Vegas, Baby, Vegas with the Parrot Heads
Finally, the tales of Vegas, Baby, Vegas!
First, a little backstory. The Golf God’s 7 months pregnant wife decided that a bus trip to, and weekend in, Vegas with a bunch of drunks (her husband definitely included in that group) did not sound very fun. Can’t say that I blame her at all. We are really not as funny as we think we are if you’re sober.
So, a plan was made. Pab and I would chaperone The Golf God (GG) for the weekend with the O’Malley Babes as backup. I know, what, exactly, were we all thinking?
Now, on to the story. The Eastside folks met at the Ferrallis’ bright and early for our scheduled bus pick up at 6:30 AM. No bus, though. Turns out our somewhat regular driver couldn’t make the trip so he passed it off to a new guy and told him to be there at 7. He made it there a few minutes early and we were actually on the road by 7. I can’t help but wonder what the neighbors think. They’re trying to gate the community and I’m guessing having big tour buses come through is fueling the fire on that cause.
GG finished up his bagel while my two frozen waffles had been consumed an hour earlier. Still, it was a base. At 7:15, we cracked open our first Miller Lites. By the time we picked up Pab and the rest of the folks at the North stop, we were on beer #2.
I don’t think we were very far out of town when the Jello Shot contest began. It’s a dirty job but someone has to be a judge so Pab, Norene and I always volunteer to assist the Jello Shot Queen. It’s quite the good gig, I must say. You do have to try every shot (some are sooooo strong and occasionally, some are not so good) but since we’ve implemented the Best Bribe prize we have cleaned up on the SWAG. This time, I acquired a stuffed bird, a boa and an “I’m the Princess…” baseball cap. Love that cap!
Jello Shots were all good and everyone made a nice presentation. Pimp Daddy’s were killer strong so I only had a bite out of each of them. Boob managed to spill on the Queen but Jude’s bribes (that’s where my cap came from) made up for that. To no one’s surprise, the O’Malley Babes won the O’Malley Award (formerly known as Best Presentation). Julie, Charlie and The Salt Guy also presented some good entries. I have to give The Golf God the most props for his Tiramasu shot. Ohmigod, was it good! The Queen gave him a special prize; a custom Jello Shot Prince tee-shirt.
We made our traditional stop at Mickey D’s. From this point forward, I refuse to say whether it’s in Wickenburg or Kingman for fear I’ll get it wrong again. Pab is never going to let me forget that mistake. GG and I slipped in some water and Diet Coke/Pepsi at this point but it was back to the Lites soon enough.
For some reason that’s hazy to me now, both Kathy O. and I were standing in the aisle when we pulled into the hotel parking lot. The bus gave a jerk and Kathy went tumbling forward. Fortunately for her, I was there to break her fall. Unfortunately for me, I stopped us from hitting the deck by landing on the edge of the seat. Nothing like slamming your butt cheek against a metal edge..ouch! Kathy also banged into my breastbone and my cheek. Thankfully, Mary’s purse was somehow wrapped into Kathy’s fanny pack so that held her up from completely falling on to me.
We made it safely into the hotel and Pab and I stopped by the Babe’s room on our way downstairs. I knocked once. No answer. Thinking maybe Mary was in the bathroom I knocked again. There was a thud then the door opened. Kathy was somewhat standing there but pretty out of it. She managed to communicate that she was going to take a nap (which is code for pass out) and that Mary was downstairs.
What we found out later was that my knocking had startled Kathy out of her stupor and she ran for the door. And, when I say for the door it was really into the door. She managed to bruise both her chin and her knee.
We hooked back up with Golf God and the Dudleys to head to Margaritaville where our pals from the Utah club were gathering. Gary, a Utah member, had promised to buy a beer for anyone who found him and gave him the password. I actually wasn’t lured there by the free beer (though I often am), I just wanted to meet Gary since we’ve exchanged some emails and see Troy and Shannon. When we got there, Gary bought us all Foster’s Oil Cans despite the fact that I couldn’t have pulled the password out of my ass at that point. We all hung out for a while and GG and I munched on a handful of someone’s nachos then it was back to the San Remo.
