I’m enjoying my second day of a balanced diet that includes lots of veggies and fruit servings that aren’t consumed via daquiris. I have a headache from booze withdrawal. That, or my sunburnt scalp.
Speaking of sunburns, half of my trip was spent at various pools. Living as I do in a city that had a (minor) snowfall (dusting) last week, the opportunity to prance about in my bikini, blinding everyone with my reflective pale white skin, was unexpectedly appealing.
The part where I am financially savvy
Saturday, DD and I had tickets to a pool party at Encore Beach Club, DJ’d by David Guetta. DD and I planned to arrive around noon, as entrance was not guaranteed after 1pm. However, we ran a little late, because I got stuck in a 2.5 hour-long sales meeting that morning, during which Holiday Inn tried to sell me $43K worth of time share. (Don’t ask. I don’t want to explain how close I came to buying into that scheme. Not my proudest moment!) I was frazzled whilst getting ready for the party, uncertain of what to expect, other than pools & debauchery. I decided to leave my beautiful $450 prescription sun-glasses at the hotel, for fear of losing or wrecking them, assuming that on our way to the club, we’d pass by a stand/store that sold cheap glasses. Inevitably, nothing of the sort was available, and a huuuuuuuge lineup was awaiting us at the club.
15 minutes after gaining access to the club, I realized my terrible mistake: I knew I wouldn’t last the hour in that sunshine. A sign at the bar indicated that Ray-ban sunglasses were available for purchase at a cool $200. Feeling desperate, I asked for a pair – only to be told that they didn’t have any in stock.
So I bought a beer instead.
One hour later, with a pounding headache, I noticed an employee walking around, selling sunscreen, hats and other sunitems… including ONE PAIR OF SUNGLASSES. Running towards him and waiving my arms, I begged him to sell me the glasses. Based on his reaction, that has never happened to him before – he definitely laughed at me, and asked me several times if I was sure.
Worth every penny. The relief was instantaneous.
The part where DD is financially savvy
Meanwhile, DD wore her regular
$40 $20 sunglasses to the party, and laughed extensively at my naïvety. According to her, I should have just worn my expensive prescription glasses: no one loses glasses at a pool party, because no one ever bothers taking them off!
Approximately 3 hours into the party, DD had lost her glasses.
Approximately 3.01 hours into the party, DD used her dimples to smile at some random dude, who promptly offered her his glasses, which she kept and he forgot about.
Only in Vegas
Things observed at this party:
- A guy wore a blue thickly-knit tuque all day; even when jumping up and down in the pool, causing a ruckus. He and his crew all had 1-2 tattoos on their arms and back: no doubt that was the basis for their friendship.
- While waiting in line, the group of guys ahead of us discussed their approach for the day: “So who’s gonna be the bachelor for today?”
- Not only was ID required to get into the party (+21 years old), but the bartenders required ID every single time a drink was purchased. This meant we had to keep our passports with us, at the pool. Given that all daybeds and cabanas were reserved (for a reasonable fee of $2,000) this meant that we had to leave our purse on the pool deck, discretely hidden in water-logged towels. Who knew our passports would get as much sun and water as we would?!
- The lifeguards were all beautiful men – who looked miserable. That might have something to do with the fact that the main pool had to be cleared for 30 mins in order to be drained… because someone had thrown up in it. Salty water!!
- After David Guetta had shown up (around 4pm!), the party, which had already been quite good, was wild. So wild, in fact, I had the dubious privilege of observing a couple attempting to have sex in the pool. It seemed a bit of a challenge for them: no enthusiastic finish, more of a discomfiting collapse. Salty water 2.0!! Long live chlorine!
Where I get the reputation of being responsible
DD and I met, amongst many, a hilarious trio of British guys who kept us very entertained – one of whom was the poor soul who willingly gifted DD his sunglasses. After trying to dance in the pool to a few of David Guetta’s songs, we all decided to clamber onto the deck and dance in the “mosh pit” (the area of deck immediately in front of the DJ booth). I then noticed DD was missing. Concerned I looked for her everywhere, and found her making out with a guy in the pool. She seemed happy, and he promised me quite sincerely to take care of her, so I let them do their thing, and went back to dance with the boys, and smiled happily into David Guetta’s eyes – I swear, he was looking at me. There is an advantage to having the whitest skin in a crowd of 4,000 people: I stood out!
After an hour or so of dancing, it occurred to me that I should check whether DD was alive, and that no one had stolen our passports & credit cards (which I’d abandoned on the pool deck, when I went to dance). Soon after locating our purse, DD located me, and praised me for my responsible actions. DD admitted to having over-indulged in the booze; after the consumption of a bottle of water, and the end of David Guetta’s set (priorities!) we made our way to the locker line-up to retrieve our clothes.
While in line, DD confessed to an urgent need to expunge some of the booze: however the wristband for the locker was on her wrist, and too tight to remove. DD made a praiseworthy attempt, even removing a few layers of skin, but the wristband wouldn’t budge. A girl in line with us offered her help, and soon a guy joined in, playing tug-of-war with DD’s wristband, while I was too squeamish to watch and DD stood there happily, announcing at random that she couldn’t feel a thing, wasn’t it great that she was drunk?
The wristband was eventually removed through the team effort; DD was free to divest her internal organs of booze, and I reclaimed our clothes from the locker room. I threw on my cover-up, and after watching DD’s attempts at walking in a straight line, I confiscated her pants (being unwilling to watch her attempt to clothe herself – which would result in an inevitable faceplant), leaving her only with a see-through scarf to drape over herself. She was a little daunted, but then remembered that what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas (until it makes it onto my blog!), and so agreed to walk back to our hotel in that modest attire. Throughout that 10 minute walk, during which she clung to my arm, she periodically thanked me for guiding her so expertly home – thank goodness, I was so responsible!
Only in Vegas would my behavior be deemed responsible.