Upon arriving at our hotel room at the Stratosphere, I made a beeline to the restroom, where I was surprised by a rather red-faced Beezy wrapped around the toilet, half asleep. Veronica and I helped our intoxicated friend to his bed, where he could pass out with dignity.
At that moment it seemed like Beezy’s night was ending early, but soon after dinner at Roxxy’s, an all-night 50’s themed diner located on the ground floor of the Stratosphere (where they project Elvis movies onto the walls and the servers perform solos twice an hour), we happened to find him on the casino floor, beer in hand, engaged in his first legal game of poker. It was about to be four in the morning, and it was clear that Beezy’s birthday celebrations were still only starting. I, on the other hand, had been up since six on the previous morning, so I wished my friend good luck and went back up to the room to sleep.
….......................................................................................................................................................
The next morning, the whole group planned to visit the hotel buffet with Beezy’s dad, who had made the whole trip possible by setting us up with our hotel rooms. The buffet was extensive, yet surprisingly unimpressive; perhaps I was just being over-imaginative again, but the spread was more generic than I’d expected. The food was okay, but I would have gladly paid ten dollars more to eat somewhere that didn’t remind me of a Golden Corral.
We were lucky enough to arrive just as the chefs served up a fresh tray of eggs benedict. I must have eaten three or four of them, and each egg was cooked to perfection. Those and an endless pile of steamed crab legs kept me occupied for the majority of the meal. I was so occupied, actually, that I didn’t notice when Beezy rushed out of the dining room, apparently for another dance with the porcelain throne.
Now, at this point I should probably explain that our friend Beezy has a notoriously weak stomach when it comes to alcohol. It’s been a long-standing joke that Beezy is “allergic” to hard liquor, his response to which is so predictable that we coined the term “larry-ing” (after his first name) as a euphemism for vomiting. Considering his history, Beezy’s morning sickness didn’t seem like much of a concern to anyone in our group.
At that moment it seemed like Beezy’s night was ending early, but soon after dinner at Roxxy’s, an all-night 50’s themed diner located on the ground floor of the Stratosphere (where they project Elvis movies onto the walls and the servers perform solos twice an hour), we happened to find him on the casino floor, beer in hand, engaged in his first legal game of poker. It was about to be four in the morning, and it was clear that Beezy’s birthday celebrations were still only starting. I, on the other hand, had been up since six on the previous morning, so I wished my friend good luck and went back up to the room to sleep.
….......................................................................................................................................................
The next morning, the whole group planned to visit the hotel buffet with Beezy’s dad, who had made the whole trip possible by setting us up with our hotel rooms. The buffet was extensive, yet surprisingly unimpressive; perhaps I was just being over-imaginative again, but the spread was more generic than I’d expected. The food was okay, but I would have gladly paid ten dollars more to eat somewhere that didn’t remind me of a Golden Corral.
We were lucky enough to arrive just as the chefs served up a fresh tray of eggs benedict. I must have eaten three or four of them, and each egg was cooked to perfection. Those and an endless pile of steamed crab legs kept me occupied for the majority of the meal. I was so occupied, actually, that I didn’t notice when Beezy rushed out of the dining room, apparently for another dance with the porcelain throne.
Now, at this point I should probably explain that our friend Beezy has a notoriously weak stomach when it comes to alcohol. It’s been a long-standing joke that Beezy is “allergic” to hard liquor, his response to which is so predictable that we coined the term “larry-ing” (after his first name) as a euphemism for vomiting. Considering his history, Beezy’s morning sickness didn’t seem like much of a concern to anyone in our group.
Sure enough, Beezy made a swift recovery, and after breakfast, we were soon on our way to the Liquid Pool/Lounge, which is essentially a monstrous pool party made exclusive with a prohibitive cover charge. I’d heard that in a place like Liquid, one could find the ultimate pool party paradise; however, this wasn’t what I’d envisioned my leisurely day at the pool looking like: two pools, both packed like a New York subway with sweaty bodies and silicone implants. After about twenty awkward minutes of trying to fit into this hedonistic celebration (and after being told that all seating was reserved for those willing to pay for bottle service), our group realized that Liquid was not our particular cup of tea, and we quickly packed our things and took off.
