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The faint sound of voices echoing through my semi-conscious head as I try to make them out. I’m guessing the sound of the sirens and the flashing lights might have something to do with it. And then there is the possibility that I am shit faced drunk that could be a factor. Yes, there I was in the back of an ambulance headed from a Vegas Strip Hotel.
The day started out harmless enough. I had more than my fare of drinks the night before and was already feeling like total shit when my girlfriend (now ex) decided on the buffet at the Luxor. Its day two and already I am falling into the Las Vegas abyss. The red-haired waitress in her mid-thirties came to take our drink order and then made the simple suggestion that we try the unlimited mimosa or bloody Mary option while we gorge ourselves in greasy bacon and runny eggs. There couldn’t be a better suggestion on earth for the way I was feeling that day.
After about six drinks and way too many calories we went up the inclinator to our room and got ready for another day in Sin City. The one thing that I never did in my many trips was to take the monorail and we took the opportunity to buy large glasses of frozen booze and make our way down the strip to the different hotels. The last stop of SLS was where I then realized I was already shit housed.
After walking around, a while we heard the thumping of club music coming from the direction of palm trees and big glass windows. It was there that we saw it was a day time pool party full of millennials having a good time. Being in our early 30s my girlfriend said that it would be fun to take part. A short trip to the boutique and $150 later we had bathing suits and were on our way to re-invent the youthful experiences of years past.
After another two drinks (now big cans of Coors light), we were in the pool dancing and meeting people all around us. This group of kids I’m guessing from the mid-west invited us to hang at their cabana and continue the party. Upon arrival, it seems that someone in this group had money because they somehow had bottle service. There is nothing like straight vodka and a splash of watered down cranberry juice in the 100-degree heat.
The minutes turned into hours and the hours turned into more hours in the blaring heat. The last thing I remember was trying to get up from a boiling chase lounger and then it all goes black. Now there I was….in the ambulance headed to a Vegas Medical Facility. The question of the hour once I got some sort of understanding of where I was seemed to be…. Where the hell is my girlfriend? (Now Ex for a variety of reasons beyond this story)
Besides the writer of this blog, we have been getting a bunch of articles from our friends on the ground in Vegas and other places. Contact us if you have an article to contribute.
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