Vegas: Day 1

Let me state this first for the record. Clear memory eludes me on many of these events. However, I'm relatively sure that what I'm about to relate is true. Sit back and enjoy the ride.


Las Vegas: Where Intelligence Goes To Die.


The first thing I notice about Las Vegas is the air. You can sense the air in a place. Like when you walk into a mourgue, or a carnival, or a sweaty locker room, or a brothel. Las Vegas is a mixture of all. Not the scent. The scent is hot desert. Not like home, but recognizable to anyone who's spent any time in the southwest. No, Vegas has what I can only describe to be an atmosphere. Completely different from anything else I've ever expirienced, and not pleasant.


I'm here for Margaret's wedding. An excellent side benifit of this is that I get to see Meghan, Jasmine, and Abe, three of the people I like best in this world or any other. But I'm primarily here to watch Margaret bind herself to some random dude I've never met before. Nick Allen.


They met over WOW (World of Warcraft). I remember this fact as I step off the airplane and it brings a faint smile to my lips which almost immediately dies at the sight in front of me.


Mccairn International airport must be the antechamber of Hell. I'd been there before, but it was a transfer flight, and I'd never had to leave the terminal, a fact I'd been grateful for.


There are slot machines in the AIRPORT for Christ's sake. Not only are these electronic misery boxes programmed to take your money at an unprecedented rate, they are always adorned with some form of too bright, too loud, too irritating decorations. I only spare them a glance, but my brain still tries to interpret the flashing into some kind of data, and all I get out of the attention is a slight ache in my prefrontal cortex.


A vauge urge to do violence to anyone and everyone around me starts tickling at the back of my brain.


And there are SO MANY people. I've never seen an airport this crowded. Vegas seemingly only has two kinds of people. Overweight greaseballs that shockingly don't combust in the miserable heat, and too pretty, too perfect almost doll imitations of humanity, that stumble around on high heels, constantly vaugely inebriated.


It's early. I'm trying to maintain a neutral demeanor, but an increasingly large part of my subconcious is screaming at me to start setting fires and cleanse this place.


I am greeted at the baggage claim by my girls and not even the incessant slot machine flashing and press of humanity can dampen this moment. Meghan jumps me, forcing me to catch her and kiss her before I can get a good look at the new red hair. I had been dubious before, after she sent me a picture that made it look like she'd taken a bath in blood, but it's faded to the point where it looks good.


I set her down and Jas comes up behind her to kiss me as well. She gives me that look she always has when she hasn't seen me in a while. I can't read it, and I don't understand it, something between 'I can't belive I'm emotional about this' and 'kiss me now before I combust.'


I'll never understand women, but I'll always like them.


After greetings, we wait for half an hour while Vegas airport hides my bag and I have to go hunting for it. A very polite but harried looking airport worker produces it as if by magic and we make our way to our hosts place.


It is locked, and we get to stand out in the sun while Margaret drives over and unlocks it. It is the first time in about a year and a half that I've seen Margaret, and I greet her with a big hug. Unfortunately, accompanying her is Jessica Allen, future in-law and designated problem causer for the weekend. She eyes me with a combination of critical evaluation and hunger which makes me vaugely nervous. I make sure to kiss my girls in front of her.


Margaret is supposed to be at a batchlorette party, which I'm not invited to. Meghan and Jasmine head out with Margaret and Jess, promising to return soon. (they don't want to go, seeing as it's a Mormon party, and therefor not fun.)


I amuse myself by checking out Jason and Joleea's apartment. The place is a disaster area, with wedding shit and clothes strewn about with wild abandon. There are kids toys and tiny beds in one room. The beds are just materesses on the floor, and my heartstrings tug a little. Spider Man, Marvel Bumblebee and all kinds of other heroes adorn the wall. I can't help but form a preliminary, and probably biased opinion, that these people really can't afford to house us. The pictures scattered about the house are primarily wedding oriented, leading me to believe that the marraige between Joleea and Jason can't have happened too long ago.


Despite the decrepitness of the apartment, when I return to the front room I am dazzled by details that escaped me earlier. A large tv is set, recessed into an entertainment center, two large computers sit off to the left, in addtion to the computer I noticed on the way in. Why anyone would need this many computers in one small area escapes me, but in my bewilderment I also notice an Xbox 360 and Gamecube. All in all I'm looking at several thousand dollars worth of electronic equipment, most of it shiney new, that seems out of place with the disaster around me.

Pondering this, I realize that I've got the fever for some exercise. I immediately toss out the idea of a short run, having only brought combat boots and dress shoes. I would have run in the boots, except for the fact I also only brought jeans... and it was approaching one hundred degrees outside. I have a policy, never run in temperatures higher than normal body temperature.

So I glanced around the apartment, looking for a free patch of floor. This proved to be some feat, and I actually had to move some stuff so that I could lie down and do push ups. A sweaty thirty minutes later, I was bored, and tired. The plane ride had caught up with me. I moved the room Jasmine, Meghan and I were sleeping in, and hit the rack hard.

Some hours later, I wake up to another presence moving just behind me. Groggily, I recognize Jasmine, it's then that I hear the loud, shrill voice, not quite yelling, but almost.

Joleea is apparently what happens to a dancer after thier thyroid gland goes on the fritz. Large is a generous way to describe her. She's also really nice, and greets me with a smile and a handshake. Whatever else she flips out on this weekend, the wedding, Margaret, the Allen family, she is always the best of hostesses to us. She's currently flipping a shit over the wedding decorations and food. I immidiately volunteer myself as heavy labor, and glare at Meghan and Jasmine until Meghan offers her car as a vehicle. This significantly increases everyone's options, and various errands are run until about six in the evening.

