A few years back I went to Las Vegas with my then girlfriend or girl that I refused to call my girlfriend yet had sex with multiple times a week and slept over at her house almost every other day. (It depends on whom you ask to define the relationship.) This was my first real trip to Vegas where I was going to rip it up. I was going to drink heavily, I was going to carouse, I was going to gamble, and I was going to really experience Vegas. So when we arrived in the early afternoon on Friday we went directly to a bar and started drinking.
That evening we were going to see the Black Crowes at the Hard Rock Hotel and I decided to drink through dinner so we would be primed at ready to go. While at the show my lovely companion continued to feed me a steady diet of captain and cokes. It made the show enjoyable and hazy all at the same time.
As we exited the concert venue at the Hard Rock I made a beeline for the blackjack tables. At this point in the evening I could barely speak but blackjack sounded like a good idea.
Now in my head this is how I thought things went:
I am really social when I am drunk. I want everyone at the table to get rolling at the black jack table and have fun. So I start fist pounding everyone and calling it the “fun and good times” table. We were cheering for each other and some people were winning money. (Of course I wasn’t.) Every time the waitress came around I ordered a drink and pounded it down, showing off how much of a stud I was. While I didn’t win money (I lost over $600 bucks in that one sitting) we still had fun and I was a source of entertainment for everyone at our table.
In reality this is probably what really happened:
When I am drunk and playing blackjack I am loud and annoying. While I think I want everyone at the table to feel the mojo and get rolling I really am distracting them from playing and ruining their time. Because of this I am end up costing myself money and everyone else at the table. The hotel kept feeding me drinks because I was hammered and gambling. Everyone at the table pretty much wanted me to walk away to salvage some dignity.
I prefer to remember things in the first version.
To top things off I drank so much that I couldn’t really drink rest of the weekend because I was hung over for three days.
Plus on my way out of the hotel that night I:
-Attempted to grab the ass of a cocktail waitress in front of my girlfriend, ended up missing her ass and just grabbing air.
-Fell while getting into the cab.
A job well done by me.
You’re so money and you don’t even know it…. Indeed.
Have you ever ruined a trip by your drunken antics?
(I did return there this fall and won back some of the money I lost to them… I will get all of the money I spent back before I die. Bastards.)