We retreated to the guest pool at the Aria Hotel, where the mood was far more relaxed. Though it was a spectacle worth remembering I, for one was grateful to leave the overrun cesspool called Liquid, where it seemed none of our group were either rich or drunk enough to enjoy ourselves. At the guest pool, we were at least able to find seats, open waters, and some people that we found a bit more relatable. A word of advice to Vegas travelers: don’t feel obligated to spend too much extra money on the “exclusive” clubs (they’re often more hassle than they’re worth. Instead, just enjoy the company of friends and go where the spirit takes you.
After sharing a couple pitchers of mojito, the spirit took us back to our hotel, where I made a point of enjoying some more of the Stratosphere’s incredible pizza. I brought the pizza back up to the hotel room to share with my roommates, but to my surprise, I walked inside to hear the amplified “brrrraaaaahghghgh!” of Beezy gastro-geysering in the bathroom, accompanied by Veronica’s priceless expression of sympathetic disgust.
After emerging from the bathroom with paled skin and intense eyes, Beezy admitted that he felt a bit under the weather...
“Food poisoning!” he declared, insisting that some dish from the hotel buffet had done him in. I was doubtful about his diagnosis at first, but after reflecting on my own first impressions of the buffet spread, I admittedly felt a small twinge in my stomach.
Empathetic food poisoning? Through much introspection, I’ve deemed myself to be a slight hypochondriac; however, I ate an awful amount of seafood during my own feast, as did Beezy...
So who knows?
Not to worry, though. After getting getting some food in my stomach, I was primed and ready to go out and see more of the Sin City, and it looked like Beezy was ready to guide us, with or without our approval.
There are several sights to see in Vegas, the Bellagio boasts its fountain display, Mandalay Bay offers a beautiful aquarium, said to house a collection of rare golden crocodiles, but I especially enjoyed the Mirage’s Volcano, which erupts at set times throughout the night. And as if the the live, flaming volcano (replica) wasn’t enough, the Mirage hotel also houses a live dolphin habitat, the Revolution Bar/Lounge, a bar devoted to the Beatles (though they might get that theme across better if they played a Beatles song here and there), and the venue for the Beatles “Love” Cirque du Soleil show, where I, an avid Beatles fan, went berserk over the amount of unique Beatles merchandise they had for sale.
Although we didn’t get to see the show, I was still glad that we made a stop at the Mirage Hotel. But tonight I was anticipating nothing more than the trip that Veronica and I planned to make to Steak, Gordon Ramsay’s cutting edge restaurant on the Vegas Strip. This restaurant is designed to capture the fancy of the average young and unrelentingly hip Las Vegas tourist, boasting touch screen menus, comprehensive drink menus in the form of iPads, and an undeniably chic dining room with a gorgeous open kitchen.
Unfortunately for us, the restaurant is so popular that one shouldn’t expect to get any last minute reservations. By the time I was able to get the number for the restaurant and call them, they were completely booked.
Somehow this hitch in our plans wasn’t all that disappointing to me. It, in fact, left me free to enjoy the Vegas meal which I’d really been anticipating: the beautiful creation known as the In-N-Out burger. We hopped into a taxi and had the driver take us through the drive-thru. I’d be lying if I said that I truly regretted missing Ramsay’s restaurant. It seems to me that in his attempt to appeal to a particular demographic, he took a simple and unpresumptuous theme, “steak,” and somehow made it seem a bit pretentious. I have little doubt that I would have enjoyed Ramsay’s 60 dollar beef wellington very much more than my six dollar burger. After a frantic day on the Strip, it was refreshing to have a nice, uncomplicated meal. I settled into bed that night with a belly full of grease and a smile on my face.
