I really like the two guys I went to Vegas with. They are both nice, smart, fun guys. Hell, I lived with one of them for 3 years. I would happily hang out with these guys anytime.
Now that that disclaimer is out of the way, let the mocking commence.
One of the guys, my ex-roommate suggested that we should all have nicknames for our Vegas weekend. This was suggested tongue-in-cheek, but the proposal was adopted. Thus, I became "Ace" (due to my card-playing expertise and general coolness), my ex-roommie became "Big Daddy" (for no discernable reason), and the other guy became "The Dentist" for a reason that's more convoluted than funny.
I didn't know The Dentist particularly well, but Big Daddy said that The Dentist would be "partying like an imbecile." I wasn't sure exactly what that meant, but given that they're both doctors, I figured I'd be in good hands.
I arrived in Vegas at around 6:00pm on Friday night, meeting up with Big Daddy who had already been there for a day. He was in town for a series of cardiac-related classes, that would take place from 8:00am to noon for the next several days. The Dentist wasn't due to arrive until around midnight, so we entertained ourselves with some food, a crappy show, aimless wandering, an hour of blackjack, and a couple of free drinks.
Walking around with Big Daddy was pretty funny. We were strolling along the Strip, chatting, and eventually we'd get to a red light and have to wait along with 200 other pedestrians. Often, the crowd would spot an opening in traffic and just cross the street against the light. In a crowd of 200 people, it's a pretty safe maneuver. I'd step off the curb, protected by the drunken masses while Big Daddy stared bug-eyed at my recklessness. I must have screamed, "Don't be a pussy!" at him a half-dozen times that weekend. What a pussy (no offense).
By the time midnight rolled around, I was pretty tired. I had been sleeping very poorly all week. Big Daddy cautioned me that we still had a long night ahead of us because The Dentist liked to work hard and play hard. "Very intense guy", he ominously warned me.
The Dentist arrived shortly thereafter declared that it was time for us to do some shots. I put on my party face and gamely followed him and Big Daddy down to the bar. I wasn't going to wuss out. I was going to do the stupid manly thing and bravely drink as many shots as it took.
Big Daddy and The Dentist almost immediately launched into a discussion of the finer points of cardiac catheterization. I followed a few steps behind them, taking notes in my PDA about how rockin' our weekend was starting off.
We got to the bar and I asked The Dentist what we were drinking. "Kamikazes!" he replied. No offense to my large WWII Veteran readership, but those sounded pretty good. Kamikazes go down smoothly, so it's pretty easy to pound a few of them. Big Daddy watched, but refused to take part, wary of his his 8:00am cardiac class the next morning.
The Dentist and I sucked down our drinks and amicably chatted for a few minutes before he blurted out, "I'm so buzzed!!" He confessed that he wasn't much of a drinker. I was forced to agree.
I'm not a big drunkard, but one drink? One drink?!?! Christ, that's just embarrassing. I decided to assume that he was drinking on an empty stomach and nothing more was said of the matter. Frankly, going to bed sober sounded pretty good to me, given that I knew Saturday was going to be a long and booze-filled day.
Saturday was pretty good. We did a lot of aimless wandering and some good gaming (more details in another blog entry). That night, on our way to see a show, we decided to get liquored up beforehand for maximum show-enjoyment. We had just finished a big dinner, so some vigorous drinking was required. The Dentist suggested cosmopolitans as a drink choice, but I explained that we weren't women, so we settled on a first round of Long Island iced teas.
A few minutes later Big Daddy exclaimed, "Whoa, I'm buzzed!"
The Dentist immediately replied, "Oh, I am DRUNK!".
Ok, I know they're Long Island iced teas, which are essentially twice the alcohol of a typical drink, but COME ON! We're grown men! With full stomachs! One freakin' drink??? These guys were cheap dates.
More tomorrow, but those were my Vegas buddies. In their defense, I must admit that I did learn more than a little bit about cardiac catheterization.