(no subject)
went to vegas. shit went fully off. click the lj cut, and scope the photos.
i didn't know i was going until i got to the airport. and i didn't get to check out ed roman guitars. but it was a pretty sweet trip. almost the entire flight west, from ohio to the other side of the rockies, was turbulence. shitty.
i grew up with atlantic city, so i assumed that i was ready for the level of debauchery i would encounter. but nothing could steel me for the sight that greeted me when i stepped off the airplane...slot machines IN THE FUCKING TERMINAL.
we got in pretty late, so we checked in to our room at the mirage (pretty much dead center of the strip), got a couple sandwiches, played a couple slots, and called it a night.
we explored the next day. fun fact: when your sleep schedule is as fucked as mine, you do not suffer from jet lag. i was well-rested for the first time in months.
there was a fucking volcano in front of the hotel. creepy.
we set out northward on the strip, toward all the old-school shit. we poked about the venetian a bit. i lost about $30 into a video poker machine. i was still in a good mood.
we picked up our show tickets (be patient) at the wynn, which apparently just opened last year. it was sweet as hell. they had this garden indoors. they painted the tree bark brown, which i think is a very telling gesture.
family entertainment.
a local settled our argument: prostitution is, in fact, illegal in all of clark county, not just within the las vegas city limits.
we (read: my girlfriend) decided that the stratosphere tower and fremont street (the one with all the crazy old-school neon signs) was too far of a walk. we headed back south, stopping at caesar's palace. a nice middle-aged woman with a midwestern accent took our photo.
we window-shopped the way-too-expensive mall inside, then hit up bellagio. played my first casino blackjack. won fifty bucks at a five dollar minimum table. there was an obese navajo in a wheelchair giving me advice. his name was wayne. it was sweet.
new york, new york sucked. played some random shitty dice game. lost a negligible amount. the chinese lady kept yelling at me. our show was starting soon, so we booked via monorail to the wynn. we made it with about ten seconds to spare.
according to the story i was told, a couple of disgruntled sesame street puppeteers left the show and made avenue q. it won a tony award when it was on broadway. any musical that features a muppet sex scene and a song called "the internet is for porn" is okay by me. fucking hilarious. i highly recommend it for people who don't like musicals.
after the show, we got back on the monorail. the view from outside the station was purdy.
god delivered his wrath upon excalibur.
and after he was done, we ate at the buffet there. it wasn't the best food in vegas, but it was very good for the price. we walked back to our hotel. on the way, we passed this shrine and lit some incense, just in case jesus wasn't pissed off enough at us.
upon our return to the mirage, i took $50 and sat down at another blackjack table (this one was a $10 minimum). the dealer's name was frank. he was from brooklyn, and you could tell. he ate me alive. this guy pushed me to the carpet three times. i had $15 when he went on a break for twenty minutes. when he returned, i was at $150.
DOLLA DOLLA BILLZ, Y'ALL!
i was fucking stoked, but so tired that i just ended up watching SNL until i fell asleep.
sunday was short. we saw a tiger that had something to do with sigfried & roy. he was tired.
back to caesar's palace. more window-shopping. they have an f.a.o. schwartz there. you can't really see the sign on the 30-foot horse, but it's there.
lunch at the cheesecake factory (i wanted to go to spago, just to say i ate at spago). i asked our waiter a two-part question. one, did he grow up in las vegas (no), and two, how long did it take him to desensitize to all the lights and noises and endless throngs of people and whores (not long at all). i left him a 33% tip.
flight home. the world's only myspace photo taken in the bathroom of a 757 during turbulence over missouri.
i didn't know i was going until i got to the airport. and i didn't get to check out ed roman guitars. but it was a pretty sweet trip. almost the entire flight west, from ohio to the other side of the rockies, was turbulence. shitty.
i grew up with atlantic city, so i assumed that i was ready for the level of debauchery i would encounter. but nothing could steel me for the sight that greeted me when i stepped off the airplane...slot machines IN THE FUCKING TERMINAL.
we got in pretty late, so we checked in to our room at the mirage (pretty much dead center of the strip), got a couple sandwiches, played a couple slots, and called it a night.
we explored the next day. fun fact: when your sleep schedule is as fucked as mine, you do not suffer from jet lag. i was well-rested for the first time in months.
there was a fucking volcano in front of the hotel. creepy.
we set out northward on the strip, toward all the old-school shit. we poked about the venetian a bit. i lost about $30 into a video poker machine. i was still in a good mood.
we picked up our show tickets (be patient) at the wynn, which apparently just opened last year. it was sweet as hell. they had this garden indoors. they painted the tree bark brown, which i think is a very telling gesture.
family entertainment.
a local settled our argument: prostitution is, in fact, illegal in all of clark county, not just within the las vegas city limits.
we (read: my girlfriend) decided that the stratosphere tower and fremont street (the one with all the crazy old-school neon signs) was too far of a walk. we headed back south, stopping at caesar's palace. a nice middle-aged woman with a midwestern accent took our photo.
we window-shopped the way-too-expensive mall inside, then hit up bellagio. played my first casino blackjack. won fifty bucks at a five dollar minimum table. there was an obese navajo in a wheelchair giving me advice. his name was wayne. it was sweet.
new york, new york sucked. played some random shitty dice game. lost a negligible amount. the chinese lady kept yelling at me. our show was starting soon, so we booked via monorail to the wynn. we made it with about ten seconds to spare.
according to the story i was told, a couple of disgruntled sesame street puppeteers left the show and made avenue q. it won a tony award when it was on broadway. any musical that features a muppet sex scene and a song called "the internet is for porn" is okay by me. fucking hilarious. i highly recommend it for people who don't like musicals.
after the show, we got back on the monorail. the view from outside the station was purdy.
god delivered his wrath upon excalibur.
and after he was done, we ate at the buffet there. it wasn't the best food in vegas, but it was very good for the price. we walked back to our hotel. on the way, we passed this shrine and lit some incense, just in case jesus wasn't pissed off enough at us.
upon our return to the mirage, i took $50 and sat down at another blackjack table (this one was a $10 minimum). the dealer's name was frank. he was from brooklyn, and you could tell. he ate me alive. this guy pushed me to the carpet three times. i had $15 when he went on a break for twenty minutes. when he returned, i was at $150.
DOLLA DOLLA BILLZ, Y'ALL!
i was fucking stoked, but so tired that i just ended up watching SNL until i fell asleep.
sunday was short. we saw a tiger that had something to do with sigfried & roy. he was tired.
back to caesar's palace. more window-shopping. they have an f.a.o. schwartz there. you can't really see the sign on the 30-foot horse, but it's there.
lunch at the cheesecake factory (i wanted to go to spago, just to say i ate at spago). i asked our waiter a two-part question. one, did he grow up in las vegas (no), and two, how long did it take him to desensitize to all the lights and noises and endless throngs of people and whores (not long at all). i left him a 33% tip.
flight home. the world's only myspace photo taken in the bathroom of a 757 during turbulence over missouri.