When Boy Scouts do Vegas

Every few months it seems, my fellow Scouters from the camp that I worked at get a need to surround themselves with a handful of our friends/co-workers/family from the camp. Typically, the largest of these reunions happens in the middle of October, originally surrounding a large college's homecoming or biggest rival football game. As of more lately, and with the scenarios that play out, it's usually in some small town, with not a whole lot going for it, for reasons that include but are not limited to: we aren't really going to leave the house any way, other than to find more alcohol or some food; when more than 3 of us are in public somewhere, we are still in our own little world, and are likely to be arrested for attempted shenanigans that are perfectly fitting for Lord of the Flies and "Neverland" (not the "ranch", but the fantasy land of Peter Pan).

This past weekend was one of those such occasions that a small handful of us decided to convene somewhere closer to the Western United States. Originally, it was to be a "Girls Weekend" (yes, I was to be invited to that as well... go figure).

My bus driver, and the base mom of sorts, my friend/co-worker and girl I'd spent more Christmases with this decade than my own family, and a handful of the other female counselors that all had banded together had decided to take a President's Day weekend break for their non-camp life jobs, and play together somewhere. This particular weekend, it happened to be Vegas.

The plan had always been for me to come and meet up with them at another employee's house in Vegas, we'll call him Shorty, seeing as how that's how I know him. Several of the girls had to pass on the trip, but Hurricane (Xmas girl) and Momm were still sure as hell coming out. Fortunately, I had a Ft Lauderdale appearance fall through for Valentines Weekend and was able to make it. Though, that wasn't without threats by the two to harm and torture me for skipping out on the reunion.

As is the case with all of my fellow Mates (our actual title at the camp), a couple of guys had caught wind that we were going to be in Vegas, and happened to be free that weekend. Also, a fellow Mate currently going to Law school in San Diego had the weekend free, and his childhood friend who happens to be a pilot, was looking to take the plane out somewhere.

Somewhere between the hours of 7pm Fri night, and my arrival at 6p on Sat: Hurricane, Momm, Foreman (kid sounds just like Eric Foreman from That 70's Show), Heath (looks like Heath Ledger), Tucker (Law School, but he's going to be living the Tucker Max route I think) and Pilot all met up way south of the strip at Shorty's place. The following story is what had happened over the next 36 hours:

While I was driving en route from Orange County and my adventures down there, The 1st half of the group decided it was a great time to go on a Dam Tour. They were still getting their bearings together, and were coming out of the "real world' work and life mentality and slowly started to head towards Island Kids. This would soon be short lived, like a drunk remembering directions to any location that he's been drunk before. Soon they were terrorizing the Dam with only the rights and beliefs that a camp counselor has, that we can go anywhere, do anything, and we are The Shit. Heath decided to push these envelopes a little. I can't see what he's touching, or reaching for, but I'm sure that rail is there for a reason, and his face is showing that he's not supposed to be doing that.

 

Now, I know that this is the part where I was missing. Yes, this is the tame and collective part of this adventure. This was the warm up. Not that it got crazy, we're pretty good kids, but it is in this pic, the cliche touristy "We were here." Oddly enough though, I remember talking with Foreman when this pic was taken. He was a bit excited to see everyone and wanted us all there that moment. It was here the you can see Foreman telling me that "Bilding, you need to hurry your ass up. We're ready to DRINK." 

Now, I will never call myself "refined" or "with class" I am more at home, living without modern conveniences and off the natural land. My friends and I share this. By all means, we can and do enjoy a dinner with more flavors and textures than you reasonably know what to do with. While we are more comfortably showering once a week, sleeping on the ground or in a hammock, donning Off or Cutter as our preferred cologne of choice, with a water bottle and knife being our favorite accessories; we thoroughly enjoy a great night on the town, with all the glitz and glam. Pretty much, I knew that I was walking into an adventure we should probably title When the Lost Boys Go Hollywood.


