By Crystal Starlight
Three Days in the (Night) Life: A wild tour de Las Vegas
(Part 2 of 4)
Friday, May 11 (cont’d)
7:30 PM
MGM Signature Suite
The view from the balcony of our suite at The Signature is fantastic. Light reflects off the gold mirrored sliding glass door and the setting sun plays off the blue swimming pools and palm trees below. A perfect Vegas night for some thoughtful conversation.
“I want to be an Orangutan.”
I need to start carrying a tape recorder.
“You know they’re like, smart. Smarter than us.” Moyer continues. “You know they’re just sitting there behind the zoo glass like, ‘Yeah, you guys are idiots.’ I bet they could talk if they wanted to. But they’re probably all, ‘No… not even anything worth saying to you fools’.”
Moyer, who’s first name is actually Mark, works for a company where all he does is fly around and train new employees for different divisions of their business. Quite an intelligent guy, really. Which is why it’s even funnier that shortly after his orangutan epiphany he ended up with a fat lip -- the result of tackling Brad into the bathtub who, consequently, hit his face on the hot water knob, turned it on, fell in the steaming water and “lost his cool” so to speak. Poor Moyer. But don’t worry, by the end of this weekend Moyer will be unforgettable.
11:00 PM
PURE Nightclub
After being escorted through the horrific, crowded line of sweaty, overdressed bodies at PURE we made it to our table on the roof overlooking the strip.
“P.I.T Man! P.I.T!” Moyer was ready to get the party started. Peter, however, was a bit worn down from last night’s excitement. We all had encouraging tag lines this weekend that we extracted whenever necessary to force our somewhat malnutritioned and overworked bodies into more drinking and dancing. Moyer’s stood for “pull it together man.” Brad’s was “You gotta work to get PAID” and mine was “Vegas, baby, VEGAS!” It’s amazing how much funnier alcohol makes things.
Pete and Moyer, however, promptly reversed roles and by about 1:00 a.m. I was wondering how on earth to dismiss the less-than-gorgeous-women that Moyer had accumulated at our table. Peter had his mack on and Moyer was on the verge of passing out. (You can imagine the women were mesmerized by his conversational skills.) In close observation I realized that Moyer was playing wingman (although not horribly well since the woman, possibly twice my age, adamantly kept her back toward Moyer, pretended to use her cell phone, and glanced miserably around) while Pete entertained her younger counterpart. Somehow, on his own catch, Moyer must have gotten the ol’ switch-a-roo. Chad and I decided drastic measures were in order and started fabricating a scenario in which our security guard could remove the women with as little damage as possible.
“Just tell them they can’t be here because they don’t have a stamp!”
“Yes,” I chime in, “tell them you’re sorry but there’s nothing you can do.” Just at this moment Brad heard our conspiring.
“Hey -- if it makes Moyer happy, I’m not going to say anything.”
No! Chad and I were foiled -- which is downright frustrating since security man Dave was more than willing to go along with our scenario. But it wasn’t much later that I noticed a look of disgust creep across Moyer’s newly accumulated female counterpart as she noticed Brad and Jen blatantly making out in the corner. Hooray for exhibitionists! Long live conspicuous displays of unapologetic affection! Two seconds later the women excused themselves to go to the bathroom and never came back. If I’d known that would’ve done the trick, I would have made out with Jen. Thank god.
Then things get a little foggy. I’m going to go ahead and guesstimate, saying a good hour or so went by before I looked up to see two more women sitting at our table. Must not be Moyer’s doing because they’re both good looking … and they have accents. Much better, I say. They’re from Yugoslavia, they tell me. How adorable. Only none of the guys are talking to these girls, they’re just sitting here by themselves. I feel obligated:
“Are you girls having a good time?”
“Oooh yes, yes. Thenk you for letting us seet -- our feet just hurt so bad from our shoez.”
“No problem! Enjoy yourselves.” (Like anything this weekend didn’t turn into a production.)
“They’re hookers.”
“What?”
“I swear,” says Chad, “they’re hookers. I was talking to this guy I just met and when I went and sat down I saw him send them over here. I got back up and asked him if he knew them and he said no. He’s lying.”
As if to reinforce his point, mere seconds after Chad left, the two girls realized they still weren’t being clamored over and I glanced up just in time to see them bolt.
“Thenk you so much. We feel betta now, good bye! By the way I think you so pretty -- I not a lesbian but you very pretty.”
And they were gone. Hmmm. Real live hookers? Or were obscene amounts of alcohol clouding our rational judgment? Definitely hookers.
Saturday, May 12
5:00 AM
The Late Night Empire
If PURE was foggy, then Empire was a complete haze. Empire Ballroom, being one of my favorite venues in all of Las Vegas, constantly reminds me why I bestow it such adoration. Five o’clock in the morning and we walk into a flawless set by D:Fuse as the packed dance floor pulsates to the electric beat. Chad makes a comment about the limo we took, and I’m forced to ask, “What limo?” Funny how I just seem to have lost 20 minutes here and there but remember the majority of the night. Like how Pete blew $500 on a table we sat at for five minutes before leaving Empire. And how no one could find Moyer…
Precocious entrepreneur, workaholic and a rabid perfectionist Crystal Starlight knows a thing or two about getting ahead at a young age. Email her at [email protected]