TO LIVE & WORK IN LAS VEGAS
By Crystal Starlight
Three Days in the (Night) Life: A wild tour de Las Vegas (Part 4 of 4)
Saturday, May 12
4:30 AM
To The Late Night Empire
At Triq we managed to acquire another accomplice -- a friend of Brad’s who happened to be in Las Vegas as well. After a brief conversation I found out he actually works with Brad; his job title was “Damage Control Specialist for Brad.” Not really, but that’s the title I gave him since he somehow got to follow him to Vegas. It’s a good thing that wasn’t his real job, because he would have been failing miserably.
We tried to catch a cab in the middle of traffic (like you do) to Empire but the cabby was having no part of it. Something about too many people to fit in one van. And although we knew that was the truth, everyone decided to argue with him anyway. It’s amazing to me more pedestrians don’t get hit on Las Vegas Boulevard.
After unsuccessfully antagonizing the driver we realized we could see the Monte Carlo -- so Planet Hollywood wasn’t that far away after all. Which may be a good thing considering the last cabbie who drove us to Empire took us around in circles, resulting in an almost $15 cab ride for what is normally a two-minute drive from Caesars Palace. I would have said something, but last time I was in a cab with Peter Leigh we almost ended up in a hole in the desert. (Note to reader: Do not harass unfriendly cab drivers for being unfriendly.)
Pete and our friend Kat were the first to arrive at Empire and by the time we got there Pete was leading the way like he owned the place. I came to figure out it’s because he spent beaucoup bucks bumping someone else’s reserved table so that we could have one. He’ll be hating himself in the morning, but right now it’s a lot of fun. The rest went in and Pete and I headed up to Walgreens to take out the additional cash he needed for the table. The ATM wasn’t reading his debit, and I’m not real freaking surprised being that it looks like someone stuck it in a shredder and taped it back together.
“What the hell’s wrong with your card, are you sure it will read? How do you get by with that thing?”
“Yeah, it always reads, it’s just tricky.”
Oh it read all right. It read, “You have reached your maximum daily withdrawal limit.” I started laughing and Pete finagled his host into just running the full amount on his debit.
I can’t say the table wasn’t worth it. It was my favorite table -- perfectly in the middle of the dance floor. That IS my table. Well, at least for tonight, Pete’s table. Red Bull after Red Bull, I was really putting them back at this point but having a grand time. Brad’s damage control specialist was having the time of his life and everyone was dancing like we hadn’t been out for three nights straight.
“Hey,” says Brad’s co-worker, “don’t let me forget I have a plane to catch at 7 a.m.”
“I may not be your best bet for reliability right now,” I confide.
“Right. I’ll set my watch. Hey, I’ve had SO much fun. You guys are rock stars, thank you for everything.”
The next thing I remember is walking outside to the patio and being blinded by what could only be 11 a.m. sunshine. Surprised groans escaped from our group as we tried desperately to shield our eyes from the ambush while patio-goers laughed at our dismay. I’d thought it was still around six.
We were regular socialites by this third day; most people are put off by drunk, obnoxious party-goers, but we made more friends than I have in my last eight months living here. Additionally, Pete had befriended our cocktailer, who took down our numbers and told us to come back next weekend. Chad and I had a gentleman with the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen that kept offering us shots and drinks every time we turned around. I don’t remember much of this guy, but I remember he was there for a very long time, and something about his boat and Memorial Day Weekend.
On our way out, as the employees were cleaning their sections and packing their belongings, we ran into the adorable girl I remember only from her having dumped Jell-O shots down all of our throats a little while earlier. When she found out we were heading to lay by the pool, we realized we had similar agendas, so why doesn’t she just come with us? I think we brought half of Empire back to the MGM.
Have I mentioned Moyer’s mysterious black eye yet? In our drunkenness we can’t quite pinpoint its exact time of arrival, however, once it showed up, it began to be general consensus that not only did Moyer get robbed by a hooker … but she must have also punched him in the eye.
Sunday, May 13
2:00 PM
The pool visit was short-lived; no sleep, and 100-degree weather while sweating alcohol is not quite as delightful as you would think.
I briefly remember waking up in The Signature to see Brad and Jen flying out the door, late for the airport. I also remember being woken up (twice, actually) by a very tall, very unhappy woman mentioning articulately something about us needing to be out of the room. Since checkout is typically 11 a.m., I may be right in thinking she’d been there twice. The first time I woke up Moyer was gone … Pete and Chad and the blue-eyed guy were somewhere … and Johnna from Empire was crashed out in the suite, too. How this girl remained in our presence was beyond me; this was a girl that was not inebriated in any way, shape, or form -- which is surely testament to what an exciting and entertaining group of individuals we really must be.
Second time around, the unhappy MGM woman came and left again, although security remained outside the door, and this time Chad and Pete and I, still in a drunken stupor, shoved the remainder of our things in our bags.
“Sorry, sorry, we’re leaving.”
Security was actually much more pleasant (and I think, maybe more entertained) than the female employee. Next time we’ll stay at The Platinum on Koval. They, after all, were much more accommodating than the MGM Signature. They didn’t forget to bring our champagne, didn’t make us wait a half an hour for our limo, had not rushed us to leave. And they never lost one of our vehicles in valet.
Whatever. We’re over this place anyway.
Only a few more hours and Brad, Pete, Moyer, Chad and myself will be back to normal life. No more extreme drinking … no more alleged hookers. Brad will return to Nike and exude respectability all the way to Asia; Pete will be the charismatic pillar of flawless responsibility; Moyer will again be the deservedly venerated authority of the workplace. And no one will ever know differently.
But Chad and I? Well, we’re still in Vegas …
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]