Soon it was morning, and Beezy was crowing like a rooster in the bathroom again. He told us to go on without him for a while, which we reluctantly did.
We visited a few more casinos and bars before heading back to the Stratosphere, and when we arrived at the hotel, we realized that we’d lost Beezy again!
Well, he wasn’t actually lost, but he was apparently being hospitalized for alcohol Gastritis. It seems that Beezy tried to fit too much fun into one night. His dad had picked him up from the casino that afternoon and taken him to the local ER.
I took a lesson from Beezy and took it easy that night. Veronica and I ate again at the 50’s diner at the bottom of the hotel and passed out early after packing for the next day’s flight.
I was glad that we’d remained separate from the rest of the group that night, because as we were drifting off that night, we couldn’t help noticing the intense argument which was taking place in our neighbor’s room. Alcohol has a keen ability to grease the wheels of tense situations, and apparently a very high-tension situation had been building between two good friends of mine. It was a grim ending to a wonderful time, and I don’t regret missing out on the brunt of it.
Allow me to be cliched for a moment and quote the popular slogan, “What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.” False. Beezy went home with a swollen belly and a case of the “larries”. Two of my friends went home with more serious, festering wounds, which would affect them both greatly. Even I, who had a relatively normal vacation, went home with an eerie feeling which clung to me for days. Even though I’d had a great time, I wasn’t sad to see the Sin City fade into the clouds.
Traveling can be a profoundly confusing experience...
Unfortunately for us, the restaurant is so popular that one shouldn’t expect to get any last minute reservations. By the time I was able to get the number for the restaurant and call them, they were completely booked.
Somehow this hitch in our plans wasn’t all that disappointing to me. It, in fact, left me free to enjoy the Vegas meal which I’d really been anticipating: the beautiful creation known as the In-N-Out burger. We hopped into a taxi and had the driver take us through the drive-thru. I’d be lying if I said that I truly regretted missing Ramsay’s restaurant. It seems to me that in his attempt to appeal to a particular demographic, he took a simple and unpresumptuous theme, “steak,” and somehow made it seem a bit pretentious. I have little doubt that I would have enjoyed Ramsay’s 60 dollar beef wellington very much more than my six dollar burger. After a frantic day on the Strip, it was refreshing to have a nice, uncomplicated meal. I settled into bed that night with a belly full of grease and a smile on my face.
Soon it was morning, and Beezy was crowing like a rooster in the bathroom again. He told us to go on without him for a while, which we reluctantly did.
We visited a few more casinos and bars before heading back to the Stratosphere, and when we arrived at the hotel, we realized that we’d lost Beezy again!
Well, he wasn’t actually lost, but he was apparently being hospitalized for alcohol Gastritis. It seems that Beezy tried to fit too much fun into one night. His dad had picked him up from the casino that afternoon and taken him to the local ER.
I took a lesson from Beezy and took it easy that night. Veronica and I ate again at the 50’s diner at the bottom of the hotel and passed out early after packing for the next day’s flight.
I was glad that we’d remained separate from the rest of the group that night, because as we were drifting off that night, we couldn’t help noticing the intense argument which was taking place in our neighbor’s room. Alcohol has a keen ability to grease the wheels of tense situations, and apparently a very high-tension situation had been building between two good friends of mine. It was a grim ending to a wonderful time, and I don’t regret missing out on the brunt of it.
Allow me to be cliched for a moment and quote the popular slogan, “What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.” False. Beezy went home with a swollen belly and a case of the “larries”. Two of my friends went home with more serious, festering wounds, which would affect them both greatly. Even I, who had a relatively normal vacation, went home with an eerie feeling which clung to me for days. Even though I’d had a great time, I wasn’t sad to see the Sin City fade into the clouds.
Traveling can be a profoundly confusing experience...
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