TO LIVE & WORK IN LAS VEGAS
By Crystal Starlight
Three Days in the (Night) Life: A wild tour de Las Vegas (Part 3 of 4)
Saturday, May 12
11:00 AM
MGM Signature Suite
Moyer was robbed by a hooker.
I was still drunk when I woke up so the news practically got me rolling on the floor. Apparently he met what seemed to him a normal girl at PURE, or Empire, or somewhere we were gallivanting around and when she said “Let’s go to Motel 6” he didn’t think anything of it. Immediately upon booking the motel room he passed out and woke up swindled out of a few hundred dollars. Luckily she didn’t take his I.D. After all the drama Moyer confesses, “She wasn’t even that hot.”
“Did she take all your money?” I ask. “Do you have to go to the bank now?”
Moyer sets up his laptop, gets online, and smiles. “I’m supposed to have a checking and a savings account … but really I just have checking one and checking two. Transfer completed.” And with that, Moyer was back in the game. Who wants drinks?
1:00 PM
The adventures at MGM Signature
Chad and Moyer were on a (drunken) mission to buy flip flops, and Pete and I decided to find one of the many pools at The Signature. Brad and Jen had actually left early in the morning to go see a local relative (don’t ask me how, I woke up drunk) and you can say we all split up to find adventure. Looking back, I realize that it took Pete and I about five hours to find this alleged pool, and in our extremely drunken splendor we ended up in some very interesting locations. Laughing hysterically we decided, “This, after all, is what Vegas is all about.”
Innocent passers by had the privilege of witnessing such prime events as Pete on a moving walk way -- more specifically on his hands and knees on a moving walk way; crawling drunkenly while yelling to bystanders, “I apologize for my friend -- she’s wasted!” Other items of interest included Pete trying to befriend a woman we briefly saw in an elevator earlier that day. In any other situation, being rudely and blatantly ignored may dampen the outcome of the day. In this situation, however, we were inspired to share the party with as many people as possible. Breaking down their logical, social barriers is part of the fun. Live a little, right?
After somehow finding ourselves at the pool in the actual casino MGM, we turned around and commenced our journey back to try and find the Signature pool while investigating suspicious doors and encountering “Pete’s room” along the way: A big, empty banquet room that smelled like paint and was home to a single ladder and a telephone sitting rather lonely on the floor. After proudly proclaiming this room to be his, trying to climb into the roof and flailing himself on the floor, Pete proceeded to grab the telephone and declared loudly, “Crystal! It’s an emergency -- call 9-1-1! There’s no one in my room!” Then we thought it may be time to leave before someone did actually come into the room. Back to the suite we headed -- maybe as a home base to start off for the pool again, or maybe, quite frankly, because we forgot we were going to the pool. Suddenly, in the midst of helping himself to another poorly mixed cocktail, Peter Leigh ran to the balcony with enthusiasm. “It’s Moyer!” We looked below our balcony to see Chad and Moyer … heading to the pool we had been looking for all afternoon.
11:30 PM
Triq Nightclub
The weekend was beginning to take its toll on me, but I wasn’t the only one. A couple of hours earlier Chad found Pete passed out -- in the shower. And this wasn’t a shower with a bathtub; this was a marble floored shower that Pete decided to crash out in, flat on his back, water still running. (We thought he’d been in there an awful long time.) Here now, standing in front of Triq, I wondered how I’d make it through another night. I was still drunk; drunk from this morning and the consistent flow of cocktails in our suite. I was amazed I managed to get my make-up on, and let’s just say my hair was “wash and wear.” Our crowd was definitely a tad quieter than usual. “Tonight,” I thought, “will be interesting.” And that it was.
“Uh … hi! What … uh … you guys are early.” Gerald, who used to manage ICE and is now at Triq, is one the most fantastic people I know and quite adept at cultivating repeat business.
“Oh. Really? It’s eleven thirty.”
“Yeah, we open at 12:00.”
“Oh. My bad. I should also probably warn you I’ve been drunk since I woke up today, so don’t expect my A game.” (I figure as long as I clarify up front, I can’t be held accountable later.)
“Oh really? Ha. Nice. Hey, I have to run inside but I’ll come get you guys in just a bit.”
Well it’s a good thing we didn’t get here at 10:00 as planned.
Gerald set us up at the coolest table I’d seen all weekend. L-shaped seating wrapped around a huge square slab of what looked like marble coming up off the floor; this was to be our table. A sleek, shiny pole -- perfect for drunken entertaining -- ran up through the center. Our scantily clad and personable cocktailer often walked over the marble to serve our drinks, and on more than one occasion her departure across the table led Moyer to believe he was, indeed, sitting in the right seat. Beautiful, lively people filed into the dimly illuminated venue and I instantly drew an association to the pricey lounges in Manhattan -- thoroughly outfitted with stylistic crystal and a modern, elegant, design scheme. The DJ played the perfect tracks as my entourage began to perk up, again back in their element in the deep hours of the night. I, however, was becoming more and more comfortable in my chair.
“P.I.T! Hey! P.I.T!”
My descent into withdrawn, sleepy, comfortableness has not gone unnoticed by Mark Moyer.
“I can’t help it. I’ve overdone myself. Three days is too much.”
But Moyer wasn’t having it. “How about a Red Bull vodka? Come on! To the bar!”
He quickly succeeded in dragging me out of my seat and to the bar. After all, that’s what friends are for. Suddenly, as if by magic, life seeped back into my veins. Red Bull -- where have you been all my night?
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]