Now, Golf God and I had been in Vegas for a couple of hours and had not played blackjack. This was not right. We settled in at a table and man, was he on fire! He got up big time while I managed to stay even. He finally called it quits and we headed to the lounge to catch Stars on the Water.
The San Remo lounge is teeny-tiny with a small dance floor. They had a dozen or so folks off to the side behind tables and apparently someone said they had won backstage passes for the Stars show. If the fun meter went from 1 for No Fun and 10 for Ecstatic, those folks appeared to be at minus 4.
The Golf God was determined to get them happy. He bought a round of Parrot Bay shots for all of them that we hand delivered. Not surprisingly, that pepped most of them up. We also cajoled them into dancing…all except for one couple who seemed determined not to have any fun at all. Pretty soon, everything was hopping and GG started a conga line through the lounge and around the bar.
Someone had to get things started and it’s usually someone from Arizona. That night it was The Golf God’s turn and he did a fantastic job!
Somewhere around midnight, Gary and I were sitting together and realized we had both hit the wall so we ordered one more beer before calling it a night. Why does one more beer always seem like a good idea until you’re actually trying to finish it?
Pab had deserted us hours earlier so I collected GG and we headed to the hotel elevator. Juicy caught up to us and I’m guessing we looked pretty worse for the wear since she insisted on walking us to GG’s room. I really think she thought we couldn’t find it. I tried to get GG to agree on a plan for the next day but he was beyond coherency at that point. I settled for telling him our room numbers and saying “See you tomorrow” then headed to my room.
I dug out my PJs but for the life of me couldn’t find the bottoms. So, I just threw the top on and fell into the sack. It wasn’t pretty but at least I was ahead of the game compared to GG. He said he woke up a few hours after he crashed still with his clothes and shoes on and his contacts in.
Here’s where the “why do we never learn?” question comes in. Let me summarize our food and beverage intake for the day. Bagel, frozen waffles, two handfuls each of salty snacks and nachos, one bottle of water, two sodas, a dozen Jello Shots and countless (and I do mean countless) beers. Oh, and some Bailey’s on the rocks. Is it any wonder we crash and burn then regret it in the morning?
OK, that’s Friday done…there’s still Saturday to report on but that’s another post.
First, a little backstory. The Golf God’s 7 months pregnant wife decided that a bus trip to, and weekend in, Vegas with a bunch of drunks (her husband definitely included in that group) did not sound very fun. Can’t say that I blame her at all. We are really not as funny as we think we are if you’re sober.
So, a plan was made. Pab and I would chaperone The Golf God (GG) for the weekend with the O’Malley Babes as backup. I know, what, exactly, were we all thinking?
Now, on to the story. The Eastside folks met at the Ferrallis’ bright and early for our scheduled bus pick up at 6:30 AM. No bus, though. Turns out our somewhat regular driver couldn’t make the trip so he passed it off to a new guy and told him to be there at 7. He made it there a few minutes early and we were actually on the road by 7. I can’t help but wonder what the neighbors think. They’re trying to gate the community and I’m guessing having big tour buses come through is fueling the fire on that cause.
GG finished up his bagel while my two frozen waffles had been consumed an hour earlier. Still, it was a base. At 7:15, we cracked open our first Miller Lites. By the time we picked up Pab and the rest of the folks at the North stop, we were on beer #2.
I don’t think we were very far out of town when the Jello Shot contest began. It’s a dirty job but someone has to be a judge so Pab, Norene and I always volunteer to assist the Jello Shot Queen. It’s quite the good gig, I must say. You do have to try every shot (some are sooooo strong and occasionally, some are not so good) but since we’ve implemented the Best Bribe prize we have cleaned up on the SWAG. This time, I acquired a stuffed bird, a boa and an “I’m the Princess…” baseball cap. Love that cap!
Jello Shots were all good and everyone made a nice presentation. Pimp Daddy’s were killer strong so I only had a bite out of each of them. Boob managed to spill on the Queen but Jude’s bribes (that’s where my cap came from) made up for that. To no one’s surprise, the O’Malley Babes won the O’Malley Award (formerly known as Best Presentation). Julie, Charlie and The Salt Guy also presented some good entries. I have to give The Golf God the most props for his Tiramasu shot. Ohmigod, was it good! The Queen gave him a special prize; a custom Jello Shot Prince tee-shirt.
