The Matador's birthday is Superbowl Sunday so I expect a near jail involving experience. Given that the only activity worse than working while hungover is flying while hungover, we will be going to Vegas at 3p the following afternoon. 3p? you say? Still hungover? Well the bars are open till 4a, and accomplishing the goal of sharing a bed with an attractive female will keep me up till 7am, and I probably won't sober up til 11ish, and if I am not up by then to call a cab and put more alcohol into my system I'm gonna be hella hungover. Good times.
Not nearly as good as drinking at the airport and enjoying the anticipation of landing in what most of us mistakenly imagine hell to be like, all the bad people doing all the bad things that got them sent to hell in the first place. But that my friends would be heaven. Wait, heaven on earth? So that's why I get euphoric just thinking about the place. Where else can you get scantily clad women to serve you drinks and accept the wooden nickel version of monopoly money as tip. Genius.
Conversation had yesterday...
Me: It's your Birthday, what's your agenda for vegas?
Matador: Drink.
Gamble.
What's your agenda? Did you mention something about a show?
Having friends whose pastime is consuming all available alcohol in the room could be the end of me. But as Jerry Garcia said, I may be going to hell in a bucket but at least I'm enjoying the ride.
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