Pre wedding dinner at The Cheesecake Factory. Abe arrives just before we shove off and we bear hug. Damage and Control are together again. Everyone's mental soundtrack starts playing "The Boys are Back in Town". We all roll out to the Cheesecake Factory. Abe and I bond in his shiney new van that his parents gave to him for his birthday. I glance at the odometer. Something like 90 thousand miles glare back at me, massive numbers with bleeding eyes. I wait for the radio to blast death metal and for an unearthly voice to scream 'ZALGO!!!!'. I am slightly disappointed when it doesn't happen.

At the resturaunt, Abe and I introduce ourself to our Host, Jason. It is the only introduction done the entire night. Margaret is wearing a "Bride to be" ribbon and a harassed look, and just sort of yanks Nick over and when we ask to meet him. The ENTIRE Allen family is there, and any married female capable of reproduction is either holding a baby in her hands or swelled with the lump of pregnancy. I want to tell Margaret that I've seen her future, but decide against it for no logical reason.

The Non-Allens, namely Jason, Joleea, Abe, Jas, Meghan, and Myself, all react differently to the animals that are the disapproving Mormons. Jasone and Joleea try to insinuate themselves into the pack, but the Allens huddle like wildebeasts circling up. Abe and I try that for a total of ten seconds. After that we both agree that these people are not worth knowing and go back to talking shit about anything and everything that pops into our heads. Meghan and Jasmine join us after a few minutes of conversation with Margaret, who seems to be atomically bonded with Nick. I vaugely wonder if the ring on her finger will kill her if she gets outside of a mile radius.

That would be kind of cool.

Margaret eventually does find her way over to the bench that we're sitting on, sans Nick, who I think is intimidated by Abe and I, who are both taller, better looking, and cooler than he is. Never mind the fact that he's 23, he looks like he's sixteen, the age of Margaret's last boyfriend. That's a funny story for another time. Ha. Firecrotch.

She's immediately inundated with hugs, cheers, and the occasional grope. ( Margaret has fantastic boobs, the way you think of free money as awesome) We love Margaret, we wouldn't be here if we didn't. She's bombarded with questions, some rather personal in nature, until Jess Allen walks up and jabs me in the ribs.

I know Jess from high school, she was okay back then. The years have turned her into a flaming sociopath the likes of which I have rarely seen before. Jess, probably because she's 20, single, and Mormon, flirts with anything with a penis and a pulse, the pulse probably isn't all that necessary. She must be have been catching shit from her prophet for not getting married and pumping out babies already, because she was working it as hard as she could. I am apparently her target for the night, and this would be funny if it wasn't so tragic.

Jess, either of my girls is worth a million of you. You never had a chance.

Nevertheless, she continued to try and get my attention over the course of the evening, her pokes and jabs getting more and more violent the more and more I ignored her.

Dinner was super boring, and kind of awkward. We were seated across from Nick's brother, who's supposed to be in the Army, but he was really quiet. Too bad, I was looking forward to talking shop.

After dinner was The Strip. After recieving some suggestions from Jason, we headed out with no plan, no knowledge, and no idea what we were doing. Parking is a bitch. The MGM Grand has a massive parking complex which we somehow found. We then made our way into the casino proper.

The MGM Grand is exactly what I expected out of a casino. Close, claustraphobic corridoors, flashing lights that give you a headache, small entrances and exits... I feel dirty just being in here. The girls and Abe seem fascinated by the flashing lights and signs and sounds. Abe keeps muttering "lost wages" under his breath, which I find vaugely appropriate. Meghan and Jasmine keep touching each other, either for support, or just because they like it. i want to join in, but also want keep on my guard. I don't trust this city.

Since we can't gamble, I assume we're just here for the sights, but somone mentions a strip club, and all hell breaks loose. I've done my homework on this particular topic, guessing that it would come up. Nevada state law is retarded. Apparently, any establishment that serves alcohol can only admit people 21 and over. Also, according to state law, any establishment that serves alcohol cannot be a fully nude club. Therefore, if you want to get drunk and look at naked women, you have to settle for only boobies. Conversely, if you're too young to drink, but old enough to go to a titty bar, you get treated to the fully nude show.

Insanity.

I don't try all that hard to discourage my erstwhile companions, but nor am I particularly enthusiastic about the idea. I don't need to pay for the company of beautiful women, and I find the concept of doing so to be counterproductive. No stripper will ever love you.

Still, my companions seem determined. Abe asks information people while Jasmine and Meghan try an oxygen bar. The oxygen bar seems to be a waste of money, but the device introduced by the sketchy looking salesman is fascinating. It is a pair of pads that runs what I can only guess is an electric current through the muscles in your body, simulating a massage. It was a great distraction for a few minutes. We wandered up and then back down the strip, dazzled by the lights and sounds. Abe took a picture with an Elvis impersonator, and I resisted the urge to shout in his face "I AM THE KING!!!"

We were going to that strip club. But after taking a quick tour of the Bellagio we all decided we were too beat to do shit. We made our way back our hosts, and crashed almost immediately. Tomorrow was the wedding.

"I LIKE TO CALL IT LOST WAGES!!!!"

Abe, upon arrival to the strip.

This is part one. Someone else should take this weekend and tell the next day.