Prelude: New Years Eve 1999/2000
While ringing in the Millennium at an airport hotel, my whole crew was kicked out due to another party raging next door. Scrambling for a place to ring in 2000, I called my mom and she offered up our house. My parents couldn’t have been any nicer about the situation, but I felt bad bringing 40 people to their house at the last minute and I vowed I would never do that again.
A few weeks later Bobby and I both decided to go to Las Vegas for 2001. Over the course of that year both Bobby and I became involved with serious girlfriends and they were absorbed into our ambitious plans. Soon enough the people who organized the 2000 NYE party had also gotten in on our idea. Rooms were booked (Bobby and I were sharing one room with our girlfriends) and tickets were purchased.
The Vacation
My mother volunteered to get us to the airport, Bobby was late and this threw me into a VERY pissy mood. I will be the first to admit that I am very anal retentive when it comes to schedules and time lines and to this analogy Bobby is Lex Luthor to my Superman. We already started arguing. Bobby’s girlfriend Eliza was kind of new to all of this (my uptight nature, Bobby’s chronic inability to be on time or be organized), so it was a very bad way to start the vacation (I should also note that I am 90% sure Bobby was blaming the lateness on Eliza which was also uncomfortable). After getting to the airport and boarding the plane, we were on our way.
Once we landed in Las Vegas the chaos started immediately. I recall securing transport from the airport to the hotel ahead of time, but that fell through and we had to get a taxi mini-van. We crammed in with other travelers and eventually got to the hotel where we waited for two hours to check in.
Things got very snippy in the lobby between Bobby, Eliza, Myself, and an ex-girlfriend whom we shall call Chrissy.
Once we got into the room, tensions turned into arguments. Basically the only argument that wasn’t happening was between Eliza and I. Chrissy and I went for a walk and allowed things to cool down. I went looking for our other group of friends who had arrived earlier and was already site seeing. We didn’t find them so we walked around the strip.
Back at the hotel, we found Eliza sitting outside our hotel room, Chrissy stayed outside and I went in to talk to Bobby. I don’t remember the conversation, but things quickly got back to normal (or so I thought). We met up with the other couple, did dinner and the rest of the night was uneventful.
Performers Take Vacations Too…
The next morning we found out that during the holiday season, many shows are closed because the performers go home to see their families.
Extremely long story short: The only shows in town were Wayne Newton and the Blue Man Group. Chris Isaak was playing the House of Blues that night but nobody else wanted to go and I was too lame to go myself (I never got over not going to that show).
We ended up getting tickets for Blue Man two days out and my college buddy Brock’s girlfriend pushed us into doing a Grand Canyon bus trip the next day. We spent the day doing all the normal tourist bullshit and went to bed early because the bus tour started at 4:30 AM.
Bobby and Eliza went for a walk before bed and while they were gone Chrissy decided to tell me that Eliza was talking all sorts of shit about me. I found out later that it didn’t go down that way at all, but Chrissy was using Eliza to bring up all these issues she had with me and herself. Of course, I was now totally pissed at Eliza and it took YEARS to recover from that when I actually think about it.
I went to bed very quietly and angry and didn’t say anything (which is a bad sign when you know me).
The Grand Canyon
The next morning was a train wreck.
I woke up still very pissed off. Bobby of course was running late, so he just took the brunt of my moodiness. I avoided Eliza and she had no idea why, and the small but rational part of my brain was starting to get annoyed at Chrissy for even bringing this shit to my attention when we were all confined into a room together. This would be a classic move that she pulled when we were on trips, but this was the first time in what would become a pattern and I didn’t know how to deal with it.
Now we were on a bus first heading to the Hoover Dam where we all received a short tour. Two hours in a bus and two hours at the dam, we were down 4 hours already.
Another three hours in the bus to get to the Grand Canyon; I will take this time to mention the week between Xmas and New Years is a big travel period for Asian tourist and our bus was full of them (Las Vegas looked like stock footage of a crowded Hong Kong business district during rush hour).
During the three hour bus ride people naturally get hungry, and our foreign guests busted out smelly jars of pickled fish and other terrifying items. THREE HOURS. By the time we got to the Grand Canyon I went off by myself. This was a mistake.
I found a moment of peace, sitting at the very edge of the canyon, taking pictures, watching birds soar. I felt a tapping on my back and I naturally assumed it was Chrissy. It was not. An Asian tourist with a very large camera decided he liked the spot where I was sitting to take pictures. Since he didn’t speak English, he used the universal language of “push a very large Italian man who literally has one foot off the ledge”.
Needless to say I did not take the invasion of personal space nor the pushing well, and the tiny Asian man found himself hanging off the cliff for a few seconds. I know he didn’t understand what I saying, but damn well knew what I meant. Of course people were looking because the man was screaming his head off (I don’t blame him), so I hurried off before any park rangers got to me.
I was now extremely embarrassed that I lost my cool, but very relieved that nobody in my group saw the whole thing go down because that would mean more questions.
In total we got 60 minutes to walk around (20 minutes at three different locations) and then it was 5 hours back in the bus – full of smelly hardcore Asian food. Once we got back to the hotel, I did some walking by myself and forced myself to focus and make the most of the vacation, I would deal with everything else when we got back. That resolve didn’t last long.
