Heat rippled across the highway as wind blew hard against the sparse brush hinting at the sudden gusts. Each one bounced the small, struggling car back and forth across the road. “Man, it’s hot.” I looked long into the distance, checking the horizon for anything out of the ordinary. There was nothing but the seemingly endless brown desert and a long black ribbon of highway. I’d been driving for nearly three hours and it was most certainly time to burn one. Somewhere in the bottom of my center console a blue lighter was waiting patiently next to a modestly rolled spliff. My hand dove through the treasure trove of discarded receipts, broken ear buds and the litany of this and that’s found in a car’s junk drawer. Finally I reached pay dirt and began the extraction process, gently pulling my hand back out.
I tucked the spliff into the corner of my mouth and reached for the button to roll down the window. Click. Nothing happened. Another click and still nothing. The window stuck firmly in place held fast by the iron grip of an aging weatherstrip. “Piece of shit,” I jiggled the top edge before it abruptly slid down about four inches and caught back on the track. Flick – Spark – Flick – Spark. “Fuck!” I rolled the window back up and smoke slowly filled the cabin. Click, jiggle, slide, cuss, wash, rinse, repeat. Heat rushed in and seemed to synchronize with the sound of a groaning motor. The smoke drifted behind me, then out the window and down the highway taking my frustration with it.
I took a short drag and slid the old car out of the fast lane. We fell into a steady and comfortable pace. Breathing deep it felt as though my whole body was filled with the mild smoke. I sank a little into the broken down seats as my eyes settled releasing the wrinkles from my forehead. The little car worked hard against the miles behind it and in front.
I tapped out the spliff as it reached the crutch I had torn from the top of an old pack of Marlboro Lights and threw it in an empty can. One more grit to help clear out the smell of weed before it was time to stop for more cigs and to check on the boys. I cupped my hand around the end of the cigarette and used my knee to steady to wheel, a well-practiced routine. I took a long drag, shifted down hard and it was back into the fast lane. We hustled passed a bus full of tourists then quickly over to the right and a gas station just off the freeway.
The parking lot was crowded but quiet. Road weary travelers moved between their cars and the abrupt doors of the convenience store. Heat swirled around, spinning trash and dust together against a low grey wall that ran behind the building. The sun was bright and the sky higher than me. Brown hills and power lines framed the scene as I joined the flow toward the store.
The doors slid open and I moved to let an old man shuffle by. The tile floors were clean and the store cool. I grabbed another energy drink, pack of small chocolate covered doughnuts and “let me get 4 packs of Marlboro Lights.” The guy behind the counter quickly scanned my items. We locked eyes as I handed him two $20s. I wondered if he knew how high I was? He probably did. Either way it really didn’t matter, but there’s always a tendency toward paranoia.
Back in the driver’s seat I cracked the energy drink and checked my phone. Vince had landed and was on his way to meet Billy. Billy had moved out there maybe six months before chasing bubblers and quick hitters in card rooms and office buildings. I shot them a text to say I was getting close. The gas pump clicked as I searched for my last pre-roll and a couple of white pills. I chased the pills with fizzy green liquid and soon, I was moving cautiously back onto the highway. I lit the fresh spliff and jiggled the window down once more. I was heavy in my chair, but light across the highway. A real lead sled. An hour or so later I cleared the final ridge and began my descent.
You can see the city from miles away. It rises from the sand as if it were a daydream in a movie. A glossy town built from a scale model collection of the world’s treasures. There’s a Great Pyramid, Eiffel Tower and even Lady Liberty herself. At night the city is alive. It breathes the desert air in and out through electric doormen always watching with bright neon eyes. In the dead heat of the afternoon though, it’s an odd and dusty place. Somewhere between an amusement park and strip mall, it almost seems to grin slyly and say – “The drinks are free until you can’t afford them.” Of course, those were the type of thoughts best reserved for the rear-view mirror. I lit another smoke and pulled off the highway.
The parking garage at the Luxor was only a few stories tall and is probably still tucked around the back off a frontage road that runs along the freeway. Like the backsides of most things, it wasn’t nearly as pretty as the front. I found a parking spot near the walkway to the casino and sat for a minute. A deep exhale and I was almost ready.
I started to gather everything that had been strewn about during the trip: cigarettes, lighter, phone, wallet, unplugged the charging cable. How did I lose my keys? I loaded up my pockets, phone on the left, cigs on the right and opened the door that was baked hot by the sun. I stretched, arms extended toward the sky with a groan, and popped the dusty trunk. I threw the black luggage strap across my shoulder, lit a smoke and started toward the large glass and brass gates.
The air-conditioning hit and I stumbled a bit as I crossed the threshold into the hallway. The carpet was a paisley swirl of red hues designed to hide the stains of every night before. Slot machines rang as tourists brushed by me chased by rolling luggage and chubby children. The smell of recycled air and cigarettes filled my lungs. “God, I love this place.”
I found Vince and Billy sitting at a row of slots just off the main floor next to the lobby. Vince smoked while Billy talked business as I skated toward them. We’d known each other since high school and I suppose over the years had developed a sense for finding each other. Hey Boys! – Hey boy o, come here! We exchanged hugs and I lit another grit. “How long until the other two arrive?” I asked trying to find some balance. “I think they get in around 5.” “They have the reservation right?” “Yeah.” “All right, what do you boys want to do?” “I need a drink like 20 minutes ago.” “Me too.” “Well shit, we can dump the luggage back in my car?” “Sounds like a plan.” We headed out to the parking lot and I popped the dusty trunk again. Vince and I tossed our bags in. “All right, can we get a fucking drink?” The boys chuckled. “Absolutely!” “Yeah, let’s roll.” We made our way back through the polished doors and over to the bar nearest the lobby.
“Hey, let me get 3 vodka Red Bulls.” “Well is fine.” We took seats at the bar each with their own video poker machine. I slid in a $20 and lit another smoke. “Hey man, I got something for you.” “Oh yeah?” “Yeah.” I handed Vince $350. “About time.” “Yeah, thanks man. I really appreciated it and I’m sorry that check bounced.” “It’s all good.” “Good times huh?” “The best!” We all laughed in a way only known to old friends. The next half hour was spent catching up on the last few months as our drinks, cigs and 20s ran down. “Hey man, can we get three more?” “Awesome, thanks.” “Well, what do you think? Head somewhere else? Hit the strip? How we feeling?” “Roll next door?” “Yeah, I’m down.” “Me too.”
We had never liked to gamble where we were staying. We all talked about energy and whatnot, but at least it kept us from losing our wallets as we inched our way to bed. We cruised over to the stairs and up to the tiled walkway that led next door. We passed a litany of small tourist traps: convenience stores, cheap jewelry and leather works, scented air bars and booze laden slushy machines. Eventually, we hit the escalator down to the casino floor of The Mandalay Bay. “Should we grab some more drinks?” “Nah, we can get them for free while we play.” “Word.”
The rail around the oval table was covered in golden brown vinyl rubbed smooth by sweaty palms and dirty rags. The green felt was neatly brushed and checkered front to back with what appeared to be an endless number of bets. I nervously grabbed at an ashtray sitting on a small wooden shelf that ran parallel to the rail, but about knee high. The pit boss, a true professional in a modestly priced suit with a surprisingly bright shirt and tie combo, demanded our driver’s license’s. He took each one in hand. Bending them and flipping them, front to back and back to front. Then one more look at each, then us, then he tossed them back across the table. They landed with the quiet slap of thin plastic and we scooped them up. “You guys got player’s cards?” “No” “No” “Yes” “You two want them?” “No.” “No.” I fumbled through my pockets looking for my smokes and, “Where the fuck is my lighter?” “Here” “Thanks”
My nerves ran hot. I was happy to be free of my debt to Vince, but paying it had left me with maybe $150. I tried to relax, no need for the boys to know I had shown up in Vegas nearly pushing felt. We traded the dealer cash for chips and Billy moved into action. “Put $10 on the ‘Pass’ line and just do what I do.” “The what now?” “Here, put it here.” A long drag and quick flick into the ashtray that sat on the rail that was about knee high. The dealer slid 5 dice along the brushed felt until stopping in front of a young couple. The favorites were selected and the runts sent back.
