decided to step up. I find "Vegas Gate 4" and we go and get in the front of the line for "A" boarding. Since we were early and the security line is pretty light I can go smoke at will. On my second trip a woman sits next to us in the the chairs and the wife ends up in a conversation with her....fine, I'll go smoke. I light up downstairs and in no more than 2 minutes, I get a call on my cell, "idiot, we're at the wrong gate, I had to move the bags 2 gates down. Did you even look at the board?? Get your ass up here there's people in line....and you suck!" Well she's right, I do suck, but not in a bad man sort of way but in a cute absent minded guy sort of way.

I need to mention what I am wearing not for any other reason than to explain this next part. I am wearing jeans, cons(Converse), and my Brazil Jersey (which some of you may not know is Yellow with green trim). As we board our Southwest flight that we expect will have some amateur flight crew comedians, I hear over the intercom.."Lance......Laaaaannnncceee", I hear laughter including the Mrs, and have NO idea what the hell is going on. Meanwhile it continues...."Laaaaannnccceee......Lance Armstrong?? Cmon Lance, give us a wave!" It's then that it hits me, "shit, the flying whore is talking shit on me?". "Cmon Lance give us a wave". Alright, you want a wave, you got it....the smiling, two handed, flying one finger salute all around.

I settle in the window seat, wife is riding bitch, and older very sweet lady in aisle seat. we get served our drinks and Lance and the Mrs get a beer (with coupon from SW, love it), and Aisle lady (hereto known as "AL") decides on a Tomato juice. Flying whore serves us our drinks and as AL picks up her boozeless drink, she drops it on the tray and down the Mrs's leg....this is NOT good.....you see, the wife is 6'0" tall and beautiful, but also can be flat out fucking evil when crossed (so I hear, wouldn't have much experience with that ;) ) and AL instantly apologizes says "it's ok, no problem" all the while turning to me and in an absolutely satanic tone of voice vents mercilessly. I don't remember spilling the drink on her, but apparently giving me a ration of shit is much better than beating AL until she's bleeding from the eyes....I don't condone that kind of action, but I sure as hell understand it. Luckily the flying whore is intelligent enough to see the incident and instantly brings a couple of towels and some Soda Water (?). For this reason alone I will now call her "Stewardess". The crisis is averted when said soda water solves problem after 20 minutes of scrubbing/bitching/saying it's ok, no problem. She finally chugs the beer, and I know we're home free.

We land, and the argument that is unspoken is finally won when Mrs. checks a bag and it takes 40 minutes for it to come down at McCarran. I hate checking bags....PERIOD.

====Tip of the day====
If you don't absolutely have to check a bag, then DON'T. That is unless you like wrestling with old ladies (I know...it's a fetish) and waiting for at least a half hour.

Still, we're in Vegas, it's all good. Couldn't wipe the smile off my face with a hammer.

We luckbox on our cab driver and he's a great guy, goes directly to the hotel without the usual attempt to take us to Henderson and back before we get to the hotel to jack up the fare, and we tip him 50% of the fare in appreciation. He also gives me a great tip on a british pub to watch the World Cup tomorrow AM.

We check in, drop off the bags in the room, freshen up and go down to the Casino and meet a friend to store her bags in our room. I decide to stay in the casino, get a beer and hang a bit while they go up to do the drop. I set myself down at a nickel cartoon-y slot (I think it was Ka-boom or some shit like that) that has a little excitement for me....things that blow up. I drop a 10 spot in, and enjoy the massive explosions and the $45 it pays after only 15 minutes. I'm up....cash out....set an example for the weekend. I call the Mrs, and she's just coming down and trying to get a beer, so I have at least 5 minutes to luckbox my way through the quickly filling Craps table adjacent to the machine. I drop $40 down, get the chips and after another 15 minutes, I'm up another $65.....WOOOO....seven out?? I'm out. So my first 30 minutes gambling I'm up $110. Not bad, but consistency is the key. Side Note::The Mrs is concerned before the trip that she was going to be a Poker widow, so I was really trying not to push to get to a table. Not a problem, these ladies are a lot of fun when they hit 3rd gear and they're just getting out of first so let's roll.

The girls decide to take a little walk over to the little restaurant bar on the strip in front of Caesars for what I'm told to expect is Pomagranite Margaritas. Woo!! Love pomagranites!!. I mention we should get a cab (since I have a knee that had surgery a year ago), but I'm over-ruled with chants of "Pussy!" "suck it up Sally, we're walking". Damn, these women are rough, I better just do what they say, lol.