So, it was no surprise when I was 20 miles out, that they had called me again, getting ansy. Tucker and Pilot had arrived just as they left the dam, and they picked up a ton of Papa Johns for dinner. Of course, when I finally walked in the door, they were all 3 drinks in. 3 very potent drinks. The counselors from my camp have a particular drink that they prefer. I had been introduced to it years previous by an employee, and had passed it along to all those that wanted to try it and whom typically became hooked. Of course, people all living on an island, our drink is that of Rum.

It used to be called a Three Rum Monty, but, look it up, you probably wont find it anywhere. Also, when ordering said Three Rum Monty, guess how many you were usually handed? This is hence the "used to be called". So, we renamed it (so spread the word on this as well). I call it a "Munson Fish Bandit". The MFB used to be the pirate/ninja code name for the Mates at our camp, when out causing trouble, or when in the field of the eternal Prank War we seemed to always be in. We are scouts and are therefore good and sweet. But the MFB are sneaky little bastards, and will take you down like a 2x4 to the forehead. So is the drink.

Recipe for Munson Fish Bandit:
Bicardi Rum
Captain Morgan Spiced Rum
Malibu Rum
Cola
garnish it with a lime, seriously.

Yes, this is just a rum and coke, just made with 3 rums. They are smooth. They are good. But they will sneak up on you, and, one minute your sober, or having a good time with your buddies, the next, you've just woken up to find yourself sandwiched between those cuties from the bar, on top of a Subway Sandwich shop. It happens. Pace yourself. My buddies were drinking the MFB outside of our natural Key West setting, and in one with the largest slide you could ever imagine; and that bitch is lit up for fucking MILES! (hello Luxor, I will be riding my magic carpet down you soon). Oh how the night was going to progress.

Fortunately for me, when I walked in, to be molested by my 6 Mates (because friends and family cannot describe the bond we have for one another appropriately), and Pilot (whom I'd never met, but he was able to tolerate being the outsider of a very close group, and hung quite nicely, and therefore will get honorary Mate status. And the guy flew an airplane to come play. Yeah, he's ok in my book), they were all quite content, not drunk yet, and peacefully engrossed in the movie they were watching: Harry Potter. I think the first one, I've only seen 2, and didn't recognize this one, and there was a stone in it that seemed to be important.

As is with any child that you usually are around, and especially when reuniting with good friends, the anxiety to hit the scene, and do our thing was running rampant amongst the group. Unfortunately for them, I had been in Vegas roughly every 5 days for about 3 months running. I'm not saying that I'm over it. But with their enthusiasm to hit the clubs and bars, Pilot and I reminded them that at least 7 of the 8 of us had to shower before running out and into public; and that while the booze is flowing, it was only 8pm, and no club was even open yet.

Pilot had a connection at Tao, and everyone seemed to recognize the club's name at least. I had one too, but was also looking to see where all they were really wanting to go. As you can see from the picture, they were starting to get ready. Though, Foreman did need to borrow some clothing for going out in the clubs in Vegas. I slowed them down by waiting to shower last, after having recovered from the drive from OC to LA to return my little step-brother's sunglasses and packing for Vegas before driving out to them. Of course, holiday weekend traffic was on my side... Which reminds me, if Mercedes has a damn car that will let you know that you're falling asleep in addition to 42 other random alerts and operations, literally, where in the flying fuck is my flying car?!

Now, if you've ever dealt with a 5 year old, I'd like you to remember that when I describe to you how I was to handle most of the people at Shorty's place. They had been there for hours. No one had been in nor to Vegas in at least 6 months. They were ready to go and the fact that I wasn't was like trying to wake up your parents at 6am on Christmas day to open presents. The most well behaved tantrums were happening. They knew better. Fortunately seeing as how they were also with each other, and drinking, they were quite content but just didn't like that it was being pushed back later than now.

