That's me with the sun in my eyes.The trip to Krave the night before had done little to stave off the, um, pent-up frustration. So we walked back to our hotel to change clothes, and then we walked about five miles through Bally's and the Paris to find the monorail station, which we had been hoping would save us a few steps. We rode to the Sahara, and then walked another five miles through the casino to find the Strip and get our bearings. And then we started walking again. Through a part of Vegas you probably shouldn't be walking unless you're streetwalking.
Nine miles later, we arrived at The Spotlight Lounge. This is probably the biggest gay hole in the wall in Vegas, and just what we needed. Flying nuns in Kabuki make-up and mustaches rollerskated in, and we decided we must be in the right place. Nuns don't drink just anywhere.
We had a few beers and I think the bartender was a little put out with me. I had to pay in
dollar coins because earlier I made the mistake of putting a $20 in the machine for a $3 monorail ticket. It sounded like I hit the jackpot. While we drank, Hotass watched out of the corner of his eye a woman who might as well been Juanita from Sordid Lives. I watched a bearish guy in an Old Navy t-shirt cruising me, or maybe he was cruising HotAss. Since we're Lorrie and Dorrie, sometimes it's so hard to tell exactly who is looking at who.
(I can't believe I found that great pic of Lorrie and Dorrie. And no, they have nothing to do with our trip to Las Vegas.)
Anyway, somebody was getting cruised, and the night was slipping away from us. We left there and walked down to The Badlands Saloon for another beer. Actually, I drank mine and half of HotAss'. We agreed to split up and meet back at the Spotlight three hours later. The night starts to get a little hazy here (i.e., what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas).
Three hours passed and I arrived back at The Spotlight right on time. Rather than freeze outside or look like a hustler cruising the parking lot, I noticed the bar was still open. Hey, I might as well have a beer while I wait, and I still had a few dollar coins in my pocket. Old Navy T-shirt Guy was still there.
Fifteen minutes go by. Old Navy T-shirt Guy starts talking to me. Turns out he was trying to figure out if Lorrie/HotAss and I were a couple. I explained that we're no more a couple than Laverne and Shirley were. Three beers go by, I learned that Old Navy T-shirt Guy was a local and a good kisser, and HotAss is an hour and 15 minutes late. I called him and it seems we forgot to specify whether we'd meet inside or outside.
By now, the monorail had long since stopped running, and wouldn't start again for another three hours. We were facing an hour hike back to Caesar's or a $25 cab ride.
A couple more beers went by. Old Navy T-shirt Guy and I stepped away for minute, and the night gets hazy again.
But I can tell you that, thanks to Old Navy T-shirt Guy, we were spared the hike and the cab ride back to the hotel. I can tell you that sunrise over Vegas is a beautiful thing. I can tell you that he dropped us off at the staff entrance and I think I had to pee five times before we got to the room. And I can tell you that the $50 room service biscuits and gravy Hotass and I had when we got back to the room were fucking delicious.
And so was the Bloody Mary I sipped poolside when I finally got out of bed that morning.
1 comment:
Sounds like a good time was had by all...
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