Thursday, Dec. 30, 2010
7:22 p.m.
<< [ Vegas - Saturday, Day 2 (still continued) ] >>
The bus carries us back to what passes for civilization, and we have to walk back down the strip. We ran thirteen miles, with hills, and our reward is to walk another four back home.
Owner insists that a hot tub is the worst possible thing we can do, but I don't listen. Chapped and sunburned and red in the hotel room, I hot tub like there's no fucking tomorrow, and then I nap in preparation for the night. Owner and her childhood friend gossip on the floor in front of the bed, talking more about What Not To Wear and the other coach Owner has a crush on.
By the time I wake up it's dark and the girls have already started getting ready. I run around my room, their room, my room, and we are flurries of mascara and mimosas and high heels. The girl who met us late, climbed into our bed, lays out safety rules. "If a guy wants to buy you a drink, take him over to the bar and have them make it in front of you. Don't let him hand you one."
We nod, do a couple shots of tequila, and we're out the door. The pervier manfolk raises his eyebrows at me in my little black dress, asks if I'm "planning on making out with anyone" tonight. I tell him he wishes, then turn and shimmy away.
We have reservations at one of the trendier nightclubs/restaurants in Vegas: Tao. The music is too loud, the lights are too dim, and the food is too expensive, but I guess this is Vegas, baby, and it's an experience like any other. I sit next to Manager Aries and Mister Taurus, and we discuss customer service, remembering names, and how the Tauruses want a big family some day. I eat coconut shrimp passing fad with some honey trend sauce bullshit drizzled on top.
After dinner, bed girl, Manager Libra, and I disappear into the club under the guise of dancing. It's too crowded, though, so two drinks and an unimpressed look later, I text Owner and ask when they're leaving, because I'd like a ride. I drag my drunker-than-I-thought self to the taxi line, and when I ask the couple in front of me if it is, in fact, the taxi line, the guy says to me, "We're trying to hook up here."
Lovely. Welcome to Vegas.
Owner's Vegan Friend texts that they're coming soon, just hold on a little longer, so I wait, drunk and cold, on a stone bench outside The Venetian until she runs up and drags me away. "We're here to save you!" she says, and pulls me by the arm.
We pile into her teeny tiny car, and Owner starts to give me shit for being off in Vegas, drunk, alone, until Vegan Friend tells her to knock it off. "Remember when you were young, and how overwhelming things were?" she says, and Owner shuts up. I thank her the next morning.
Back home, three in the morning, I pile lawn chairs on top of eachother, then my laptop on top of the chairs, then I climb into the hottub.
Hottubbing and laptopping at the same time. Vegas, baby.