JcTc
09-06-2005, 06:53 PM
My friends and I planned a Vegas trip for the end of the summer. After a couple of people bailing, we had six people making the trip, one of whom would be flying out there and meeting us. The rest of us would be driving from Wisconsin in a 1986 Dodge Caravelle, in my opinion the classiest car out of all the 1980s Dodge models. All of us are 22 years old and are good friends, except the one guy who we just kinda threw in there because he said we could use his ride. We would be staying at the Boardwalk Hotel, for the bargain price of thirty bucks a night per room.
We left Thursday night and stopped at UW-Platteville, where a couple of my buddies go, and is a school often ridiculed for its horrible girl to guy ratio. True to form, the first bar we walked into had fifteen or so dudes and one girl, the bartender. Since I am straight, I wasn’t too excited.
Friday morning we drove to Iowa City to visit the University of Iowa, where classes had just begun that Monday, and where one of guys going out to Vegas with us went to school his freshman year. We visited a number of bars, my favorite being One Eyed Jake’s, where there were tons of hot girls and great deals including 25 pitchers for $25. Someone nailed a fat chick that night at the house we were staying at, and she left her panties in the dude’s room. The panties were discovered the next afternoon, with a delicious pube in them, so we decided that we should probably put them on our friend’s face, who was taking a nap in the living room.
We left Iowa City Saturday night, with about 24 hours of nonstop driving ahead of us until Vegas. Nothing really exciting happened until we stopped at a trucker’s diner in the middle of Nebraska at one in the morning, where our waitresses’ name was Flo, and we were actually able to use the line, “Excuse me Flo, what’s the soup d’Jour?”
While driving through Utah, a couple hours away from Vegas, we spotted two hot girls in a Grand Am. My friend got their attention by mooning them, and I knew they were ours for the taking. We needed to stop for gas, so when they turned off on the St. George exit, we followed them, and they yelled for us to follow them. They then led us to their apartment. Unfortunately, when they stepped out of their car, I noticed that they had been hiding about fifty extra pounds from us. Mormonism was brought up, and they mentioned that they were Mormon. To this I responded, “You’re probably not up for a gangbang then, huh.” That pretty much killed anyone’s shot of getting laid, but they invited us up anyways. I was thirsty so I asked if I could get a drink, and they pointed me to the kitchen, where I decided to steal some of their decorations.
As we approached Vegas, we knew the Caravelle was struggling. It was about 105 outside, and the air conditioning wasn’t working. Miraculously, we made it to the strip. Unfortunately, as we started hitting stoplights, the car started billowing smoke. A homeless man sitting in a bus stop actually laughed at us. Somehow, we made it to the Boardwalk.
The first night we were all there I suggested that we go to the Center Bar at the Hard Rock, as I had been advised to do so on here. It was packed, so I went to the blackjack tables and had a good run before heading over to the bar. I was really impressed with the place as a whole, as it had a good atmosphere and tons of hot girls, all of whom had old rich guys hitting on them. Three of my friends left to go to the bar at the MGM, and three of us stayed behind. When we left a half hour or so later and were headed out to our whip, a guy in a taxi stopped near us and offered to take us to a club, Club Paradise, for free. At first we hesitated, but then he offered to pay for our $30 a person cover charge, plus some money for drinks. At this point, I realized that he was talking about a strip club, and since I had never been to one before, I decided that we should go. So he drove us a couple blocks and dropped the three of us off with $100 in hand. I don’t know if this is normal, but it was pretty sweet.
To start off the next night, I headed down to the blackjack tables in the Boardwalk casino, where I proceeded to drop $250 in about 20 minutes. This put a damper on my mood, as I had been running very well at blackjack until that point. I then found out that even at the Boardwalk, the armpit of the strip, cocktail waitress do not like to be called “Tits Maggee”.
After pounding a few drinks, four of us headed over to the ESPN Zone. Although we missed the evening rush, it was still a pretty fun time, I got pretty trashed, and the bartender hooked us up with a round of free drinks. On our way out, I spit fire to the two hostesses, who were butt-ass ugly, but I don’t think anything happened.