Foreman, in his anxiety, forgot how civilization worked. "What do you mean I have to do my hair?", "I showered yesterday before leaving Utah.", "They won't let you in to the club without a collar on your shirt? Where are we? I thought you could do anything in Vegas?", "Ok, I'm all rinsed off. How do I do my hair? Does anyone have any of that gel or cement stuff for it? Bilding, you need to make me pretty. You can do that right?", finally we got, "You have literally torn me between my 2 favorite things: Harry Potter and Gambling." This last one was when we told him that if we went to the casino he could gamble then, because the club wasn't open yet.

Fortunately, Shorty being a local of Vegas, Tucker being kind of a party kind of guy and living in San Diego, and Pilot being another Hollywood area LA resident, and frequent Vegas visitor, I had help in keeping the others at bay. There was a great deal of commentary on the amount of clothing we were all wearing, and the fact that there were buttons and close-toed shoes. Something we all seemed to forget having seen each other in, ever. By the time 10 rolled around, 5 of the 8 were fairly buzzed, Tucker was sufficiently more so, though he still had the sense to grab the bottle of Kettle One for the car before hitting the club. Shorty and I were sober and were driving.

While the drive to the strip should not have been anything to write about, I will have you imagine that you are a 50 year old Asian man driving your minivan down the highway at 65 miles per hour, you would be passed by 2 trucks, on either side of you, traveling roughly 80mph, having a "Salute" war. To us, we were merely "saluting" each others cars while playing leap-frog up I-15. To the poor Asian man caught in the middle, he was being Mooned on both sides. For the record, shoving your bare ass out the window, in the middle of February, at night, at 80mph, does leave you with a bit of chapped, frozen "cheeks".

Shorty managed to cross several lanes of traffic to jump on an exit I had been wavering whether or not I should be taking to get to the Venitian. Of course I missed and we toured the area surrounding the strip, discovering several other places that get you no where. I will point out, while Vegas is usually quite easy to navigate, I believe it to have been designed by and for drunks. This theory was only pointed out and validated futher as Tucker proceeded to drunkenly and seemingly randomly yell from the back middle of my Nissan Pathfinder, the exact coordinates of not only our current location, but where we were heading, and how we needed to get to the casino. Fortunately, we had him to navigate, and the bottle of Kettle One to keep him powered.

This is when the shit-eth hit-eth the fan-eth. Well, not entirely, but kind of. I attribute it to the fact we were wearing way more, and much nicer clothing that we were used to, like to be in, or every don with one another. Seeing as that we arrived at the casino 20 min apart from each other, we had to reconvene by the club. Also, Pilot's "in" at Tao, came with the stipulation that we could gather about 4-6 girls for the line and our group. I called my friend, and she promptly put us on said list, with our only mandate being finding "Jordan".

The Venitian Shoppes entrance, by Tao, was quite packed (came to find out Kim Kardashian was there, and with it being the Chinese New Year, Valentines Day and President's Day weekend, everyone and Momm was there). But, knowing that with such a crowd, the easiest way to find someone is to stand still, and out of the way, we immediately did so. This was the first time security came up and asked us to move out of the way. While texting and calling Shorty, Heath and Momm, we were asked to move out of 3 different locations: the open wall area just next to the doors outside; the empty corner of the railing by the stairs, in the 1/3 of the area where no one was waiting for anything; finally the hidden corner in said 1/3 area. At that point, when Self-Righteous Security guard asked us to please move, I had asked/stated/retorted, "I'm sorry, we're waiting for our friends. I thought we were out of the way. Oh, this isn't out of the way, I'm sorry, where would be easier? I don't know which line or if we're getting in a line, that's why I'm... Oh. So what you're saying is we should just leave. No, we're going." and I proceeded to lead Hurricane, Foreman, Tucker and Pilot out the doors outside. No, we weren't leaving, and I know that he could really care less if I stayed or not, but he didn't have to be an ass about it, constantly singling us out, and consistently moving us and coughing an attitude for no other reason than he'd probably been dealing with conceited-holier than though pricks all night long.

