* Originally posted 10/30/05 *
Is it possible to party to exhaustion? I'm writing this after finally getting home from an extraordinarily wonderful trip to Las Vegas. The decadence of the clubs, the variety of people (including Christina Aguilara), the champagne brunches, the stacks of chips Vegas certainly lived up to its name.
My crew, a grand-spirited lot whom originally hail from Ireland made for excellent company. Their energy, taste in music and command of alcohol provided the perfect infrastructure for the entire 4-day event.
I highly recommend going to Vegas during Halloween. All the clubs were embracing the holiday to its fullest. The elaborate dance production of Thriller was amazing.
The pedestaled girls having their clothing painted on them was a nice touch too. The music, though a bit too hip-hoppy, was good. Every night the DJs evolved their sets of 50 cent and Jay-Z into hard-driving house mixes that I could not help but to dance to until my legs went rubbery.
By Saturday night our crew had increased in size. We had a handsome devil a monk (aka Brother Love, aka Friar Fuck), a member of Team Zissou and an anarchy cheerleader like one would see in the Smells Like Teen Spirit video. Of course I cannot forget the Smurfs. Two of the girls in our immediate party had painted their entire bodies blue, donned white hats and blond wigs and pranced along happily as only a couple of Smurfettes could. There was a grinning moment of joy at Tao when we met our other friends and joined ranks with Papa Smurf, Horny Smurf, Azriel and Gargamel. Truly an all-star evening.
As I mentioned earlier, the champagne brunches were EXACTLY what the doctor ordered after a long, hard night of clubbing. The best, hands down was the buffet at Paris. Those Frenchy bastards are the masters of all things rich and covered in some sort of buttery sauce. Over three hours we consumed breakfast, lunch and dinner. After the free champagne stopped flowing at 3:30, we charmed our waiter into sneaking some more out to us. Our second waitress (the first had finished his shift) went so far as to smuggle even more champagne out to us in an innocuous looking paper cup.
Of course, what would a trip to Vegas be without some sort of gambling? After a treacherous blackjack session Friday, I was convinced I had no luck regarding the magic number of 21. Saturday was a much different story however. I had researched, talked with friends, dealers and fellow players and learned the fundamentals and philosophy of betting strategies and hand-playing. My efforts paid off as I made back the $100 I had lost the day before and actually increased my Martini fund by a handsome figure.
Alas, all good things must end, though that is not necessarily a bad thing. Every muscle in my body is sore, my liver isn't speaking with me, and despite how much water I drink, I'm still thirsty. It will be a while before I make way back to the town of abundant vice indulgences; though Im sure next year will be even grander.
Is it possible to party to exhaustion? I'm writing this after finally getting home from an extraordinarily wonderful trip to Las Vegas. The decadence of the clubs, the variety of people (including Christina Aguilara), the champagne brunches, the stacks of chips Vegas certainly lived up to its name.
My crew, a grand-spirited lot whom originally hail from Ireland made for excellent company. Their energy, taste in music and command of alcohol provided the perfect infrastructure for the entire 4-day event.
I highly recommend going to Vegas during Halloween. All the clubs were embracing the holiday to its fullest. The elaborate dance production of Thriller was amazing.
The pedestaled girls having their clothing painted on them was a nice touch too. The music, though a bit too hip-hoppy, was good. Every night the DJs evolved their sets of 50 cent and Jay-Z into hard-driving house mixes that I could not help but to dance to until my legs went rubbery.
By Saturday night our crew had increased in size. We had a handsome devil a monk (aka Brother Love, aka Friar Fuck), a member of Team Zissou and an anarchy cheerleader like one would see in the Smells Like Teen Spirit video. Of course I cannot forget the Smurfs. Two of the girls in our immediate party had painted their entire bodies blue, donned white hats and blond wigs and pranced along happily as only a couple of Smurfettes could. There was a grinning moment of joy at Tao when we met our other friends and joined ranks with Papa Smurf, Horny Smurf, Azriel and Gargamel. Truly an all-star evening.
As I mentioned earlier, the champagne brunches were EXACTLY what the doctor ordered after a long, hard night of clubbing. The best, hands down was the buffet at Paris. Those Frenchy bastards are the masters of all things rich and covered in some sort of buttery sauce. Over three hours we consumed breakfast, lunch and dinner. After the free champagne stopped flowing at 3:30, we charmed our waiter into sneaking some more out to us. Our second waitress (the first had finished his shift) went so far as to smuggle even more champagne out to us in an innocuous looking paper cup.
Of course, what would a trip to Vegas be without some sort of gambling? After a treacherous blackjack session Friday, I was convinced I had no luck regarding the magic number of 21. Saturday was a much different story however. I had researched, talked with friends, dealers and fellow players and learned the fundamentals and philosophy of betting strategies and hand-playing. My efforts paid off as I made back the $100 I had lost the day before and actually increased my Martini fund by a handsome figure.
Alas, all good things must end, though that is not necessarily a bad thing. Every muscle in my body is sore, my liver isn't speaking with me, and despite how much water I drink, I'm still thirsty. It will be a while before I make way back to the town of abundant vice indulgences; though Im sure next year will be even grander.