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NASCAR Racing, Exotic Rhinos and Toilet Beverages

Discussion in 'Vegas Trip Reports' started by double_vision, Sep 22, 2014.

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  1. double_vision

    double_vision Newbie

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    My Trip Report

    For those of you who didn't get a chance to read my last adventure of mishaps, poor judgement and underestimating one's capacity, check it out at http://www.vegasmessageboard.com/forums/showthread.php?89637-Adult-Video-Awards-AK-47-s-and-a-night-of-regret

    Moving on....

    It had become apparent things between Numbers and his schmoopy had gotten serious, so we planned to have this poor man's bachelor party at the only place you can leave your self-dignity and worth behind, only to tell your family you 'played some cards'... Vegas, Baby!

    Fortunately for all my American friends, this is a domestic flight for you. Myself, living so close to the border, I drive to the ol' U.S. of A. before embarking on my journey of self-deprecation and destruction. I picked up my old pal JC, and brought along another comrade Pork Chop (for some unspoken nationality reasons) for our drive across the border.

    For some background, Numbers and JC being huge NASCAR fans had decided while in Vegas we should go check out a race. I had never been too into the show, but chalked it up as another experience. Me, JC and Pork Chop had our annual morning beer before our journey began, jumped in my car and headed down to the border. As we got in line, excitement building within, I tried to stay calm and cool. After all, we were doing nothing wrong... aside from morals and principals that had been grounded into us since childhood. We approached the kiosk and after a few questions were directed to pull over and go inside the 'House of Pain'. Great. I had hoped for some penetration on this trip... but with myself on the other end.

    Fortunately, they just wanted to run a background check on us and we were on our way. It still didn't stop me from hastily reminding JC and Pork Chop that these border guards had the authority to do things to them that would set them on a lifetime path of therapy and muscle relaxants. There was a rather large group of us flying down to Vegas for Numbers stag, and we all rendezvoused at a small diner in a smaller town. Even after our close experience of behind opened up like a Thanksgiving turkey at the border, we still beat everyone down there. We walked to a gas station and grabbed a six pack of beer (God bless America) and proceeded to wet our proverbial whistle in anticipation of our journey.

    After a solid breakfast and a few Mimosa's (Orange juice and champagne for all our Pabst Blue Ribbon fans out there) we began our trip to the airport. We all talked of various schemes and plans to shred Numbers self-worth on his bachelor party, giggling like 10 year olds at fart jokes. Airport security was a breeze.... and time to hit the bar. Rome wasn't built in a day, and I needed to slowly climatize my body to the vast amount of pollutants I planned on pouring into it the next three days. Me and my liver still aren't on speaking terms.

    I could go on and on about being threatened at the airport bar about cutting us off at 9:30am due to the constant barrage of jokes and verbal insults being thrown around when you get 10 guys away from their wives, girlfriends, jobs and responsibilities, but I'm sure you all can imagine the type of jerk-offs we were as you hoped you weren't going to be stuck in between us on the plane. After nearly missing our flight, we all pile on the plane and proceed to ingest more Jack Daniels, Budweiser and Vodka that is considered 'appropriate'. Much to the relief of everyone in earshot of us in the plane, we finally arrived in Vegas. I nearly wet myself looking at the fine picture of casino's, stripclubs and a city of broken dreams before me as we descended.

    Upon arriving in Vegas, we grab a limo and get the essentials- enough liquor to wipe out a small village in Haiti. If only we had a before and after picture. We all start pouring booze down our gullets, talking about plans and generally razzing Numbers. We pull up to Bally's, pour out like a bunch of misfits and check in. During which all this I'm convinced I lose my passport in the limo, have a nervous breakdown, and then discover it in my pocket 30 minutes later. Don't get me wrong, I love our neighbours down South, but I also enjoy free health care. We all check-in, clean ourselves up and hit the strip to get a feel for the town. After an hour or two of walking around, drooling at women and drinking some more, we head to Margaritaville for some refreshments and food. You can't build a house without a solid foundation.