Momm, Shorty and Heath had all gotten margaritas while waiting for us, so they were still doing the buzzed thing when they showed up outside. We had told them what all was going on. They still wanted to go in. Tucker was now in drunken state, and was getting boisterous. He was slurring a little, but not so much that you'd want to walk him home, or to McDonalds. Pilot was getting a little worried, knowing the night was early, and we hadn't even gone inside yet. Not to mention, Pilot didn't really know any of us, outside of the bafoonery stories that he'd heard from Tucker, and I think was looking to still have a sane link between all of us, and Tucker was slipping away rapidly.

Though, I will admit the scene that my Mates and I really belong in would really be O'Shea's casino, the Rock Bar at Imperial Palace, The Double Down Saloon (by Piranha), and pushing it, at the Hard Rock Hotel Clubs. Tao was really one of those places always sounds like a good idea, and one of the "I've been there" experiences, but my guys, if we got in, would last about as long as they could chug their drink and high tail it back the fuck out. Pilot and I were even starting to bet as to how long the group would want to stay. He said 4 minutes. I like Pilot, he's pretty smart. The problem with my Mates, is also the best thing about them in the world: once they put their mind to doing something, they will do it. Saturday night, they were doing the glitz and the glam, and they were going to a club. Foreman was wearing a blazer. Foreman will probably be wed in a ratty t-shirt.

So, after we passed around the margaritas, and I fully figured out that it was "Jordan" by the Brookstone that I was looking for, we adventured back into the building. I walked up the the biggest guy in a suit with the FBI ear-piece I could find, and asked him for Jordan. He pointed me over to another guy in a suit. I walked up to guy2, he said he wasn't sure, and pointed me back to Gigantor. I walk back to Gigantor, where guy3 next to him says that there are 2 "Jordans" and to talk to MrClean in the shiny valor blazer. Shiny-MrClean asks me which "Jordan" as there are 4 "Jordans" who work there. I said I wasn't sure, and that my friend had called in to put my friends and I on some list. Shiny-MrClean stuttered, but before I could even hear what word he was going for, and with the feeling that my friends were getting tired of the runaround, I simply stated "You know what, Thank you anyway, but since I'm not sure, we're good. I think we may be better off at another place." This was not with any sarcasm or attitude, I was simply stating just that rather than give him more of a headache trying to run around. He could see that my Mates really were not going to be comfortable in the Tao setting and that we'd be that much easier on everyone involved at that point, if we went to a different club. I already had one in mind. 

However, as we stepped out of the way, and Shiny-MrClean look pleased to move on to the next person, my Mates and I stepped just out of the hallway and into Brookstone to figure out our gameplan. We had 8 of us, 2 cars, and it seemed as though I was stepping back into the leader role, having to tell them where and what we were doing. I could see some of the alcohol fading on some, and really kicking in on others. The MFBs were doing their job and kicking in. Problem was, I knew that no club on the strip was really going to work for them. Fortunately, I had a friend heading towards Blue Martini, and knew that would be "club" enough for them, and glitz and glam enough for them, without the chaos that was Tao. 

However, it was then that my Self-Righteous Asshole Security guy came walking back up. 

"Excuse me, I need you to move out of the way."

"Ok, sorry, we'll step back."

"No, either you need to get in line or move along."

"Oh, no, we're not getting in the line, sorry. We're just tyrin"

"Then I need you to move along."

"Sorry, we'll step back." I turned to my Mates "Ok, so do we want to go..."

"No, sir, you need to move along."

"I'm sorry, we're not in the hallway, we're actually in the store front, off the tile." I was rapidly losing my ability to censor myself, and not let my sarcastic, cynical side come out.

"No, you need to move along."

"I'm sorry, man. I thought we were in the store, in Brookstone. Is this now Tao as well?"

"You need to move along."

