Postmortem 6/2013.
This trip was fun, but I made it hard on myself.
First mistake was booking Megabus to get me to/from Vegas. Megabus is a Greyhound-type service that goes from SF to LA to Vegas for super cheap. My round trip for the whole shebang was $80. Cool right? I'll be able to sleep on the bus overnight, I get to see the Mojave desert, which I never have before, sure it'll take a little longer, but road trip, right?
Wrong. The bus was super crowded, uncomfortable, and for some reason I could NOT sleep on that fucking thing. I got on the bus at around 10p here, and didn't get to Vegas until 1p the next day. 15 fucking hours on that bus; sure I got to see the Mojave, but that motherfucker is overrated. You seen 1 mile you've seen them all. And I saw them all. To be fair none of this was Megabus' fault, it was actually on time the whole way and in reality once we got past LA and dumped off all the beautiful people it wasn't that crowded for the last leg. It just would have been a much better experience getting there and far less of a waste of time to pay the extra $100 and fly.
So that's getting there. Then when I get to Vegas (finally) the bus dumps us off at the transit terminal which on Google Maps looks like it's fairly close to the strip but in reality is a 2 1/2 mile walk. In the middle of the day. In June. In Las Vegas. I walked it.
By the time I got to Mandalay Bay, (just to get out of the heat, my hotel was still another 1/4 of a mile away) I was almost literally crying. This is after having spent the last 15 hours in a bus w/o any sleep. It took me about a half hour to mop the sweat off of me and cool down enough to think about starting to have some fun. Compounding all of this is the fact that my cheap-ass, dollar store bought neon orange backpack is so overloaded that one of the straps has by now almost completely ripped off, and I'm having to carry it by the top hand strap everywhere. Fuck.
So finally I get over to the Excalibur, which is probably the bottom barrel of the strip resorts, maybe only ahead of Circus Circus and The Quad, but eh, it's comped and I'm not going to spend much time in the room anyway (so I think). I get to my room, throw out my shitty backpack (resigning myself to having to buy a new one for the return trip) and collapse into a nap.
Excalibur is a hoot. It is an absolute embarrassing eyesore to look at, seriously whatever asshat thought a fucking full-on medieval castle built in the middle of a desert was a good idea should be shot. The place is just devoid of any pretentiousness, though; you will NOT see any James Bond looking motherfuckers wandering through this place. Fat, cargo shorts and college football t-shirt wearing, fanny pack having white trash is what you'll see. The staff are all seemingly Vegas veterans who are too old or jaded to be working at the premier resorts anymore; seriously some of the scantily-clad casino waitresses could have been my (dead) grandmother. They're all friendly enough though in a cynical way. After the getting to Vegas fiasco everything settled down on the first night into more or less a normal Vegas night for me. Hit all my normal spots, gambled a bit, drank a lot. Ate at Dick's Last Resort, which is kind of a hoot to hang out in. Crashed out late.
The first full day I resolved to get over to the east side of the strip, as I normally had been hanging out in the West side MGM joints the last few trips. So I set out to do that, but stopped first at the Harley Davidson cafe to get food. I had eaten there on my first trip to Vegas and had had a really good steak, so I decided to go in there again. This time though, I had a cheese steak sandwich and it not only tasted pretty wack, but it soon began the fucking Siege of Stalingrad on my stomach. So yeah, I saw all the East side strip casinos...I saw their fucking bathrooms, as for the next 3 hours I continually pooped out the fore mentioned god-awful cheese steak. All this was on a 98 degree day, which was cooking my bald head even worse than it had been cooked the previous day on the walk to the strip, it was now a lovely shade of bright red.
So I go back to the Ex and crash out for a few hours, then go back out and hit it hard again. I somehow found myself outside the Thunder Down Under (male review) room drinking at a bar where unless I was a 25 year old muscle bound Australian I wasn't going to be getting any strange. Gambled a little, got even more drunk (while also indulging in "party favors"), then, while in one of the culinary capitals of the World I finished off the evening by getting, yes, a Quarter Pounder from fucking McDonald's. Saw my pillow at about 5a.