I pulled hard on my cig and took a short drink. She rolled the dice in her hand cautiously and then, with a quick look at her husband, they flipped from her fingertips and down the long table. The dice jumped off their sharp edges and bounced off the padded wall at the other end. Someone yelled, 7! The dealer stacked 2 five-dollar chips next to mine. I watched Billy as he grabbed his two new chips and I did the same while the dice were sent back down. She took them again and with the same look and flip they bounced along the table. 6! We looked at Billy. “Back up your ‘Pass line’ with odds” “What?” “Put $30 here.” “Got it.” “Yup.” “Here and throw another $10 on the ‘Come.’ “I’m sorry, the what?” “Here dammit, put $10 here” “Got it.”
The tension built with every roll as she let the dice gently flow from her fingertips while looking back at her husband. Each time someone at the far end of the table would yell a number and the whole rail would cheer. 6! 8! 4 hard! The dealers worked feverishly, hands and arms moving across the table like furious octopi. 9! Box cars! Pay the field! Hard ways for the dealers! Four white chips came flying in and rolled to the center of the table. 6 and 8! Yeah, yeah, press that up all day! Here we go shooter! Let’s go shooter! Find that point baby! 8, there’s the point! Woo! There we go! Nah, let ‘em work! Chips were sent back and forth. Come on now! Here we go! Here we go! Vince and I were chain smoking hard and absolutely mesmerized. We focused in, trying to learn on the job as our little holders filled two rows deep. “We’re cookie rollin’ now boys!” It went on like this for what felt like an hour but must have been twenty or thirty minutes. Then, 7, Crap! Aww! Let’s get a hand for the shooter! We cheered and clapped, high-fived and shook hands. A winning craps table is an incredible place.
“Shit, it’s nearly 5. Let’s bounce.” “Yeah, for sure.” “Can we get color?” We each carefully organized our stacks in front of us. The first dealer grabbed them one at a time and then broke each down for everyone to see. He yelled over to the boss. “Color $635!” “Color $850!” “Color $965!” The boss laid out purple and black chips. “Good luck gentlemen.” “Thank you.” “Thanks.”
“Hot Damn!” “Woo-ee!” “Yup, yup. Let’s find the cage and head back.” The rush of adrenaline shoved its way passed the weed, pills and booze. I felt awake, not sober but rather fully aware. “Let’s grab some more drinks.” We found the nearest bar island and ordered three more vodka Red Bulls. “They should call these things the Vegas Town Council.” “Oh yeah?” “Yeah, they make decisions on behalf of everyone in the city.” “Christ.” “Lol.” We grabbed our drinks, lit fresh smokes and retreated to the Luxor.
John and Tim were standing inline at the check-in counter in the lobby. They were somewhere in the middle, shuffling their bags along the polished floor, trapped between velvet ropes. “There they are!” “Heya Boys!” “Glad to see you!” “How was the flight?” It was handshakes then. I had met Tim once before at Vince’s place in New Orleans, but I had never met John. The first time I met Tim is a story for another day, but Vince had gone to work as I was rolling a blunt in their living room. I suppose me and the blunt must have been a shock because Tim came out of his bedroom with a shotgun. Anyway, they kept shuffling along and we kept bringing drinks from the bar. Eventually, we got the credit card style keys.
“We gotta grab our shit from the parking lot. Meet in your room in like an hour?” “Perfect.” By the time we got to our room it must have been close to eight. We showered, changed and headed to Tim and John’s. We exchanged another round of handshakes at their door as the smell of weed and cologne drifted by us.
The rooms were identical. Each had two queen size beds covered in stiff sheets tucked into hospital corners. They were separated by a small nightstand and faced a cheap TV positioned on a brown dresser. In the corner was a round table flanked by two padded chairs next to a large window. The wall separating the beds from the bathroom was covered, floor to ceiling, in a polished mirror. The rooms smelled of yesterday’s smoke and this morning’s cleaning products. I pulled back the blinds and looked out at the pool. It was eerily empty and illuminated with blue and yellow lights, the lounge chairs arranged perfectly. I opened the window about four inches before it hit the blocker.
“John is in the shower. You boys ready to do this?” “Hell yeah!” Vince and I lit grits while Tim and Billy packed bowls at the small table. “Man, I’ve been looking forward to this shit.” “I know man, me too. What do you boys want to get into tonight?” “I’m game for whatever.” “Well, it’s Thursday. We could just take it easy and gamble a bit?” “Yeah, I’m down for that.” “For sure. Me too.” The shower turned off and John came out of the bathroom in a towel looking for his suitcase. “Hey, you guys want to take some addies?” “What?” “I brought some left over Adderall, you boys want to get a line or two?” “Umm, sure…”
I had no idea what to expect when John started to break up the blue oval pills on the round table. He deconstructed several with the room key and soon the powder was arranged into neat blue lines. Each one was about three inches long and inhaled with quick, sharp snorts. It burned through my nostrils and slammed into the back of my throat. I dropped my tightly rolled hundred dollar bill and fell onto the bed. The strange sensation of a sweet, slow drip filled my chest. My eyes shifted right to left and then left to right. My heart started to race and I could feel small beads of sweat on my forehead as my face grew flush. “Wow! OK!” We each took turns at the small table and then without noticing we were swept away. We talked quickly with our eyes wide, teeth gnashing and feet stomping in the gates.
“We need a Captain.”
“Indeed.”
“Yeah, someone has to steer this puppy.”
Vince took the first shift and led us to the elevators. We piled in and pushed the oversized button for ‘The Lobby’. As soon as the doors opened we headed to the right and lit smokes just off the floor. Freshly lit we made our way through the maze of slots. We dodged cocktail waitresses, tourists and coolers. Trying to stay focused on finding golden gates powered by a city that never sleeps. There was a pureness to the joy I felt as we headed toward that taxi line. I was lucky and still too young to be remorseful.
We spent Thursday evening gambling and gambling hard. We must have hit six or seven casinos that night. We searched back and forth for the right “energy” with the fanatical enthusiasm of young birddogs and we would find it. We couldn’t have known it then, but what had happened earlier at the craps table was just the beginning. We threw dice and high-fived late into the evening until Thursday night slipped into Friday morning. Soon enough, we were packing bowls at that small table again. We must have headed to bed around sunrise and maybe slept until about 10:00am. I woke up to Vince searching for lost cigarettes in his suitcase.
“Hey boy!” “Sup man?” Let’s hit the pool!” “Absolutely.” We shook ourselves awake and drifted back and forth between suitcases, the bathroom and the small table by the window. We all changed into board shorts and awkwardly helped each other apply sunscreen. The room filled with the scent of sunscreen, weed and old cigarettes as clothes formed piles next to randomly placed suitcases. “Put the ‘do not disturb’ on the door” “Got it. Ah shit, I forgot my phone.” “We’re heading to the elevator.” “Cool.”
I got to the elevator and jumped in just before the doors gave up on me. The five of us stood quietly next to a family going to brunch or shopping or something. We must have stunk of booze, cigs and weed. A ding and “Hey, good luck guys” “Yeah, you too.” We cruised through the lobby and made our way past the tables and slots to the large glass doors separating the air-conditioned world from the not.
