Timelion v. 3
Already two Timelions about the bachelor party Vegas and I'm only now arriving in Vegas in volume 3?
Nobody said brevity was my strong suit. In law school when my friend applied to be a member of some important studious group (Law Review, maybe), they had an essay for a question It was brutally worded and a mess of commas, subthoughts, paratheses, and overall a convoluted miasma that was probably written by five or six future defenders of lead toys. For a parallel in ineptitude continue reading my posts. At the heart of this half page question, it was basically asking what skills or attributes he'd bring to the table. His answer of course was one word: "brevity."
Probably not wholly original, but it was especially applicable and I believe he got the gig. I was in the somewhat less pretigious DVD Review. Anyway, you'll see no such well chosen concise words of genuis here. Why? Because part of my voice in retelling these anectdotes is SuperBill, and SuperBill thinks brevity is only for people he talks over.
12:01 a.m. Friday In Vegas, the heat is oppressive, we have to wait in the taxi line that serpentines more times than an Disney ride. We were moving the whole time, but I felt like I should get a Fast-Pass and go play the airport slots, until it'd be my turn at the front of the line. Silky Joe wonders if the cab is going to Hot Dog the pick up.
12:15 am Friday. The cab driver is an agreeable sort as they always are in Vegas when you land. Must be much more fun picking up tourists at the airport when they still have cash trying to run like water out of their pockets and not when they are returning with pocket lint, credit card receipts, and unchanged dollar tokens. Not 15 seconds into my first interaction with a local and I get "Oh a bachelor party, here's my card go to BIG BUNNIES JUNK N THE TRUNK strip club and use this and you'll get in for free, blah, blah, blah." That's a running refrain in Vegas, everybody from the housekeepers to the cops are on the dole for one strip club or another.
12:30 am Drop off luggage in hotel room. It's got one master bed, a cot and a sofa for four people. Apparently, even if you booked two queens those rooms are given on a first come first serve basis. I'm mad at first, but then SuperBill reminded me he doesn't sleep, sometimes he stares at the back of his eyelids for a couple of hours but that's only so other people don't get suspicious of his superpowers.
12:45 Part of the crew is already getting things started at ("Wild") Bill's across the street from Caesers. Not too many 5 dollar craps, blackjack, or pai gow tables at Caesers so our poor asses were humping it to the slum land on the strip. My brother's friend who is limit poker pro (though because the game is dying is now a no limit poker pro) gets the painful duty of being our tourguide. After moving to New Orleans, I quickly learned living in a destination city is awesome because you are always seeing your farflung friends who make a trip out of it, but it also sucks because you are expected to know every turn, street, restaurant, bar, and tradition. Anyway, Matt became that guy in Vegas, but he delivered. He leads us, me, my brother, and Silky Joe to Casino Royale for dollar michelobs and $3 craps.
12:50 Eddie Baby "the uncivil servent", Bake, the Brothers Johnson, Scotty Foro, Gint Dog, and Roro, fresh off of a winning roll at "Wild" Bill's storm the casino. Man half-hugs are exchanged. We've all aged fairly well. Couldn't help thinking it would have been infinitely better if we all had mustaches. Roro who lost the mustachio bet is sporting a goatee. It's thin. I know when he shaves the chin he'll look like a South American Dictator and very, very awkward. Some men can pull off a mustache, like Tom Selleck and Tom Selleck, but Roro is no Tom Selleck. Actually, Silky Joe was rocking his stache with aplomb so make that Tom Selleck, Silky Joe, and Tom Selleck. Anyway, Roro is no Silky Joe either.
1am. I buy the group a round of dollar beers. When I lived in DC with their 5 dollar beers and 10 dollar mixed drinks sipped by all the wannabee Capitol Hill ballers in places like Ozios or Club Five, two rounds for a group this big would practically leave me broke for the night. Then I noticed people weren't always reciprocating because I'd buy for 10 people but never get 10 drinks bought for me. I asked my friend Crabby about that and he stunned me by saying he never bought rounds EVER. This was after two or three years of me getting him at least one drink every night. It wasn't in a "I'm a cock" way, but in a "I'm so cheap, why would I buy some-one else a drink" way. Course, SuperBill wouldn't stand for that behavior so Crabby quickly became the go to guy for the first round every night out. To his credit we soon added a stop in our circuit on our nights out. We'd always find ourselves in a dive bar before a club and there would be Crabby racing back with dollar beers. So, I felt like Crabby a bit. I was getting dollar beers and fully aware my generous friends would be buying me premium liquor in two nights. More on Don's cheapness later. The bartender tells me he can get us in for free at a strip club.
