The first person I talked to was Birkner, who was in the mood to start the vacation off right, so as he picked a spot by the pool, I walked three blocks to the nearest gas station for supplies. I purchased a Styrofoam cooler, a bag of ice, two six packs of Dos Equis, and a sixer of Corona, all bottles. The bill was a slim $42. I don�t claim to be the World�s Strongest Drunk, but I could feel the burn as I walked back to the hotel loaded to the hilt with cervezas. It was a windy desert day in Nevada, which made the lid of my cooler a constant pain in the ass, I nearly dropped the whole load about three times.
I arrived at the pool patio, ready to begin Cerveza Day, and handed Birkner a bottle of joy. Apparently, the Hooters Staff does not allow glass conainers by their pools, and a cute little female employee notified us of it. Birkner negotiated with the dame, and we were given plastic cups, and we could drink as long as the bottles never left their Styrofoam fortress. After a few drinks, Pistol Pete arrived and told us that Chad and Dan�s room was just on the other side of the fence, so the Mexican beers had a new home. Cerveza Day was really coming together, but I felt something was missing. Beer in hand, I went into the hotel lobby, and headed to the gift shop. I took two steps in, and saw the item that would seal the deal on the first day in Vegas. A hat:
Looking like Brett Michaels, and feeling like a million dollars, I returned to the beach, and started to drink beer like Prohibition was starting the next day. After a few hours, the cervezas were done, and I was ready to hit the streets of Vegas. So I showered up, and put on one of my five jerseys that I brought for the trip, I believe it was my Cardinals batting practice uniform. I walked, alone, to the New York, New York Hotel and Casino. As soon as I entered the place, I knew I would spend a lot of time there. I hit the ATM, found a kiosk that sold bottles of Corona, and Cerveza Day continued.
As I strolled through the hustle and bustle of the casino floor, I admired the re-created New York skyline, and the cocktail waitresses that brought back the thought of �Shwing!� I eventually made my way to the ESPN Zone of the establishment.
Being the kid that I am, the large arcade of the ESPN Zone was a blessing, I purchased a 64 oz. frozen Margarita, bought an arcade charge card, and introduced the 12 year old in me to booze. Being twice the age of everyone else there, I should have felt out of place, but I was strangely comfortable kicking little kids asses at every game there. The fine folks at ESPN were prepared for my drunken video gaming, though, as each arcade had a cup holder that could hold my gigantic Margarita. One game in particular, caught my attention, it was entitled �Ghost Squad�
The game put an HK MP5 modeled submachine gun in your hands, and turned you loose on countless goons. I spent hours letting the Punisher in me loose. At one point, I was joined by a 10 year old kid, who wanted to help my drunk-ass shoot up the joint. After a few tours of duty, the kid ran out of money, I said, �Sorry, man, but I�m not going to front you on this.� He replied, �Let me try something.�
The kid took one step back, and kicked the coin slot of the machine like he was going for a fucking field goal. I leaned back, and then started laughing my ass off. The machine spewed out about five dollars worth of quarters, and the tide of the war turned in our favor. After beating the game, the kid wanted to hang out more, I said, �No man, I�d better go pick on somebody my own size.�
After winning a few dollars at Blackjack, I visited the �Nine Fine Irishmen� pub of the casino.
When I stepped into the place, I instantly wanted to dance a jig, instead, I went to the bar. I had never had Scotch before this trip, and I felt that there would be no better venue for trying it. I had a Jameson and coke, found myself a seat, and took in some fine Irish music.
I returned to the Hotel, and just outside of Dan Marino�s bar, a band was playing, when I hit the scene, Wild Turkey and Coke in hand, the started to play �The Joker� by the Steve Miller Band. The song means a lot to me, and if you don�t know why, read the story �The Origin of the Midnight Tokers.� and oh yeah, get fucking real.
Before the trip, we were all told to bring dress clothes so that we would be granted access to the upper-class strip clubs that Vegas has to offer. When the time came for the crew to make the trip to Vagina Blvd, I was in no condition to put on dress clothes and act sober in front of women. I asked Taake if he would mind if I skipped the trip to 'The Rain' he said it was fine, and wished me luck on staying drunk. I had my own fun at the bar, and after a while, I returned to the room for a midnight snack, I phoned room service, and had twenty hotwings delivered to my door. The crew returned from the strip club, and apparently Pro-Wrestler, and all around badass Goldberg is also a fan of naked women, as they saw him at the club. When they arrived, I was set up on the bed, with a TV Tray full of wings, on a doily, no less. The general thought was, "You skipped on THIS...
...for THAT??" I aplogized, and got to bed, I had plans on seeing a stand up comedian in the hours to come. I would say in the days to come, but my trip to Vegas wasn't measured in days, it was measured in the hours I spent between blackouts.