The pool deck was massive and the concrete already steaming hot by the time we reached its edge around noon. It was a strange gathering. Parents with their kids, people like us sweating out the nighttime and those somewhere in between occupying overpriced cabanas. We found a spot near the water’s edge and took turns buying $40 buckets of beer. We traded fish stories while eating hamburgers with soggy fries and subtle notes of chlorine. Every so often we waded into to the deep water to break from the heat and wash off the sweat.
I plodded toward the middle of the pool and found a small opening in the crowd. I let my legs slip out from underneath me and sank to the bottom while aggressively rubbing my hair. I drifted, almost weightless for a moment, before I broke the surface and started back toward the towels and sunscreen. The sun was unyielding. I grabbed my shirt and attempted to clean my sunglasses, but really just smeared the afternoon around the lenses. I slid them on, lit a smoke, grabbed a cold beer and sat back with a long sigh. “Fuck! That’s hot!” The boys looked over and laughed as I burned myself on the god damn lounge chair. I put down a towel and tried again. We watched the crowed and continued on for a few more hours. By 3 or 4 it was about time to head to the rooms and get a nap in.
We snaked our way through the casino floor, eyes heavy and focused. A short ride up the small elevator and down the hall to the rooms. “See you guys in a few hours?” “Yeah, for sure. Shoot us a text when you wake up.” “Word.” The key slid in and the little lights turned green. The door slammed behind us and I took a long piss. Vince and Billy sat down at the small table. We were beat and in desperate need of water. We passed the pipe back and forth only interrupted by long drinks from crinkly bottles. Billy crashed first, laid out on a towel on the floor, still wearing his board shorts. Vince and I each took a bed. I barely slept. As I laid there, I thought about friends and our good luck. I hoped it would hold out as my mind wandered between realms.
I woke up to the sound of someone taking a piss just after sundown. I rolled over in bed and stretched hard from the tips of my toes all the way up through my outstretched arms. I was tired but felt pretty good. I reached for a pack of cigs as Billy came out of the bathroom and Vince shook back to life. “Want a smoke?” I threw the pack and lighter to the middle of Vince’s bed. “Thanks mother fucker.” I sat up and shuffled toward the night stand and ashtray. I leaned up against the headboard and Vince lit his smoke. Billy grabbed the pipe and a bottle of water as we slowly woke up for second time that day.
Vegas has a rhythm. Everything happens just a few hours later than it would almost anywhere else in the world and frankly, you just can’t force that shit. We each showered and changed with absolutely no hurry. I would guess we were back in Tim and John’s room smoking bowls and shuffling around blue powder by 8:30 or 9pm. “What do you guys want to eat?” “No idea.” “Yeah, doesn’t really matter to me.” “All right, how about the burger spot downstairs?” “Perfect.”
The restaurant was just off the casino floor by the walkway that led toward the parking garage. It was the type of unimpressive eatery designed for efficiency and a feigned attempt at style. The black and white tile was covered with black tables and booths that were just a bit too small. I had a burger and fries. None of us ate much though. Adderall has a tendency to kill one’s appetite. We all talked quickly and confidently as if the world turned around our little table. The uppers and downers spun together like chocolate syrup stirred into a cold glass of milk. “What’s up for tonight?” “I could go for a little more craps, maybe some blackjack?” “Yeah, that sounds good me” “Yeah, I’m way down for that.” “Where should we head?” “No idea, let’s just get out.” “Can I get the check?” We paid and made our way toward the large brass and glass doors and that taxi line.
The Palms Hotel and Casino Las Vegas sits about a mile off the strip and is an impressively tall building usually bathed in neon lights. I’m not entirely sure why we ended up there but it probably had something to do with, “Hey, let’s get a table at one of those clubs.” “Fuck yeah! I’m way down for that.” There were two clubs at The Palms. One was a straight-up throw down of an amphetamine-fueled all-night party. I’ve never been to the other one.
We walked swiftly and with purpose as we entered through the glittery gates. “Should we get some craps in first?” “Absolutely” We were like a small school of fish, heads and bodies moving in unison. We hit the casino floor and started scanning the tables for viability. What were the stakes? Was there enough room on the rail? And most importantly, “I don’t know. The energy doesn’t feel right.” We found our mark and moved on it. It was a $15 table with just enough room for the five of us to squeeze in. This time we acted with a fresh-faced confidence brought on by beginner’s luck.
I slowly lit a smoke and pulled several hundred dollar bills out of my wallet. “Let me get $300.” I threw the cash and my ID down on the table and turned away to order a drink. When I turned back, my license was sitting on top of a stack of green and red chips with black stripes. I took a long drag and brought the cig back down to my side. “Thanks man.” I loaded up the pass line and found an ashtray on the small shelf that ran parallel to the smooth vinyl rail. “Here we go shooter!” With a couple of claps for good measure.
The dice went back and forth down the long felt table. We drank, smoked and pressed up bets for probably an hour. Cocktail waitresses with small round trays and even smaller skirts brought us a stream of vodka Red Bulls. We were getting blind and tipping the same. $5 per drink and at least handful of white chips for the dealers per roll. We didn’t care. The night was young and we were younger. At some point, we got back to the matter at hand and rallied for the cash cage. “Let’s get color and bounce!” “I’m way down.” “Me too.” “Fuck yes!”
A final drag and I mashed the end of my smoke into the glass ashtray. My hand barely fit around the stack of chips as I snatched them from the rail. They almost made it to the felt before the stack slipped and gently exploded sending chips rolling about. “Jesus Christ” “Dumbass.” The boys laughed and the dealers shook their heads in amused disappointment. I sheepishly gathered my chips, “My bad.” We were finally colored up and moving toward the cage. I lit another smoke as we traversed the paisley carpet. “Yo, I need some more grits before we hit the club.” “Yeah, same.” “All right, I’m pretty sure there’s a little store on the way.” “Perfect”
It was close to midnight when we got to the entrance of the clubs and they were packed. The lines were dozens of people deep and stacked up in groups ranging from two or three to ten or more. “Fucking hell it’s packed.” “No doubt.” We kept moving toward the front while looking for large men in shiny suits with curly earpieces. We strutted past the lines of tourists, huddled in their little groups and uncomfortable clothing, until landing in front of a man in a nicer suit than our pit boss friend. Now, he wasn’t the man to make the deal, but he was the man that introduced Vince to the man that could make the deal. A series of handshakes, a short wait, another handshake with an exchange of values and we were escorted to a private elevator headed to a back entrance.
The doors opened to a black hallway and our man was met by two more with earpieces and flashlights. “You guys ready to go?” he looked us over and “All right, follow me.” He led and another walked closely behind us as we headed down the hallway and toward the back door. The music grew louder and louder. The bass thumped as he hit the brass rail to open the door. Smoke and lights, people, music, dancing, more lights and smoke, security and waitresses, some girls are dancing on a booth in the corner and the floor absolutely pulses. Holy shit! I thought to myself. I tried to play it cool. I assumed the boys were doing the same as we quietly headed to our table. We all must have looked like wide-eyed kids playing pretend. Of course, it was Vegas and everyone was playing pretend. There is a certain honesty to the understood lie after all.
The club had two parts. One was inside and the other out. The inside club had tables that wrapped a huge dance floor with a long bar up against the back wall. The outside was a massive patio that hung out over the city. The patio bar was maybe four hundred feet in the air and had its own dance floor surrounded by glass. There was no escaping how high you were. Our table was out on the patio just to the left of the door to the inside. We gave our man one last incentivized handshake. “Thanks man.” “No problem, let us know if you need anything else and have a good night gentlemen.”
The cash had bought us: a table, security, waitress and a bottle of booze with all the fixings. In our case it was more vodka plus an assortment of juices and Red Bull. “Oh and can we get some water?” “Absolutely, we have bottles of Fiji water?” “Oh, dope. We’ll take a dozen.” “Excellent gentlemen. I’ll be right back with everything.” “Awesome, thank you.” We passed a pack of cigs around the table and sat for a moment. I was light then, floating above the city.
