Beer and posing in Las Vagas

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(Joe on the first morning, embracing the surrounding enviroment/culture).

We arrived in our giant glass pyramidical home and decided to dump our cases in our swanky ass room, shower and ‘hit the casino’. Yeah, we had no idea how to gamble. Laurence won $40 on a slot machine on his first go, bought a $38 round of drinks for us both, then proceded to lose $70 on the same machine in about 3 minutes. I approached the blackjack table, realized there was a $50 buy in, laughed nervously and left. We decided to spend our money on lots of booze instead of trying to line up flashing cherry symbols next to old age pensioners with sunburnt, leathery skin and lapels that protruded dangerously from their plum coloured blazers.

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We had been in contact with my dad about his friend Dale who lived in Las Vagas hoping to meet up with him and learn a bit about ‘The Strip’. Once Laurence and I had organised to meet Dale via email, I asked my dad for a brief physical description of him so that we would be able to recognize him… My father’s response was something like this: “White hair, probably a moustache, 5ft 10″ oh yh and he’s black.”

I had simultaneously asked Dale to send a quick snapshot of his face for the same reason. Dale replied with this:

Dale wrk2011a

 

…So either Dale ISN’T BLACK AT ALL… or we accidentally emailed an opportunistic sex offender who’s real name is definitely not Dale. Probably Keith or something.

With the latter being the clear likelihood given our luck with strangers so fat on this trip, we decided to meet him at the Paris Las Vagas hotel for a few drinks and a tour of the Las Vagas strip. It turns out it WAS Dale and he is NOT black but he Does have a lot of great knowledge when it comes to different casinos and gave us a great tour.

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The following day we met back up with Dale for some of Bubba Gump’s shrimp. 

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The two Bristol fellas who we met back in Nawlins had arrived and messaged us to come meet them as they were also staying in the glass pyramid monstrosity A.K.A The Luxor. So that evening we met them in their suit equipped with a jacuzzi and balcony. They told us all about their luck with the ladies this jacuzzi had brought them. Turns out they had brought back two 45 year old women the previous night. Score.

We decided to all go out together that night to check out the club in the Luxor which was bound to be atrociously seedy and vastly underwhelming.. and  expensive if you had a penis, but free if you didn’t have one (and I don’t think the ol’ swing and tuck job would have worked on this one chaps).

It was a pretty funny night. hilariously shit music, over-priced drinks, and girls surrounded by salivating hunks in the ‘vip’ section trying to entice other hunks to drop the cash to pass the velvet rope to buy them drinks all night. We met some Belgian called Linsel Vandergbrstraghmbersdlnawjefgjbwqehhh who was staying in the same hotel with her palz so we spend most of the night falling around the club with them taking hundreds of unnecessary photos and buying overpriced drinks. We lost our friends then probly fell asleep in the elevator a few times missing our floor on 3 occasions, then found our floor and made our way to our room. No doubt the other Bristolian fellas had weighed their chances of finding another middle aged woman in the club in need of a dip in a jacuzzi pretty highly as they had remained in the club.

One of the main things we took from our experience in Las Vagas is the overwhelming sense that this is the full potential of America’s capitalist, indulgent culture. The fact that there are no windows in the casino to see what time of day it is, or that every establishment is a maze to ensure you spend the most time possible gambling and drinking, really enforced the first impression I had of the city: Las Vagas is the city that will take advantage of your vice, no matter what it is, and bleed from you every cent it can while giving you jazz hands and flashing lights to reassure you that it was all worth while and to come again soon.

We packed out bags with thick heads the following day while watching Judge Judy ->

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We discovered daytime American television that morning. It was dreadful. Mainly because of the lawyer ‘commercials’ that would make even Saul from Breaking Bad cringe with embarrassment. “IF YOU DON’T SEE THIS FACE… YOU’RE IN THE WRONG PLACE”. “I WAS IN A WRECK… WRITE ME A CHECK!”.

This was our cue to gtfo. So we split for California.

 

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