Shortly after arriving in Sin City, an endless booze-filled romp of regretful spending and undeserved excess begins. The combination of binge drinking and oxygen-filled casinos will keep you on your feet long past sunup, making a room unnecessary. Your only option at this point is to find a Starbucks, put on some dark shades, open a book to make it look like you’re reading, and have a nap until you’re ready to go again. You’ll awake sooner or later in a controlled panic. But you’re in Vegas now, and well on your way to another night of arousing uncertainty.
Dealers, pimps, hookers, and con artists will try desperately to rape your pockets. The word “coke” is uttered in your direction so many times while walking to the john that you’ll become confused and say “coke” to the bathroom attendant instead of “hello.” Eventually you will be hustled — just prepare for the moment and try to enjoy it. In my case it was a limo service offering free rides, drinks, and entertainment. You end up on Industrial Boulevard, leaving a gentlemen’s club the size of the Astrodome. The lights of the strip shine in the distance, but cabbies will want your soul in exchange for a ride. On the lonely walk back, cab drivers will offer you the “company” of children, teenage prostitutes will offer “massages,” and the eyes packed into idling cars will cause your legs to pick up the pace.
Walk into a casino at 4 AM. Sluts and morons rub shoulders with Japanese businessmen and gold digging wives well into the early morning here. I noticed Mike from VH1’s Tool Academy 2 by my side at the tables. Three cake-faced girls fingered their extensions as this triple bandanna wearing, Ed Hardy enthusiast was repeatedly reminded by the public that he was a “tool.” But nowhere else in America does the douche hold so much power.
A piece of advice: Just stay for the weekend. Only a serious addict or pampered individual should enjoy more than four days in Vegas. However, after a healthy break from this hellish wasteland you’ll begin planning a return trip.
Guy with huge fake cock: “I hope my boss doesn’t see this.”
Girl who sucks it: “Oh man wait, take another of me with it in my mouth.”
Come to Vegas, get a bottle smashed over your head.
Leave a Reply
Audio clip: Adobe Flash Player (version 9 or above) is required to play this audio clip. Download the latest version here. You also need to have JavaScript enabled in your browser.
So true, plastic architecture, Lil Messicans passing out FUCK FLYERS on every corner.
Meth-heads, winos, lizzard people, and tons of fat dip-shit tourists.
OH AND… Don’t forget the fucking late-night summer breeze… like hair dryer burning away your eyebrows.
10.05.09 at 11:49 am
Vegas was covered much better quite a few years ago:
http://www.gapingmaw.com/88590/
Own zone.
10.05.09 at 12:22 pm
Dr. Gonzo you’re not, Nick
10.05.09 at 12:27 pm
I like the last pic.
10.05.09 at 1:44 pm
I like Freemont Street the best for the cheap roulette & craps. You don’t have to walk a mile to get to the next casino & if you’re down on your luck you can always buy a 24oz beer at one of the convenience stores and wander drunkly around all of the tourists staring up at the light show.
10.05.09 at 2:23 pm
I just walked around drinking 22’s of camo when I was there. I don’t get gambling. My hotel had penguins in the courtyard and it was 117 degrees the day I arrived.
10.05.09 at 3:12 pm
here’s an activity that we thought was fun– walk east on freemont, away from the ‘experience’ and see how far you get before shitting your pants. N9th is a good yardstick.
10.05.09 at 5:29 pm
how did you get hustled exactly? i love these kinds of debaucherous tales
10.05.09 at 7:24 pm
YOU MUTHERFUCKER.
you had the best platform ever to tell a story and you fucking dole out the most saddest limp hand job of a tale. This could have been a major two and three part thing but this is just a fucking fact nugget you faggot. way to go and say “fuck details!”
more pictures! more fucking details. jesus, this is like if you just told this story to me as if you were flossing your teeth on your way out to having a few drinks with friends.
you sir are a blazing cock blaget.
10.05.09 at 10:32 pm
lester1/2jr Says:
“My hotel had penguins in the courtyard and it was 117 degrees the day I arrived.”
That one sentence was more insightful and symbolic of Las Vegas than this whole article. And I didn’t mind the article. It’s a real great sentence.
10.05.09 at 10:52 pm
Wait is Hunter Thompson ghost blogging on street carnage?
Nope nope hes not.
10.06.09 at 2:01 am
God, you’re fucking terrible.
10.06.09 at 4:02 am
we got married by elvis in vegas, it was tacky, lame, expensive and the best time we ever had.
10.06.09 at 9:10 am
charizard- I almost hate to tell you this but; that sentence is literally true! it really was 117 degrees when we were there (dry heat) and there wre in fact actual penguins in the courtyard. worst part: my 9/11 survivor father freaking out when some drunk set off the fire alarm at 2 am. he sat there studying the map of the stairwells for like 15 minutes. I was like go back to sleep old man!
10.12.09 at 1:30 pm