Vegas '06 baby... Vegas '06!!! Part Three... The Final Chapter.

Hmmm... where was I? Ah, yes. I had placed my bet on the Preakness and headed over to Harrah's. Now I remember. Yes, I did have to go back and see what the hell I wrote about yesterday. I think four and a half days of drinking and no sleep are finally catching up to me. Anyway, onward and upward.

After a couple cocktails at Harrah's, it struck me that The Preakness was on, and I had some cash riding on that thing. Luckily, there are four flat panels right over the bar for your viewing pleasure. I'm thinking, once again that this is a no brainer. This horse has never lost, right? Right... relax... you're going to win.

As the horses come to the gate, I light up. Daddy needs a little stress reliever for this bad boy. Here we go... silence... and... false start. Goddammit. Let's get it right you freaking midgets. O.K.... let's try that again. Silence, and then... the gate opens and the horses break. Normally, I wouldn't mean that in a literal sense. For those of you that watched that stupid miscarriage of justice and mockery of a sporting event, you know what I mean. For those of you that don't, here it is; the f'ing horse that I bet on, the one that had never lost, the one that was a sure thing, the one that was a no-brainer broke his fucking leg about ten feet out of the gate. You should have seen the bar. It was like a well choreographed dance routine. About fifty people pulled their racing tickets out of their pocket, tore them in half, cast them skyward, and made the same gesture that my grandfather makes when he thinks something is bullshit. Un-fucking-believable. That stupid fucking nag lost me $170. End of the world? No. But I do hope that pony is a baseball glove by the end of the week.

Anyway... happier and brighter thoughts.... ok... I'm better now. Another round... on me. MIght as well drown my sorrows and curse that stupid horse with a nice buzz. Amazing how so many girls get very photogenic and proud of what their plastic surgeon did after a few cocktails... here's the pics to prove it.

Well... I absolutely have to put these pics up or I'll just hate myself. Here's the other two California girls. They're a lot of fun if you ever make it out West.

Don't worry... I've got more, and you'll see them.

Anyway, after a few rounds at Harrah's, we were due for a change of scenery. Well, Margaritaville is two doors down... yeah, I'm in.

Margaritaville, as always, was cool. We walked in, and who is just walking out? You guessed it; my new friends from Canadia (yes, I know it's Canada, without the "i," but it's way more fun to say Canadia. Go ahead and try it... I'll wait. Done? Good. Yes, I know I'm right). Turns out they're going to be the same place as me and the rest of the Rochester contingent. Cool. I like them. Regardless... a quick margarita and a body shot or two of Patron, and it's upstairs time... which was cool because I've never sat on the roof of my church.

The upstairs outside bar of Margaritaville is cool. Nice, clean, breezy, and a great view of the strip. Oh yeah, the company was outstanding too. That always helps. Sooo... why stop now? Fire up the blender and get daddy and the blondes some of that frozen concoction that helps me hang on (hang on, hang on, hang on). If you didn't get that Buffett reference, I'm sorry. Now go listen to the "Songs You Know By Heart" or "Feeding Frenzy" album and come back. I promise I won't go anywhere.

Wow... back already? That was quick. Nice job.

The unique thing about Vegas is that you meet a bunch of people from all over the place, and they're all there for the same reason (more or less)... to have a good time. We met a couple from Cincinnatti that was very cool. I bought them a round, and they sent one back... although I think I was driving the girl nuts because I kept asking to bum her matches. Nobody has a lighter in that freaking town. Anyway, as I promised them... here they are. I think the guy is an electrical contractor, so if you're in the Cinci area and doing some building or remodeling, give him a shout. He's cool.

Well, after a few more rounds, Jen (one of the Cali girls) made a very bold statement. She said that she wasn't going to get on that plane and leave Vegas without making out with some guy. Well, I'm sure you know what happened. Who am I to deprive a girl of her parting wish? Like I said before, I'm a team player. God, I love this town.

How remiss would I be if I didn't include a group shot of, ya know what... I'm going to stop referring to them as "the Cali girls." I did go to the trouble of actually learning their names. So, here's the group shot of me, Mel, Jen and Frisky. Yes, my shirt says "dork" on it.

Well, it was getting to be about that time. They had to get on a plane, I gave a girl her departing wish, and I still needed some food and a nap before we hit the town. We said our tearful goodbyes, traded hugs, kisses and emails, and off they went. Always hard to say goodbye... especially to a certain one of them. But she knows that too, and it's cool.

Sorry to bring the room down there for a minute. I'm back.

Night 4... Body English at The Hard Rock. I love this club. I love it for a couple reasons; one is that when about a thousand people are waiting in line, we get escorted right by, into an elevator, and over to the VIP room. Again, it's times like these that I could kiss Russ. The other reason is that the VIP room is just that; a room. It's actually walled off from the rest of the club. Which is nice because I can only tolerate so many drunken, over-gelled assholes in silk shirts at one time. Yes, I'm one of them (except for the silk shirt... I'm a cotton kind of guy), but I'm not nearly as obnoxious and I can handle my alcohol. There's leather couches and tables galore, and they must have one hell of an exhaust system because with all the people smoking, you'd think it'd be a gas chamber in there... but it's not.

Well, as the vodka started flowing and the mouths started running and the looks started streaming from my eyes, somebody was able to locate our new friends from the Great White North. I'm talking, of course, about Peru. Again, I'm kidding. I'll stop that. No, not really. Anyway, the Canadian girls showed up... nothing but good vibes from that crew.

