~ Day 1 – Prelude ~
Wednesday, June 5
“For a loser, Vegas is the meanest town on earth.”
– HST, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas
I’m not a particularly lucky traveler. I always find something that irritates me to no end, and on this particular flight from Boston to Las Vegas, the five-ish straight hours of having the 4-year-old sitting behind me repeatedly kicking my seat despite three separate instances of asking his father to deal with it to no avail was a hall of fame worthy shitty traveling situation. At a certain point I was envisioning myself being at the center of a new social media craze:
“Dickhead Deadhead freaks out on poor helpless father on flight to Vegas. Plane redirected to Omaha. Dozens of people on board miss concert.”
So, with that in mind, I allowed my lower back to take a pounding and happily exited the plane and found myself in the desert, during an unprecedented heat wave. Basically Hell on Earth. Given the availability of proper accommodations with the concert in town, JPR and I were split from the rest of the group (who didn’t arrive until the next day). After a quick trip to the airport liquor store it was off to the Bellagio, the once amazing jewel of the strip, for a night of long overdue revelry.
But first, a little tangent about Las Vegas. This was my fourth trip, but first in the last 18 years. I went twice with my ex-wife where I did virtually no gambling or really anything remotely fun. Similar to the city itself, I had the overwhelming feeling of “what the hell exactly am I doing here?” for the entirety of both of these trips. I didn’t need to be in Vegas on those two specific situations, and when you really think of it, given where it is located, Las Vegas doesn’t really need to be there either. Such an odd place to plop a destination…
On the other hand, the most recent experience in 2006 was a quick three-day trip with JPR and 80’s, the latter of which at the time fancied himself as a poker stud due to his success steamrolling rubes in the Northeast Kingdom for years leading up to the trip. Some 4-ish hours after landing in Vegas, and after immediately running off alone to play his way to surefire riches, he was found in a now gone Irish Pub themed tiny casino somewhere near the Imperial Palace that featured height restricted gentlemen dressed as leprechauns running across bars and pouring green shots of an unidentified liquor in patron’s mouths. Coincidentally, he was down to his last few dollars (and I’m talking he literally had a couple of One-Dollar-Bills when we caught back up with him). Hyjinks ensued. He was relentlessly made fun of until the next day, rightfully so. After a trip to Western Union all was right once again in the world. It’s one of my favorite memories, and the only kind of memories that you can have with someone you’ve known since you were 12. It was also the only time I ever left Las Vegas with money thanks to a hot run on the roulette table. In the moment, both JPR and I thought this was the height of hilarity. I assume only recently has 80s also come around to joining us in this assessment of his first few hours in Vegas. But, I digress…
In typical fashion, I started off hot on the Blackjack tables, and John was even hotter. The casinos seem to know when the newbies roll in to trick them into thinking the cards are going to continue in their favor. This is how they get you. Turns out, we both should have walked away, but its expensive for the casinos to transport in all that water for the swimming pools and majestic fountains. The bastards got us, but not after we secured a fistful of free drinks, so we retired to the pool and then the bar with childlike anticipation for the days to follow.
Boiler in the Basement Music 