There’s a well known Vegas saying: “What goes on in Vegas, stays in Vegas”.
Except when you blog about it. Here’s an account of just some of our goings on…
I have a good view of the zombie as it stands motionless in front of me. It’s going down; there’s no doubt. I pick up the Desert Eagle and fire off a few rounds. The violent kick back from the pistol surprises me, and the undead monstrosity gets lucky a few times before my bullets pierce its upper torso. I change to a shotgun as its friend comes into view. This is more like it, I think, as my shoulder jars at the force of the weapon, totally destroying the monster’s guts. Shotguns were made for zombie-slaying. The final enemy is peppered by my Uzi 9mm. He certainly won’t be back. Satisfied, I left the range with my fellow gunslingers, happy at our noon showdown.
“It’s only money, Phil, right?” said the guy next to me, as the dealer showed 21 again. My own stack of chips was getting smaller and my wallet getting itchy. I hadn’t seen blackjack come up for me since I’d sat down over an hour ago, while Phil seemed to be getting all the luck. I complained to the gods and stuck my $5 chip in the circle in front of me. The dealer threw me a queen; maybe this time, I think. My eyes watch again in disbelief as an ace lands on top of it – my prayers had been answered. My luck turns, and when I finally break even I walk away, satisifed that I had not been beaten. Soon, I tried my luck again…
We had time to kill as we waited for the millions of lights to turn into their specatular show in downtown Vegas. In a small casino front, an attractive, scantily-clad girl stood behind an empty blackjack table. Like a Siren, she lured us in and in seconds we were laying down our money. Maybe it was because she was the best damn looking croupier in this rough joint, or maybe it was because we were in a hurry, but I won a hand and felt compelled to let it ride. One win doubled, then doubled again. A minute or so later and suddenly I was 75 bucks up. As the music began behind me, I got up, left the dame a generous tip and cashed in, victorious.
What the hell was I doing up here, stuck strapped in a flimsy plastic seat 900 foot above the streets of Vegas? A green claw loomed over me, one of its talons holding me in its grip, waiting to spin me into terror. I looked over at my fellow victims; only the gentle whoosh of the wind broke our silence. My two friends looked scared, almost shocked, their doubts clearly written all over their pale faces. The barriers went down and we knew this was it. The claw moved back and suddenly I was dangling in free space. I gulped and looked down – my heart raced as I saw the small cars and mass of concrete beneath me that I could conceivably be meeting close up if all went wrong. Fears swept through me as I continued to hang there – a few broken bolts and I was a dead man. The claw started to swing into action and soon the Nevada mountains were spinning round the horizon. Faster and faster, higher and higher we soared above the streets, paralysed in our seats. Screams filled the air – were they mine? – but strangely a thrill was shooting through my body. Was I really enjoying this? It began to lower and slow down, and soon we were back at the loading area. I got off, adrenaline pumping round my body and looked towards my broken friends. “I want to go home, mate.” said Lee. T was as green as his t-shirt, his brain a pulp. He left the Stratosphere a shell of a man, whilst the energy flowed through me on the taxi home.
I wait in the VIP queue for what is supposed to be the club where all the action is tonight. Our guy Adam has hooked us up with entry, a table and enough vodka we can drown in. Sure, the price was high, but to feel like high rollers for a few hours in in a place like this is worth it, we feel. I look to my right and see two other queues next to us – more exclusive than VIP – and wonder what the fuss is about. Soon after, a group of girls glide past of the like you never thought existed. One blonde was simply perfect; she should be an ambassador for Earth, representing the beauty of this world. What the hell is a chump like me doing going into the same club as someone like her? Judging by the dropped jaws and expressions around me, I wasn’t alone. Five minutes later and we’re on the escalator up.
The music is pounding as we enter the dark, spacious room. Lights strobe the packed dance foor, as crowds peer over the raised edge to watch people doing their thing. Girls are everywhere, wearing dresses to kill and making moves to tease. We reach our table near the floor – it’s in a great location, right in with the action. A gorgeous woman slides by and starts serving us the vodkas. An eager waiter keeps us topped up with orange and Red Bull mixers. No bar queues – it’s all on a plate for us tonight. The music is eclectic but great – just up our street. Girls surround us and I watch in amusement as two of my single mates waste no time in getting aquainted. Smiles and laughs all around; we’re having the time of our lives and care little about the increasing bill as more silver and blue cans appear opened before us. Camera flashes go off all around as we each in turn capture the fun. Dancing, drinking, chatting, soaking in the vibrant atmosphere. Glitter rains down from the sky; girls with bottles admid sparks of fire parade through the floor; sexy dancers strut seductively on their podiums above us. Eventually, just after we sense the peak in the early hours, we leave with a buzz and lighter wallets. Where to next?
Now I’m on the plane and moments away from leaving. A glance out of the window shows the entire strip laid out, sunlight hitting the magnificent glass structures, neon signs sleeping for the moment. Our thoughts will be there for some time yet, but the reality of home and responsibilities come seeping in all too easy. As the engines thrust and we soar into the air, we leave Sin City to the visitors and denizens of this surreal land. One thing is sure, though – we’ll be back to top it all again soon…