Soon the table was full of: bottles, a bucket of ice, glasses and several ashtrays. “Can I get you anything else?” “Nah, I think we’re good. Thank you.” “Well, let me know if…” “Actually, do you mind taking a picture of us?” “Of course.” We slid together, arms over each other’s shoulders as she lined up the camera. “Thank you.” “Absolutely, let me know if you need anything else.” The club was jumping. The music seemed to shake away gravity and we all danced, returning every-so-often for a drink or smoke.
I worked my way toward the glass wall and took long, intense drags on a cigarette. I looked out over the lights and into the darkness of the desert. I stood, not really thinking about anything, fully present. I danced while sliding my way back to the table and poured a fresh drink. Tim and John yelled back and forth with the joy of anticipation. Billy was bobbing up and down on the dance floor and Vince, who had a penchant for disappearing, was somewhere. One of the bar hands came by and cleared the table of empties, changed the ice and swapped the ashtrays. I leaned against the side of the booth with a fresh Marlboro Light and vodka pineapple. I watched the crowd without really seeing anyone.
I checked my phone, smoked my cig, drank my drink and didn’t notice when a kid who was clearly shitfaced slunk down on our reserved couch. “Oh fuck no” I muttered. I grabbed the first security guard I could find. “Hey man, this kid is passed out at our table and I have no idea who he is.” He sighed a little, “OK. Where’s he at?” “Over here.” I walked him toward the table and pointed at the kid who was probably our age. “That guy.” “All right.” “Hey man, you have to go. Come on, get up. Let’s go.” He grabbed the kid by his right shoulder. Three or four security guards arrived and they picked him up and carried him out of the club. I always wondered what happened to those guys but I was then as I am now glad not to know.
There was a constant flow of people in and out of the main room and our table gave us a perfect vantage point. Guys like our drunken friend in designer jeans and overpriced leather soled shoes. The late thirties to early forties crowed trying to blend in. The men with the type of beard and shaved head combos that are required of vanishing hairlines. The women with push-up bras, high heels and botox filled wrinkles. There were the locals of course, who scoffed at the circus and made designs on tourists. Mostly though, it was a bunch of twenty somethings living on their savings or credit cards. The blue-collar crowd that saved up their money all year for one weekend and the white collar crowd that saved up their time.
She was somewhere in the last group with light brown hair and a skin tight blue dress. A type of tube dress that would have most certainly gotten her sent home from the Catholic school where I had met Vince and Billy. She was tan and beautiful and we were most certainly drunk. We danced and drank and soon her friends joined us. I provided the usual currency of smokes and alcohol and they provided the rush of possibility. It must have been 2am and we were all hammered. I danced with the girl in the blue and her friend that wore black. Time sped up and slowed down until we were forced back to the couch. We laughed, drank and occasionally made-out shamelessly.
At one point, the room started to spin and my stomach attempted to fail me. We were kissing and for a split second I thought I might puke. I summoned all of my strength and with the power of an unholy god I fought off the booze. Fucking hell that was close and almost disgusting I chuckled to myself. I lit another smoke and so did she. She mustn’t have been that far behind. I’m not sure if we really even spoke and I for sure don’t remember her name. In fact, I can’t even say what time the girls left. If I had to guess, it was about 3:30am on a Saturday morning that was once a Friday night. I was, as we all were, disappointed to see them leave but there was a certainly inevitability to that whole weekend. They left, hand in hand, snaking through the crowd, beautiful in tight dresses until they were gone.
By 4 or 4:30am the club had started to empty out. There were no more private elevators. We moved with the late crowd held sturdy by screamers and laughers. This sunrise mob lurched toward the main exit as we were prodded by an anxious security team. It was late and early and they were eager to go home or to a bar of their own. We waited in a large, bland room in front of two sets of sizable elevator doors.
The elevators down from cloud island were most certainly impressive feats of engineering, but lacked any real civility. Each car was a product of function. We waited until it was our turn. 30 or so people climbed aboard, maybe it was more. We were crammed in the front right corner. She wore a short yellow dress with an open back. I wish I could tell you exactly what I said, but it has drifted away like the smoke pulled out of the broken window in my old car. What I can say, is that by the time we had made our descent my arm was tucked into the back of that yellow dress.
We poured into the casino like a swarm of bees. They were from Canada and must have been in their mid-thirties as the burdens and trappings of life were neatly tucked into the folds of their dresses. It was her friend’s birthday and they had heard about a strip club that would let them in for free. “You want to come with us?” “Absolutely, let me grab my buddy.” I looked through the crowd. Vince was gone. Tim or John? No. “Billy! Let’s roll!” We climbed into the back of a black Hummer Limo still holding our last drinks from the club. I had a Heineken.
The strip club wasn’t far, only a few miles away, a drive that should take maybe ten or fifteen minutes at 5am. The Hummer rambled along the dark streets. We passed the empty lots and nearly abandoned motels that make up the backside of Vegas. “That’s where Tupac got shot” “No shit?” No one noticed when the lights changed outside the deeply tinted windows. We stopped abruptly. The limo was flooded with bright white light. The familiar blue and red of the LVPD flashed back and forth. “Mother Fucker, did we really just get pulled over?”
Billy and I exchanged short but knowing glances. Our limo driver, new to Vegas and The United States, had panicked and stopped his large black cargo ship in the middle of an intersection. This came as a surprise to both us and the police. The cop got to the window with a large flashlight. “Why the fuck did you stop in the middle of the street?” “I don’t know I just… I’m sorry.” “Christ. All right, give me your paperwork.” The cop returned a few minutes later and shined his light in the back of the car. We squinted and turned away. “Are you guys drinking?” “Yeah.” “Yes sir.” “God dammit, get out.” He lined us up on the side of the road and started some bullshit speech. As we stood there, being adult scolded, I finally realized that the ‘limo’ was actually just a regular SUV turned into a strip club ferry. The cop made us pour out our drinks, finished his lecture and gave the driver what was probably a nasty ticket. We were back on our way.
The extra wait coupled with the booze and amphetamines had created an unforeseen but growing problem. “How far away are we? I really got to piss.” “Don’t worry, we’re almost there. Maybe five minutes or so.” I sat back, bursting at the seams and stared out the window. I was sweating and almost certain that at any moment I would piss myself for the first time in my adult life. I gritted my teeth and nervously flipped through my phone while shifting back and forth in the chair. “Seriously though, pull over, Imma piss myself.” The driver kept going and no one seemed to understand the severity of my problem. I cussed them and the world in my head and tried to hold fast with all my might. “Son of a bitch. Are we there yet? I’m not going to make it.” “Look, there’s the club.” “Fuckin’ finally!” I flexed every muscle in my body and grabbed the handle on the door. I was the Hoover dam.
I burst out of the car before it stopped, nearly running toward the front of the strip club. I ripped open the black tinted door and found a tall blond in a small bikini at a cash register. “How much is it?” “$30.” I pulled the wad out of my pocket and without breaking stride threw $40 on the counter. I walked right past the bouncer and into the first bathroom just down hall on the right. What. A. Fucking. Relief. Back at the register there was another problem. The club would only let the birthday girl in for free, which quickly killed our exuberance. The decision was made to abandon ship and take a cab back to their hotel. I looked at the girl in the bikini manning the register. “How about you keep $10 and I get my $30 back?” “Deal.” Out front we hailed a cab.
I rode shotgun in the yellow crown Vic, thankful we had escaped the back of a black and white one. The suspension creaked and shuttered. We rolled through the city like an old wooden ship, up and down, side-to-side. We were mostly silent less the random and short bursts of distain for the gatekeepers of sin who had so rudely turned us away. 10 or so minutes later we were standing in front of the Imperial Palace. Billy and I once again exchanged knowing looks. They were from Canada and I’m sure the price must have been right.
