Highlights from my trip to Vegas this past weekend:
- Saw Le Reve at the Wynn. It's a great show similar to Cirque du Soleil acts. I highly recommend it.
- Went to Krave for the first time. It's a pretty good night club with some damn fine go go dancers. (both men and women)
- Lopeka sits down at Wheel of Fortune quarter machine, hits a spin after about five minutes and gets the top amount of 1000 credits.
- We decide to try the 'High Limit' slot area and keep to the Wheel of Fortune theme. Put in $10, get a spin and win $125. We took the money and ran.
- Midway games at Excalibur are still fun and I'm the freaking king of the fishing game. We walked out of there with massive amounts of various stuffed animals.
- Drank a lot. A whole lot. Waaaay too much, actually, but damned if it wasn't fun!
Story time!
So it's Saturday night and we are both stinking drunk from the shindig over at Krave and I figure there's no way in hell we'd make the 11:00am check out time on account of it's already almost four AM and dammit I need my rest. So I stagger down to the front desk and pay for the room for one more night.
One thing that I've always had trouble with, even sober, was the getting the damn key card to work with the room lock. There was something funny with the door that it just wouldn't simply unclick and let you in. You have to finagle it a bit. So I'm zigzagging down the hall after paying for the room and try the keycard in the lock. It won't work and I figure it's because I had to get new keys from the front desk because I have no idea where my old keycards went and they didn't program the new keys right. I didn't want to go down to the front desk again so I start knocking on the door.
No answer after a few minutes and I'm thinking he's either passed out cold or praying to the porcelain god so I start knocking even harder. Practically pounding on the door while still trying to get the damn key to work. Finally the door opens and I blurt out "Sorry, the keys they gave me don't seem to work." "'sok man don't worry" I finally look up and there's this big tattooed Mexcian dude in his boxers looking at me though half closed eyes. Oh fuck....then I notice the door says 19111. I'm in room 20111. "Oh fuck, sorry man, wrong room shit, sorry" and I swear I've never ran so fast in my life. Which in my state of heightened inebriation was probably something the guys that watch the security cameras got a big kick out of.
So the moral of the story is know which fucking room you're supposed to be at before you start pounding on the door at 3:30AM.
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