"I've heard you. We're trying to figu..."

"You need to move along."

"Is this now Tao as well? I thought we were in the Venitian, not the Tao. I'm trying to figure out..."

"Listen, you need to move along."

"No, you listen. We took multiple cars and are going to figure out where we're heading before we split up. 

We're not in the way, we're not in the hall. We're not going into the club. We are going to figure out right now where we are going before we 'Move Along'." My blood was starting to get a little heated and I knew that I would have to point out other things soon if he kept pushing. 

"Do you want to get kicked out of here?"

"Excuse me? Kicked out of where? We're not in anywhere."

Then Tucker and Momm spoke up "Yeah! Kick us out! Where you gonna kick us out to, jack ass?"

"Fine, I'm kicking you out." and he started talking on his little walkie-talkie thing.

"Ok, well, while you're on that, we're going to figure out where were going. So, there's this Blue Martini place that my friend is at. Or, do you guys want to stay here and gamble, since were already here? Or, do you want to do a different kind of club or a more simple bar?"

Foreman and Heath were already pacing nervously about 10 feet into the store, pretending to browse and shop. Hurricane was listening, but was waiting for the cops I think. Pilot was very calm and collected, but secretly cursing all of us, especially Tucker for mouthing off. Momm and Tucker were ready to pounce on Self-Righteous Security like kittens on a butterfly. Ferocious, but harmless. Shorty was already starting to walk towards the outside doors. 

"You guys have to leave. I just kicked out out."

"Oh, is that what just happened?" Tucker mouthed off again.

"What? Well you said you were kicking us out, I didn't know it worked like that." Momm retorted in unison.

"Fine. We're leaving. You're a bit rude and it's kind of a bit ridiculous that we couldn't stand out of the way, in the casino shops hallway. We're going. Have a great night." While trying to be composed and generally nice, though I know my sarcasm was coming out and there was a little venom dripping in the air around us all. 

I herded the Mates outside, and we opted for Blue Martini. There was the after-the-fact commentary about Self-Righteous being useless, and that he really just needed to push someone around. "How could he really control the club, if he couldn't really control us?" one of them had commented. I just kept quiet the fact that we did leave and we were in fact finishing our conversation and everything outside, as he was pushing for us to do. 

As we walked back to the car, I had a feeling, that the night was going to be a good night, a good good night. ;-) 

But, really, as we were passing the gambling tables in the Palazzo, I turned to Hurricane and Pilot and told them I had to do something really stupid. They didn't get it. They still didn't get it when I walked up to the roulette table and pulled out my $100 bill from the show I did an appearance at the previous weekend, and put in on the table. When I put it all on black, Hurricane told me I should just do 1/2. She's a teacher. She and I have gotten obliterated together, at Disney World. I trust her with my life and secrets. I played only half that spin. I won. Then I put the other half on the 3rd 1/3 of the board (I don't know if that's the correct terminology). I won. $100 to $250 in 3 minutes. Done. Cashed in, walked away. Tucker was dumbstruck. Pilot was trying to figure out what just happened, and whether or not we were actually gambling. Hurricane just smiled. Foreman wanted to touch me. 

Of course, I took the wrong turn out of the Venitian, and we proceeded take Tucker's drunken directions to get us out of there, and off the strip. Honestly, Drunk Tucker is better than any Tom-Tom or Garmin when in Vegas. I highly recommend him for your future trips.