After the short walk in the blistering sun we find the restaurant shut down and continue on to the other bar that looks open with misters all around....sweet, I'm in....Margarita's and misters. After slowly drinking my sour watermelon Margarita (no pomagranite, damn)and the worst fucking stomach ache in history, we settle down at some nickel Video poker ( I know, -EV, but I AM with two fun girls with tons of time to kill). No real results here, but at least 2 hours killed before part of the group arrives. -$ 20. F-U Video poker. The Mrs posts a small win here as I recall. The problem in Caesars is that there are very few bathrooms anywhere...underground?? You have to be Kidding me, right in front of where the Celine crowd comes out?? Damn...

Next thing I know the bride sends a text asking about where we're all going to hook up for the evenings events and mentions "I know you Lemons are at Fat Elvis right now". Well no, we're NOT at Fat Elvis. The girls hassled me about this when he was scheduled to go on, but why in the hell would I want to see an Elvii that can't even stand up?? I mean those fuckers are supposed to be in ok shape at least from all the fake Karate that Mike Stone taught them before stealing their wives. So I opted out. This is where the evil comes out, I figure if the girls go see loser fat Elvis, I'm sitting at a NL table before you can say Burnin Love. Win/Win situation sweetheart...it's all good. We continue playing Video Poker.

We end up getting dressed for the night, and meet up with the Bride and Groom in their suite. Damn, it has more Sq footage than my house....lol. After a bit of drinking we continue down to the casino and continue to imbibe and gamble a bit with more drinking than gambling. -$ 60.00 Things are getting fuzzy now....better hit the sports book before it's too late to bet on the Cup. Bet on Brazil, England and of course the U.S. (30-1 seems a bit low with this team, but what the hell)to win. At this point, there are about 10 of us and everyone but me is betting the ponies and doing well, but since Blinky the Mule or Spongebob Horsepants (real mule/Horse) aren't running I'm out. I'll just watch the Red Sox kick the crap out of the Yanks.

All thoughts of moderation were completely out the window at this point and we ended up tearing it up until 4:30 in the morning(thus putting any ideas of watching the opening match of the World Cup at a cool pub just off the strip completely in jeopardy). We get to bed and I tell the lovely Mrs. "make sure I'm up to watch the match, I don't want to miss this" and after a restful 3 hours of sleep, I'm awaken with "HEY....Get up, the match is on". Let's just say that there is no damn way I'm waking up for it....if it was Brazil or England playing then I'm in, but it was Germany and they had been playing boring soccer for 2 years so I'm napping. Ironically, the Mrs (who is NOT a fan by any means, but patiently puts up with me while I do watch) ends up
watching contentedly the entire match nudging me from time to time "oooh, you missed that", "damn, that must have hurt", "wow, what a goal!". Finally I can't take anymore and blurrily watch the last 15 minutes of Germany destroying their opponents. It's no pub match, but hey, I woke up which is a feat in itself. I scamper down into a little comdedy routine that will set the tone for the rest of the trip. You have to understand that this kind of thing is also normal operating procedure for all of us.

Since we have a no smoking room to keep our clothes from stinking, I stagger down to the casino near the shops where I can smoke without bothering anyone, and I call the girls, "D" and "P" to set up lunch. I get no answer on P's cell phone, so I call D and she's already out and about with another friend whos flown in to see her. She tells me that P is probably just getting out of the shower and to try again and we'll hook up later to hang on the strip.

I decide since the cell didn't get answered to use the house phone to catch her, and the operator asks me which room. How I remember the room I don't know but I did, and she asks me the name of the person, I give it to her and it begins to ring. I decide to start the day off in the right way,

Sounds Like P "Hello?"
Me: "wash your ass?"
....silence....
SL P: "excuse me?"
Me: "did you wash your ass!??"
....silence....
SL P: "I think you have the wrong number"
....silence....
Me: "that's fine, but did you wash your ass??"
pause.....click.....

I'm dying to try again, this is like mystery dialing.....

Dial 0, operator room inquiry, riiiiiinnnnnggg.

P: "Hello?"....
Me: "Did you wash your ass??",
P: "yeah, why?"
Me: "I'm the ass police and I needed to make sure"
P: "ok, what are we doing for lunch"
Me: Laughing my ass off......"don't know yet, but I gotta tell you about my last call.....BWAAHAHAH"

and this began Friday Day 2 (to be continued with tales of The Planet of the Apes, and more)