Friday I'm In Love (With a Waitress in a Scandinavian-esque Bar)
After collapsing into bed at 7 in the morning, I felt that I would awaken at sometime around 3PM and play a bit of poker before heading out for a Friday night in Vegas. The reality was Karl stumbling out of bed at 9AM and rushing out of the hotel to the poker room at the Riviera casino opposite ours. I pulled the covers back over my head and woke again at 11AM when Karl returned to the room, beaming after another profitable session.
The story regarding the girl from MGM was told to me four hours earlier, but at the time I had little chance of comprehending what had happened. Karl had gone back to the hotel room of an oversize American girl who was staying at the MGM. The girl mistakenly believed that Karl looked like Justin Timberlake, and while they were in bed together she felt the need to shout "F*ck me Justin" at the top of her voice while listening to the latest Timberlake album on her I-Pod. If this was not bad enough, after she had administered oral sex she shouted "Welcome to the USA, baby!" The real shock was yet to come. After a knock on the hotel room door was left unanswered, a security guard burst in with a flashlight, this being thanks to a resident of the hotel reporting that someone in the room was being attacked. Karl seemed to enjoy the fact that this had occured, as it meant that he "had a story for everyone back home".
I showered and dressed after four hours of broken sleep, and we headed down the strip to the Bellagio casino for one of their renowned 'All you can eat' buffets. The buffet costs $20 before 3PM, and where your normal all you can eat buffet serves chinese fried rice and black bean sauce, the Bellagio buffet serves smoked salmon, wild boar and pan fried marin. It is truly gormet quality food for a tenner, but I would advise that you stick to the seafood and italian as the cuts of meat are sometimes not too lean.
When we got back to the hotel, Karl went for a nap and I chose to study the form for the following day's Breeders Cup action while enjoying a Budweiser or two at the hotel bar. The Army v Air Force gridiron match was on the TV, and I asked an oriental tramp if he had placed a wager on the game. He answered 'No' and proceeded to laugh manically. I decided to head back to the room.
For the evening's partying we headed to the Rio and their famous 52nd floor 'Voodoo Lounge'. Rumours are that this is one of Miss Spears haunts while in Vegas, and if so she has a better taste in bars than husbands. This bar makes the most of the hotel's off strip location by providing a club with a view over the Vegas strip. A set of decks, bar, dancefloor and pole dancers in an open air enviroment above Vegas' neon carpet make this one of the hottest attractions in the city. This is why it felt sweet to avoid the massive queue and $20 entry with the tickets we bought off the internet. Get in line Britney, VIP's coming through.
I considered for a moment that we could possibly be in the Gallery nightclub if we were on a Friday night out in York. In the Gallery, you queue on the stairs to reach the action. Here, you queue in front of a 20 man elevator with steel doors. And unlike the G, your ears are more likely to explode due to pressure as oppose terrible music. Note, though, that if you fall off the balcony at the Voodoo lounge, you are f*cked.
Before the Voodoo, we had visited another bar at the Rio called the I-Bar. There was a relaxed, pre-club atmosphere, and with it's white minamalistic finish I mused that it had a very Scandinavian feel. Or at least what I believe to be a Scandinavian feel, as I have never been to bar in Scandinavia. One of the waitresses was a stunning tall brunette, and my conversation with Karl was often derailed by her short skirt and revealing crossover top. A top night, and we headed back to the Circus Circus hopeful of a refreshing sleep ahead of the Breeders Cup bonanza on Saturday. Alarm clock set for a 8AM start.
The story regarding the girl from MGM was told to me four hours earlier, but at the time I had little chance of comprehending what had happened. Karl had gone back to the hotel room of an oversize American girl who was staying at the MGM. The girl mistakenly believed that Karl looked like Justin Timberlake, and while they were in bed together she felt the need to shout "F*ck me Justin" at the top of her voice while listening to the latest Timberlake album on her I-Pod. If this was not bad enough, after she had administered oral sex she shouted "Welcome to the USA, baby!" The real shock was yet to come. After a knock on the hotel room door was left unanswered, a security guard burst in with a flashlight, this being thanks to a resident of the hotel reporting that someone in the room was being attacked. Karl seemed to enjoy the fact that this had occured, as it meant that he "had a story for everyone back home".
I showered and dressed after four hours of broken sleep, and we headed down the strip to the Bellagio casino for one of their renowned 'All you can eat' buffets. The buffet costs $20 before 3PM, and where your normal all you can eat buffet serves chinese fried rice and black bean sauce, the Bellagio buffet serves smoked salmon, wild boar and pan fried marin. It is truly gormet quality food for a tenner, but I would advise that you stick to the seafood and italian as the cuts of meat are sometimes not too lean.
When we got back to the hotel, Karl went for a nap and I chose to study the form for the following day's Breeders Cup action while enjoying a Budweiser or two at the hotel bar. The Army v Air Force gridiron match was on the TV, and I asked an oriental tramp if he had placed a wager on the game. He answered 'No' and proceeded to laugh manically. I decided to head back to the room.
For the evening's partying we headed to the Rio and their famous 52nd floor 'Voodoo Lounge'. Rumours are that this is one of Miss Spears haunts while in Vegas, and if so she has a better taste in bars than husbands. This bar makes the most of the hotel's off strip location by providing a club with a view over the Vegas strip. A set of decks, bar, dancefloor and pole dancers in an open air enviroment above Vegas' neon carpet make this one of the hottest attractions in the city. This is why it felt sweet to avoid the massive queue and $20 entry with the tickets we bought off the internet. Get in line Britney, VIP's coming through.
I considered for a moment that we could possibly be in the Gallery nightclub if we were on a Friday night out in York. In the Gallery, you queue on the stairs to reach the action. Here, you queue in front of a 20 man elevator with steel doors. And unlike the G, your ears are more likely to explode due to pressure as oppose terrible music. Note, though, that if you fall off the balcony at the Voodoo lounge, you are f*cked.
Before the Voodoo, we had visited another bar at the Rio called the I-Bar. There was a relaxed, pre-club atmosphere, and with it's white minamalistic finish I mused that it had a very Scandinavian feel. Or at least what I believe to be a Scandinavian feel, as I have never been to bar in Scandinavia. One of the waitresses was a stunning tall brunette, and my conversation with Karl was often derailed by her short skirt and revealing crossover top. A top night, and we headed back to the Circus Circus hopeful of a refreshing sleep ahead of the Breeders Cup bonanza on Saturday. Alarm clock set for a 8AM start.
posted by JamesC at 10:08 pm
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