Needless to say, we were late getting to the Blue Martini. I couldn't get a hold of my friend that was heading there. Shorty I could get a hold of, but barely. He was waiting outside. Heath needed to pee, and didn't want to pay the $10 cover just yet so he had gone in search of a restroom outside the club (I feared that meant just outside. The Town Center has a huge parking lot with trees). Momm was already inside. Tucker had enough rum and vodka in him to kill tuberculosis, so he had a date with a urinal coming too. Hurricane was sober, and comparing the rest of the group to her 2nd graders in Texas, therefore desperately needed a drink and a shot. Pilot was just getting frustrated, but I attribute that to him sobering up as well. I was ready to grab a drink, hit the dance floor, and just enjoy whatever new adventure was coming our way. (I think that was the thing a lot of them were forgetting. Difference between Ordeal and Adventure. We had to be on an adventure)

Have you ever taken a 5 year old to a toy store? Ever given that kid a Hershey's bar before walking inside? This is what I was dealing with at Blue Martini. There were cute girls everywhere for the straight boys. There were good looking guys there for the the girls, and Shorty. I was going to be preoccupied with the whole lot. Only, Shorty and Foreman never came in. I kept going back and forth waiting for them. We were still missing Heath. Tucker was looking for more drinks, a man on a mission to have enough liquid courage in him to either find a date, or forget Valentines day really. Pilot needed a drink or something to loosen up and relax. Ditto. Momm, well she was just doing her thing, and laughing with Hurricane. 

Shorty, Heath and Foreman slipped away while we were waiting for them, and went to try their shot at the tables at the M Resort. Meanwhile, back at the BM, we had come to the conclusion that we were in for the long haul, and that we'd have to prove to each other that we still had it, and that we could still do our thing. Not that we knew what any of this meant anymore. One round of drinks, with nothing to write home about there, other than Tucker. Of course Tucker would fill in our voids of the night with his antics, though not nearly as entertaining as whom I've named him after. 

I don't know why Tucker wanted the new MGD 64 lite (which just seemed redundant to me) but he enjoyed it, so it seemed, and the cocktail waitress seemed to enjoy him as well. We all sipped on our drinks, and she would come by and single him out. Ironically, he was looking for some fling for the night, and to not be single for Valentines Day. He's been single for a couple weeks now, and looking. I say ironically, because he sure as hell didn't seem to realize that she was gunning for him every time she came to the table. I say this with certainty, because I was paying the tab, with cash, so I know she wasn't doing the flirt with him for a better tab, well cash, she was certainly going for tip all right... We definitely all laughed at this situation playing out. 

Then, when the beer in his bottle had just hit the top of the main label, the MGD 64 Lite Promo girls came around. Apparently giving out free MGD 64 Lite to anyone wanting to try it. (Funny, the one on my tab wasn't free) I'll admit, they were cute, with their cheerleader make up and hair done, the cut-off t-shirt with the torn in cleavage and the knot just under their breast to really make that white millimeter of cotton just that much tighter. They totally fit in at the Martini Bar.... (I have got to figure out how to write in a manner that shows my sarcasm) They started giving their speech, though with it being the end of their evening, they had that forced smile and enthusiasm to try and bear through it as Bon Jovi blared through the bar too. We smiled like we could hear them, and shook our heads like every other bobble headed male would do. Then they noticed mine and Tuckers beers, and bee-lined it for our input and potential "sale". I was pretty good with my Bud Light. Tucker however, proceeded to attempt to flirt and get free booze.

"MGD 64 Light, nooooope, never heard of that. Iz it eny gooood?"

"Well, it's really good, you'd never even kno... you're drinking one hunnay."

"I am?!" Looks at the bottle he aparently forgot was in his hand, "Whoa! Yeah, thiz is pretty good stuff. So are ya givin' those out too?"

"You already have one though, that you just started."

"So? It's good. Come on, for me?" and he batted his eyes. It was beautiful. Like when you blow in a dog's face. Blinking meets drunken sexy eyes. Yeah, I had a regular Rico Suave on my hands. 

But, he got the beer. And, despite Hurricane and Pilot reminding him that he had just started the other bottle in his hand, that he just put down for the only reason so that he could open the new one. Then realized he had the other one. Like a kid with the prize at the bottom of the cereal box. This is why I usually call these guys "kids". Pilot pretty much conceded and slumped in his chair, Tucker was a lost cause. Then Tucker was just lost. He took Hurricane out to the dance floor. We hoped for a little burn off of the alcohol. 