From there we went to NY NY, where I decided to try my luck at blackjack again. After quickly dropping $50, I let a couple F-bombs drop, and the dealer told me that I could not say that word. Since I was drunk and angry, I asked her, “What about (insert every possible swear word you can think of), can I say that?” This must have angered the blackjack gods, as I dropped my last $50 in chips in two swift bets.
After the NY NY debacle, a friend and I went over to Excalibur to play some $1-3 no-limit hold ‘em and drink more. I was pretty hammered and playing poorly, but there was a hot foreign girl there to hit on. After somehow resisting me and repeatedly telling me she was married, I finally told her, “That doesn’t matter, I know the only reason you married him was to get your green card.” Only my friend and one other kid at the table laughed. At this point I realized the cocktail waitress was not making it our way nearly as often. Some douche at our table, who was a pretty decent player, said something smart to me that I don’t remember, so I responded with, “You’ve never had sex with a woman.” After I busted out, I challenged everyone to a $500 limit freeze-out, but nobody accepted. At that point, my friend and I decided to walk home, and we both vomited in front of our hotel rooms.
The last night, we decided to order one of the classy women you see on the cards the Hispanic people are handing out all along the strip. Here’s how the first conversation went:
“Uh, I got your card, what’s this all about?” *click*
The second call went better, and a girl got sent over to our place. However, when she got there, she was pretty average looking, and not dressed like a whore at all. She walked in and told us that it would be $70 just to negotiate with her. After reluctantly rounding up the money, she then told us the best scenario would be to get $100 each from the four of us. We all laughed at her. We did round up $50 each, and the fun began. First of all, she took her clothes off, not in a sexy way, but in a way you would do if you were getting into the shower. Also, she had weird boobs. She then took us one at a time on a bed and gave us a lap dance, with the other three watching and giggling. One of my friends, who was disgusted with her, actually said out loud, “What am I supposed to be thinking about here?”, as he looked like someone about to get a dental checkup. To this, she said “Next!” and kicked him off the bed. After our four dances, each of which lasted about 90 seconds, she left. So, after $270 and about ten minutes, one of my friends said, “We will never speak of this again.”
All in all, it was an awesome time, and I can’t wait to go back.
We left Thursday night and stopped at UW-Platteville, where a couple of my buddies go, and is a school often ridiculed for its horrible girl to guy ratio. True to form, the first bar we walked into had fifteen or so dudes and one girl, the bartender. Since I am straight, I wasn’t too excited.
Friday morning we drove to Iowa City to visit the University of Iowa, where classes had just begun that Monday, and where one of guys going out to Vegas with us went to school his freshman year. We visited a number of bars, my favorite being One Eyed Jake’s, where there were tons of hot girls and great deals including 25 pitchers for $25. Someone nailed a fat chick that night at the house we were staying at, and she left her panties in the dude’s room. The panties were discovered the next afternoon, with a delicious pube in them, so we decided that we should probably put them on our friend’s face, who was taking a nap in the living room.
We left Iowa City Saturday night, with about 24 hours of nonstop driving ahead of us until Vegas. Nothing really exciting happened until we stopped at a trucker’s diner in the middle of Nebraska at one in the morning, where our waitresses’ name was Flo, and we were actually able to use the line, “Excuse me Flo, what’s the soup d’Jour?”
While driving through Utah, a couple hours away from Vegas, we spotted two hot girls in a Grand Am. My friend got their attention by mooning them, and I knew they were ours for the taking. We needed to stop for gas, so when they turned off on the St. George exit, we followed them, and they yelled for us to follow them. They then led us to their apartment. Unfortunately, when they stepped out of their car, I noticed that they had been hiding about fifty extra pounds from us. Mormonism was brought up, and they mentioned that they were Mormon. To this I responded, “You’re probably not up for a gangbang then, huh.” That pretty much killed anyone’s shot of getting laid, but they invited us up anyways. I was thirsty so I asked if I could get a drink, and they pointed me to the kitchen, where I decided to steal some of their decorations.