    The place has a good vibe, I order Nacho's and and a few drinks, basking in the glory of the times to come. Unfortunately, a member of our crew spills his drink on the table, prompting a large crowd of grown men to start yelling to 'SHOOT THE BOOT!" For those of you who haven't heard of this, or have a university education, this mishap by our colleague prompts him to pour the rest of his drink into one of his comrade's shoes, and drink it. That's right... he has to drink out of a shoe, or 'shoot the boot'. You may cringe at the thought of this... best rest assured, it's just as disgusting as it sounds. I hold my beer with an iron grip, as I laugh at another man's misfortune. Camera flashes fly, other patrons point, and we all heckle at another human's misfortune. After leaving Margaritaville I'm sure to the staff's relief, we decide it's time to experience one of Vegas' fine attractions- a strip club.

    EXOTIC RHINO (with a side of mint)
    With us being in such a large group, the only logical decision was to rent a party bus to herd us to a place where college funds and paychecks go to die- a topless bar in Vegas. This particular establishment is one of our favorites. If the headline didn't give it away, you haven't lived. We pile in, order bottle service and set up shop like a bunch of pubescent 16 year olds across from the stage. Needless to say, the girls flock like the salmon of Capistrano. One of Numbers' older friends, fresh out of a long term relationship, proceeds to blow through his entire budget for the weekend in the 'VIP' room. I laugh. Rookie. I sample the girls, engaging in small talk and $20 lapdances as while continuing to refill my drink with the unimaginable amount of liquor in front of me. JC gets up to his old tricks, like a kid in a candy store. After thoroughly enjoying ourselves we depart from Heaven on Earth, reeking of perfume and self degradation. Man, I love this town.

    As we arrive back on the strip, many in our platoon have blown through a large chunk of their budgets with nothing but fond memories and raging hormones to part with. After hitting the Strip for some more drinks and cards, we generally slide off, one solider at a time leaving the ranks. It's the first night in Vegas, and we've got a big day ahead of us. After hitting the tables for awhile, I stumble back to my abode to sleep off the first day.
     
  2. vegasqc

    vegasqc VIP Whale

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    Now thats what i call a great start
     
  3. acccrow

    acccrow Tourist

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    I guess saying "swallows" about the aboriginal ingenues from the strip club is an admission of guilt, huh?

    Have fun on the trip! :peace:
     
  4. tringlomane

    tringlomane STP Addicted Beer Snob

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    Great read! Looking forward to more!
     
  5. onebud1

    onebud1 Low-Roller

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    This sounds like fun waiting to happen...
     
  6. BellaBlvd

    BellaBlvd Low-Roller

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    Loving it so far!
     
  7. double_vision

    double_vision Newbie

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    After getting our inaugural night out of the way, we all awoke the next day to another sunny day in Sin City. I've been to Vegas countless times, but had actually never been to a buffet. I partially blame this on the fact that when you're stumbling down the strip like a zombie from a full day of drinking with random $1 chips in your pockets from numerous casino's, the thought of dishing your own food seems comparable to hiking the Himalayas. But being bright-eyed and bushy tailed in the morning, I tagged along with the gang to hit a breakfast buffet on Fremont. After searching for this 'special' buffet a guy had told us about (which was beginning to sound about as real as a unicorn) we finally arrived at the illustrious Main Street Station buffet.

    After paying I can't remember how much (it seemed overly expensive, but I was too hungover to care) we grabbed a table, and grabbed our plates as we hit the trough. I wasn't quite sure what I was planning on expecting, but it definitely wasn't deep-fried chicken with some white creamy stuff on it, old heat-lamped pizza or desserts. Fortunately, I found my way to the breakfast area and loaded up with eggs, bacon, and the usual breakfast tag-alongs. For those of you that read these for reviews, the buffet was exactly like how you'd imagine it (old chewy bacon, bland eggs...) but at this point, I needed to refuel to get back on track.

    After finishing up, we walked out in regret, and decided it was a good time to find us some cheap blackjack. Ever since we discovered the Sahara and $1 blackjack many moons ago (it's closed now, and those days I'm sure are gone) we have always been on the prowl for cheap tables, and copious amounts of liquor and obscenities. We find flirting with the dealer and doling out compliments a good way to avoid being asked to leave. If you're dealer is a male, that's your fault for choosing that table.

