Las Vegas: Revisited
July 27th, 2007I don’t know if you noticed, but whenever I have a really savage weekend, you can expect a blog entry so late that it is almost irrelevant. With that said, I would like to talk about what I did last weekend because I am officially recovered. Oh, it’s Friday of the following week.
Last Friday night, I went pretty hard. One of my biggest clients was in town for the night, so I had to entertain. We hit Hyde for a bit, then went to a house party in the hills. The thing I really like about Hyde is that the service is pretty fucking awesome. The second the last drop of Grey Goose is poured, some hottie in a tight top is back at your table with another $500 bottle. Put that on the company AmEx, bitch.
Even though I couldn’t really see straight when I arrived at the after party, the action didn’t really heat up until about 3am. By that time, we were hitting the rails in a major way, and I had already dropped a couple tabs of e earlier in the night, so my head was spinning. I recall some lesbian sex going on in the pool, but Friday was one of those nights where no one really wants to discuss what happened out of fear that something extremely embarrassing went down. I’m alright with that.
I somehow passed out (shocker) and woke up at around 8am. Surprisingly, I was on a bed in a room full of people, but no one seemed very concerned with the fact that some dude was passed out on the bed. I checked in the mirror to confirm that there was not a penis drawn on my forehead, then proceeded to do some cocaine to wake up. I was so out of it at this point that I honestly had absoutely no idea where I was. The room was so unfamiliar, but I had to play it cool because people were talking to me and I couldn’t just straight up ask where I was. I came up with the theory that I was in Florida (where I’ll be this week for Internext) in my hotel room. I wondered how much of the show I had missed.
After I realized that I was just in Hollywood, I called a cab and passed out around 10am. I woke up around 3pm feeling like shit. I don’t usually get hung over at all, but even after a few tabs of vicodin, I still wanted to hang myself in the shower. I ordered out some food, tried to regain my composure, masturbated in the shower, and did a little work. Nothing seemed to help with this hangover from hell. When all else fails, continue drinking.
I tried to rally the troops for happy hour and remembered that my friend/business partner Stephanie had arrived to LA earlier in the week from Paris. We arrived at happy hour around 5:30pm and were drunk by 6pm. Around that time, I got a call from a friend. He had stumbled upon some acid and wanted to know if I wanted some. He dropped off ten tabs at the bar. Stephanie and I were going to have one hell of a night.
Before we took the acid, we had a pretty lengthy discussion of what we were going to do. We decided we wanted to do something really cool instead of just hitting up bars or watching Pink Floyd’s The Wall. Several possibilities were mentioned, and the stakes were continually risen until I came up with the idea to do a Las Vegas trip. We had no time to pack or get a change of clothes. Instead, we did two hits of acid each and told a cabbie we needed to get to the airport fast. I booked us a flight on the way to the airport and started calling hotels.
Flights to Las Vegas from LAX go out about once an hour, and we happened to arrive to the airport about ten minutes before the next flight. Perfect. The acid started to hit me as I was going through security, and I had some significant problems removing my shoes.
We did another hit of acid on the plane, booked a suite at the Bellagio after we landed, and arrived at the hotel around 10:30pm. Things were quite hazy by this time, though, so you might have to give or take a few hours on that estimate. I took a quick shower, secured some cocaine from my favorite Las Vegas resident, and we hit the clubs. First was Light. I had never been to Light before, but we decided to check it out since we were staying at the Bellagio. Even though I was insanely drunk and high, I was coherent enough to realize that the club sucked and I needed more acid. We took hit number four, did some blow to compensate, then jumped in a cab bound for Jet at the Mirage. We had to get bottle service because we were high as kites and couldn’t deal with lines. I think that we actually split most of our bottle of Grey Goose, but some Persian bitches found their way over to our table and snagged some as well.
I was a dance machine at Jet. The ladies were loving it. The lights were pretty much blowing my acid-riddled mind, and I barely even knew what my name was. Naturally, around 2am, we did our final hit of acid and made our way to Pure at Caesar’s Palace. Pure is my favorite Las Vegas spot, but it was totally packed, so we had to get bottle service once again to get inside. I don’t think I drank any of our Grey Goose at Pure because I was way too busy feeling the white curtains around the club. They felt pretty amazing and the lighting was blowing my mind. I busted out some really hot dance moves when the DJ played “Make it Rain,” and started in on finishing our blow supply to offset the psychedelics.
We ended up back at our room around 9am. I thought I was starting to come down when I went to sleep, but when I woke up at 11:30am, I was still pretty high. By the way, for some reason I thought it was a really good idea to book an extremely expensive suite, but we ended up spending a total of three hours in it. We made our way to the airport, for our 1pm flight, and I was back at my place in LA by 3pm. Oh, and I felt amazing.
The moral of this story is that the best way to cure a hangover is a Vegas trip. My body hates Vegas so much, but my mind loves it. I’m torn.
What am I doing this weekend? Nothing exciting at all. I am working hard on a prototype of a product I will be pitching at Internext next weekend. Internext is going to be quite a bender for me, so I figured I should probably rest up anyway.