10 Hours in Vegas

10 Hours in Vegas

(Or, How I Nearly Killed My Future Husband)

I looked out the window of the plane as it pushed back from the gate and began its trip to the runway. My hand was gripped suddenly and I looked at my best friend seated next to me with the most panicked look in his eyes that I’ve ever seen. He was pale under the already pale makeup on his face, if you can imagine that.

“I don’t think I can do this,” he said with a nervous sigh.

I laughed and squeezed his hand harder, “Marshall, you’ll be just fine. It’s a short flight. Just a couple of goths off to Sin City to see our favorite bands!” I gave the biggest goofy smile I could muster to ease his fears and handed him a stick of gum. “Here, you’ll need this, trust me.”

“How did I let you talk me into this?”

“Because it’s December and I’m not risking my life driving from Denver to Vegas!”

“So we risk it in this instead?” He asked shoveling the gum into his mouth.

I shrugged. “I’ll take my chances with the flying tuna can. Besides, I already warned you, being friends with me means traveling, a lot.”

I watched him shuffle in his seat and whine as the pilot gave the clear for takeoff message to his crew. Everything was fine until the initial acceleration and I felt him squeeze my hand like a woman in labor. I grunted, but allowed him to continue to try and break my fingers. Truth be told I would do anything for this guy, and I hated myself for that. The plane left the ground and I felt him startle again. I was so thankful that we had the row to ourselves, so I wouldn’t have to continually apologize to our aisle seat neighbor for the basket case in black seated beside them.

Note to self: buy the whole aisle in the future if he doesn’t get better about flying.

The flight was relatively uneventful, and I was ever so grateful. Landing was like takeoff, and I knew I would need to practice writing with my right hand for awhile after the plane swayed slightly on the runway and he squealed. Are first time fliers always like this?

We got our bags , and I got excited that we could see the strip from the airport, but disappointed that there was no way to walk there. I would also learn later that there was no way to walk to In and Out from the strip either… something that needed to be remedied.

The car dropped us off at the Luxor and Marshall looked like a kid in a candy store drooling over all of the Egyptian themed décor. Checking in, I noticed a lot of similarly dressed people to us, and felt right at home knowing we wouldn’t be too out of place here this weekend. Little did I know…

We dropped our bags off in the room, and immediately headed for the liquor store. I also grabbed a giant alcoholic slushie, because it was Vegas, and I wanted the cup.

Reader, please buy your liquor at the duty free place at the airport. Don’t make the expensive mistake we made!

It was almost midnight when we got back to the room, so we ordered some room service and decided to start the night off right, booze and chicken wings!

“Krystle, look! Our wings are on a silver platter!” He said giddily.

I laughed and shook my head. “Feelin’ like a Rockstar yet?”

“Oh Hell yeah!” he exclaimed, drowning his wings in blue cheese and diving in.

We drank, ate and chatted away about the show the following night, and how excited we were that both of our favorite bands were playing. Mine being HIM, and his being Motionless in White, and neither of us having heard of the other band before meeting the other. After about an hour I nudged his glass of Jameson towards him and smiled.

“You gonna nurse this all night?” I asked with a devilish smile, pushing the glass closer to him

“Are you trying to get me drunk?”

“Yes. It’s Vegas!”

“There’s debauchery here isn’t there?” He asked in a high pitched tone mimicking a line from one of our favorite anime.

I nodded.

He threw his arms in the air and yelled “YAY! THERE’S DEBAUCHERY!”

We both laughed hysterically as he took several long drinks of his whiskey, and I realized that was the point of no return, and I had made my fatal mistake.

Within an hour he had finished a pint of Jameson, and Marshall’s behaviour began to get a little bit out there. I set my slushie down when I watched him stick a straw into a bottle of plain Stoli and start drinking it like a lemonade.

Ooh yeah I’m going to be babysitting tonight, I thought.

I sat on my bed and watched as he began to put his clothing in the wardrobe, with much difficulty. Then he stepped into the wardrobe and closed the door behind him. There was giggling behind the door.

“Uh, what a you doing?”

He poked his head out and put his finger to his lips, shushing me. “I’m going to Narnia,” he whispered, and closed himself back in the wardrobe.

“Oh, okay,” I nodded slowly.

A few minutes later I hear “Hey Krystle, hey Krystle!” He poked his head out again. “I’m coming out of the closet!”

