I've been asked which casinos I frequented during my trip to Las Vegas. Off the top of my head, I went to Mandalay Bay (I stayed at the Delano, which is practically the same building), the Luxor, Excalibur, the Golden Nugget, the Westgate, Binion's, Mirage and the Cosmopolitan. There were also one or two I visited while drunk that I can't recall.
As my fiancee and I walked through these establishments, one thing we constantly asked each other was whether some girls were prostitutes or not. I saw two that looked like whores at the Luxor our first night. They both wore dresses that were so short that you could see up their a**holes.
Fiancee: I'm sorry I don't dress like not.
Me: Why? They're prostitutes, aren't they?
Fiancee: Nope, one of them had a 21st birthday satchel around her.
As you can imagine, we saw numerous other women with similar-type dresses. However, it was impossible to identify whether or not they were prostitutes. One woman, who had her arm wrapped around some fat Asian, was wearing a black garter, though the name of that article of clothing was escaping me.
Me: Hey, that girl was wearing one of those black strap things. She has to be a prostitute, right?
Fiancee: Black strap?
Me: Yeah, on her leg and stuff.
Fiancee: You mean a garter...?
Me: Uhh... maybe?
Me: That means she has to be a prostitute, right?
Fiancee: I don't know. Where do you find prostitutes in Vegas, anyway?
That's a question I mulled over and still don't know the answer to. Prostitution is legal in Las Vegas - at least I think it is - so one would think that they would be easy to find. But as we walked around the 10 or so casinos we visited, we didn't see any scantily clad women approaching men, asking if they'd like any sexual favors.
This disappointed me. Not that I wanted to hire a prostitute - peeing blood for the rest of my life doesn't sound like an ideal situation - but I just wanted to see it happen. I was in Vegas, after all. Shouldn't there have been prostitute stores or prostitute stands or anything?
I think about it this way: If Lucy from Peanuts can offer therapy for five cents at a stand, you should be able to purchase a prostitute for the night for anywhere between $50 and $5,000 at a similar-looking kiosk. Is that too much to ask for?
We saw the girl with the black strap garter on our final night in Las Vegas. On that particular evening, we decided to see Love - the Beatles Cirque de Soleil - and then try the city's best buffet, which, according to one Web site, was the Wicked Spoon at the Cosmopolitan.
Per the Web site's description, the Wicked Spoon had a macaroni and cheese bar. Let me repeat that: They had a mother-f***ing macaroni and cheese bar! If you haven't been able to identify how enthusiastic I was about this, let me show you the following exchange I had prior to Love starting:
Fiancee: We could do that one, or maybe we can try the second-best buffet on this list, which would be...
Me: NO! I WANT TO GO TO WICKED SPOON FOR THEIR MACARONI AND CHEESE BAR!
Fiancee: Whoa! I've never seen you so excited. Calm down...
Unfortunately, once Love finished - I'd strongly recommend it for anyone who likes the Beatles music - there was a ridiculously long line for cabs, since everyone left the theater at the same time. It was 8:40, and the Wicked Spoon closed at 10. I did the quick math: About 30-40 minutes for a cab, a 20-minute drive because of ridiculous traffic on the Strip, about 10 minutes to actually find the Wicked Spoon at the Cosmopolitan - and we were talking about a 9:50 arrival time. That was way too close of a call. What would I do if I couldn't try my precious macaroni and cheese bar!?!?!?!
"That's it, we're walking!" I shrieked.
My fiancee actually thought that was a good idea, which I found surprising because it was 110 degrees outside, and we didn't have any water. Fortunately, the walk wasn't that long; my phone said it would take 18 minutes, which should be an indicator of how absolutely disgusting traffic was on that particular evening. In what world is it quicker to walk to some place than drive?
The walk from the Mirage to the Cosmopolitan was interesting, to say the least. We saw numerous Elvis impersonators, and their close relatives, bums. One homeless person held up a hilarious sign: "Go f*** yourself." I considered dropping a dollar bill in his bin for hilarity's sake, but then I realized that other bums would recognize this - they have some odd sixth sense - and hound me for the remainder of the night. You never feed seagulls, and you never give money to bums.
Bums were the least of my problems. I bumped into several people on the way over. I'll give you one guess as to what these idiots were doing:
1. Reading fine literature
2. Soaking in the beautiful Vegas nightlife
3. Taking selfies
If you guessed No. 3, you are correct. I've made my stance on selfies well known over the years. I absolutely hate them, as people who take selfies are self-absorbed douche bags who waste time because no one cares about their damn pictures. If I were President of the United States, I would round up all selfie-takers and deport them. These are the people Donald Trump should be focusing on. Well, in addition to what he's focusing on, but still. He should have a committee that profiles anyone entering this country. If they determine that any individual will eventually begin taking selfies of themselves, they should ship them back to where they came from.