    We settled in at a table at The Fremont, all chairs occupied with 2-3 guys standing around, unexpectedly cheering and binge drinking. I went up and down, but thoroughly enjoyed 'Lisa' bringing me consecutive rum n' cokes, sometimes before I had even finished the one in my hand. I try to tip the waitresses well when at the table. Nothing sucks like having to wait 15 minutes for your warm beer to arrive while she's handing out drinks to tipping patrons. We throw some cards around, the Pit Boss asks if we're in the military to which we answer "No, we're Canadian" much to her dismay. I throw a few more rum n' cokes back while I take drags off my American cigarette, surely pissing off a large number of people around me. God bless Vegas. After growing bored with the table after an hour or so, we grab some beers and take a stroll down Fremont street. As people clutch their Starbucks and take pictures, we walk down the street swilling Budweiser and talking so loudly that everyone on the street is privy to our conversation, by choice or not. After always having such glorious times at the strip clubs in Vegas, we suddenly stumble across a dwelling that calls our name- the Glitter Gulch, complete with a neon light whore on the top in cowboy boots.

    For those unaware of this place, it's a topless bar on Freemont. However, unlike the many other wonderful competitors they have in Vegas, this place must not conduct interviews or screen their girls. Now, it might have been the fact that it was 2 in the afternoon, but the women in here were about as appealing as Rosie O'Donnell in the heat of summer. After sitting down by the stage and ordering our 2-drink minimum, we realized we had made a dire mistake. I half-heartedly cheered a washed-up old woman on the stage, more out of sympathy than anything. Starting to get bummed out and embarrassed being in here, I made the conscious decision to drink both my beers as quickly as possible and vacate this dump. My friends agreed. Most likely spotting a large group of grown men chugging beers at their table at 2 in the afternoon (unbeknownst to her, to shorten this pain as quickly as possible) a few strippers approached us. If the Minty Rhino had Corvettes and Porsches, this cast was comparable to that old used car lot on the corner you never see anyone at with numbers written on the windshields. After being asked if I wanted a lapdance and politely declining (while secretly cringing inside) we escaped this lair. Back out in the sunshine, we figured we'd go find a bar in a casino to drink at and see what kind of fun we could get into. Meeting up with some friends who were already drinking and playing Keno (these are men in their 20's...) we join the table and begin ordering cheap Coors Light pitchers. While I consider Coors Light similar to drinking ditch water, I indulge in a pace hopefully fast enough that soon the taste won't matter.

    One thing about Vegas, when you spot a large group of women, they generally are receptive to your advances (unless it's 3am, and you're on the strip with one eye closed and a shoe missing). In this case, these women were north of 40. Do you know what's easier than finding cheap booze in Vegas? Picking up cougars. I saunter over, full of liquid pride and courage with a smile on my face and began chatting these women up. Being 20 years younger than them and feeling like a prized bull at a rodeo, I quickly engage in jokes and small talk. My friends all watch, laughing and cheering from across the bar as I continue on my exploit. They were all quite fun, nice people, but I zeroed in on an older one (probably shifting my attention away from her litter) who laughed at all my jokes and looked at me with eyes that hinted at her 'adventurous side'. After collecting her phone number (in and out, leave on a high note) I saunter back to my friends to bask in my glory. P*ssies.

    After a day of Freemont, I'm ready to go back to the strip. Some of the married guys take off together into the night (probably to call their wives and go jerk off). We eventually find ourselves back at Bally's (our hotel) and set up by the round-bar by the elevators. Knowing we have an early morning and big race day ahead of us (NASCAR), Numbers and JC go back to their rooms around 11 to take out their tampon's. Me and Pork Chop sit at the bar, heckling Peyton Manning fans and directing attention towards ourselves. As it crawled closer to 2:30 in the morning, and knowing I had to get up at 8 that next morning, I decide now's a good time to get some sleep. Pork Chop decides to stay out and play some poker, to which I decline.

    I hit the sandwich shop by the bar and elevators and grab the illustrious Corned Beef sandwich to accompany me to my chambers. I'll definitely need to tip housekeeping. "Big day tomorrow" I think to myself as I piledrive corned beef into my face...
     
  8. breanna61

    breanna61 Super Moderator

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    Off to a great start.....this is a fun report!
     
  9. queentata

    queentata High-Roller

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    Great start! More please!
     
  10. REELmoneySlotFan

    REELmoneySlotFan High-Roller

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    What a great story so far. Don't make us wait too long for the next episode. You guys are having my kind of trip :)
     
  11. reedy

    reedy Low-Roller

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    Very well written. Enjoying this a lot.
     
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