I won't lie, the dance floor was awkward, but it was fun and we all made it our own. No one could really dance. It was pretty much the island of misfit toys out there. But hell or high water, Tucker was getting his dance on! It was kind of tragic, but as is to be expected from a drunk white boy, right? Hurricane was making it work. They had taken primarily to the back wall, I can only assume and hope this was to cause minimal damage to themselves and anyone around. Momm and I joined up with them, and Tucker tried to start a dance off. Momm kind of wanted interference run on Tucker and Hurricane, but they're just cute. I just wanted to do my thing. Tucker finally got his wish, and I danced with him and around him. But, it was kind of like the blind leading the blind, neither one of us had any business being on that floor. 

Then Beyonce came on. I don't know what happened, but by the power of Destiny's Child the Tucker had rhythm. It was magical. I don't know where he learned the choreography for that. I don't know how he contorted his body, and kept his balance, but it was amazing. To see a grown ass man move in that manner, controlled, in such a stupor was inspiring. Even the girls dancing on the stage next to us stopped to take a seat and watch all that was Tucker and Bootylicious. And it was Bootylicious. He shimmied. He bounced. He dropped it, but I'd say like it was luke warm, which was appropriate. All the while, he sucked in his cheeks, and kind of had a Michael Flatley look to his demeanor. 

Tucker also came to the realization that the button on my shirt were actually snaps. For the next half hour I, for the first time in over a year, had to fight to keep my shirt on. Weird. I won't deny there was a lot of opposition to my fight, but I figured we were being quite well behaved to be kicked out. Not to mention, we were all having so much fun at that point, including Pilot. 

That's when Pilot and I hard our moment. We had been jamming to Michael Jackson Billie Jean and some other song I can't remember, but you can't help but dance to, awesomely; when a group of girls started to migrate through the crowd on the floor and towards the center of the group, sandwiching themselves between Pilot and I, throwing the third towards Momm, Hurricane and Tucker. About 30 seconds into the movement, simultaneously Pilot and I discovered exactly where we were, and what was going on. We had been trying to figure out the bar's feel and aura. We had noticed the scenery being good and all. We had somehow failed to realize until that moment, that we were in a Cougar Den! 

Fucking. Hell. Yes.

I don't know what it is. I don't know why. It's beyond me. It's also apparently beyond Pilot. But the Cougars were on the prowl. We had been somehow shielded from noticing for an hour that the majority of the bar were of this particular nature. What we still don't fully understand, is that why it's these women that are AWESOME to Pilot and I. No, we weren't going home with, nor taking any of them home. It's hard to describe the Cougar, besides the obvious and typical description. But essentially it's like a lot of the gays that I meet around the country. They're very open and fun women, that are all about having a great time that night, that know what they're doing and are comfortable enough within themselves to take up their prey, and lead without leading said prey to cut loose and just have fun. Needless to say, the rest of the evening was a bit of a blur, and I didn't drink. 

I did find this on my facebook page though the next morning, Tucker snuck this in at some point:

Oh, as I look at that, that's pretty close to the Destiny's Child face he was making too. 

Anyway, Shorty texted me at the end of the night, organizing a group picture at the Vegas sign. Our obligatory  tourist shot. How we were going to wrangle 6 people to get the 8 of us there, to take a picture, at 2 am was beyond me. Then I remembered, there was still Papa John's at the house. So, told them we were going for pizza, and to grab their shit and we were out of there. I don't know how Shorty lured the others away from the table, but I'm sure it had something to do with their lack of money flowing anymore, as we all heard about as they approached the sign, dropped trow, and then flipped off "Vegas" for robbing and raping them blind.

If you've ever worked or been to camp, you find real quickly that especially the employees have learned a few things about meals. 

1- grab what you can as soon as you can, cause it won't be there in 5 min. 

