|
|
RV Travel Log |
...And there it is. - 12/09/2003
We found out last night why none of the Strip cocktails are alcoholic: Downtown aka the fremont Street Experience is hording all the liquor in Nevada.
Ironically, my evening started with a phone call to my dad, where I complained about the quality of the drinks and got a very parental lecture about drinking and gamblilng not mixing. I pointed out that I didn't really gamble, not more than a few buck in the SPAM machine anyway. Drink coffee anyway, he said. And on that note, Kevin and I left on the shuttle bus with the goal of seeing how long it took to get drunk.
They may say that you shouldn't gamble when your drinking, but they should say you shouldn't carry money of any sort when you're drinking. Here are a few of the spectacularly bad decisions I made, none of them to do with gambling.
The deep-fried twinkie with powdered sugar and chocolate jimmies -- Now you may or may not know this, but I have a total aversion for Twinkies that stems from the play I was in when I met Kevin. In it, for three straight days of shows, I had to cram two or three twinkies into my mouth in thirty seconds or fewer. One night I almost choked trying to get to my next line. Since then, the very sight of Twinkies has turned my stomach. For some weird reason last night, a deep fried Twinkies sounded like the best thing in the world and for the first time in almost three years I let a Twinkie pass my lips.
I hate myself so much today.
The $8 Cocktail -- I'm cheap, I admit it, and paying eight dollars for a drink when I could get one for minimal tipping seems phenomonally stupid today. But the Blushing Lady was highly recommended on CheapoVegas.com as the quintessential obnoxious cocktail, and without an obnoxious cocktail, what's a trip to Vegas? Unfortunately the free glasses meant we needed to carry them somehow, and I volunteered my purse, which is too small to hold much more than a pair of paperback. It is a wonder they are both intact today.
The Daicquiri from Hell -- La Bayou makes incredibly good daicquiris in many lovely flavors. Five minutes before our bus left I decided I HAD to have one, and it HAD to be in the souvenir glass. Every other place in this town that does Slurpee machine drinks churns out a tasty but weak concoction.
When I ordered the large, the bartender asked if I wanted an extra shot for a dollar more. When I said no, she kind of laughed and said, "You say that like you've been here before!" That should have been my cue to run.
Here's a measure of my drunkeness: Upon entering La Bayou, I had consumed six pretty strong drinks. I was definitely drunk, but not obnoxiously so, and not incapacitatingly so. When we got back to the Chairman and the daicquiri was gone, I was so drunk I had trouble standing, had to crawl to the bathroom, and insisted upon reading file after file of my story to Kevin, who was sleeping through the vast majority of it, and stumbled through pretty much every word like a bum on TV.
I hate myself even more. Addendum to Southern Indiana, Kinda nice (but mostly movie notes)
| Index |