...and that's why I love her so. Of course, as with all filthy whores, you can't love her too much, and when you do you'd best use extreme caution.
Two of my best friends were in town for a few days, so on Monday and Tuesday nights I went over to the Strip to hang out with them. On Monday night we had strong ass margaritas at Margaritaville. These were serious Nick Nolte/Gary Busey liver-denting margaritas. I was half tanked by the time we got to the Mirage and stood in the VIP line for their new nightclub, Jet. Jet is new, and thusly the hottest spot in town right now, so believe me when I say I'm not their idea of a VIP. I'm a VIP at my neighborhood Starbucks (they gave several bags of Christmas Blend for free after the holidays) and a pretty big deal at the fat and tall section of Dillard's, but at this place? Uh, no.
Nevertheless, a friend of mine got my name on this VIP list. It was a sweet thing to do and a tremendous gesture, but she wasn't there with us and had no control over what happened next.
What happened? A lot of nightclubs are closed on Monday nights, so every hot cocktail waitress and female bartender in Vegas was also on the VIP list. If one hottie was on the list, would the club also let her ten hot friends in at the expense of fashion-unfriendly eye-cauliflower* such as myself? You bet your blog reading ass they would. Shit, if I owned a club in the most competitive business environment on earth, I'd do the same thing.
So, the VIP line became several lines. The aforementioned hot as fuckfire local girls got first dibs; next were any large group of attractive female tourists, followed by male friends of the door staff or one guy accompanied by two or more women. I believe I was in the "Not a fucking chance in hell" portion of the line.
Our line did move a little, and if we had made it to the front before the situation hit critical mass, they may have seen my name on their list and let me in. Unfortunately, these schlubs just a few people ahead of us committed a deadly sin: They tried to pawn off a "line pass" printed from a nightclubs.com website. If three people were in line, not three million, it might have worked. As soon as our prissy little staff guy saw that "pass" he never even looked at our line again. We were through. When football legend John Elway and his massive entourage walked in, I knew it was all over.
Waiting in that line may have been the best nightclub experience I've ever had. The beautiful women just kept coming in droves. These girls were so good looking I wondered how they'd ever find males physically worthy of mating with them. Seriously, there was no end in sight. We finally got tired of standing and left, but on the way out I was like "Hey, there's the best looking woman I've ever seen. Nope, there's the best looking...No, there she is." It was ridiculous.
The next night we went to Studio 54 and got in, because it's been there awhile. I like 54; I always have a good time there and that night was no exception. We were standing near the dance floor when suddenly I'm approached by one of the "line pass" guys from the night before. He says he and his friend waited almost four hours and never got in. Sure, these guys were kind of dorks, but that was a total dick move to let them get right to the front and NEVER let them in. I think I'm going to go to Jet this Saturday and give that List Nazi a vicious 702 beatdown. Yeah, it would have ruined his precious hip club to let those guys in. "Yeah, Jet was filled with the largest congregation of beautiful women ever assembled, but these too average guys totally fucked the vibe." What a bunch of scumbags. In a year they'll be begging people to go to their club.
What a crazy couple of days; everything I like about Vegas, everything I hate about Vegas, all in full effect.
Two of my best friends were in town for a few days, so on Monday and Tuesday nights I went over to the Strip to hang out with them. On Monday night we had strong ass margaritas at Margaritaville. These were serious Nick Nolte/Gary Busey liver-denting margaritas. I was half tanked by the time we got to the Mirage and stood in the VIP line for their new nightclub, Jet. Jet is new, and thusly the hottest spot in town right now, so believe me when I say I'm not their idea of a VIP. I'm a VIP at my neighborhood Starbucks (they gave several bags of Christmas Blend for free after the holidays) and a pretty big deal at the fat and tall section of Dillard's, but at this place? Uh, no.
Nevertheless, a friend of mine got my name on this VIP list. It was a sweet thing to do and a tremendous gesture, but she wasn't there with us and had no control over what happened next.
What happened? A lot of nightclubs are closed on Monday nights, so every hot cocktail waitress and female bartender in Vegas was also on the VIP list. If one hottie was on the list, would the club also let her ten hot friends in at the expense of fashion-unfriendly eye-cauliflower* such as myself? You bet your blog reading ass they would. Shit, if I owned a club in the most competitive business environment on earth, I'd do the same thing.
So, the VIP line became several lines. The aforementioned hot as fuckfire local girls got first dibs; next were any large group of attractive female tourists, followed by male friends of the door staff or one guy accompanied by two or more women. I believe I was in the "Not a fucking chance in hell" portion of the line.
Our line did move a little, and if we had made it to the front before the situation hit critical mass, they may have seen my name on their list and let me in. Unfortunately, these schlubs just a few people ahead of us committed a deadly sin: They tried to pawn off a "line pass" printed from a nightclubs.com website. If three people were in line, not three million, it might have worked. As soon as our prissy little staff guy saw that "pass" he never even looked at our line again. We were through. When football legend John Elway and his massive entourage walked in, I knew it was all over.