Clearly all this had taken a toll on my body, as, not having set an alarm the night before, I SLEPT UNTIL ALMOST 4 IN THE AFTERNOON. Ugh. I come all this way to have as much fun as possible in a short time and I sleep in a shitty hotel room literally half a day. So into the shower, out in the heat to find a replacement for my piece of shit backpack. That done (Ross), back to the room to drop it off and I'm finally ready to have some fun by about 6p.
This I finally do, going to one of my favorite spots at NYNY, The Sporting House, for the Giants game and by a lucky chance there's that galactically long Stanley Cup hockey game btw the Bruins and Blackhawks that goes on for like 5 hours. So I plop myself down in the sportsbook for an hour or so and watch that, happily sipping on vodka crans and getting blitzed. Hit all my normal spots, Cosmopolitan, Luxor, etc, then wind up gambling while completely blasted in the Ex and winning $600 on a nickel slot, so despite everything else at least I haven't lost much money on the trip. Straggle into bed at about 4a after yet again partaking of that culinary masterpiece, the Quarter Pounder. 3rd time on the trip.
The next morning I check out of the Ex and just want to get home, fast, so I blew off the Megabus, as there was no WAY I was going to sit for another 15 hours on a bus and sprung for a day-of seat on Virgin and flew home. Best $300 I ever spent. Caught a cab from the airport for another $40 and the adventure was finally done.
So, needless to say, not the best of Vegas trips.
That said, it was still fun on the balance and it's a trip I'll certainly never forget. None of it was Vegas' fault, it was just my bad decisions.
So this time it's fly in, fly out, staying in a beautiful resort (THEhotel), and have a backpack that should survive the trip. Also am going with party favors again including a "stimulant" I haven't done in a while that makes your experience a lot more sexy. And sweaty (think raves). Should also have plenty of money and will be eating at Red Square at least on the first night, so no fucking Quarter Pounders.
If I can just manage to set my alarm I should have all my bases covered.
First mistake was booking Megabus to get me to/from Vegas. Megabus is a Greyhound-type service that goes from SF to LA to Vegas for super cheap. My round trip for the whole shebang was $80. Cool right? I'll be able to sleep on the bus overnight, I get to see the Mojave desert, which I never have before, sure it'll take a little longer, but road trip, right?
Wrong. The bus was super crowded, uncomfortable, and for some reason I could NOT sleep on that fucking thing. I got on the bus at around 10p here, and didn't get to Vegas until 1p the next day. 15 fucking hours on that bus; sure I got to see the Mojave, but that motherfucker is overrated. You seen 1 mile you've seen them all. And I saw them all. To be fair none of this was Megabus' fault, it was actually on time the whole way and in reality once we got past LA and dumped off all the beautiful people it wasn't that crowded for the last leg. It just would have been a much better experience getting there and far less of a waste of time to pay the extra $100 and fly.
So that's getting there. Then when I get to Vegas (finally) the bus dumps us off at the transit terminal which on Google Maps looks like it's fairly close to the strip but in reality is a 2 1/2 mile walk. In the middle of the day. In June. In Las Vegas. I walked it.
By the time I got to Mandalay Bay, (just to get out of the heat, my hotel was still another 1/4 of a mile away) I was almost literally crying. This is after having spent the last 15 hours in a bus w/o any sleep. It took me about a half hour to mop the sweat off of me and cool down enough to think about starting to have some fun. Compounding all of this is the fact that my cheap-ass, dollar store bought neon orange backpack is so overloaded that one of the straps has by now almost completely ripped off, and I'm having to carry it by the top hand strap everywhere. Fuck.
So finally I get over to the Excalibur, which is probably the bottom barrel of the strip resorts, maybe only ahead of Circus Circus and The Quad, but eh, it's comped and I'm not going to spend much time in the room anyway (so I think). I get to my room, throw out my shitty backpack (resigning myself to having to buy a new one for the return trip) and collapse into a nap.
