I basked in the glory of Sin City but a week ago, sipped on Grey Goose in the VIP section of one of the hottest night clubs in Vegas - LAX. I was a very very bad, no scratch that, drunk girl that night and it felt damn good.
It all started earlier on Thursday night when two of my guy friends and I kicked off the debaucherous night with rather unpleasant margaritas in my hotel room. After finishing half a pitcher that we brought up to the room from a bar downstairs we all decided that enough was enough. We were in Vegas, after all, and drinking cheap booze and being locked up in a hotel room when there were all these places just waiting to be explored by us was simply unacceptable.
So we dressed up. Okay. I dressed up and the boys threw on some collared shirts and jeans, but honestly, that was the most dressed up I've ever seen them in the 5 years of our friendship.
We started off the night at a little bar called eyeCandy at my favorite Mandalay Bay.
"To Vegas!" we toasted with our shot glasses. The shot burned my throat but it was way better than the lousy excuse for margaritas we had back in my room. It was time to party.
After we paid our bill at eyeCandy, we headed across the casino floor to Rumjungle where we continued our night by throwing back a couple more shots.
"Let's get wasted!" my ever-so-classy self declared as we left Rumjungle. The burlesque-like Cathouse at Luxor was our next destination.
Our voluptuous waitress was more than happy to assist us with our urgent beverage needs. I was still feeling relatively sober (or so I thought at the time), so I ordered another round of shots for me and the guys.
We left The Cathouse to arrive at our final destination of the night - club LAX, home of DJ AM and DJ Vice. It was still very early, right around 10pm, as we were one of the first to enter the club. The girls who entered the club just before us were instantly escorted to their reserved VIP section. My friends and I looked at each other - it seemed like at that instant we all came up with the same crazy idea. Without saying a word, my friend waved one of the bouncers over.
"What does it take to get ourselves into the VIP section?" he inquired with such mundane tone of voice that you would think we partied in the VIP all the time.
The bouncer's eye instantly lit up, "Right this way, my man. We will sit you right away."
And so it began. With one $400 dollar bottle of vodka, we became celebrities, catered to by about a dozen of club's employees. The minute I lifted my finger to TRY and pour myself a drink, a girl would appear out of thin air to pour the drink for me and serve it to me with the most lustrous of smiles. That red leather couch in the left of the picture? Yeah, that's where we sat that night.
My boys were certainly feeling all the perks of being VIP's that night. The bouncer would come up to them throughout the night to inquire whether or not they wanted to invite any girls off the dance floor to party in the VIP with them. Of course, my friends just had to be silly and slightly assholish by declaring that they would only let girls who are "an 8 or above" to come into the VIP.
Apparently, the bouncer also asked me if I wanted to invite any guys to dance with me but, in my drunken stupor, I stated, with some bitchiness in my voice, that I didn't want to dance with "random dudes" that night. What the hell was I thinking? I guess I wasn't, at that point.
By the end of the night, my liver was feeling pretty unhappy with all the abuse I've put it through and the next morning wasn't the most pleasant of timse, but, all in all, the incredible hangover of the next day was a small price to pay for the fun that we've had that previous night.
Here's hoping that I get to do this again some day and my advance apologies to my liver.