Day 14: Have you ever seen The Hangover? It was kind of like that, but better

Kingman, AZ to Las Vegas, NV

153 Miles

BG

RB

It's a special feeling that you get when you pull into Vegas. It's kind of like when you've been driving through the desert for a while, and haven't seen anything cool, and then all of sudden, Bam! There's skyscrapers in front of you!

Where are we?

We popped over the Hoover Dam and cruised around Lake Mead, then went into town. We ended up driving the Strip three times. Once to see it, twice to find our hotel, and a third time because we couldn't find it and had to choose another. 

The Imperiar Parace might be the cheapest on the Strip, but Goddamn! Drive by the Excalibur and and tell me you don't want to stay there. They have their own Medieval Times!

Down, down, down. Red Knight's going down.

We got our delicious smoking room on the basement floor with a nice view of the water pipes and a little bit of sunlight for hope. 

The Strip is everything you thought it was, and more: nice and warm, lots of people, and especially a lot of Mexicans passing out hooker trading cards. I snagged a couple, and then hid them all over Rob's car for an embarrassing yet hilarious joke to be played out later.

R-O-C-K!

We were then stopped by Skateboard Steve; he must have taken the bus that day though. He looked like a nice gentle pimp, and had coupons to go to every strip club in the city. However, after asking for a $10 donation for what were clearly worthless pieces of tourist toilet paper, we kept moving. 

In Stevie's haste to keep digging into his bag for more coupons though, he didn't notice me pocket the few worthwhile club tickets that he gave me. Look out Las Vegas, there's a new master of illusion in town. Little did I know that Rob would become the new Mr. Vegas.

This is supposed to be a tasteless reenactment of Siegfried or Roy getting eaten. 

After a delicious 2-for-1 Fatburger, thanks to a hot tip from Ice Cube and a Mexican non-sexual coupon (slightly rare within city limits and to be highly valued when acquired), we watched a little World's Strictest Parents, the last episode of Alexa Chung's TV show (who?), and a very inappropriate Rihanna music video- something about being hard. We then ripped some shots and suited up for the night.

Rob rocked the button-down, ditching the Charlie work hoodie-jacket combo. I kept the cowboy hat, and topped it off with full suit. When you spend a lot of money on clothing, you gotta wear it a lot so that you get your money's worth. That's also why I wore a ridiculous leather jacket the whole trip, and also why I now think the jacket is no longer ridiculous, but really cool.

Before 

Unfortunately, a lot of Vegas was shut down until the New Year- no lions at the MGM Grand, the Volcano at the Mirage was out of lava, the Luxor's Ice Lounge was melted, even the pirates at Treasure Island were on strike. Luckily, the booze discounts were still around: $1 for Newcastle drafts, Michelob bottles, and Slurpee Margaritas at the various casinos. We were fucked.

Sidenote: Walking the strip gets you a lot of love. One guy gave me free 24K gold face cream (then told me I looked like someone from the Hangover), and another guy gave me a free massage with some electro shock therapy.

We popped in and out of casinos, getting toasted, listening to lousy rock cover bands, and watching girlies dance on stage. After reaching the end of the Strip, we turned back to make good on our club tickets at The Bank at The Bellagio.

With free admission and a couple of nice Australian sisters who wanted our drink tickets, it was going to be a good night. Of course, those free drink coupons were only for chicks- lesson learned: don't trust anyone selling anything in Vegas.

Can you find Bobby Crooked?

Lady Gaga was in Vegas that night, which meant that she or one of her three tranny impersonators were there at the club; considering that no one knows what the hell she even looks like, it was definitely her dancing in VIP.

Rob was slaying it on the dance floor using natural abilites, while I rocked props to entice the ladies. Between dropping the cowboy hat on chicas to get their attention or giving them a puff off the cigar I bought in the club bathroom, we both did all right. I got to hang out with some Asians in VIP for a little bit thanks to drink coupons, and those Aussie sisters kept coming by too. It was awesome.

Bubbles, bottles, and Lady Gaga posse trannies really rounded out a great night that couldn't possibly get any better. I got to do my favorite dance move, ashin' and splashin', and Rob started making out with a chick.

Then disaster struck. The girl got a little classy and wanted to dance and dip; Rob wasn't ready and broke his ankle. (Sidenote: Really? Really?!?) It was bad- the second you go down lame, it's survival of the fittest, and no girl wants to go home with the cripple. We got in the elevator and limped home, alone. 

Also, I found out that the cowboy hat was not actually authentic Mexican- a Filipino cashier told me she sees a lot of them back home. Also, it might be gay to wear a cowboy hat anywhere but Texas, because a dude tapped me on the shoulder when I was in the elevator leaving the club, but when I turned around, he was like, "Oh sorry, I thought you were gay." I knew the beard wasn't gay.

After

One last moment in Vegas: as we hobbled back into the castle, a really hot Black chick came up to me and started talking close and touching me. She figured with the suit, beard, and hat that I must be a high roller (basically the kind of classy look that says, "Yup, I'd pay for sex"). She only wanted $150, but once I told her that the money wasn't in the ATM, she kept walking really fast. But at least it made me feel good to know that I still got it.