Excalibur is a hoot. It is an absolute embarrassing eyesore to look at, seriously whatever asshat thought a fucking full-on medieval castle built in the middle of a desert was a good idea should be shot. The place is just devoid of any pretentiousness, though; you will NOT see any James Bond looking motherfuckers wandering through this place. Fat, cargo shorts and college football t-shirt wearing, fanny pack having white trash is what you'll see. The staff are all seemingly Vegas veterans who are too old or jaded to be working at the premier resorts anymore; seriously some of the scantily-clad casino waitresses could have been my (dead) grandmother. They're all friendly enough though in a cynical way. After the getting to Vegas fiasco everything settled down on the first night into more or less a normal Vegas night for me. Hit all my normal spots, gambled a bit, drank a lot. Ate at Dick's Last Resort, which is kind of a hoot to hang out in. Crashed out late.
The first full day I resolved to get over to the east side of the strip, as I normally had been hanging out in the West side MGM joints the last few trips. So I set out to do that, but stopped first at the Harley Davidson cafe to get food. I had eaten there on my first trip to Vegas and had had a really good steak, so I decided to go in there again. This time though, I had a cheese steak sandwich and it not only tasted pretty wack, but it soon began the fucking Siege of Stalingrad on my stomach. So yeah, I saw all the East side strip casinos...I saw their fucking bathrooms, as for the next 3 hours I continually pooped out the fore mentioned god-awful cheese steak. All this was on a 98 degree day, which was cooking my bald head even worse than it had been cooked the previous day on the walk to the strip, it was now a lovely shade of bright red.
So I go back to the Ex and crash out for a few hours, then go back out and hit it hard again. I somehow found myself outside the Thunder Down Under (male review) room drinking at a bar where unless I was a 25 year old muscle bound Australian I wasn't going to be getting any strange. Gambled a little, got even more drunk (while also indulging in "party favors"), then, while in one of the culinary capitals of the World I finished off the evening by getting, yes, a Quarter Pounder from fucking McDonald's. Saw my pillow at about 5a.
Clearly all this had taken a toll on my body, as, not having set an alarm the night before, I SLEPT UNTIL ALMOST 4 IN THE AFTERNOON. Ugh. I come all this way to have as much fun as possible in a short time and I sleep in a shitty hotel room literally half a day. So into the shower, out in the heat to find a replacement for my piece of shit backpack. That done (Ross), back to the room to drop it off and I'm finally ready to have some fun by about 6p.
This I finally do, going to one of my favorite spots at NYNY, The Sporting House, for the Giants game and by a lucky chance there's that galactically long Stanley Cup hockey game btw the Bruins and Blackhawks that goes on for like 5 hours. So I plop myself down in the sportsbook for an hour or so and watch that, happily sipping on vodka crans and getting blitzed. Hit all my normal spots, Cosmopolitan, Luxor, etc, then wind up gambling while completely blasted in the Ex and winning $600 on a nickel slot, so despite everything else at least I haven't lost much money on the trip. Straggle into bed at about 4a after yet again partaking of that culinary masterpiece, the Quarter Pounder. 3rd time on the trip.
The next morning I check out of the Ex and just want to get home, fast, so I blew off the Megabus, as there was no WAY I was going to sit for another 15 hours on a bus and sprung for a day-of seat on Virgin and flew home. Best $300 I ever spent. Caught a cab from the airport for another $40 and the adventure was finally done.
So, needless to say, not the best of Vegas trips.
That said, it was still fun on the balance and it's a trip I'll certainly never forget. None of it was Vegas' fault, it was just my bad decisions.
So this time it's fly in, fly out, staying in a beautiful resort (THEhotel), and have a backpack that should survive the trip. Also am going with party favors again including a "stimulant" I haven't done in a while that makes your experience a lot more sexy. And sweaty (think raves). Should also have plenty of money and will be eating at Red Square at least on the first night, so no fucking Quarter Pounders.
If I can just manage to set my alarm I should have all my bases covered.
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