Thursday, June 16, 2011

Diplomacy in Las Vegas

It seems that in previous encounters by multiple Nightowls, Las Vegas has been called the unconquerable city. that held true this time as well, but this wasnt a real attempt. The Fez wedding was merely an act of diplomacy, a journey to try and reason with Vegas, to let us use its facilities. It was a successful operation, but at times Vegas seemed a little too proud to let us roam free and have our piece of the action.

Day one began for me when i arrived at the Luxor. no big deal. Vegas simply informed me that a leather jacket would not be neccesary, and if i disobeyed, it would melt my skin off. so I decided to walk from there to the Bellagio. Vegas later told me that this was against the rules, as cab fare was much cheaper in the wallet than walking was on the body, and it was right. that is a long fucking walk. from the time I arrived to the time I left, I watched fez throw down chip after chip, while being a jew with my own poorly resources, as Fez ended the night 500 bucks up, after a master hand in carribean stud landed him a cool 1100 dollars, and the ire of his soon to be wife, as we were quite intoxicated.
the highlight of this particular evening was the whore parade. 50 to 60 bony sluts in all colors of the rainbow strutting down the Bellagio hallway, surrounding some rich fuck. he shall now be remembered as "the least interesting man in the world".

day two was a blur. more of the fez clan show up. we go swimming. i wait 30 minutes for the skunt pool waitress to bring me an 8 oz. bud light, which costs $7.50, and then everyone wants to leave. as i go to collect my shit, the wind blows over my half finished lambourghini of budweiser, spilling it on the pool deck. Vegas you cruel bastard. We then have the wedding rehearsal, which about half the bridal are present for. yay. more gambling, and a buffet with children running amok.

day three, the wedding day. I wake up and my feet are hot charcoal. the walking has reminded me that Vegas is still picky about our hospitality. my heels feel like theyve been beaten with golf clubs. fuck my ass. anyway, on to the preperation. the shrieks of the women still haunt me. the panic and chaos, the desperation to get everything perfect, and the loathing of the bridesmaids when observing the unruly Kaiser and his seemingly bumtastic mop of hair. luckily one of them fixed that. the miracle of miracles, the 3 and 4 year old daughters of the bride throwing flowers in unison exactly as told, without raising hell and undoing the world.
sometime during this day, Hereim wins 5 thousand on a dollar slot machine. Gunnamatna.

the reception, another blur. 50 people going in 50 different directions, and then recovering to appear in the penthouse suite in the Bellagio, annhialating the liquor supply. embarassing stories told, new friends and new scip-scaps met. cougars going fucking apeshit. this should really be the heaviest part of the story, but It was such a blur of nonsense and shit, its hard to remember.

Highlights:
whore parade
monstrously tall people
linebacker trannys
33,000
carpet vaginas
girl time
federal reserve cashews
pink skirt, black mudflaps
barfing ramon

Gunnamatna.

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