Awoke with a start Monday morning. Following a good night’s sleep I was out of my house and on my way by 11am with a croissant and a venti latte from Starbucks. Typically when I drive to Las Vegas I leave from work Tuesday night and it takes roughly 4 hours depending on rush hour traffic moving east on I-210. That highway was sparsely traveled at the time of my departure, so I made great time. Even with a stop in Baker I arrived at my destination well before my 3pm check-in time. Parked and ambled into the hotel with my bags (clothes, a bottle of Makers, a laptop). Check-in was easy and quick, I got up to my room and called Ken and KT to see whether we were in the same tower (we were) and how long I’d have to wait to see them (not long). Ken came downstairs, we hung out, walked over to the liquor store so he could grab a bottle of Jim Bean, went upstairs to see KT and take a shot of whiskey, and sometime around 5pm Narrator Jack arrived. The three of us hung out in my room until it was time for Ken and KT to leave for their nerdy dinner party thing.
At that point Jack and I headed out on our own. I’m still unclear if he’s ever been to Vegas (at first he said no, then he mentioned maybe he’d been with his mom when he was younger? Also I was drunk most of the time I was there so…) but I took him on a walking tour of The Strip because I’m such a professional Vegas douchebag now. We stopped and watched the Bellagio Fountains and the Mirage Volcano:
Along the way we stopped for dinner at Holstein’s. There’s no shortage of good food on The Strip, but when I got to town I desired a good burger, and Holstein’s serves one of my favorites. We shared a plate of fried pickle spears and I had a goblet of the Firestone Walker 17th Anniversary Ale (a solid, 13.3% ABV strong ale). He opted for the lobster roll and a Dogfish Head Burton Baton. I debated heavily ordering the Billionaire Burger again, but knowing how much money I’d probably lose gambling and drinking that night I wasn’t quite ready to drop $30+ on a burger just for a taste of foie gras and truffles. I opted for the Gold Standard (at $18 it’s no slouch) which was yummy but cooked well past my requested medium rare. It was a satisfactory but not exemplary way to start the trip from a dining standpoint.
The walking tour continued all the way up to Treasure Island, and after a quick stop in at Starbucks for a little pick-me-up we headed to the Venetian so Jack could scope out the canals and the frescoes and all the pomp of that place. While he visited the oxygen bar (for another pick-me-up) I sat down at a Lord Of The Rings slot machine and quickly won $9. It would pretty much be the only positive gambling experience of the trip. Despite walking up to the sportsbook window at the Monte Carlo intending to bet UCONN and the under in the NCAA Championship Game, I chickened out at the last second and decided I should spend that $100 on food. Not sure what I would have won, but I’m doing my best not to look it up and kill myself out of regret.
Soon Ken and KT were ready to join us so we marched back down the strip to MGM Grand. Along the way we checked out the “new” Quad and The Linq (where the High Roller Ferris Wheel had just opened). Then we met up and drank until the wee hours of the morning, until it was time to visit our old pal Daniel at America in New York, New York. Long Island Ice Teas were lovingly provided for us all, and KT and I split an order of mac and cheese with french fries and gravy. Somehow I made it back to my room and was able to pass out in spite of being spinning drunk with a very, very full stomach.
A couple hours later I rose from my slumber (if you can call 2 hours of intermittent rest slumber), showered, and regained my will to live. I hiked back up the Strip to the Venetian where I met my friend Peter for brunch at Bouchon.
Delicious beignets, pain au chocolat, and corned beef hash were consumed. Washed down with a mimosa. Honestly, I don’t know how I fit all this in my stomach either. There’s something about Vegas that instills a sense of determination in me. It’s like I need to eat and drink everything I see no matter what the cost. Following breakfast I made my way — slowly, very slowly — back down the Strip. Once I was back in my room I contacted the crew, told them I was going to try to sleep for a few hours, and proceeded to do just that. I napped. Like a fucking child. Like an amateur. So embarrassing.
