Saturday, June 30, 12:15 a.m.
It’s not the newest casino on the Strip, or the flashiest, but the Flamingo certainly is packed. I disappear into the thick foliage surrounding the “upper pool” where the ladies of the X show are queuing up. In simplified Pussycat Doll-esque garb consisting of black and pink bikini tops and bottoms that tie into big girly bows, they line up by the entrance.
A very large man is rubbing his belly on the stripper pole in the center of the mid-pool stage/dance floor, but he is shooed away as the six ladies take it back over for their second X2O dance performance, this one to, ironically, the Pussycat Dolls’ “Buttons.” Around the pool, eight flamingo statues look on, as does a mixed-age crowd. The VIP seating consists of white leather couches under white, silky tarps with triangular pink overlays that create the illusion of a giant thong bikini bottom. Nestled between guests Robin Leach and illusionist Nathan Burton, I’m situated just under the crotch.
Former porn star Sunset Thomas does a quick lip-sync and shimmy to Limp Bizkit’s “Nookie” before the dance floor is returned to the crowd. I’m still in the crotch cabana enjoying a drink brought to me by Kimber, perhaps the most enviably in-shape cocktail server ever. In a barely-care-if-it’s-there fuchsia and feather bikini—the pool’s cocktail uniform!—she dips to deliver each cocktail napkin with the poise of a Playboy Bunny.
At 1 a.m. the DJ makes a slight faux pas and thanks everyone for coming out. The older portion of the crowd takes this as a dismissal and bolts. But a 10-minute tequila shot special at the bar sets things to rights and the remaining couples dance on well past 2 a.m., when I make my own exit to pose for a picture with the giant metal X in the doorway. I ask two passing gentlemen to do the honors and only after a 15-minute shoot involving props and poses does my photog say, “Honey, you have picked the gayest couple you could ever find to take a picture!”
At Triq Lounge in the Miracle Mile Shops around 3 a.m., someone is screaming, “Amit!” and somehow it sounds like my name. Then suddenly I do hear my name, and I am absorbed into a VIP booth as if by an amoeba, arms reaching out to draw me in like cilia. A woman from Mississippi grabs me by the shoulders for a hug and something a little too close to my lips to call an air kiss. Another lady does the same from my side. Apparently my hair smells good. Thank you. Will I come take a spin on the stripper pole? No, I’m good, thanks. I’m handed a CD, maybe the 50th this year. “Oooh! What’s that?!” a girl says, gingerly swiping the CD from my hands. “The Rurals! They’re so great!” She holds onto it for a sec, like there may be a chance I might just chirp, “It’s yours!” I don’t. If they’re so great, I wanna hear.
I table-hop and listen next to Anne, an aspiring DJ, tell me about how she pretended to spin at her first gig. Then I join a former PGA golfer, proving that you simply never know who you’ll meet at 4 a.m. The upstairs stage-cum-nightclub is closed, strangely, so we are sardined a little in the lounge. Viva Mas Vegas (courtesy of House Society, Viva Agency Group and Tru House Presents) is chugging electronically along with Marc George spinning at 3 a.m., Sky Ortiz at 3:45 with a sax player and later, Johnny Fiasco. I start to leave but The Lost Boys’ Sean Majors’ catchy, upbeat goodness snags my ear. But like a vampire I can feel the sun rising and dash for my car by 5 a.m. There’s three hours left to this party and more than enough DJs to go around. And if they run out, they can always get Anne to fake it.
Xania Woodman thinks globally and parties locally. And frequently. E-mail her at [email protected] and visit thecircuitlv.com to sign up for Xania’s free weekly newsletter.