We get in Sunday, put our stuff down, and headed to the Strip for dinner. That dinner consisted of a nice $1.99 footlong hotdog from a casino near the Flamingo Hotel. Coupled with $1 daiquiris, this made for the first healthy meal in Las Vegas. After playing free slots till boredom, we took a stroll to the “real” Caesar’s Palace. The lobby is immaculate. Plain and simple. The women are everywhere. I would personally like to thank the teachers from Wylie (city in Texas near Plano) ISD for giving me free club passes to this club called “Pure” in the Palace and for saving me a $20 cover charge.
Now this is what I hate about Vegas- I have to get on a guest list for every single club I want to go to in a night. This required much Google searching effort on my part over the course of the four-day period I spent in Vegas, and many a random text message to club promoters who asked me whether or not I was bringing 16 women for the two men in our party.
The club itself had a relatively simple layout, and your typical assortment of club goers- from the 20 year olds with nice fake IDs to the youthful 50 year old married guys whose wives are across the dance floor. The great thing about Vegas is that anyone is down for random conversation- from the random Jewish guy who looks like Matthew Mcconaughey, the party promoters who forced a laugh at my attempted rap name (Notorious B.I.Caucasian) to the women who thought they were cool by wearing Lady Gaga wigs. I did not understand the obsession with those dang wigs – everyone seemed to be wearing them around Vegas. I almost bought one. Thankfully, I spent that money on an In-N-Out Burger shirt.
The music was typical- not enough good 80s and 90s and too much Pit Bull. After about 45 minutes I promptly left and joined the roommate, who was on his first slot binge. Gotta love video slots.
After wandering around aimlessly and making lewd comments toward the Pussycat Dolls who were dealing Blackjack, we met up with our friend from the University of Arizona and some of her friends- great girls I might add. They reveled us with stories of their club experiences, showed us the rooms in Caesars Palace (the linens were exquisite) and my friend updated me on everyone from a prior program we attended together.
We then had a desire to gamble, so we went back down to the casino and proceeded to watch one member of the group dominate in a craps game. I was truly jealous of her gambling skills.
By then, it was already about 3 A.M., and my sleep schedule was finished for the rest of the trip. After saying our goodbye pleasantries, we boarded “The Deuce”, Las Vegas’s bus, for a trip back to the hotel. “The Deuce” is quite convenient at 3 A.M., not so much between the hours of 10 AM- 1:45 AM.
Now, as I said before, interesting people converge on Vegas every day. On the Deuce, we met a man (the name draws a blank) who speaks three languages, is a photojournalist, and a badass harmonica player. When we thought he had just bullshit us with this information, he went over to the Hispanic family on the bus and started speaking fluent Spanish, then after they left he started playing his harmonica as a personal “Fuck You” to the both of us. Here is Rooster Hill in action:
That was day one (day two of the actual trip).