We four reconvened at a reasonable hour, and decided we should hit up the High Roller if the line wasn’t too long. Of course I agreed to this plan even though I kind of hate ferris wheels. I don’t like being in confined spaces hurtling around in circles. It’s not so much the height, just the lack of control and claustrophobic space that gets to me. So in order to ensure an anxiety-free ride I was going to need some booze. Along the way we stopped at Yard House. I ate a couple slices of pizza and drank a few beers (Moose Drool, Deschutes Red Chair North West Pale Ale on nitro, Brooklyn Brewery Dry Irish Stout) and some whiskey and eventually I achieved a state of zen enough to buy a ticket and take the ride.
From there it was another night of drunken revelry as the four of us hit up various points along The Strip on our way back to Daniel at New York, New York and ANOTHER early morning filled with long island ice teas, mac and cheese, and paninis. By this point if you’re not noticing a trend (I’m a disgusting alcoholic with a bottomless stomach) most of our activities those first two nights revolved around gross amounts of consumption (intoxicants and calories).
The following morning…what was that, Wednesday? At some point I definitely lost track of time. I awoke and showered, dressed, and regained my will to live.
Oh, funny little side note: before I left Los Angeles I was told by Peter that the weather in Vegas was going to be “perfect” all week, meaning 70s and 80s, so I packed accordingly (mostly long-sleeved shirts for chillier nights). Then I arrived and the mercury rose every day until it was something in the vicinity of 95 degrees on Wednesday and Thursday. And all I had to wear were long sleeves and jeans. Fucking moron, I am.
The four of us took the monorail over to the convention center for NAB. In years past, NAB was pretty much the only reason Ken, KT and I would go to Vegas together. It was a free conference with some cool tech stuff and oh yeah it’s in VEGAS. Now it’s almost a hindrance. We have to wake up, sober up, and travel to an overcrowded shitshow of humanity. We made it in time to hear Andrew Kramer discuss motion graphics and Adobe After Effects, which is always cool. Then the four of us split up, with Ken and KT and Jack heading to score some free swag while I visited my cousin Dara at the Sony exhibit. I saw some incredible 4k footage and caught up with the cuz for a while, until it was time to return to the hotel and rest up for night number three. Considering NAB is typically the reason we all go to Vegas, I find it ironic that I snapped exactly one picture while I was there:
I think on the way back we stopped for dinner and I had another burger. It was a no name cafe in one of the casinos — maybe even the one we stayed at — I honestly don’t remember anymore. By this point I was starting to feel exhausted. This normally happens on night 3 in Vegas, which is why I usually only go for two nights at a time. Alas, on night three we wandered up to the Mirage and to Rhumbar so that Jack could experience the hookah lounge. I had a Newcastle and a Zombie. Then we blew a ton of money in the casino — except for Ken and Jack — which means I guess I’m the only one who walked away a loser that night. I also walked away very drunk, again. We made it back to the hotel at the very un-rock ‘n’ roll hour of 1am, at which point I had to retire to my room and get some sleep. I later found out that the trio (or maybe just Ken and KT?) bumped into an old server friend of ours downstairs who in the past has supplied us with unreasonable amounts of free booze.
The next morning I awoke just before check-out, sped through the morning process of showering, dressing, and regaining my will to live, and raced down the road to Dunkin Donuts. As is Las Vegas tradition, every trip must conclude with a large vanilla bean coolata and a breakfast sandwich. The drive back to LA was uneventful, tiring, and took a little longer than the trip from LA due to local traffic and my inability to drive for more than 90 minutes at a time without needing to stretch or buy another bottle of water. When I finally made it back to my house I was completely spent. I emptied my pockets and found some leftover souvenirs from Daniel at America. And then, of course, there is this photo, which I absolutely HAD to purchase for $20 because it’s the most insane thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life. It looks like I’m chaperoning special needs children who are on a field trip or were given a “day pass” to visit an amusement park. It’s so perfect. We’re so drunk. It’s the greatest photograph in the history of the artform. For reals.
Right?
Gram Parsons – The New Soft Shoe [MP3] (for Jack, who thought he could survive four days in Vegas walking around in only dress shoes — how those blisters treating you, buddy!?)