The IP was a comparatively small hotel attached to another in an effort to fill the building. Think of it as like some kind of gambling duplex. We entered through the sliding glass doors and were welcomed by the heavy breeze of Las Vegas air conditioning. The ladies headed for the bathroom. Billy and I headed for the bar. It must have been close to six am. The bartender came over. “Can I get a pack of Marlboro lights and two vodka Red Bulls?” I lit a smoke and we drank. “So, are we really going to do this? We really going up to their room?” Billy kind of shrugged. Before we could say another word they were back from the bathroom and we were on our way to the elevator.
The elevator stopped and we turned down the left branch of three narrow hallways. Their room was 15 or so down on the right. We bounced off the walls, laughing and hanging off of each other. We got to the door, the plastic key went in and the little lights turned green. We stepped into a room that looked very similar to ours in the black pyramid. There was a bathroom to our immediate left and two beds just beyond that. To our right there was a brown dresser with a black tv. In the corner was a familiar round table with two padded chairs. Surprisingly, they had a small balcony. On the balcony was a metal table and chair presumably, for smoking. Billy and his new friend headed to the patio and we took the room. Specifically, the bed on the left or the right depending on which way you were facing.
We made out drunkenly and feverishly. “I need to use the bathroom.” She smiled and got up. I immediately followed and we proceeded to make out again in the bathroom. I pressed her against the sink and grabbed the back of her neck. We dug into each other and I pulled up her dress. “Hey, Hey. Stop, I really need to use the restroom.” “All right. All right.” I went back into the room and she closed the door. I could see the light come on in the space below and heard the fan start up. I paused and wasn’t sure what to do. I took off my shoes, laid on the bed and turned on the tv.
Eventually, she came out of the bathroom and around the corner. “Huh? I really thought you’d be naked by now.” I wasn’t sure what to say. I turned off the tv and she got into bed. We tugged at each other’s clothes and eventually her dress was on the floor between the wall and the bed. My pants went on the other side and we both struggled with the buttons on my shirt. The sun had begun to rise and started to creep in through the blinds. We kept making out. “You have a condom right?” “No, I hadn’t planned on this. You have any?” “No.” “Oh.” We both stopped and although I hadn’t quite realized it yet, the moment was certainly lost. She rolled over and within moments started snoring. I laid there in a stunned silence. I was naked in bed with a passed out Canadian at the Imperial Palace. Life is a funny thing I thought. With all of the excitement, we hadn’t noticed that Billy and her friend had come back in and begun the same process we had just finished.
I jumped out of bed, collected my things and went into the bathroom. I got dressed and checked that I had everything important: phone, wallet, smokes and lighter, cash and room key. All right, cool. We’re good to go. I turned out the light and stepped out of the bathroom. I froze at the door. I couldn’t leave Billy behind, could I? I had to let him know I was bailing, didn’t I? The booze and addies gripped my thoughts. I looked over at the bed just as she shifted under the covers and I saw the blankets rise. I’ve got to get the fuck out of here. I ripped open the door and sped down the hall.
At the elevator, I found a group of guys much like my own heading to the casino floor. I looked over frantically, “I’ve got to get the fuck out of here!” They all looked at me. “Out of the city?” One of them asked. “No, out of the Imperial Palace. What a night!” I said exasperated. They all stared at me blankly. It didn’t matter, there was no time for small talk anyway. The bell rang and the doors opened. “Hey, good luck guys.” “You too man.” I headed out at speed, going straight toward the taxi line and lit a smoke without stopping. The sun was up and it was almost eight am.
“Thanks man. Keep the change.” I got out of the cab and up to the large brass and glass doors. They slid open with a swoosh and the AC hit. I lit another smoke and made for the rooms. I stopped to check in on John and Tim. They had been out gambling all night and just gotten back themselves. We smoked a bowl at the little table and exchanged stories between long drinks from crinkly water bottles. “All right, Imma head to bed.” “Night man.”
I went next door to my room, took a long piss, drank more water and changed into basketball shorts and a t-shirt. My feet were blistered from the leather soled shoes that I rarely wore. I was exhausted. I fired up one last smoke and sat on the edge of the bed to organize my shit on the nightstand. I hoped Billy and Vince were OK but at the same time, I was certain they were.
I put out my cigarette in the almost full ashtray, checked my phone and pulled the covers over my shoulder. Just as my head was about to hit the pillow, as if out of a freaking movie, my phone started to vibrate. Son of a bitch! I grabbed it to find ‘Vince’ on the screen. Ah, fuck. “What up man? You all right?” “Yeah man, I’m good. Hey, you should gather up the boys and meet me for breakfast at the Bellagio.” “What?” “Grab the boys and head over here for breakfast.” “Fuck, I just got back but I’ll go ask.” I went over to Tim and John’s room again and banged on the door.
They opened and I stepped through the cloud of weed and nicotine. “Vince wants us to meet him for breakfast at the Bellagio.” “Nah man. I’m exhausted.” “Yeah, me too.” I got back on the phone, “The boys say they want to go to bed and plus, I’m not even sure where Billy is.” “I’m sure he’s fine and if you guys roll I’ll pay for the cab.” “He says he’ll pay for the cab.” “No.” “Nope.” “Nah man, they still want to go to bed.” “All right, tell them I’ll pay for the cab AND breakfast. Whatever you guys want, food, drinks, whatever. Just come meet me for breakfast.” “He says he’ll pay for the cab and breakfast. Whatever we want.” “All right.” “Fine, I’m down.” “All right, we’re on our way.” The three of us were in basketball shorts and t-shirts. We slipped on shoes, rounded up phones and wallets then painfully worked our way through the casino to the taxi line and eventually the Bellagio.
When we pulled up it must have been 9:30am. Sure as shit, Vince was out front waiting for us still in a suit from the night before. Now however, there was an addition. We got out and Vince came over to pay the cabbie. “Who’s the woman?” “She’s gonna get breakfast with us.” The three of us looked at each other as we walked toward her and the door. Introductions were made. I wish I could say I remember her name but I simply don’t. I do remember that she was strikingly hot, wore a short black dress and had a smile worth a whole handful of hundred dollar bills. I lit a smoke and looked at Vince. He lit a cig and looked right back with a little grin. I shook my head a bit and laughed. I suppose I’ll get the story later I thought. We made our way through the main entrance, welcomed by dutiful electric doormen and the abrupt breeze of AC.
The breakfast cafe is a nicer-than-it-should-be version of a traditional American diner. It sits just to the side of something they call, ‘The Conservatory’. The Conservatory is a massive, high-ceilinged and brightly lit room. This strange space is home to a bizarre, Alice and Wonderland type display that changes with the seasons. The ceiling is usually covered in massive and colorful blown glass chandeliers. The room was somewhat awe inspiring and is often home to a throng of tourists taking photos. We found the cafe and were escorted to a table Vince had already reserved.
“Imma go have a smoke. Vince you wanna roll?” “Yeah, all right.” We went back out to the fantasy landscape and found a corner. “So what’s the deal with the chick? She a hooker or something?” “Yeah, I think so.” “You sleep with her? She is super hot.” “No. Jesus. I was throwing dice and decided to grab a drink at the bar. I saw her sitting there, walked over and asked if she was working.” “No shit? So how’d she end up here with us?” “Well, I asked if she wanted to get breakfast with me and my boys, but only if she promised not to try and work on any of us. Just breakfast.” “You’re fucking kidding me?” We both laughed hard enough to start coughing. Fucking cigarettes. We put out our grits and got back to the table. The boys and our new friend were already deep in a rowdy conversation.