115 am My friend in Seattle who couldn't make it, who is an ultramarathoner now--as a hobby, but still a Gigilo in every since of the word, is picking up a girl on Eharmony for a tuesday 10 pm slot that just opened up. SuperBill who is starting to savor his dollar beers and coming out of his shell a little bit, is somewhat glad that pimp who must have pencillin for blood won't be there to reenact the "good ol days." A Bluebonic Tonic is ordered in his honor.
120 am My friend in Austin who claims they didn't manufacture enough Xanaxs for him to fly, has been asleep for 5 hours. His acerbic wit is also missed. In college, he once dressed as BamBam from the Flintstones for halloween and spent the next 5 hours clubbing girls in the head with his inflatable BamBam club. He also limited his vocabulary to only two words, "Bam Bam." No matter what they said he replied Bam Bam. Somehow he met a girl that night. Bam Bam. Brevity.
121 am We go back to Wild Bill's because there is no room at the Casino Royale $0.25 craps table. I play some craps. Lose $50. I play some Pai Gow and win $50 maybe? Maybe I lost it. Pai Gow is all about drinking for free on the casino as you push, push, push, and not lose any money (or win any). Matt our Tour Guide had to keep reminding me there was no need to press my bets, the chicken drops, and random shots our new friends at the table kept ordering was the real edge in this game. I believe I told them my profession was marketing North Dakota's state aquarium. They never heard of it. "See why they hired me?"
2:40 am Reconvene with most of the group, and discover some of them have already returned to the hotel to make like BamBam in Austin. I'm perplexed. Huh? SuperBill reminds the remaining debauchers sleep is for the comatose, the elderly, and untrained newborns.
2:41 am SuperBill officially takes over... Brevity, sleep, and rationalism die in one fell swoop.
Nobody said brevity was my strong suit. In law school when my friend applied to be a member of some important studious group (Law Review, maybe), they had an essay for a question It was brutally worded and a mess of commas, subthoughts, paratheses, and overall a convoluted miasma that was probably written by five or six future defenders of lead toys. For a parallel in ineptitude continue reading my posts. At the heart of this half page question, it was basically asking what skills or attributes he'd bring to the table. His answer of course was one word: "brevity."
Probably not wholly original, but it was especially applicable and I believe he got the gig. I was in the somewhat less pretigious DVD Review. Anyway, you'll see no such well chosen concise words of genuis here. Why? Because part of my voice in retelling these anectdotes is SuperBill, and SuperBill thinks brevity is only for people he talks over.
12:01 a.m. Friday In Vegas, the heat is oppressive, we have to wait in the taxi line that serpentines more times than an Disney ride. We were moving the whole time, but I felt like I should get a Fast-Pass and go play the airport slots, until it'd be my turn at the front of the line. Silky Joe wonders if the cab is going to Hot Dog the pick up.
12:15 am Friday. The cab driver is an agreeable sort as they always are in Vegas when you land. Must be much more fun picking up tourists at the airport when they still have cash trying to run like water out of their pockets and not when they are returning with pocket lint, credit card receipts, and unchanged dollar tokens. Not 15 seconds into my first interaction with a local and I get "Oh a bachelor party, here's my card go to BIG BUNNIES JUNK N THE TRUNK strip club and use this and you'll get in for free, blah, blah, blah." That's a running refrain in Vegas, everybody from the housekeepers to the cops are on the dole for one strip club or another.
12:30 am Drop off luggage in hotel room. It's got one master bed, a cot and a sofa for four people. Apparently, even if you booked two queens those rooms are given on a first come first serve basis. I'm mad at first, but then SuperBill reminded me he doesn't sleep, sometimes he stares at the back of his eyelids for a couple of hours but that's only so other people don't get suspicious of his superpowers.