“I don’t think ‘The Lion, The Witch, and The Closet has the same ring. Nor do I think the saying is “coming out of the wardrobe.”

“The Asexual in the Armoire?” he asked and tripped as he came out of the door.

“That actually isn’t bad. I’ll have to remember that.”

“That’s good, because I won’t,” he giggled

“Because you’re drunk?” I asked, stating the obvious.

“Mmhmm!” he said with a cheesy grin.

Why did he have to be so fucking adorable?

He suddenly lost his grin and looked at me concerned. “You okay?”

Why did I have to wear my emotions on my fucking face?

“Yeah, of course,” I smiled.

Marshall came over and sat on the bed with me, swore briefly, as he sat on his waist length hair again, then took my hands in his and looked at me. “What’s wrong, you can’t get me drunk and then make that face.”

I scowled. I didn’t want this trip to be serious. He was drunk so there was a good chance he wouldn’t remember this. “I just don’t understand why you don’t want to be with me!” I blurted out.

He sighed and dropped my hands. “I’ve told you a hundred times. I’m fucked up. I need time to heal from all the wrong that happened in the last few months. You don’t want me like this, I’ll just treat you like everyone else. Is that what you want?”

“What?”

I barely had time to get the word out before he pinned me down on the bed. I pulled my knees up in a protective way as he humped my leg like a dog.

“Is this what you want me to be like? Like all your exes?”

“What the fuck Marshall? Get off me!” I said and shoved him. I tried to laugh it off but it came out much more nervous than I intended.

I watched my friend lean again the wardrobe and look at his hands, then look at me in horror. “I’m so sorry, Krystle. I’m so sorry!”

“It’s fine,” I replied annoyed.

“No, it’s definitely not,” he looked down at himself. “Stupid fucking man parts!”

I watched in horror as he made a fist and brought them down full force into his genitals. I covered my mouth and tried my hardest to suppress my laughter as he’s screamed and collapsed to the ground moaning in pain.

“Oh. My. God. Marshall.” I stepped past him and grabbed the bottle of vodka from the bathroom and took a swig from the straw. I needed a drink after that escapade.

“Are you just gonna leave me a crumpled mess on the floor?” he groaned.

“After you pinned me to the bed and dry humped me? Yeah, I am. Stupid ass.”

“Ugh,” he groaned and got to his feet. “I deserved that.” He walked to the table and finished my melted slushie, shook his violently, and grabbed his trenchcoat. “I need a cigarette.”

“Okay, give me a sec and we’ll head down,” I told him as I grabbed my boots. I managed to get one on when I heard the door creak. I looked up in time to see him disappear as the door closed. “Shit,” I muttered, “he’s loose!”

I hopped half way across the room as I pulled my other boot on and zipped it up. I threw the door open and peered out to see him halfway down the hall, sitting up on the railing, mooning the damn casino. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, I thought.

“What are you doing you idiot? You’re gonna fall and die!” I said as I ran down the hall and pulled him down off the rail. I peered over railed, which coincidently came up to my chest. Seriously how did he get up there to do that? Thankfully it didn’t seem like anyone noticed the pale full moon shining down upon them. I sighed, thankful that we weren’t going to be kicked out of the hotel a few hours into our stay. That relief was short lived as I heard knocking on a door.

Sure enough, Marshall was running down the hall banging and knocking on every door he went past. Laughing hysterically. Mind you, he has the laugh of a psychotic serial killer. Think Pennywise, turned down one or two notches. I adore it, but it does unnerve a lot of people who hear it. So imagine being in your hotel room, it’s 3 am, and there’s a knock at your door follow by crazy laughter… Yeah I don’t know how he wasn’t shot either.

Running after him once again screaming my apologies and I manage to link my arm in his and drag him to the elevator all the while he’s cackling like a patient who’s escaped the mental ward. Someone joins us from the next floor down. The woman looks at me and asks if he’s okay and I realize he’s facing the corner of the elevator like a child in time out.

Marshall glances at her turns and says in a deep voice “I am Batman!” as he throws his trenchcoat wide open and flashes her… his clothes. Oh thank god he’s got clothes on, I never thought to check after the mooning.

She laughs and looks at me as we reach the ground floor “Well someone’s having a good time!”

“That makes one of us!” I say with an apologetic look as I keep ahold of his arm and follow him out of the elevator.

