drunk on vegas…

I currently have three trips planned for Las Vegas this summer. While most people would see this as a good thing, I’m apparently not most people.

It is safe to say if Vegas and I described our relationship (on Facebook), we’d go with “It’s complicated.”

My most memorable (& vaguely remembered) experience happened earlier this year.

Here is the scenario:

+ Arriving on a Tuesday

+ 30 hours in Vegas before flying to Chicago

+ Speaking at conference followed by work meetings/dinner

Needless to say all of my usual Vegas concerns were put to rest. How much trouble could I get into? Answer: Hella.

There was an unforeseen wildcard that initiated a set of events that would take this trip from an episode of The Office to Jersey Shore(minus the gym and tanning). My homegirl was celebrating her birthday that night. I provided us. Her party provided bottles and friends.

What started out as stopping by for a few celebratory drinks quickly became finishing bottles and moving on to shots. Strangely as the next day got closer, it seemed to get further and further away as far as my alter ego (drunk onetrik) was concerned.

The next event was meeting an attractive Tuesday night party connoisseur with details on a next hot spot. What would it look like if I turned down a “personal” invitation? Smart…But smart is THE one thing I was not at this point in the evening (approximately 2:30am based on incoherent text messages reviewed later). I was not too concerned with that 9am conference call because my fun satchel was obviously not full. I arrived at the next party just in time to see Lil John spinning and hold conversations I would never remember with said ATNP connoisseur.

Fast forward to 3pm Wednesday afternoon. I’m awaken by banging on the door followed by “Mr. OneTrik. Your co-workers called. They are worried about you.” Yeah, awesome. The following quickly became apparent to me:

+ I’m alive. Good.

+ I made it back to my hotel room. Good.

+ I’ve missed my flight to Chicago. Bad.

+ I’ve missed nearly the entire day of work including multiple morning phone calls. Bad.

+ I have nearly $1500 in my wallet that was not there yesterday. Good.

+ My co-workers think I’m dead. Bad.

While the good and bad seem to even out, I can assure they did not. During my rush to pack, check-out, and get to airport, I was able to piece together some of the story through ATM receipts, text messages, and (henna) tattoos. Based on the clues, I decided to leave the party and try my hand at gambling around 4:30am. I must have been bringing down the house (even though I sure I wasn’t able to count to 2 let alone count cards) given the stacks of $100s in my wallet the next day. Unfortunately my calls to the casino to review security tapes to piece together the rest of the night have gone unanswered.

I can’t be the only one Vegas treats so well. What are your best Vegas stories?



About usbottlesandfriends
The tales of unpredictable truths from those guys your mom warned you about.

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