Waiting in that line may have been the best nightclub experience I've ever had. The beautiful women just kept coming in droves. These girls were so good looking I wondered how they'd ever find males physically worthy of mating with them. Seriously, there was no end in sight. We finally got tired of standing and left, but on the way out I was like "Hey, there's the best looking woman I've ever seen. Nope, there's the best looking...No, there she is." It was ridiculous.
The next night we went to Studio 54 and got in, because it's been there awhile. I like 54; I always have a good time there and that night was no exception. We were standing near the dance floor when suddenly I'm approached by one of the "line pass" guys from the night before. He says he and his friend waited almost four hours and never got in. Sure, these guys were kind of dorks, but that was a total dick move to let them get right to the front and NEVER let them in. I think I'm going to go to Jet this Saturday and give that List Nazi a vicious 702 beatdown. Yeah, it would have ruined his precious hip club to let those guys in. "Yeah, Jet was filled with the largest congregation of beautiful women ever assembled, but these too average guys totally fucked the vibe." What a bunch of scumbags. In a year they'll be begging people to go to their club.
What a crazy couple of days; everything I like about Vegas, everything I hate about Vegas, all in full effect.
24 Comments:
I'M FIRST?!!
That alone is reason for celebration!
Raise your salt-rimmed marg glass and have a toast with me, Todd.
(I've subsequently forgotten what the hell I wanted to say...)
God, that is the WORST. I hate going to a club and being 1 of 15,000 women all vying for 1 of the 12 men there.
It is so degrading...if only I would dress skankier and give my girlfriends even more sexual lapdances, that would make everything better.
Looks like I pissed a bad day to kill myself
I wanna go to whatever club Claudia goes to.
I hate places like that.
I prefer old-man bars where you can win 5 lbs of kielbasa in the sports trivia contest.
i also love old man bars!
with 2 dollar shots and bad lighting.
Vegas amazed me when I was there, it was like every woman there was model potential.
I don't even like to queue for a bus.
So glad I'm too old to do that stuff anymore.
real,
doesn't look like this is a very popular post, real. But congrats on being first and all.
claudia,
try not being allowed in for being a giant male dork.
calzone,
no day is a bad day to kill oneself.
jj,
me too. Claudia is one of Canada's cutest chicks.
ubermilf,
replace "kielbasa" with "country ham" and that describes some of my favorite bars in Louisville.
princess,
yes, you do need to come over here. If I'd been with you, not only would I have been blissfully happy about being in your amazingly hot presence, I would have gotten in the club.
miss kendra,
I was at a bar back home over the holidays with $2.50 Makers Mark drinks. That is sweet.
awe,
but are they truly happy? Yeah, of course they are.
owl,
lines suck. If you die and there's a line, you didn't go to heaven.
brooke,
my way too old, but I was trying to entertain friends.
Don't care if it's popular or not, I'm first and that's all that counts!
(pathetic, I know)
I got a VIP invitation to someplace in Chicago once. Never went, not my deal. Ah well, maybe I'm an idiot. Maybe not.
Oooh, Margaritaville is my favorite place on earth. But only on New Year's Eve.
real,
well okay then.
megan,
Good idea, on paper. In reality, I'm sure I would have scared them.
indie,
the next time you're in town will you be my booby pass to get in clubs? Not Light at the Bellagio, of course, but other clubs?
wuneye,
maybe you saved yourself a lot of time.
bill the a.,
thanks. "Mama don't let your babies grow up to be gay cowboys."
knitty,
are you drunk? Because I refuse to believe you don't know the proper usages of "your" and "you're".
andi,
it's always New Year's Eve in Las Vegas. Except for New Year's Eve, when it gets really crazy.
Vegas stories get me so excited. I want to jump on a plane now!
I'm still convinced that Busey and Nolte are the same guy.
honestly?
yes.
Bill the apostle? What new movement is he head of? Guess I'll google up his site and see what else Jesus has appointed him to do besides harrassing you.
We should get you to do spoken word. You'd get all kinds of art-school bitchez at those things.
Hmm, nobody is too old for Vegas! It depends on what you are trying to do also. It's so boring where I live, I think a trip to Vegas is in order!
tumbleweed,
please get on that plane and visit.
joint,
I've never seen them together.
knitty,
I knew it.
evil,
these women may been psuedo-beautiful altogether, but on the outside they were just plain beautiful.
kat,
no, these guys had no chance, and neither did I. They let a few guys in early, plus most of the people who reserved tables were guys.
bill,
Jesus told me he thinks you're a tool.
porchwise,
there's always some religious fanatic bugging me.
cladeedah,
as long as they shave their pits.
joanne,
make the trip. You'll have a blast.
I've never stood in a line to get into a club. That just seems weird to me. Course, I've never been to a club in America so I guess maybe that's normal here? Whatever... I am now pretty sure I'm never going to Vegas. I enjoy being relatively hot... as in "Michigan Hot". I guess I'd be relatively a dog in Vegas and would never get to drink out of the confines of my cell. Uh, cell as in where the nuns live, not as in prison, eh? Cuz like I'd have to be a nun since I'd be a dog? Oh, nevermind.
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