He pulls me over to the check-in desk. “Krystle! I wanna go touch the lamps!”

He gets free and starts tapping each of the lamps at every station. I reach for him again and he evades me and run to the next thing in his sights.

“Krystle! I’m gonna touch the Christmas tree!”

I’m able to grab his coat sleeve just before he gets there. “No, you’re not going to touch the Christmas tree, I thought you wanted a cigarette.”

He turns and starts to walk with me until the couple sitting on the bench falls into his sights. He gets a big shit eating grin on his face and take a deep breath in.

“I’M GONNA GO TOUCH THE ASIANS!”

The couple quickly look at us in absolute shock as I returned the look, mortified, and grab him tight to me. “You will NOT go touch the Asians!” I growled in my mom voice. Since he was acting like a toddler, I might as well use it.

He wrenched free of my grip and took off again. I turned and bow to the couple. “I’m so sorry, he’s drunk, I’m so sorry!” and am quickly on my way after this drunken idiot. How have we not gotten kicked out yet? I find him staring in awe at a large display of the Titanic.

“Krystle! Look at the boat! That’s such a big boat!”

I'm going to murder him in his sleep.

I padded his back, “Yes, a very big boat. It’s called the ti-tan-ic,” I said stretching out the syllables.

He rolled his head towards me and glared. “I know that, I’m not stupid. Oh! Look at the water! Let’s go for a swim!” And he was off towards the fountain.

I walked over to him, grabbed the collar of his coat and dragged him to the nearest exit. “C’mon, let go smoke,” I said gruffly, my frustration clear as day on my face.

We got outside and the cool night air hit me with great relief. If I could just get him back up to the room without instance we should be okay. I was mapping the route in my head as I walked away from the hotel so he could smoke, when I suddenly realized I just had his coat in my hand, and he wasn’t with me.

“Fuuuuuck!” I groaned.

I looked behind to see him staring up at a large statue of Anubis, mouth agape, tears in his eyes.

“Krystle,” he whispered as I walked up to him. “It’s Lord An-Pu!”

I felt my face contort in confusion. “It’s who?”

“IT’S LORD AN-PU!” He yelled! “Krystle, you don’t understand! I SOLD MY SOUL TO HIM BEFORE I SOLD IT TO SATAAAAAANNNNNNNN!” He managed to use his best death metal growl when he said Satan but I was still trying to process who An-Pu was.

“Oh,” I said simply and turned and walked away

“Krystle! Krystle! You don’t understand!” he followed me to a nearby trash can and finally pulled out his cigarettes to do what he wanted to do more than an hour ago, before all rational thinking and lucidity went out the window.

“I sure don’t,” I said annoyed.

“Hey!” another voice called. We looked at the two chads approaching us. Now what…

“What?” I growled.

“It’s Vegas man! Let him have a good time! What are you his mother?”

“No I’m not, because he’s helped me realize why some mother’s eat their young, like yours should’ve, or at least swallowed.”

“Ooooooooh!” Marshall started cackling hysterically while bent over near the trashcan.

“Get a life freak, it’s Vegas!”

“Keep your noses out of others business motherfuckers!” I yelled and grab a rock from the walk way and hurled it at them.

“Yeah!” Marshall yelled “Don’t you say shit to her!” he yelled as the walked away still throwing insults.

“Idiot, they were defending you. You done?”

He nodded, took a couple more drags and followed me back inside. I looked around, there had to be a 24 hours gift shop or somewhere I could get some water to start sobering him up. Thankfully there was one near the exit we came in. I walked in and grabbed two big bottles of water and chips and head to the cheerful girl at the register. I heard rustling behind me and realize Marshall is once again touching everything in the store. The clerk laughed as I groaned again.

“Marshall Vigil sit your ass down and stop touching things, you're making this girl’s job really difficult!”

With a huff he plopped himself down in the middle of the store and crossed his arms across his chest.

“She works in Vegas she’s used to it!”

Yep. Dead man walking.

“Well she shouldn’t have to be!” I yelled without looking at him. I paid for the snacks and left a ten for the clerks with my apologies again and left with my toddler in tow before she could argue with me. We finally make it up to our room without another incident.

“Do you think you can stay put if I use the restroom?” I asked as I opened a bottle of water and thrust it at him.