12:45 Part of the crew is already getting things started at ("Wild") Bill's across the street from Caesers. Not too many 5 dollar craps, blackjack, or pai gow tables at Caesers so our poor asses were humping it to the slum land on the strip. My brother's friend who is limit poker pro (though because the game is dying is now a no limit poker pro) gets the painful duty of being our tourguide. After moving to New Orleans, I quickly learned living in a destination city is awesome because you are always seeing your farflung friends who make a trip out of it, but it also sucks because you are expected to know every turn, street, restaurant, bar, and tradition. Anyway, Matt became that guy in Vegas, but he delivered. He leads us, me, my brother, and Silky Joe to Casino Royale for dollar michelobs and $3 craps.
12:50 Eddie Baby "the uncivil servent", Bake, the Brothers Johnson, Scotty Foro, Gint Dog, and Roro, fresh off of a winning roll at "Wild" Bill's storm the casino. Man half-hugs are exchanged. We've all aged fairly well. Couldn't help thinking it would have been infinitely better if we all had mustaches. Roro who lost the mustachio bet is sporting a goatee. It's thin. I know when he shaves the chin he'll look like a South American Dictator and very, very awkward. Some men can pull off a mustache, like Tom Selleck and Tom Selleck, but Roro is no Tom Selleck. Actually, Silky Joe was rocking his stache with aplomb so make that Tom Selleck, Silky Joe, and Tom Selleck. Anyway, Roro is no Silky Joe either.
1am. I buy the group a round of dollar beers. When I lived in DC with their 5 dollar beers and 10 dollar mixed drinks sipped by all the wannabee Capitol Hill ballers in places like Ozios or Club Five, two rounds for a group this big would practically leave me broke for the night. Then I noticed people weren't always reciprocating because I'd buy for 10 people but never get 10 drinks bought for me. I asked my friend Crabby about that and he stunned me by saying he never bought rounds EVER. This was after two or three years of me getting him at least one drink every night. It wasn't in a "I'm a cock" way, but in a "I'm so cheap, why would I buy some-one else a drink" way. Course, SuperBill wouldn't stand for that behavior so Crabby quickly became the go to guy for the first round every night out. To his credit we soon added a stop in our circuit on our nights out. We'd always find ourselves in a dive bar before a club and there would be Crabby racing back with dollar beers. So, I felt like Crabby a bit. I was getting dollar beers and fully aware my generous friends would be buying me premium liquor in two nights. More on Don's cheapness later. The bartender tells me he can get us in for free at a strip club.
115 am My friend in Seattle who couldn't make it, who is an ultramarathoner now--as a hobby, but still a Gigilo in every since of the word, is picking up a girl on Eharmony for a tuesday 10 pm slot that just opened up. SuperBill who is starting to savor his dollar beers and coming out of his shell a little bit, is somewhat glad that pimp who must have pencillin for blood won't be there to reenact the "good ol days." A Bluebonic Tonic is ordered in his honor.
120 am My friend in Austin who claims they didn't manufacture enough Xanaxs for him to fly, has been asleep for 5 hours. His acerbic wit is also missed. In college, he once dressed as BamBam from the Flintstones for halloween and spent the next 5 hours clubbing girls in the head with his inflatable BamBam club. He also limited his vocabulary to only two words, "Bam Bam." No matter what they said he replied Bam Bam. Somehow he met a girl that night. Bam Bam. Brevity.
121 am We go back to Wild Bill's because there is no room at the Casino Royale $0.25 craps table. I play some craps. Lose $50. I play some Pai Gow and win $50 maybe? Maybe I lost it. Pai Gow is all about drinking for free on the casino as you push, push, push, and not lose any money (or win any). Matt our Tour Guide had to keep reminding me there was no need to press my bets, the chicken drops, and random shots our new friends at the table kept ordering was the real edge in this game. I believe I told them my profession was marketing North Dakota's state aquarium. They never heard of it. "See why they hired me?"
2:40 am Reconvene with most of the group, and discover some of them have already returned to the hotel to make like BamBam in Austin. I'm perplexed. Huh? SuperBill reminds the remaining debauchers sleep is for the comatose, the elderly, and untrained newborns.
2:41 am SuperBill officially takes over... Brevity, sleep, and rationalism die in one fell swoop.
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