Viva Las Haney (A.K.A. Fear and Haney in Las Vegas) - 04.08.1005 - 04.10.2005
Friday afternoon I slid out of work early, jumped on the bike, and headed northwest to the great land of promise and promiscuity, Las Vegas. Mark Haney had decided to have his bachelor party in Sin City (how original), and I was not going to miss this one, even if Haney was bent on spending a small fortune on food, drinks and cover charges. Vegas was pretty much the same as when I left her, and as usual, that dirty girl roped us in for a wild ride.

Friday night we started out at Gilley's at the New Frontier. Haney was headed upscale, so some of us cheapskates decided to slum it for a while. We got some BBQ, a few beers, and then hit the low minimum craps tables for some excitement. After the craps, I pulled out my cheat sheet, and Ryan Thomas and I hit the blackjack tables, and recouped some of our craps losses. It was then time for Bikini Bull riding back at Gilley's. (No cover since we had eaten dinner there and got hand stamped). I was hoping that they were going to crank up the bulls full throttle and we were going to see some scantily clad ladies flying through the air, but alas, the event was more soft-core porn than hard-core rodeo, even though one girl did have LED jumbilies. After the bull riding, we headed down to Barbary Coast to meet Haney and the others at Drai's, but we were early, so we stopped at the Conservatory in the Bellagio so Wally and Zack could get some "Two Young Men in Love" shots.
Draiís is this expensive, swanky, "after hours" club that the trendy people go to after going to other clubs. The term "after hours" seems somewhat ridiculous in Las Vegas since everything is open all the time anyway, but I was not going to argue (for once). After dropping our $30 cover, Wally and I picked up double bourbons for the bargain-basement price of $15 a piece, and waited for Haney and the Cavalry, who had reserved a table and ìbottle service.î

First gross miscalculation - Bottle service at 3AM. Bottle Service is an ingenious way for clubs to collect even more money from intoxicated men with disposable income (or disposable brain cells). You get to look cool and have a bottle of liquor at your table, and they get to charge you hundreds of dollars for it. It should have occurred to me that 12 guys getting 2 big bottles of hard alchs at 3:00 in the morning was a proposition destined for failure, but this was the first of several miscalculations for the trip. Amazingly our failure was that there was no way we were finishing the stuff, and we left sometime around 5 or 6 with liquid money left on the table.
After Drai's it was back on the road to the Venetian. I was itchin' to try my new Video Poker cheat sheets, so we got ourselves some white Russians and hit the Video Poker machines. Or rather we hit the video poker machines and then got some white Russians. Ain't Vegas great? "Another Caucasian Marty!" By now our group had dwindled to Wook, Wally and myself. It was 7:30 in the morning, and we were at a crossroads. On the one hand, we could go to sleep, and get a few hours of rest before hitting the sports book for Saturday's races. On the other hand, we were in the Pacific Time Zone, and post time at the eastern tracks would be in only 2 hours...
Second gross miscalculation of the trip - Opting for the sports book. Sleep be damned, we were going to that sportsbook and getting ourselves some grade A seats for a day of racing. We stopped upstairs, and recruited Doof and Ben for our dreadful scheme, and then hit the bricks to the Bellagio for a day full of horseys and Orange Whips (What my sister calls Red Bull & Vodka).

Third gross miscalculation of the trip - Converting to Judaism. OK, we didnít actually do this (I donít think). But it seemed a funny thing for Wook to tell Emily (Johnny's wife back in Chicago), when we called her on the way to the Bellagio. We had originally called her to inform her that her good little Johnny (wuss) was back at the hotel in bed, while we (tough guys) were on the way to the Race and Sports Book for more action. Then we told her about the Yarmulkes.

At the Sports Book, we started off well, winning some monies on "So Nasty" in the first race, but it was downhill from there. The Orange Whips were not helping, and as the day wore on, my horseys finished worse and worse. By about 2PM, we had had enough, and we decided to head on back to the hotel, stopping on the way at O'Shea's for the famous "Las Vegas Dog."

Fourth gross miscalculation of the trip - Chili-cheese-onion foot long hot dogs at O'Shea's. How Wally put down two of these I'll never know. Just one of these things rocked my world for the next 12 hours, about 2 of those spent on the pot. After our meal from hell, we staggered back to the Venetian and crashed for 3 hours or so. I got it together enough to head out to the late dinner with the fellas, but that is where my evening ended. I headed back to the hotel to get some sleep for the big ride home on Sunday, and the rest of the folks rallied, and headed out to ICE. I will end my story here, but you can plainly see from the Wookís pics that there was more trouble afoot.
After our meal from hell, we staggered back to the Venetian and crashed for 3 hours or so. I got it together enough to head out to the late dinner with the fellas, but that is where my evening ended. I headed back to the hotel to get some sleep for the big ride home on Sunday, and the rest of the folks rallied, and headed out to ICE. I will end my story here, but you can plainly see from the Wooks pics (Album 1 | Album 2) that there was more trouble afoot.
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