He nodded but pushed the water away. “Don’t want it,” he mumbled.

“I don’t care, drink it.”

He turned his head and slid down the wall. I set the water by him and went to use the restroom. When I came out, I saw that he hadn’t moved, and hadn’t drank any water, but had tears running down his face.

“Hey, woah, what happened? Why are you crying?” I knelt next to him and pulled him into my arms. T my surprise, he didn’t fight me.

“I just don’t understand why she didn’t want me!” he cried.

“Who?”

“Who else?”

“Oh. Because she’s a fucking idiot that’s why! She’s a stupid little girl and she’ll realize eventually that she made a huge mistake.”

He looked up at me. “Do you think she’ll come back?”

I hope she falls off of a cliff.

“I don’t think you should worry about that right now, I think you should drink some water.”

He fumbled with the bottle and dumped it all over himself. I scoff and shake my head at him for the umpteenth time that night.

“I’m all wet.”

“Ya think?”

“Will you take my pants off?”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m wet.”

“My god I might as well be your mother,” I grumbled helping him to his feet and getting him over to the bed. With a deep breath I wiggle him out of his boots and wet jeans, and somehow manage to get his pajama pants on. I try to lay him in his bed but he resisted.

“I don’t want to be alone, will you stay with me?”

“I’m right in the next bed.”

“Can we cuddle?”

Why the fuck are you doing this to me?

“Yeah sure.”

I turned off the lights and climbed into bed, letting him crawl in next to me. He was out before his head hit the pillow and my mind raced for what seemed like hours. It was already 5am, I had to get some sleep, I closed my eye and eventually drifted off. Happy to put this night behind us.

The smell of death hit my nostrils like a freight train.

I was so scared to turn around, I was certain he’d died of alcohol poisoning. Light poured in through the window, the clock read 8:00 am. I was in bed with a corpse, I knew it. How often did this happen in Vegas? How stereotypical of a goth? I’d never live it down. A loud snore made me squeal and I turned over to see Marshall, alive, mouth agape and drooling, with the most awful smell coming out of his body. I realized then he was literally sweating out the alcohol.

“Oh my god you reek get out!” I moaned and pushed his sleeping body towards the edge of the bed.

He grumbled and finally opened his eyes. “Why are we in bed together?” he asked with astounding lucidity.

“You said you wanted to cuddle.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” he said squinting his eyes at me.

“Well ya did, Drunky, now get out of my bed, you’re sweating out the alcohol and you fucking reek!”

“You fucking reek!” he mumbled, shuffling the three feet to his bed and falling face first onto it.

“I don’t doubt that,” I chuckled. I got up and rolled him fully into his bed.

He leaned around me and grabbed the phone and his a couple buttons. I heard the operator answer.

“HAAAAAAAAMM!” He yelled and hung up, laughing hysterically.

I furrowed my brows and stared at him “What the hell did you do?”

“I just went HAM on the operator,” he laughed.

“You’re still wasted. Gotcha, I’m going to shower.”

I let him sleep for a few more hours before I coaxed him out of bed and down to the buffet. He poked at his waffles, and grumbled about how bad his head was hurting.

“How much do you remember about last night?” I asked.

“Not a whole helluva lot. I blame you, you know. Forcing me to drink so much.”

“I merely encouraged, and I truly regret it as well. It was definitely a night to remember.”

His face suddenly went green as he disappeared from the table. I knew exactly where he was going, and so I picked as his waffle so it wouldn’t go to waste. I finished up and waited for him outside of the bathroom. When we got back to the room he proceeded to vomit two more before showering and managed to get ready.

‘Can we not drink to day so I can remember the concert tonight?” he asked as he ran his straightener over his long hair repeatedly.

“I think that’s a great idea,” I replied, quickly pulling my hair into a messy bun and making a comment about how long he takes to get ready.

“What happens in Vegas stay in Vegas?” he asked with a hopeful look on his face.

“Most definitely not,” I told him. “What I went through last night needs to be told to the world.

“Of course it does,” he grumbled.

Thankfully, the rest of the weekend went off without a hitch. Minus the fact that we saw that poor, traumatized couple two more times before we left and Marshall didn't have a clue why they were giving us the dirtiest of looks, or the five mile walk we took when we finally realized that both In and Out burgers near the strip, are inaccessible by foot, but that may yet be an adventure for another day.