The last night in Sin City

Hmm... well, I looked at an earlier post that I wrote, and it got me thinking about the last Vegas trip, and that it's only 111 days until I visit that amazing city once again. The last trip was the best trip ever, for a number of reasons. Unfortunately, the best one didn't happen until my last night there, and I wound up missing my 6:30 AM flight because of it... nevertheless, I'd do it all over again.

On the last night of the last trip, me & my comrades decided to go have dinner at Harrah's... pretty awesome; it's all outside, with a stage and dance floor, blackjack tables, and stands outside where I got a really cool cowboy hat. ;) Regardless... after dinner and about 984 margaritas, a couple of us decided that it would be a great idea to hit the dance floor. I can't dance. Period.

So anyway, after the margaritas convinced me that I am Prince, Michael Jackson, MC Hammer and Kid 'n' Play all rolled into one, to the dance floor I staggered. So there we are... 3 guys from New York that have had way too much to drink, standing on the edge of the dance floor, watching. I don't know what made us/me believe that we would immediately be acosted by hundreds of bikini models that were just aching to see us... but that didn't immediately happen. Oh yeah, I remember what it was that made me believe that... might have been the tequila. Regardless, there we are, pretty much just looking around and looking desperate (well, not that desperate), and I saw her. Her who, you may ask. Lemme tell ya.

Her was a beautiful blonde sitting at a table next to the dance floor whose eyes met mine like Kyra Sedgwick's met Campbell Scott's in Singles (great movie, by the way). I stared at her from about 10 feet away for what seemed like a solid half hour, although that could have been the tequila thing again. The cool thing was that she stared right back. Now I'm sure it was only a second or two, but in my mind, on that night, at that bar, in that city, wearing that hat, it was a solid half hour. At this point, I did something that I would never, ever (well, maybe once in a while) do. I think it was the perfect blend of an 80* Vegas night, a cowboy hat that was making me feel pretty bad-ass, and just the right amount of tequila that made me do what I did. I walked over, I think I asked her to dance, grabbed her hand, and led her to the dance floor. We stayed out there, dancing pretty close for a couple of songs, and I couldn't take my eyes off her. Now, again, I must revisit this; I can't dance. Period. But at that moment in time, I WAS a backup dancer for Britney.

OK, back to the story. So we're dancing away, and some song comes on that we didn't want to hear, so back to her table we go. My friends have now deserted me, so I'm flying solo... no wingman, no tower, no nothin'. Anyway, I sit down, and she's got two friends with her... for the life of me, I can't remember either of their names. I don't think I did two seconds after I heard them, but it didn't really matter at the time. I buy the table a round of shots, and I still cannot take my eyes off of this girl. We were talking back and forth like we had known each other for years. Totally comfortable, and fueled by tequila, back to the dance floor we went. Only this time, not for two songs, but for two hours, stopping only to rehydrate with more tequila. Did I have a lot to drink? Yeah, but I can still remember what that place smelled like, what kind of shoes she was wearing, and I can describe the horseshoe necklace that she was wearing, just like Carrie from Sex in the City. Stunning.

So there we are, me in my cowboy hat, and she in her necklace, dancing the night away in Las Vegas, when suddenly, the unexpected happens. What happened you may ask? I'll tell you what happened. Some drunk idiot (not me this time) decided to start some neanderthal-style shoving match with some other chicklet-lobed morlock. What resulted from that little altercation was me getting tossed over a table and slamming my head into the wall right next to the stage. Luckily, my dance partner was unharmed. When I did collect myself and get to my feet, I was all set to start throwing... I'm from NY and we're supposed to be assertive, ya know. All of a sudden, something came over me and I just stood there with my dance partner. OK... tradgedy averted, and back to the dance floor we go. To this day, I can still hear Beyonce's "Naughty Girl" resonating off the wall of the hotel that's standing next to us. Anyway, shortly thereafter, we decide it's time to go... but we can't figure out where. The logical thing at the time was to walk down the strip and go in someplace... it's Vegas for Chrissakes! At that point, friends and neighbors, we walked into an absolute dive. I have no idea what the name of it was... something like... geez, I have no idea, but I do remember that it was dark, smoky, and that some dude arbitrarily decided to start showing us pics of his kids... again, made sense at the time.

Because in my mind I'm now a Backstreet Boy as far as dancing goes, we order a couple drinks and hit the dance floor... oh my dear lord. This girl can actually dance... but again, I'm in N'Sync now, so I can too. Anyway, a few hundred Budweisers later, we head back to the hotel... it's getting close to 4AM, and I'm on a plane headed back to NY in about two hours. The smart move would have been to head back up to my room, pack my stuff, and head to the airport, but in the state of mind I was in, that wasn't the logical move... again, it might have been the tequila talking.

We walk into the hotel, sit down at the bar, I feed the video poker machine a couple twentys and order a couple drinks. The entire time we're playing, we're talking a little, and probably the dumbest idea ever pops into my mind... "wanna get married?" She laughs. "Come on, it's Vegas!" She laughs again, and reluctantly declines my offer. Probably for the best, considering I'm leaving in about an hour. By the way, she won $20 on video poker. Now, bear in mind, I haven't even kissed this girl, and I'm asking her to marry me. Call it the tequila talking or whatever, but I would have married her that night.

We're now done with poker, and decide that I should probably head out. I'm still pissed that I didn't meet her until my last night there. Regardless, we head upstairs, grab my stuff, and down to the lobby I go. She accompanied me down in the elevator, and I'm still wearing my cowboy hat... absolutely NO time to change before I left. As we stepped off the elevator into the lobby and the sunlight, I couldn't help thinking that there was a reason we went to Harrah's that night.

We said our goodbyes, hugged, and she kissed me... just outstanding. She had the softest lips ever, and I can't help but wonder what if. What if we never went to Harrah's? What if I didn't drink enough tequila to give me the guts to go up to a random girl? What if I didn't get tossed over a table and whack my head on the wall of the stage? What if she said she'd marry me?

It turns out that I did wind up missing my flight, and got to spend 6 hours on standby in the lovely Las Vegas airport... then a flight to Chicago, with a 6 hour layover, and then sitting on the runway in Chicago for 3 hours, and finally home to sunny Ra-Cha-Cha at 1:30AM... just a little tired, and unfortunately, the tequila has lost it's effect. Would I do it all over again... whack my head, act like I can dance, miss my flight, and spend an entire day on planes and sleeping in airports with a hangover that would make Dean Martin vomit? In a New York minute.

I can't remember many nights that can stand up to that one. It was virtually perfect. I hope she knows that, and how important she was to me. I just hope that someday when she's surfing the web, somehow she finds this and it makes her smile, if only half as much as it made me smile writing it.