Embarrassing Moment #786

So....Las Vegas...Viva Las Vegas!!

Last weekend, my husband and I made the journey to Vegas to visit some friends of ours. Since they reside in Vegas and my husband and I live in San Diego, we probably meet up about 3 times a year, which includes an annual camping trip.

I have been contemplating whether or not to write about the unfortunate events that took place on our second evening because, yes, it is that embarrassing (even for me). Let's just start from the beginning...

Tim and Sasha are our friends (or were our friends). The first night did not encompass anything too out of the ordinary. Yes, there was drinking, drunkenness and gambling, but nothing that would leave a permanent emotional scar. The next night, however, is a completely different affair.

So we wake up the next morning (Sasha has to work) and start to contemplate the best ways to occupy our time. We decide to check out the Wynn, which is f-ing amazing. Tim, Donny and myself were feeling the effects of consuming too much alcohol the night before and we needed a pick-me-up (a.k.a. more alcohol).

We ordered a drink from a lounge/bar inside the hotel and afterwards we each had an extra bounce in our step. We made our departure from the hotel to a gas station, where "roadies" sounded pretty damn good.

Side note: Roadies are alcoholic beverages, preferably Miller Lite talls, that are consumed in your vehicle while traveling from one location to the next. The purpose of a roadie is to keep the all important buzz sustained because everyone knows that you can not have fun without alcohol. Roadies can also be used for medicinal purposes. For instance, if you are feeling a little hungover from the night before, you have the option to prolong a pounding headache by consuming a roadie on the way to work.

I'm already feeling a wee bit tipsy from the drink in the bar (probably because I was still drunk when I woke up) and after I choked down the 24 ounces of Miller Lite, I was pretty much shit faced. We haven't even met up with Sasha at this point and it's still daylight. I could have taken the aforementioned as foreshadowing of the events to come, but I didn't care at that point.

After Sasha gets off of work, we all eat some veggies, drink more and head out to Fremont Street. We devour a delicious dinner and I decided that it was appropriate to order a shot of tequila in the middle of it (more foreshadowing anyone???). I'm able to behave myself at dinner except when I tried to get a picture taken of myself and Donny...in an awkward moment. Thank God the camera ran out of batteries.

With our bodies fueled with nutrition, we head off to the slot machines at Mermaids. Mermaids is a wonderful place. It has a sort of cheap disgusting appeal to it. There are many different characters that loiter this particular casino. We find our seats at Tim and Sasha's favorite spot. I asked our cocktail waitress for a shot of tequila, but they don't do shots...so I resort to ordering a tequila and water. When I received the drink, it was very, very dark. I think they forgot about the water. Oh well, more for me!

This is when the events of the evening began to take a turn for the worse.

I end up going to a strip club because I've never been and I wanted to see what was so special about them...besides the obvious. Sasha was so kind as to escort me. Another tequila and water later I'm PLASTERED.

We meet up with the guys. Then something, something, something happened...it's too much of a blur (but I am positive that more drinking was involved). The next thing I remember is we're at another casino and Tim and Donny asking me if Sasha is in the bathroom. So I run into the bathroom and yell for Sasha. She yells back.

I literally jog out to where Donny and Tim are and say, "She's in there." They look at my me like I'm a freakin' retard and then say, "Well, go get her!"

At my level of severe intoxication, these men were being annoying, I just wanted to gamble and win all my money back.

I go back into the bathroom and jog back out. They ask, "Is she in there?" I promptly reply, "Nope!" Of course she was still in the bathroom, but she wasn't coming out anytime soon and I had gambling to do! I punch Donny in the diaphragm in order to gamble away $20, which took all of two minutes. I was sent to the bathroom to retrieve Sasha about five more times before she actually came out of the stall.

It was time to go home.

Then we had to wait for the valet. We had to wait a LONG time for the valet. I vaguely remember Sasha and I dry heaving over the sides of our respective benches we were occupying. I decided that dry heaving wasn't appropriate in public and proceeded to dance...in the street...like Elvis.

At this point, everyone pretended they didn't know who the hell I was. People would walk by and ask, "Is that your friend?" They avoided all eye contact with me and said that I was just some crazy lady.

A cop on a bicycle came by and looked like he wanted to throw me in the clink, but luckily for me, he just kept peddling.

Finally, our chariot arrived and this very long night came to an end.

I have never quite mastered the art of marathon drinking. I've always been a sprinter. For now on, I think I just stick to what I'm good at.