Taking selfies is bad enough. But how about taking selfies while crossing a busy street? This actually happened. I actually saw one decent-looking girl do this, and I bumped into her accidentally. She gave me a dirty look, and I nearly shouted, "f*** you, dirty c**t" in response. Seriously, how can anyone be dumb enough to take selfies of themselves while crossing a busy street? Sure, the "walk" symbol was showing, but what if someone ran a red light? What if the "walk" symbol quickly changed into the hand symbol and she got run over as a result?
People, this is why we need to outlaw selfie-takers. Those who take selfies are the dumbest individuals on the planet, and if we were all wild animals, they would all die off via natural selection. Unfortunately, humans have stopped evolution for the most part, so selfie-takers will continue to breed and grow dumber. Soon enough, people are going to take selfies of themselves on train tracks with a train fast approaching. It's going to happen. You've been warned.
Anyway, finding the Wicked Spoon at the Cosmopolitan was more difficult than I imagined. We followed the signs, but they just led us through a labyrinth. At one point, my fiancee asked, "Where the hell are we going?" Making matters worse, there was a group of five guys walking behind us. The leader of this pack kept wailing like a dog. It was loud, ear-piercing and completely annoying. The first time he did it, it was kind of funny, but then he kept wailing like eight more times. I wanted to turn around and tell him to shut the f*** up, but being outnumbered five to one, I didn't think that would be wise.
Then again, if I were as dumb as a person taking selfies, I probably would've told them to shut the f*** up and then been pummeled into oblivion as a result. So, maybe the selfie-takers can kill themselves off after all.
So, how was the Wicked Spoon? Well, both good and bad.
The food was delicious. Even the pizza, which is normally just bleh at buffets, was solid. I'd highly recommend eating at the Wicked Spoon - as long as you have mortgage papers handy. For my fiancee and I, entry to the Wicked Spoon ended up costing $110! Prices in Las Vegas are outrageous, but this really took the cake. Mmm, cake.
Along with the obscene price-gouging, I had one other major problem with the Wicked Spoon: There was no macaroni and cheese bar. Yes, I was completely devastated. I cried that night. It helped that the actual macaroni and cheese they served there was quite good, but still... I just wanted to make my own. *Sobs*.
Once I awoke the following morning, it was time to pack and head home. We got to the airport quite easily. Unfortunately, we encountered some problems. The first was that our seats were switched. I ordered adjacent seats, but they put my fiancee and I in 8B and 8E instead of 8B and 8C. Luckily, the people we were sitting next to were cool, so they offered to switch seats with us.
The second issue was that the plane took off 20 minutes later than expected. Two things happened here. The first was the usual - a**holes tried to store large bags in the overhead compartments. I absolutely hate this. Flying would be so much faster if this didn't happen. Everyone should be forced to check their bags, unless it's something small that can be stored under the seat, to make the process quicker.
The other reason for our delay was some woman in her 50s was shouting at the boarding-pass lady.
Boarding Pass Lady: Ma'am, this bag is too large. You'll have to get it checked.
Woman: No! I need it with me!
Boarding Pass Lady: But it's too large to fit in the overhead compartment. You'll need to get it checked.
Woman: I can't! I'm taking a connecting flight!
Boarding Pass Lady: It's OK, the bag will arrive at your final destination.
Woman: But I don't want it at my final destination!
Uhh... what? Why not? Who's going to pick up your shady bag at your connecting destination?
We didn't see this woman board the flight, so I'm guessing she was detained, and rightfully so. Still, this made us late, and once we landed, some people barged through everyone, screaming, "Only 15 minutes until our connecting flight leaves!"
While walking to baggage claim, I overheard three girls talking behind us. One of them, who was dressed like a Vegas hooker - super short gray shorts riding up her a** and crazy-long brown high heels - said something along the lines of, "Oh my God, I felt like so sorry for them, that must like be horrible and like stuff."
She literally said this. It's a good thing she's hot, or she'd be a candidate for my deportation initiative.
Oh, and remember when I said that we encountered some issues with the flight? There was a third, and that was TSA checking my bag. I won't go on a rant about how they shouldn't do this to me because I don't look like a f***ing terrorist, but I will express my frustration with the TSA nonetheless.
First, I had my various toiletries in a plastic bag. Upon opening my luggage, I found the bag opened, with everything spilled out. My fiancee's bag, which was also checked, was moist because one of her shampoos exploded, presumably upon inspection. Second, my money was rearranged. I had an envelope of money with a $100 and a $50 bill in front with numerous $20s behind them. When I checked if all the cash was there, I initially thought they stole $150 from me until I saw the $100 and $50 bills were in the back. Oh, and my money envelope was in a completely different pocket.
Worst of all, look at what those dick wads did to my electric razor:
This is f***ing unacceptable. I can still use the trimmer, but this razor is otherwise ruined.
Does anyone know if I can do something about this? Can I ask for reimbursement from the TSA? What about a damn apology? Like, "Hey, sorry guy, we thought you were a terrorist even though you're white, and we just needed to break your razor just to make sure it wasn't a bomb."
See? That's pretty simple. Hell, making that apology is even easier than finding a prostitute in Vegas.