2- eat what you grabbed as fast as you can, so no one can take it from you. 

3- all bets are off.

So, it did not surprise me to see Foreman and Heath coveting half a pizza between the two of them as we walked in the door. They had forgotten their garlic sauce, so there were bargaining chips to be played. Also, a frozen Digiorno made everything a bit easier. One of the other Harry Potter movies was thrown on, and within 1/2 an hour, the domino effect had taken over, and everyone seemed to be passing out on one another down the line of the couches. Some milled off to bed. I had woken when it was just Tucker and I on the back couch. After his profession of his man-crush for me, I did expect to wake up Sunday morning to us spooning with one another. 

Well, Sunday morning I woke up to heartbreak. I was alone on the couch. It was 8 am, and we were all moving and up. Sunday. Valentines Day. 4 hours earlier 6 of them were pretty good and drunk, now Shorty was making Blueberry Pancakes? I love my life. 

Unfortunately, as is the case with every time the Mates get together somewhere, they have to leave. Heath and Foreman had to get back to Utah, and back to living in the woods. Foreman needed to put on his real clothes, take the crap out of his hair, and jerk off in the comfort of his own tent, or something of the sort. The rest of us took Pilot and Tucker back to their plane, so they could get back to So. Cal. It was really kind of cute, and really kind of cool. Mates have now met each other by hitch-hiking, carpooling, bicycling, trains and now having flown their own plane. Well, like I said, honorarily. 

Shorty, Hurricane, Momm and I all went back to the strip, unintentionally for cheesy souvenirs and then lunch. I can never remember the name of the place, but the burger sports bar in Paris is awesome. Not that pricey, and really quite good. I crave their burgers. I can go without Red Robin's. (though Red Robin Ranch dressing.... hhmmmmmmglaaaaahhhhh *drools*) We also toured the City Center complex. Shorty is and was on the inspection team for the project. Though, due to it's size, he was limited to the area around the Convention Center, so he hadn't been in Crystals (the mall) yet. It was cool getting to see some of that stuff. Especially learning where the cameras are missing (no where near where there's and money, but not in a couple spots you expect them to keep an eye on. I have ideas people, give me a camera. It's going to be good)

The other three were heading off to see Cirque du Solei Mystere that evening. I ended up running into a friend, who had also talked me back to Aria for a hot minute. During that time, I got that same stupid feeling from Palazzo, and went to the roulette table, and played the same thing. Black. Then I chose the 3rd 1/3rd of the board. Then, and hour later, and having only guessed wrong twice, I decided it was time to quit. I was on a hot roll, and could have done more damage. But, I had set a goal with another buddy of mine a previous time I was there, to get the Yellow Chip.

Well this:

Equals this:

I tried to keep my calm. I prevented myself from passing out. I wanted to just take the chip and frame it. But, let's be honest, that's rent next month!

So, after conversing with my friend for a few hours, at 2am I drove home to LA. Beautiful night drive. iPod playlist seemed to just be perfect. At 4am, when I was 30miles from anywhere, I had to pull over. Not because of anything bad, but because the stars were so clear and bright, and abundant. You could see the Milky Way's edge split the sky in two. Nature Break is what I call them. I feel like Ferris Bueller, but sometimes you really do just have to stop and look around. 

Vegas and I are taking a break. It's been a great time these past couple months, but with the support of my Mates and the experience that weekend, getting home at 630am and passing out was the perfect conclusion to an amazing holiday weekend and the push I needed to back away from that relationship. An even better ending to an outstanding Mate Reunion. I don't care how much she tried to kiss my ass and lure me back in, with burgers, and money, and the closest friends anyone could have. I'll see you in a few weeks Vegas. 

But, in all honesty, it was a great weekend with my Mates, and truly couldn't have been any better. It was a very calming weekend by nature, with minimal eccentrics. Just what was needed for all of us there. 

BLUEBERRY PANCAKES!?