The waiter came over, “Can I get you guys anything to drink?” “Yeah. Absolutely. Can I get a vodka Red Bull and an orange juice?” “Yes sir and for the rest of you?” Everyone ordered some combination of orange juice and a vodka drink. “And can we get coffee for the table?” “Of course sir.” We thanked the waiter and he turned toward the kitchen.
She was from Puerto Rico and had the accent to prove it. Her dark complexion was stunning. Black hair, deep brown eyes, beautiful smile, slim neck and an hourglass figure. She wanted to know as much about us as we wanted to know about her. She was probably a few years older, which would have put her around 26 or twenty-seven. The waiter came back with our drinks. “What can I get you folks to eat?” Everyone ordered while I stayed transfixed on the menu. He swung around to me and I made the call, “Can I get the lobster and asparagus omelet please?” “Of course.” Vince looked at me, “Lobster Omelet huh?” “Hell yeah!” We all laughed and toasted to the night, the morning and each other.
We continued through the usual small talk. She asked where we were form and what we did. None of it really mattered, but it seemed important. She wasn’t shy about work and we were drunkenly curious as hell. Our conversation quickly and naturally swung toward the more vulgar. “So, who was your ah…. Most unique client?” “I was with Floyd Mayweather one weekend.” “No shit?” “That must have been something.” I finished my orange juice and poured a coffee from the silver metal carafe. She told us all about it while I stirred in cream and sugar. I always preferred my coffee like The Wolf. The busboy cleared empty plates and glasses. Right behind him was the waiter with our breakfast.
My omelet was covered in a yellow hollandaise and neatly displayed on an ornate plate. We ate and carried on. Our conversation turned further back toward the night. “I bet I can guess how each of you likes to fuck.” She proclaimed. “Oh yeah?” We laughed. She proceeded to go around the table. “I bet you’re like a sensual lover. And you, you’re more aggressive.” She looked over at John, “And you, you look like a fucking rabbit.” We were at full volume now and absolutely wailing. I finished my fist cup of coffee, chased it with a vodka Red Bull and then chased that with a trip to the bathroom. When I got back the table was still at full throat. Someway or another, it had been determined that it was the lady’s birthday. Vince excused himself and walked toward the bathroom.
He got back and the waiter followed carrying a small cheesecake with a single candle planted in the middle. He was accompanied by the rest of the waitstaff and they immediately launched into ‘Happy Birthday!’ Our new friend smiled big and bright as we sang and clapped. The cake was presented and she blew out the candle with her hands clasped together at her heart. “Happy birthday!” We cheered one more time. We all got a fork full of cheesecake to commemorate the moment. Finally, it was time to bounce. Vince, true to his word, covered the check and we headed out front of the casino.
The five of us exchanged a series of heartfelt hugs. It was if we had just spent the morning with an old friend. We all couldn’t have been happier to see each other and were genuinely sad when it was over. Vince and I turned to have a smoke while Tim and John attempted to flag down a cab. Her phone rang and she answered. Before we turned back around she was gone. Vanished into the Las Vegas morning. It was almost as if she’d never been there at all. “Where’d she go?” “No idea.” “Huh?” “Oh yeah.” “Let’s get out of here.” “Yup.” We didn’t think anything else of it, there was a certain inevitability to that whole weekend. We fell into the cab and rolled back to the Luxor.
The car pulled up and we were through the large glass and brass doors. My phone vibrated. It was a text form Billy. He was back home and going to try and get some sleep before heading over for the night. We got to rooms and split up. Vince and I to our little table, Tim and John to theirs. “Where’d the cheesecake come from anyway?” Vince chuckled, “Oh yeah. Well, when I got up to go to the bathroom I actually walked back into the kitchen looking for the waiter.” I laughed, “No shit?” “Oh yeah, I walked back there and told him that it was the ladies birthday and that I wanted to do something special for her.” “No fucking way!?” We both laughed. “Nothing like singing happy birthday to a call girl at the Bellagio while eating a lobster and asparagus omelet.” We laughed even harder, coughing intermittently from the weed and smokes.
“Hey, did you notice the families moving tables from around us?” “What? No way?” “Oh yeah, they were seating families near us and then they were asking to be moved.” “No fucking way! That’s amazing.” “Yeah dude, I saw at least two of them do it.” “I can’t believe the manager didn’t say anything.” “Bro, we had like a $300 breakfast, he wasn’t going to say shit.” We cracked up and then sat in a contented silence while we finished our smokes. I headed for the bathroom and Vince got into his bed, which was closer to the window. When I got out, he was already passed out and snoring loud as fuck. I laughed to myself, grabbed my phone and lit a smoke. I shuffled into my bed by the polished mirror and leaned against the headboard. I got about halfway though my grit then decided that I couldn’t fall asleep in bed with a lit cig, too basic. I found a little gap in the packed ashtray and rolled over.
When I woke up it was after dark. Vince was sitting at the little table watching tv. I sat up in bed. “You got any smokes?” He threw the pack and lighter at me. They landed in the middle of my bed and I leaned forward to grab them. “Billy is on his way back over.” I lit a smoke, “Oh, dope.” “Yeah, he said something about meeting Kevin over at the Hard Rock.” “No shit? I don’t really know Kevin all that well, but I’m down for whatever.” “What’s up with Tim and John?” “They said they wanted to grab dinner and then I think they are just going to take it easy tonight. I guess they fly out tomorrow at like 7:30am.” “Ah word. Where should we get dinner?” “No idea. We’ll see what everyone is in the mood for. They said we should cruise over there in a little.” “Word up. Sounds like Billy should be here soon too?” “Yes sir.” I finished my smoke and got up to take a shower.
When I got out of the shower Billy was at the table with Vince. “Sup Boy-o?” “Hey mother fucker. I need to talk to you.” “Oh yeah?” “Yeah, when you left this morning, you left the fucking hotel room door open.” “No shit!?!” “Yeah dude, I didn’t notice until I left at like 10:30.” “So wait a minute, you were in there with that chick until like ten thirty with the door open?” “Yes. That’s exactly correct.” I looked at Vince, then over at Billy and we all absolutely lost it laughing. “Holy shit, that’s fucking hilarious. Seriously, I had no fucking idea. I like panicked a little and had to bail. I think I freaked out these guy in the elevator when I bounced too.” “Oh yeah?” “Yeah, I got to the elevator and was like, ‘I’ve got to get out of here!’ All fucking exasperated and shit.” “No way?” “Oh yeah, oh yeah.”
I went back into the bathroom to change and came out in two day old jeans and my last clean shirt. “Let me get a smoke.” Vince sent his pack flying across the room. I sat on the foot of the bed with my head hung a little, cig in the corner of my mouth and rubbed my scalp back to front. “Fucking hell boys, I’m a little tired.” They chuckled, “just a little…” “Should we roll?” “Yeah, I’m down.” We collected our crap one more time and I dumped some cash in the safe. “You know, this is the first time I’ve ever actually had to use one of these things.” “Yeah? Then don’t forget the combo.” I rolled my eyes, shut the door, waited for the groan of the electric motor and the beep of a sealed lock.
We made our way down the hall and through the cloud of weed and stale nicotine. “Heya boys!” We shook hands again. Tim and John were getting cleaned up and slowly packing. “What time does your flight leave?” “7 fucking 30.” “Ooofff.” “Yup.” “Well, at least you’ll be back home early.” “No doubt.” I packed some bowls and sent the pipe around the room several times. We smoked and shot the shit for maybe 45 minutes or an hour. “Y’all ready to grab some dinner?” “Absolutely, where should we head?” “I’m kind of in the mood for Chinese.” “Oh fuck. yeah me too.” “Like the old days at the Indian Casinos.” “Exactly.” “Sounds good to me.” We left the blue oval pills in the drawer and made our way down to the casino floor.
