Utter and complete depravity. As I sit pecking away on my still functional shattered iPad, watered down glass of bourbon in hand, I can still hardly fathom how it played out the way it did. We left Boulder yesterday, cutting through the heart of the Rockies, speeding through desolate Utah canyon lands, and leveling out in Nevada for the final dash to Sin City. Upon cresting a large hill, we drank in the bright, sprawling decadence of Las Vegas for the very first time. At the hill's bottom, we came face to face with the snarling neon beast that would certainly spell our collective dooms. Our room was at the Hard Rock, off the Strip, a home base for absurdity, and already reeked of fear and loathing.
That night after an overpriced dinner and beers, we began to drink. High shelf vodka for Nate, Juniors Midnight Moonshine for Ben and Wild Turkey for myself. We blasted music until midnight, when we left and got tricked into paying 20 bucks for the hotels garbage nightclub that was "full of girls". After Ben and I made dancing fools of ourselves a while, he again disappeared. Around 1 Nate and I meandered back up to the room to regroup and refuel. We had lazily slunk onto the beds and were on the brink of passing out when Ben came bursting into the room. "Whoooo Eeeeeee, I HIT IT BIG! Just made a cool $300 playing roulette, were going to the strip club, I'm buying!" Ben said, in a frenzy of enthusiasm. I've never been to nor cared about strip clubs. I find them exceedingly filthy and unappealing, but I wasn't going to turn down the opportunity in Las Vegas. The hotel provided a free ride in an Escalade and we made our way to Larry Flynt's Hustler's Club. The massive glowing pink building was a poorly glorified brothel and a greasy line of perverts snaked out the door. We got in line.
Inside we found our way to the stage and met up with Ben's college buddy, who was in town for a bachelor party. I sat down, wary of the unseen filth and scores of STD's that I assumed had by now permeated every inch of my body. The dancers were expectedly a mix of sad eyed, beaten down truck stop whores and those once hot girls from high school who had mysteriously disappeared after graduation when they realized the Glory days were now over. I embraced the debauchery, throwing Ben's money around and have never felt such exhilarating power with a one dollar bill in my life. It pains me to say so but it was surprisingly enjoyable. One stripper even took a keen interest in Nate, talking intimately with him even after he declined lap dance, i.e. gauging how much money she could milk out of him, literally and figuratively.
As my interest began to wane, I turned to see Ben talking to a fairly attractive, dark skinned young stripper and pointing my direction. She walked over, said he'd bought me a dance and led me over to a white couch that I do not think started out that color. She did her thing as another older stripper joined and asked if I'd pay her too. I told her I had no money. She assured me it was fine and that Ben would pay, as she made my face the meat of a gross, fake black tit sandwich. About a minute later, they stopped and after Ben informed the older one that he was out of money, she hilariously began yelling at me about getting paid. The interaction went something like this;
"Are you serious? I didn't even want the dance or your dirty tits in my face"
"You got the dance and I'm not leaving till I get paid"
Fine, I'll just leave then, I thought.
"Alright relax just let me look for my other friend"
I scanned the room for Nate and he spotted him talking with the same stripper from earlier. I told her to follow me.
"It's hard to explain but I need another 20 and its not my fault," I said, walking up to him.
"Hahaha alright" he responded, pulling out his wallet and handing me the twenty. I begrudgingly gave it to her and she walked away jubilant that her scam had again worked, probably for the 10 billionth time.
"Looks like we're spooning tonight Benny boy," I said, as I got up to give them the bed.
"No that's ok, we can just use the bathroom" she responded in an oddly casual tone, as if it was business as usual.
"Well I can't watch and listen if you're in there," I joked. No one laughed but me and they closed the door.
30 seconds later they both walked out and Nate was apologizing. She left and he turned to us laughing hysterically.
"Dude, that girl was a fucking prostitute, HAHAHA!"
We all burst out laughing as Nate told the story.
"I'm walking through the lobby and about to get on the elevator when this girl strikes up a conversation. She seemed really into me and asked if had a room. In my drunken stupor and with 'first time in Vegas naiveté', I didn't think twice about it said yes, and she rode up with me. So we walk in the bathroom, and she suddenly starts rambling on about her 'donation.' Then in a moment of sudden, fortunate clarity I realized what she meant and what her job must've been. I apologized, told her 'no thanks' and said she should go."
We laughed hysterically before passing out, just as the first rays of the red Vegas sun peaked over the distant desert mountains.
Tonight, New Years. Good God.