A few weeks ago, I took a trip with three high school friends to Las Vegas. Check your imagination right there. Consider it this way - it was 223 years of old white guys visiting Sin City. You know we were asleep every night by midnight. Except me, story to follow.
And building on the cumultive oldness - there was a restaurant called the Heart Attack Cafe, where they have a scale outside, and if you weigh 350 pounds or more, you eat free. I am happy to report that 223 years of old white guys weighs 702 pounds. Or two free meals, though it didn't work that way. Put another way, we weighed 3.147982062780269 per white guy year. I'm pretty sure that number is pi, which I think would have been included in the free meal if we had qualified individually.
Being old white guys, we stayed in an AirBnB instead of a hotel. Quieter, cheaper, and almost impossible to get anywhere. But we had four bedrooms, three bathrooms, a coffee maker and a foosball table, which sadly never got used.
We ate, drank, gambled, and had a fun time. Two of us won some money, one broke even, and one lost, so I think in the grand battle of the Old Men and the Vegas, we'll call it a draw.
These are my friends Scott, Chris and Kenneth. The one who still has a baby face is only 55, while the rest of us have breached the "over 55" barrier.
We did drink in some festive places. This place had tequila and mescal drinks, and we came here after visiting the place that had $5 "Fuck Putin"shots.
Scott and Kenneth doing - God knows what - to what I can only assume are idols of Egyptian deities. Vegas!!
Scott in the AirBnB before we called in the domestic violence unit.
Of course, this was what preceded the call to the police.
Leaving Las Vegas (by plane, not the Nick Cage way), I saw this billboard and found my next cause. I am gathering my Jewish brothers into a class-action lawsuit against the rabbis who scarred and tormented us. ANd no, I didn't visit the website. That would absolutely be part of any future Dateline I am in.
We spent a couple of nights hanging out in the Fairview area, what used to be called Downtown. Vegas used to be a city for gamblers, then it became Disney Land. Now, it's more like Times Square, with fewer skanky Elmos and more guys with ass chaps. If the video uploads, this is exactly the feel of the area.
My friends on Saturday night were gambling in one particular casino. I wanted to wander a bit. I had been winning moderate amounts in every place we went, and I knew if I stayed in one place, I would give it all back. So, around 11 I started wandering a bit, going into different casinos and shops, and people watching. Every 20 minutes or so, I'd head back to the Golden Gate (where the boys were), and made sure they were still there.
At midnight, I was just across the street and decided I should check in. Couldn't find them. I texted. No response. I texted again and got this response: "we are almost back to the house."
"Um, what?"
"We left a bit ago."
Checking my texts, there were in fact a string of "we are leaving soon", "where are you?" and "we'll meet you by the taxi stand" over the course of six or seven minutes.
Well, damn. My friends had been Raptured and I seem to be Kirk Cameron in this scenario.
So, I head back out of the casino and see a bunch of cop cars and police closing down all the streets. That cannot be good. Fortunately, it wasn't a massive police sting, just them closing off every street for the 5k race in the morning. Right. I seem to remember hearing something about that in between shots earlier.
I go to the taxi stand and tell the first taxi driver where I am going.
"No way I can get you there. All the streets are closed between here and there."
Oh, double damn.
"Looks like it's about 2 1/2 miles away, your best bet is to walk."
Now, Vegas is not really a walkable city, apart from up and down the strip. My google map confirms it's only 2 1/2 miles, but gives me a walking route that avoid crossing the freeways, and will only take 68 minutes. Walking across Vegas sounds a bit sketchy, but better then trying to run across the freeways. So I set out. ETA somewhere near 3 in the morning.
I cross many of the closed streets and see another taxi. I go up to him and show him the address.
"Yes I can get you there."
"Fantastic."
"But I need to turn in my taxi now, so I can't help you."
"So you can, but you won't. Is it because I was left behind? Don't you recognize me from Growing Pains?"
Alas, he didn't. So I start walking again.
A few blocks later I see one final cab coming up the street. He was nice enough not to run me over when I laid down in the middle of the street.
I told him where I was going.
"Yes, no problem."
"Fantastic, I say, waiting for the "...but..."
"Hop in."
He got me there in five minutes. Didn't even have time to turn on the meter. I think I gave him $50, and was happy to do it.
The boys were asleep. Didn't seem surprised to see me in the morning, but were strangely uninterested in how I got there. And why I was wearing the 5k t-shirt.
But, all in all, a fun trip.
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