First I would like to apologize for the week and 3 days that have come between Vegas related blog posts. Also, I should apologize for not posting at all on Monday. Sunday night was a night of fun, friends, and a life-decision struggle (more on this one day) so I didn’t get around to writing. Monday I spent the day relaxing and catching up on my DVR. That’s less of an excuse…
So now it is Tuesday evening and I’m furiously blogging as fast as I can before it is time for me to pass out. I have a run scheduled for the next few mornings, so I can’t make these nights late…
Last time, in Vegas: Karen, Jack, Scott and I were parched, sweaty, and enamored with Red Rock Canyon. Having made it pretty decently far into the trail, we learned we had enough to go that we found ourselves at a crossroads, mentally. We decided that the potential for beautiful views did not outweigh our need for water and shade, so we decided to double back down the trail from whence we had come and head back to the car.
While the idea of quitting, in and of itself, can make you feel pretty down and negative, there was no room for that as we had just filled ourselves with the super fun nectar of a majestic rock formation.
I’m getting a little wordy for Vegas, wouldn’t you say? Very well then, on to the drunken shenanigans…
Jack and Scott headed to their hotel room at Planet Hollywood while Karen and I headed back to McNuggets to get cleaned up and head out for the night. Luckily for us, he had a kickball game! So once we cleaned up a bit (i.e. washed our hands), put our new #SuckMyBush hats on, and pre-drank at a nearby bar, we were off to the very activity that had brought us together a few years back.
Hold up. #SuckMyBush hats?
Oh, had I not covered that yet?
Karen, in her infinite ability to be appropriate, decided that #suckmybush was a thing. I am pretty sure this is prior to the Vegas vacation, also. It’s her response to “Suck My Dick” more or less. It ended up on the email chain more than once – to my dismay, because, I’m sorry, but it’s NOT a thing! – and it became a thing. Somehow between the minds of Karen, McNugget, and I, we ended up with 6 trucker hats in various colors and 100 vinyl decals that say #SuckMyBush for putting on our hats and whatever else we decided to tag in Vegas.
Now, back to Friday night…
Since Karen and I weren’t allowed to play kickball, we decided to be intoxicated spectators. So we brought some Miller Lite cans and had ourselves a little watch party. I don’t know if you guys know this, but for all the coaching, team creating, and video taking he does, McNugget is actually a pretty good kickballer. Great, even. When kickball was over, we picked up more beer and headed to Planet Hollywood to get a hotel room of our own.
We drank a few beers each in the room while we each showered (or in McNugget’s case, took the hottest bath he could that lasted 2.5 beers long) and got ready. Jack and Scott met back up with us and we headed out for the night. We decided not to stay at Planet Hollywood and began walking down the street. We stopped into a casino (fuck if I remember which one) and sat down at a roulette table long enough for me to turn $40 into $50, get a few drinks and continue on our way. We next stopped at a bar within a casino (again, I clearly don’t recall which one) where we ordered rounds (upon rounds) of beers and rounds (upon rounds) of shots. I was given two birthday shots: one from my friend, one from the bartender, which I happily devoured while losing $5 in the electronic poker machine in front of me.
Jack and Scott sat down to play roulette and then War, which piqued my interest. I sat down a quickly lost the $45 remaining from the $50 I had walked away with earlier in the night (well, the $10 I was up in addition to the $40 I started with.) So I quit gambling and continued drinking.
While we were traveling between casinos and bars, we ran into a nice man working at one of the casinos with an incredible blue mohawk, so we clearly all stopped to talk to him and tell him why we were all wearing #SuckMyBush trucker hats. In the middle of this convo, a drunk group of frat bros ran up and one slapped the nice mans mohawk. I shouted at him “woah! NOT cool bro.” One of the slightly less drunk guys came over to apologize for his friend and another extra drunk guy wobbled by aimlessly, so someone – can’t recall who – did what anyone would do… walked behind him and put a #SuckMyBush sticker on him. He didn’t notice. I hope he didn’t notice til he went to do laundry many days later.
We made friends with a bouncer and a bartender, but I started to get bored. I wanted Panda Express, and I wanted it immediately.
Being the amazing friend she is, Karen offered to go back and find it with me (there was a Panda Express located in Planet Hollywood.) Jack and Scott decided it was time to call it a night as well and we all (yes, all) left to head back to our room.
Here’s something you probably don’t know about me (and you may want to if you ever go on a vacation/trip with me.) When I am drunk and want something, there is nothing in the whole world that can stop me from getting it… at least I imagine there isn’t. There’s a crowd of people? COMING THROUGH BITCH! There’s a police checkpoint? COMING THROUGH BITCH! There’s a construction fence? CLIMBING OVER IT BITCH!
So I start pushing my way through the unnecessary crowd of humans walking down the street in search of the only thing that mattered – mandarin chicken – when it occurs to me that I have completely forgotten I had once had friends with me in Vegas for the sole purpose of celebrating my 30th birthday. I looked behind me, and true to form – which would become a staple for the rest of the weekend, no matter how hard I tried to shake her – there was Karen, right on my six. We traipsed through the crowds, past the cops, around the construction until we got to Planet Hollywood…
…but where was Panda Express?! We didn’t see it ANYWHERE.
Which seems like a good place to stop since I am well over 1000 words right now. Come on back for Part 3 where I will (or maybe won’t) finally get my Panda Express on, may or may not make it back to the hotel room, may or may not wake up in bed and do it all again the next morning. Because what happens in Vegas only stays there if you don’t write a blog… 🙂