The Mad Poller What Polls at Midnight (maeincarnate) wrote,
The Mad Poller What Polls at Midnight
maeincarnate

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The moral of this speech is, "No thanks to me, they got married".

After re-showering at the Luxor, it was time to get down to Treasure Island for the wedding reception at Kahunaville (Flair bartenders serve up refreshing, frozen signature cocktails... teeheehee. Flair.). It was like what I assume Sammy Hagar's place in Cabo is like. We had a nice section off to ourselves, but apparently the bartenders up front were doing the whole Tom -Cruise-bottle-flipping-Cocktail routine. They put test tube shooters in all of the frozen drinks too. I was a little worried that that was all the alcohol I was gonna get with my drink, and that after shooting it, I was sitting around drinking a glass of flavored shaved ice. The waitress assured me, there was more liquor in the drink.

It was good planning on the wedding party's part to have the ceremony and reception on different nights; since everybody had so much planned to do and most of us were in different hotels, it gave us all a concrete chance to meet up again. After eating and drinking together for a few hours, piperlemons's dad pulled us all into a circle and made a speech. I'm glad he tossed a zinger in there at his ex-wife, or I'd have been blubbering all over the floor. It was some of the sweetest things I have ever heard a father say to his daughter. Then, of course, was Corey's magnificent speech. "I know the three of us are going to have a wonderful life together." It's funny because it's true.

I managed to help a waitress knock a gigantic, steaming, dry-ice-chilled margarita off her tray before the party was over, so it's safe to say it was a complete success. After the room closed for the night, we decided to meander our way back to the Excalibur, hitting whatever casinos struck us on the way.

Since it was right next door, we walked through the Mirage first. The tables were a little rich for us there, but that didn't stop me from playing a few hands of Casino War, the silliest.game.ever (War. Yes. Dealer has a seven! You have a Jack! You win! The 1-2-3 WAR is even in it. Silliness), before taking a gander at the white tigers before we left. Knowing now what was happening at the exact moment we were there, I kinda wish we hadn't been cracking those jokes about how Sigfried and Roy are as immortal as Dick Clark and how can someone as old as them look so young and they must sleep in tupperware at night and hire someone to burp them before they sleep or something like that.

The trend of the night was that the pretty casinos all had too-high table minimums, and the places with lower minimums were packed to the gills. We were able to squeeze ourselves into a craps table at the...rustic Barbary Coast, and played fairly well. Walked through Bally's and the Paris Casino before cabbing back to Excalibur to meet up again. What struck me most about Paris was the sculptures. They had sculptures of bums and men sweeping up trash and shit. Only in Paris.

Wired and ready to go, we left coldblackncold and rock_god in the Poker Room, and vivisectandrew, wrongwayjohn and I meandered around the Luxor, played a few pathetic hands of blackjack, and resigned to soak in the sights for however longer we could stay awake.

But first, we had to pee. The bathrooms we went to were right next to the nightclub, Ra, and as fortune would have it, we got to share the restroom with a few of Ra's defeated patrons. Three, in particular, had southern accents that were straight out of...I wanna say Designing Women, but that puts an air of class to it. Just imagine what a gal named Sallie Sue sounds like. One bursts, "Ah just peed on mah hayund!!" Another, "Ahve awonly got fifteen feeyulms left on mah camera. I'm afraid of what's awn there!" And the third, since all absurdities happen in threes, "mayn, Ahm hungry! Let's go to IHOP!"
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