As we approached Vegas, we knew the Caravelle was struggling. It was about 105 outside, and the air conditioning wasn’t working. Miraculously, we made it to the strip. Unfortunately, as we started hitting stoplights, the car started billowing smoke. A homeless man sitting in a bus stop actually laughed at us. Somehow, we made it to the Boardwalk.
The first night we were all there I suggested that we go to the Center Bar at the Hard Rock, as I had been advised to do so on here. It was packed, so I went to the blackjack tables and had a good run before heading over to the bar. I was really impressed with the place as a whole, as it had a good atmosphere and tons of hot girls, all of whom had old rich guys hitting on them. Three of my friends left to go to the bar at the MGM, and three of us stayed behind. When we left a half hour or so later and were headed out to our whip, a guy in a taxi stopped near us and offered to take us to a club, Club Paradise, for free. At first we hesitated, but then he offered to pay for our $30 a person cover charge, plus some money for drinks. At this point, I realized that he was talking about a strip club, and since I had never been to one before, I decided that we should go. So he drove us a couple blocks and dropped the three of us off with $100 in hand. I don’t know if this is normal, but it was pretty sweet.
To start off the next night, I headed down to the blackjack tables in the Boardwalk casino, where I proceeded to drop $250 in about 20 minutes. This put a damper on my mood, as I had been running very well at blackjack until that point. I then found out that even at the Boardwalk, the armpit of the strip, cocktail waitress do not like to be called “Tits Maggee”.
After pounding a few drinks, four of us headed over to the ESPN Zone. Although we missed the evening rush, it was still a pretty fun time, I got pretty trashed, and the bartender hooked us up with a round of free drinks. On our way out, I spit fire to the two hostesses, who were butt-ass ugly, but I don’t think anything happened.
From there we went to NY NY, where I decided to try my luck at blackjack again. After quickly dropping $50, I let a couple F-bombs drop, and the dealer told me that I could not say that word. Since I was drunk and angry, I asked her, “What about (insert every possible swear word you can think of), can I say that?” This must have angered the blackjack gods, as I dropped my last $50 in chips in two swift bets.
After the NY NY debacle, a friend and I went over to Excalibur to play some $1-3 no-limit hold ‘em and drink more. I was pretty hammered and playing poorly, but there was a hot foreign girl there to hit on. After somehow resisting me and repeatedly telling me she was married, I finally told her, “That doesn’t matter, I know the only reason you married him was to get your green card.” Only my friend and one other kid at the table laughed. At this point I realized the cocktail waitress was not making it our way nearly as often. Some douche at our table, who was a pretty decent player, said something smart to me that I don’t remember, so I responded with, “You’ve never had sex with a woman.” After I busted out, I challenged everyone to a $500 limit freeze-out, but nobody accepted. At that point, my friend and I decided to walk home, and we both vomited in front of our hotel rooms.
The last night, we decided to order one of the classy women you see on the cards the Hispanic people are handing out all along the strip. Here’s how the first conversation went:
“Uh, I got your card, what’s this all about?” *click*
The second call went better, and a girl got sent over to our place. However, when she got there, she was pretty average looking, and not dressed like a whore at all. She walked in and told us that it would be $70 just to negotiate with her. After reluctantly rounding up the money, she then told us the best scenario would be to get $100 each from the four of us. We all laughed at her. We did round up $50 each, and the fun began. First of all, she took her clothes off, not in a sexy way, but in a way you would do if you were getting into the shower. Also, she had weird boobs. She then took us one at a time on a bed and gave us a lap dance, with the other three watching and giggling. One of my friends, who was disgusted with her, actually said out loud, “What am I supposed to be thinking about here?”, as he looked like someone about to get a dental checkup. To this, she said “Next!” and kicked him off the bed. After our four dances, each of which lasted about 90 seconds, she left. So, after $270 and about ten minutes, one of my friends said, “We will never speak of this again.”
All in all, it was an awesome time, and I can’t wait to go back.