The Night Life
Vegas is known for a few things: Gambling, Whores, Lounge acts, and eating. I don’t like to gamble, not into whores, and while lounge acts have a certain campy charm, that’s not what I was interested in. I wanted to experience all the crazy delicious restaurants and buffets. This was during the time Vegas was trying to come off as family friendly (while said whores walked the strip handing out flyers with naked pictures) so Vegas had a boom of top chefs coming in and setting up shop at the casinos. We didn’t get to go to any of them.
We went to buffets, but then Bobby and Eliza stopped going to the buffets because Eliza didn’t each much and they couldn’t justify spending 20-40 bucks just for her to eat toast for breakfast. Rational Joey understood perfectly, but angry Joey was still pissed off at Eliza thanks to Chrissy. The lack of their company while breaking bread added to the problem and we really didn’t see them for the rest of the trip (even though we shared a room).
With Bobby and Eliza out of the picture we started spending all of our time with Brock and his very organized girlfriend. She had every minute planned and had Brock, Chrissy and myself running ragged. We ended up getting tickets for Wayne Newton which was such a terrible show that it was actually awesome.
Newton was shaking his ass to the old ladies and must have liked the idea of having some younger girls in the audience. I do not think Mr. Newton was happy I was laughing at most of the show, but that was the only acceptable response besides demanding my money back.
The next show she lined up was the Blue Man Group. Terrible. I think they hypnotized the audience. Everyone fell asleep at the same time. I checked my private areas later that night for blue stains, thankfully, all clean.
I was really losing it; the lack of private time from activities and sharing a room was getting to me (because of this trip I started a new rule, if you can’t afford to get your own room, you can’t afford to go on the trip). Brock’s girlfriend suggested we go to a buffet at the Rio, it was supposed to have everything. Of course it sucked but I heard her mention a bar at the very top of the hotel where you can see the whole strip.
When nobody was looking I slipped off to the 51st floor of the hotel and entered the Voodoo Lounge. It was awesome and a fantastic jazz band was playing, the lighting was perfect and the women and drinks looked very appealing. I heard they sold a beverage in a normal sized fish bowl and used a whole bottle of rum. Talking to the bartender, I confirmed the rumor and quickly ordered one.
He made the drink with stunning efficiency and placed the drink on the bar, adorning it with several straws. Luckily for me, I had no company. I took my drink outside and looked off the deck and onto the city. It had a certain beauty, but superficial like a pair of fake tits. I sat down, listing to the band, enjoying the cool air and drank. My peace did not last long. I felt a tap on my back after a few minutes. It was Chrissy and Brock and they were ready to go. I told them to fuck off, but they kept at it, Chrissy now taking a sip from my drink and making a face – too much rum. There could never be enough, not on this night.
Their whines broke me down and instead of making a scene and being a buzz kill for the other customers, I left. I hated them all at that moment. Getting into the cab and setting off for the hotel, I remained silent.
Brock proved to be an interesting paradox on the trip. He was the perfect opposite to his very organized girlfriend. While she micromanaged every minute to optimize her vacation experience, Brock was very much a go with the flow type and seeing where the moment takes you. I enjoyed this about Brock because I was more like his girlfriend and that fact stressed me out. Brock’s girl didn’t appreciate his unfocused ways and tried to reign him in…this in turn made him rebel.
I would get knocks on the door at 3 AM to go out when his wife had a day’s worth of activities planned starting at 6. It was too much. The few times I snuck out with Brock proved to be a waste of time because I wasn’t into clubbing. I thought I wanted to see the real Vegas…
I realized now that this notion was bullshit because as I said, the real Vegas is whores, slot machines, and broken people.
New Years Eve
The trip culminated on New Years Eve. Brock and his girlfriend convinced us to get tickets to see Dennis Miller and David Spade live.
Bobby and Eliza did not want to go, so once again we were separated. Even though we were bickering all week, I wanted to spend New Years Eve with my best friend… so once again I was in a funk.
I am going to make the next part very short: the stand up show was fucking terrible.
David Spade had no material and just bitched about his flight for 35 minutes. I fell asleep during Dennis Miller. We were given champagne at midnight and then basically told to get the fuck out.
We went outside and the strip was insane. People were drinking and dancing, and I realized I should have been out there having fun instead of paying $150 bucks to catch a nap. Back at the hotel I saw Bobby and we broke out a tiny bottle of booze and made a toast. We had finally made peace. The next morning we were catching a red eye home.
On the plane I didn’t say much: I was tired and processing everything. When I got home, I avoided everyone for 5 days, including Chrissy. Eventually things went back to normal for a time. Eliza and I still weren’t on good terms, I think took almost two years for us to completely reconnect.
Today I can say that I talk to her 10 times more than Bobby and she gets along great with my wife.
Speaking of my love interests, the behaviors Chrissy showed on that trip continued to get worse over the years and eventually we broke up. I make no exaggeration when I say I became a new man, a much better man, when that relationship ended.
I learned alot of things on this vacation: Bobby and Eliza had it right, do what you want to do and fuck everyone else (but just be nice when you tell them to fuck off), NEVER SHARE A HOTEL ROOM, and always have free time to relax – it is a vacation.
Never visit a place based on an image, do the hard research and see if there is enough to sustain your interests for the time you are there. Have fun on your next trip!