We made our traditional stop at Mickey D’s. From this point forward, I refuse to say whether it’s in Wickenburg or Kingman for fear I’ll get it wrong again. Pab is never going to let me forget that mistake. GG and I slipped in some water and Diet Coke/Pepsi at this point but it was back to the Lites soon enough.
For some reason that’s hazy to me now, both Kathy O. and I were standing in the aisle when we pulled into the hotel parking lot. The bus gave a jerk and Kathy went tumbling forward. Fortunately for her, I was there to break her fall. Unfortunately for me, I stopped us from hitting the deck by landing on the edge of the seat. Nothing like slamming your butt cheek against a metal edge..ouch! Kathy also banged into my breastbone and my cheek. Thankfully, Mary’s purse was somehow wrapped into Kathy’s fanny pack so that held her up from completely falling on to me.
We made it safely into the hotel and Pab and I stopped by the Babe’s room on our way downstairs. I knocked once. No answer. Thinking maybe Mary was in the bathroom I knocked again. There was a thud then the door opened. Kathy was somewhat standing there but pretty out of it. She managed to communicate that she was going to take a nap (which is code for pass out) and that Mary was downstairs.
What we found out later was that my knocking had startled Kathy out of her stupor and she ran for the door. And, when I say for the door it was really into the door. She managed to bruise both her chin and her knee.
We hooked back up with Golf God and the Dudleys to head to Margaritaville where our pals from the Utah club were gathering. Gary, a Utah member, had promised to buy a beer for anyone who found him and gave him the password. I actually wasn’t lured there by the free beer (though I often am), I just wanted to meet Gary since we’ve exchanged some emails and see Troy and Shannon. When we got there, Gary bought us all Foster’s Oil Cans despite the fact that I couldn’t have pulled the password out of my ass at that point. We all hung out for a while and GG and I munched on a handful of someone’s nachos then it was back to the San Remo.
Now, Golf God and I had been in Vegas for a couple of hours and had not played blackjack. This was not right. We settled in at a table and man, was he on fire! He got up big time while I managed to stay even. He finally called it quits and we headed to the lounge to catch Stars on the Water.
The San Remo lounge is teeny-tiny with a small dance floor. They had a dozen or so folks off to the side behind tables and apparently someone said they had won backstage passes for the Stars show. If the fun meter went from 1 for No Fun and 10 for Ecstatic, those folks appeared to be at minus 4.
The Golf God was determined to get them happy. He bought a round of Parrot Bay shots for all of them that we hand delivered. Not surprisingly, that pepped most of them up. We also cajoled them into dancing…all except for one couple who seemed determined not to have any fun at all. Pretty soon, everything was hopping and GG started a conga line through the lounge and around the bar.
Someone had to get things started and it’s usually someone from Arizona. That night it was The Golf God’s turn and he did a fantastic job!
Somewhere around midnight, Gary and I were sitting together and realized we had both hit the wall so we ordered one more beer before calling it a night. Why does one more beer always seem like a good idea until you’re actually trying to finish it?
Pab had deserted us hours earlier so I collected GG and we headed to the hotel elevator. Juicy caught up to us and I’m guessing we looked pretty worse for the wear since she insisted on walking us to GG’s room. I really think she thought we couldn’t find it. I tried to get GG to agree on a plan for the next day but he was beyond coherency at that point. I settled for telling him our room numbers and saying “See you tomorrow” then headed to my room.
I dug out my PJs but for the life of me couldn’t find the bottoms. So, I just threw the top on and fell into the sack. It wasn’t pretty but at least I was ahead of the game compared to GG. He said he woke up a few hours after he crashed still with his clothes and shoes on and his contacts in.
Here’s where the “why do we never learn?” question comes in. Let me summarize our food and beverage intake for the day. Bagel, frozen waffles, two handfuls each of salty snacks and nachos, one bottle of water, two sodas, a dozen Jello Shots and countless (and I do mean countless) beers. Oh, and some Bailey’s on the rocks. Is it any wonder we crash and burn then regret it in the morning?
OK, that’s Friday done…there’s still Saturday to report on but that’s another post.