“I think there’s a spot next door.” “Word, sounds perfect.” We hit the escalator up to the tiled walkway toward the Mandalay Bay and passed the tourists traps once more. They were either closed or nearly closed as they prepped for the big Sunday sales. We got to the escalator down to the other side. Vince and I lit cigs as soon as we hit the floor. “Boys, I need a drink.” “Yeah, I could go for one too.” We found a bar up against one of the walls and I worked my way to the front. “Let me get 5 vodka Red Bulls. Well is fine.” “Nah, it’s cool. I got this round.” I passed each of the small glasses back one by one. “Thanks man. Nah, just keep it.”
We stepped back from the bar and into a small circle next to a row of slots. John sat down and threw in a twenty. Tim took the chair behind him and Billy, Vince and I stood in a crescent shape. We all just kind of existed for a moment. Nothing was said and nothing needed to be said. I took a drink with my straw and then a drag on my grit. Billy fumbled with his phone and John mashed the buttons on his arcade machine while Vince and Tim started chatting. I could hear everything but couldn’t focus on anything. This time, the weed and booze pushed their way past all the uppers. My eyes were as heavy as my legs. “Let’s get some grub.” “You know, we could hit Musashi’s.” “Oh shit!” “Fuck yes!” “Absolutely, let’s get a cab over there.”
Anyone who has had the pleasure of dining at Musashi’s will recall that it’s actually a Japanese spot specifically, teppanyaki and sushi. It also happens to be freaking delicious. It’s kind of in the middle of The Strip, but back a few blocks behind the Flamingo. The cab ride was slow and methodical on a Saturday evening. Billy was somewhat of a local now and directed the cabbie to “Not fuck around and take the back streets to avoid traffic.” He was fanatical about holding cabbies to account. Too many nights getting screwed coming home hammered I figured. The drive took at least 15 minutes but felt like an hour. We were mostly silent, rocking back and forth in the cab, all of us certainly tired. We got to the parking lot at the small strip mall and jumped out. Tim paid the cab, Vince and I lit smokes and Billy and John went in to get a table.
“How long is the wait?” “Not too bad. Maybe like ten or 15 minutes.” “Oh dope.” “Yeah, still too early for the crowds.” We all looked off into the evening. I finished my smoke, threw it in the trash can and lit another. Vince did the same. John and Tim each bummed one. “How you boys feeling about after dinner?” “We were thinking about meeting Billy’s buddy Kevin over at the Hard Rock. Maybe throw some more dice?” “How you boys feeling?” “I think we’ll probably snag dinner and then head back to the room.” “Yeah, the flight is early and I’m beat.” “Word, sounds like a…” “Table for John. John, party of five.” “That’s us.” Billy and John went inside with the waitress while Vince, Tim and I finished our smokes. “Great weekend boys.” We all smiled at each other.
Our table was in the room with the sushi bar across from the teppanyaki grills. We ordered steaks and sushi followed by tall glasses of Asahi. We laughed at the stories from the weekend and told jokes for an hour. The meal, like the weekend, seemed to end way too quickly. We paid and got up to go out front. I stopped one of the waiters and asked if they would call us two cabs. In the parking lot, we lit up smokes and waited for our cars. The first one arrived. Tim and John turned to look at it and then back at us. “Well gentlemen, that was a hell of a weekend!” “You’re god damn right it was!” “Great to meet yah man.” “Hey, you too!” We all hugged, shook hands and they got in. Our cab was only a few minutes behind. “Kevin just texted me.” “Dope.” “Hard Rock my man.”
The Hard Rock Hotel and Casino Las Vegas was packed shoulder to shoulder. “Fuck, this place is jammed.” “Hell yeah it is.” We snaked our way through the crowd toward the table games. We found Kevin with his buddy Nick and Nick’s girlfriend wading through the crowd. Billy introduced us and we made for the bar. We got another round of vodka Red Bulls and started the kind of casual small talk unique to Vegas and cocktails. We finished the first round, grabbed another and began to run out of topics. “Let’s do some gambling.” “Sounds like a plan.” We dispersed out amongst the crowd looking for games to play.
Ignoring our previous selection process, we hit the first craps table that had enough room for all of us. I changed two hundred and laid my bets. By the time I had lit a cig and ordered a drink half of the $200 was gone. By the time the drink showed up, my $200 was lost with another hundred on its way out the door. “Son of a bitch!” “Imma go have a smoke and walk around a bit.” “Sounds good.” I lit a Marlboro Light and worked my way through the crowd toward a long hallway and the bathrooms.
I waited inline and eventually took a surprisingly gratifying piss. I washed my hands and headed back out onto the floor. I had left most of my cash in the safe and between the drinks and crappy run on the dice table I was down to my last fifty bucks. Somewhat annoyed, I worked my way to the blackjack tables. The only one with any empty seats was a $50 table. Fuck it, I thought to myself.
The dealer tapped the table and offered me the plastic cut card. I placed it in the long row of cards randomly, but also certain it was perfect. She dealt me a red 10 and a black king. I waved my hand above the cards for the camera and to denote a ‘stay’. She was showing a nine and hopefully there was another one underneath. She grabbed the exposed top card and used it to flip the bottom and found that other nine. “Hey! There we go!” She slid me two green chips. I made the same $50 wager and this time she dealt me a queen and an ace. She showed an 8. I waved my hand and she flipped her down card in the same manner as before, which revealed another 18. I tapped the table in appreciation. “Do you mind if I smoke?” “Not at all.” “Awesome.” I grabbed an ashtray and made another bet.
My first card was an 8, “gimme a 3.” She spiked the three and was showing a 6. “Beautiful. Let me double.” I put two more green chips beside my bet. She lined them up and looked at me, “up or down?” I thought for a second, “Down.” She put my card face down and flipped her hole card. It was a ten, “16.” She pulled another card, “7. 23. Bust.” She flipped my down card to reveal a 4. I grinned and she smiled. A cocktail waitress passed the table, “Can I get a vodka Red Bull and is there a cigarette girl?” “Of course, I’ll send her over.” “Thank You.” I turned back to the game and laid my bet.
A minute or two later I heard, “Service? Cigarettes, Cigars. Service?” over my shoulder. I turned quickly, “Can I get a pack of Marlboro lights?” I turned back to my hand to see 20 and waved for the camera. Back around to grab the pack and tap it on my hand. The dealer busted and doubled my stack while I pulled the plastic off my fresh smokes. I made a few more bets while waiting for my drink. The cocktail waitress came up behind me, “Vodka Red Bull?” I looked at the dealer, “Can I get change?” and flipped her a twenty-five dollar chip. “Nickels are fine.” I threw one of the red $5 chips to the cocktail waitress and turned to the dealer. “Can I get color?” I slid my chips toward the middle of the table. “Of course sir.” She broke down my stack. “Changing $420!” She yelled to the boss. It was four black chips next to four red ones. I threw her the reds, “I appreciate the cards.” “Thank you sir. Have a good night!” “You too.”
I stepped just to the side and checked my phone while finishing my cig. No texts, but as I put my phone away and took a long drink I saw what appeared to be Vince at a craps table. I finished the drink and left the glass on top of the trashcan’s ashtray. I got to the table and sure enough, it was Vince. He was holding court in a suit jacket and shaking the dice about mid-roll. I rushed to the rail, determined to get some action out. I pushed in and threw two black chips on the table, “Nickels please.” I got the red chips and loaded up some bets. Vince and I made eye contact and I give him a subtle wink and nod. I lit a smoke and he went back to work. The bones flew, numbers were yelled and the whole table collected chips. Maybe 15 minutes later Billy was behind me with Kevin and a few of their friends. Vince finally crapped out and the table gave him a hell of a round of applause. We colored up and reconvened.
