Just a Jew. Named Mitch. Writing about his feelings.

Archive for March, 2010

Vegas Recap

Posted by JewMitch on March 13, 2010

So, like any single 28-year-old guys, my friends and I convinced ourselves that it would be awesome to go to Vegas for the weekend. So after months of planning, and e-mailing back and forth, including several accidental e-mails about flights to a girl who I went out with once and never called again, but who happens to have the same first name as my roommate, it was time to go to Vegas.

Only, except for a giant blizzard that hit New York City the weekend we were supposed to fly out. One friend was already in Vegas, and the hotel room at the Hard Rock Hotel was pre-paid for, and I didn’t have trip insurance, so failure was not an option. Here’s the recap:

3:58pm on Wednesday, get a text message saying that my flight on Thursday night has been cancelled, even though it hasn’t even started snowing yet.

4:00pm on Wednesday – work meeting that lasts 2 hours, so I can’t call the airline for a bit.

After work, call the airline, sweet talk the Indian girl on the other end into putting me on an earlier flight on Thursday afternoon.

Call my roommate, to tell him he needs to call the airline to switch his flight too. He’s already at the bar and convinced that all flights will be cancelled the next day.

Go to the bar.

My roommate is now busy playing darts with another guy and two cute girls. He says he’ll call later.

Have a few drinks; look at the awful weather report for tomorrow.

1:30am, hear my roommate come home and drunkenly try to change his flight. He’s British, and his accent is even worse than usual. I feel sorry for the Indian at the call center.

Wake up the next day, it’s completely clear out.

10am – it starts snowing.

10:30am – it starts snowing hard.

Get to the airport at 2:00pm; convinced the flight will be cancelled. My roommate had managed to get on a later flight, but it has already been cancelled. Almost every flight on the board has been cancelled, except mine.

Go straight to the airport bar, where I meet a cute girl from UES trying to fly to San Diego, and a bunch of other people convinced their flights will be cancelled.

Drink a few pints, get the girl’s number by offering to give her a tour of my office building (I still am not sure how I worked this).

Flight takes off on time – in crazy snow, blizzard conditions.

Realize I’m sitting next to 2 crazy Irish guys from Dublin, who are pissed that they can only buy beers on the plane with a credit card (which they don’t have).

Offer to put the beers on my card in exchange for cash – now the Irish guys love me.

Turns out the plane’s credit card machine is broken, so all beers on the flight wind up being free. Drink steadily for the whole flight.


Go to the hotel; free upgrade to pool side room.

My friend who is already in Vegas, E (different E from the Spanx post), has already managed a free upgrade to HRH tower, where he has a bottle of Captain waiting for me.

E has also already gotten us on the guest list for a band Thursday night, and the hotel’s club on Friday night.


Win money at Black Jack.

Go see the band; turns out to be a Johnny Cash cover band, who is awesome. Probably the best Johnny Cash cover band ever.

Back to Black Jack – lose money.

On to Roulette – win money, meet a cute girl at the table.

I am awesome at roulette, and the girl wins money too by following my betting lead.

E meets some other girl, who has a personality disorder.

E becomes convinced that the girl I’m talking to is a prostitute, and texts this to me.

I text back that I’m fine with that.

Me and the girl play roulette for a while – then go to another table to meet her friend, who is talking to another guy.

We hit some other tables for a while. I lose everything that I had won at Roulette. We also lose all the girl’s money too.

We then go to get breakfast: me, the girl, her friend, her friend’s male friend, some other dude. The friend is making out her guy friend at the booth. I am trying to make a move on my end, but there is this other guy sitting next to us. I don’t know who he is or why he is there.

I go to the bathroom – come back and find the girls, who say they are going to bed, because they’re leaving tomorrow. She’s says, “It was nice meeting you. You have my number.”

I don’t have her number.

At this point, I’m pretty sure she’s not a prostitute.

Meet the other guys at the table – pay for half of breakfast anyway. They seemed like okay guys.

Check my phone, E has called me 14 times, because he thinks I’m getting murdered by a pimp. I have ignored all these calls.

Go to bed – it’s around 8am, west coast time.

E wakes me up at 11am. He had gotten himself kicked out of the bar last night by the girl with the personality disorder.

Get breakfast – feel like death. Cannot remember the name of the girl I was hanging out with all of last night, nor what she looked like.

Go back to bed.

Hit the gym/whirlpool/steam room with E. Actually work out for half an hour. Feeling kind of better.

My roommate texts me to tell me that all the flights have been cancelled from NYC, so I have the room to myself. Also, that the two girls he was talking to in the bar on Thursday night turned out to be lesbians.

E and I make reservations at the hotel’s steak house.

Go to the steak house – get seated in the back corner, as they can tell we are completely hung over.

Takes 2 hours to make it through dinner. We ordered small portions, which we didn’t finish. The waiter laughs at us.

Have some more drinks.

Go to the club. Have to wait 20 min, but still get in before all the slutty girls who are trying to flirt with the bouncer. It might be because I am wearing a bright blue vertical striped $270 Ben Sherman jacket that I bought for $20 at Daffy’s.



The club is a ridiculous scene – but also as expected for a Vegas club. My favorite part was the fat old man, with two hookers, smoking a cigar, ordering champagne, and making the girls dance and make out for him.

Run into one of the guys I had breakfast with last night in the club.

Back to the Black Jack table. Did I mention there is an almost-stripper dancing on a pole over the black jack table, and the dealers are all hot girls wearing push up bras?

Amazingly, win money at Black Jack.

Back to the diner. E wants to order two appetizers. I inform him that I can only eat half of one appetizer and refuse to try to eat more.

Eat 2 chicken fingers. No more.

Toss E 10 dollars in chips for the check. To his surprise, I have a whole pocket full of chips.


E can’t change his flight, so he leaves Sat morning. I sleep for a while and then decide to walk the strip.

Check out Aria and the Bellagio, which are both magnificent, but filled with tourists. Take a cab back home.



Vitamin water.



Go down and grab a sandwich – take it back to my room, eat it in bed.

Vitamin water.

Find all of my chips from last night, and take them down to play poker.  Play poker for a few hours; try to start drinking again. Fail at both poker and drinking.

Realize that they sell Spanx at the hotel gift store. Actually see a girl buying them.

Back to bed. Rent a movie off the hotel TV. Take another nap.

Shower. Try to rally around midnight, walk a lap around the floor, decide to just go back to bed. Fail.


Hit the gym/spa again.


It’s a beautiful day, and my flight doesn’t leave for a few hours, but all I want to do is sit in air conditioning and not think – so go to the airport early.

Take the cheap/express bus back from JFK. Give the driver $5 bucks to drop me off directly in front of my house.


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