As I was hanging out (or oot, in Canadian), drinking, chatting, smoking, etc... a girl walked by that caught my eye and I had to talk to her. She had a spiky kind of mohawk thing going on with her hair, and was the textbook "girl all the bad guys want." I needed to talk to her. I did, for at least a little while, and had the presence of mind to snap a picture of her and her friend with my phone.

She had an awesome personality and was really easy to talk to... I thought I was in love. Another endearing quality that she posessed was... hmmm... how can I say this delicately so as not to offend? I got it; the biggest fucking rack I have ever seen in my entire life. There... tough to find just the right words sometimes. You know what I mean. And, yes, I did have the presence of mind to snap that picture too, but decorum prohibits me from posting it here. No, really, I can't. No, seriously... it'd be rude. No. Uh, no. Really, I'm not comfortable. Promise not to tell? Seriously, now? O.K. Here you go.

Uh, yeah... she was pretty proud of them. Wouldn't you be? Jesus. Again... I love this town.

I can't really remember what happened next, but I found myself in a limo headed back to the Flamingo with Todd and the Canadians from Canadia (yes, I know).

As we walked through the lobby for our last night there, we decided it would be a good idea to play a little blackjack. O.K.... a lot of blackjack. I think I did well. I didn't cash in my plane ticket, so that's always a good sign. Anyway, after a couple hours of that nonsense, we went back up to the room and, say it with me... nothing happened.

Well, the last day... departure day. I haven't used my camera nearly enough, so I'll try and make some use out of it. We had until 3:00 to get to the lobby, so obviously it's time to throw some cards and kill some time. Nick, Phil and I got some lunch, planned the strategy and headed to the tables. For some reason, I wasn't feeling it, and started walking around. Hmmm... what can one do in a casino to kill time? You guessed it... slots. I threw a twenty into one of the zillion machines, and three pulls later...

Holy balls! That worked out well. I cashed out, and tried to figure out something else to do to kill some more time. Well, there's a couple other slots in the casino, I think. Let's take a whack at one of them. Another twenty... I hit it for $160. This is retarded. Nobody wins on slots. There's no thinking involved. O.K.... maybe one more machine. Another twenty... I hit it for $130. RiGoddamndiculous. Just as I cashed that puppy out, Todd called, telling me that we've got to get our asses down to VIP to check out. Bummer... I felt a streak starting.

Over to the elevators and up to the room. A couple people didn't have the greatest luck in the world on the felt this trip. I told you I wouldn't say who won or who lost, but here's a shot of Nick with what's left of his bankroll.

Yeah... he's had better trips to the LV. Anybody catch the look on his face? Priceless. I will tell you though, even though they didn't do as well as they'd hoped, Nick and Phil still had the gangsta lean. Ya gotta love this town.

Unfortunately, it was time to say our last goodbyes to suite 25169 at the fabulous Flamingo Hotel and Casino... but not without a couple shots of the boys in the room. I couldn't pass that up.

It was time... we had to go. The Flamingo was nice enough to comp everything. In the immortal words of Russ, "they sure as fuck better."

We headed out front to the awaiting limos, loaded our gear, and headed off to the airport. As much as I hate to do it... here are the last shots from the Vegas '06 trip.

Wait, wait, wait... I have to get in this one. Excuse me, miss? Miss? Would you mind taking a picture of us? Great. Thanks.

Oh shit... wait. I don't think we were ready on that one. Would you mind taking another? Yes, Noah will kiss you if you'll take just one more. Deal? Great. Thanks again.

Thanks. Noah... give her a kiss. Thanks again. Enjoy your stay.

O.K.... that's done. Off to the airport. One problem... the second limo isn't here yet. The driver of the first one assured us that it would be inside of five minutes, so we didn't panic. It did eventually get there, but we pretty much were wishing for Superman to fly backwards around the Earth really fast and freeze time so that we wouldn't miss our flight. Turns out that wasn't the case... read on.

As we ran to the check-in line, I got the call from Russ. "Hey, don't bother hurrying... you've got some time. Our flight's been delayed three hours." Fabulous. I just love killing 3 extra hours in an airport. Oh well, at least we won't miss our flight.

Well, after clearing security, we met up, got some food, and still had about two and a half hours to kill. I don't know if you know this, but there are slot machines in the Vegas airport. That's right... they get you as soon as you get off the plane. However... not today. Not on my watch.

I sit down at a dollar machine and win $50 on the first pull. I go to another one and hit $110 on the third pull. I hit another one and pop that sucker for $150. O.K... need a break. Let's go have a smoke. Guess what? There are slot machines in the smoking lounge. Yes, ladies and gentlemen. During the course of one cigarette, I hit another one for $65. Uh, yeah... you could say I was hot... and I don't just mean my chisled upper body. Yes, it's O.K. to laugh now.

Well, we finally got on the plane and got into Buffalo around 2:30AM. It was exactly 5:03 when I finally fell into my own bed. I slept for an hour and a half, woke up, got showered and dressed, and actually made it to work by 9:00 AM. I know you're impressed.

So that's it. Such is the close of the Vegas '06 trip. If you enjoyed reading it half as much as I enjoyed stirring up all those memories and writing about it, then my work here was not in vain.

There is more... there's Tommy's tirade that he threw after losing $1,600 on a single hand of blackjack, there's the best gummi worm shot of all time that I executed, there's... well, let's just say there's a lot more... but this should do it for your Friday morning at work entertainment before a long weekend.

I gotta get going... I've got a serious Jones for some back bacon, maple syrup and a tall, ice cold Molson.

Until next time...

R