“Should we get some drinks?” “For sure.” “Were gonna hit the cage.” “All right, there’s a bar just on the other side over there.” “Perfect. We’ll meet you there.” We got to the bank of arched windows with metal bars. The black and gold sign read, “Cashier”. We waited between velvet ropes three or four people back. “That was a pretty solid hit. How’d you make out?” “Dude, I was down to my last $50 and hit a run on a blackjack table and then found you throwing the bones. How’d you do?” “Hell yeah! Up another $800. I had that run and another little one with Billy before.” “Fuck yeah.” I got up to the window and she spread out the chips: 1 purple, 2 black, 3 green and 2 red. “Changing $785. Is large fine?” “Yeah that’s good.” She spread the cash out for me and the cameras. Then stacked it with a sharp motion, tapping the edges to line up the cash. “Thank you.” “You too, have a good night.”
We got over to the bar and Billy handed us fresh drinks. They were having what appeared to be an excellent conversation. I lit a smoke and tried to find my way into the chat. We traded off buying rounds and bullshitted for another hour or so. By the time we were done it was pushing 2:30am. “All right, you boys want to get out of here?” “Yeah, I’m down.” We shook hands with Kevin and the homies and headed to the taxi line. The ride back to the Luxor was real quiet. We were absolutely exhausted by the time we finally got back. Billy hit the bathroom and Vince and I hit the little table. Billy came out and plopped down on one of the beds. I broke up some grass and packed a bowl. Vince emptied the ashtray into the small trashcan in the bathroom.
“Man, that was a hell of trip.” “Fuckin’ a it was.” I passed the pipe around the room and searched for a cig. “You got any grits?” “Maybe, let me check.” I got up and wandered the room. I shook several empty packs until “Bingo!” I found a pack with five left. “This should get me through until morning.” “Nice, because I only have four left.” We reminisced long into the early dawn until the sun was just about to come up for the third day. Billy eventually got up to go. “All right, I’m going to head home. Great to see you boys.” “You too man!” We hugged and shook hands. “Can’t wait to see you again.” “Yeah. I’ll be back in town in a few months.” “Hell yeah.” He headed out and the door shut behind him.
Vince and I packed up, chatting and planning the next day. I was headed to San Diego. He was going to catch a ride with me and hang out for a few days before going back to New Orleans. “Check out is at 11.” “Word.” “Yeah. We’ll just check out through the TV and bounce.” “Sounds like a plan. I need to stop and get gas somewhere.” “Yeah, we should grab something to eat too.” “No doubt.” I got into my bed and Vince got into his. We each lit one more cig for the night. “Hell of a fucking weekend my man.” “Fucking yeah it was boy. Excellent fucking weekend.” I passed out maybe ten minutes later.
We got up around 10. “Fucking hell I hurt.” “Yeah, me too. Imma grab a shower.” “Word.” I sat up in bed and lit a cig while I checked my phone. I rubbed my hands up and down my face a few times and reached for a bottle of water. I got up, cig in the corner of my mouth and piled up the last of my shit. The shower turned off, Vince came out and we rotated. I took a quick shower, brushed my teeth and repacked my toiletry bag that had been sitting on the edge of the sink. I put both of my hands on the counter and stared into the mirror for a moment. Deep breath and I opened the bathroom door. “You about ready to bounce?” “Yeah, I think so.” Vince was using the remote to check us out through the tv. I jumped back into the bathroom and changed, putting on the shorts I drove out in and my cleanest t-shirt. “Hey, we got any Advil?” “Fuck yeah my man!” “Hell yes!” I threw back four. “All right, let’s get it.” We snatched up our luggage and got to the elevator one more time.
The elevator dinged and the polished doors slid opened. We weaved our way through the casino toward the walkway back out to the parking lot. The floor was still and nearly empty except for the small groups of exhausted tourists sitting next to rolling luggage. A man came by on a large riding vacuum. Another was emptying an ashtray next to a slot machine. The town was getting ready to rest for a few days and prepare for another weekend. We passed the burger spot, then up the ramp and through the glass and brass doors one last time.
The heat was intense and immediate. I looked back toward Vince, “Fucking Chirst it’s god damn hot.” “Oh yeah it is.” We got to the car and I popped the dusty trunk. We threw in our bags and opened all the doors to let out some of the pent up heat. I ducked in just enough to get the motor started and set the ac to full blast. I stood back up and we each lit a smoke. “Well, you ready to do this?” “Yeah, I’m down.” “I’m stoked you’re riding back with me. The drive home alone can fucking suck.” “Heck yeah my man.” “All right. I’m thinking we’ll hit the gas station on the other side of the Strip for gas and smokes.” “Sounds like a plan.” We jumped in the still scorching car. The engine fan was screaming. We rolled down the windows and I shifted us into gear.
We crossed over the freeway and hit the gas station. I pulled up to the pump and we hopped out. “I got this one.” “Shit yeah. Thanks man.” Vince slid his card into the pump and I went into the store. I grabbed an energy drink, pack off small, chocolate covered doughnuts and, “Can I get two packs of Marlboro Lights and a pack of orange Zig Zags?” Vince came in as the guy rang my items. We switched spots and I went to finish pumping the gas. Vince cruised back out just as I was putting the pump up. He jumped in and we pulled into a parking space on the side of the building. “I think there’s enough weed for like 3 or 4 spliffs.” “Oh dope. Should be good for the drive.” “Yeah, that’s what I was thinking.” I put the bag of grass in the cup holder and the papers on the dash.
I pulled out one of the Zags and folded it into a little channel. I dumped in some grass and twisted the end of a cig until about a third of the tobacco came out and mixed with the weed. I rolled one and then another. “Fuck yeah, there’s definitely enough for four.” “Dope.” We finished and I got out to brush the tobacco off my lap and ditch the weed bag. The car was finally cool from the ac. “Let’s bounce.” I turned up the music and we pulled onto the freeway at full tilt.
We each lit a spliff outside the city. We were trying to time it so that the car would be aired out when we got to the state line. “I don’t know why anyone would stay at State Line.” “I know. I know.” “It’s only like 30 more minutes to Vegas.” “Straight up. My mom’s friends go there all the time. They love it for some reason.” “Maybe it’s the $5.99 prime rib?” We both laughed and continued on into California.
“We should grab something to eat.” “Yeah, I’m pretty fucking hungry.” “I think Baker is coming up.” “All right. Cool.” About 15 minutes later we pulled off the highway. “Where should we hit?” “The Mad Greek?” “Ha, nah.” “I don’t know. Jack in the Box?” “Yeah, that works.” I pulled into the parking lot and we got out. I stretched and looked over. “You know, credit where credit is due. It is a big fucking thermometer.” Vince laughed, “No doubt. I think Imma get like at least 4 tacos.” “Dude, me too.” We opened the doors and the fan turned on as we stepped in.
The Jack in the Box was a little busy, nearly filled with people making their way across the desert. We gazed up at the brightly lit menu. “I’m going brunch burger and some tacos. What you thinking?” “No question, sourdough jack, four tacos and an order of curly fries.” “Hell yeah.” We ordered, got our drinks at the fountain and sat at a booth along the wall. “Man, great trip but I can’t wait to get back.” “I hear that.” Orders 72 and 73. “That’s us. I got em.” I ate too fast and went form super hungry to uncomfortably full in mere moments. I looked out the window to the parking lot. There were CA license plates heading west and Nevada plates heading east. “All right old boy. You ready to bounce?” “Yup. Imma take a piss.” “Same.” We hit the bathroom and then out into the parking lot.
We got to the car and each lit a smoke. “All right my man. Only like three more hours until we’re there.” “Yes sir.” We rolled down the windows as I pulled out of the parking lot. I paused for just a second and set the radio to full volume before merging onto the highway. “Let’s roll.” We were heavy in our chairs but light across the highway. A real lead sled.
The Works of Peter C. Knochel 