Fights, Fires...and Vegas

So I've actually been meaning to write a post about this for a while, but one of my Vegas compadres, Danny, has been TERRIBLE about getting me pictures. I finally got fed up and am deciding that my visual story telling as well as a stolen pic will have to suffice for you.

In September, a bunch of friends and I went for yet another little visit to Sin City. This year, the occasion was for my, and my friend Vanessa's, birthday. As is generally the case with me, vacations, especially Vegas Vacations, have a particular penchant for adventure.

This year was no different.

So on night one, we all loaded up on dinner and headed out to "VooDoo," the club on top of the Rio. Honestly, this is probably one of my favorite clubs I've been to in Vegas. It wasn't that it was particularly huge or spectacular, but it had a few things that, for me in particular, I love.

1. The whole club isn't noise blastingly, yelling-at-your-friends-to-have-normal-conversation loud. There were sections where I could actually talk without screaming. Rejoice!

2. There was a huge outdoor area with the best view of the strip I've seen. I've been on top of Mandalay Bay at the end of the strip, but this view is better. Plus, I think rooftop bars are awesome and make for great photo ops, especially for couture models such as myself ;) (which I would post if a certain someone would send me pics!).

3. There was a dancefloor. Important since, as we know, I've been known to bust move or two.

4. The hot girls in the club seemed to love me. I guess devilish good-looks and charm works in other places than San Diego :) In fact, a few of us got in without having to pay the $30 cover charge because of some nice girls in front of us in line.

I knew my Schmoozing would pay off :)

I'll leave out some of the in-club escapades that night, but I'll just say they included: two girls fighting over me (ok, ok...maybe "fighting" is a bit of a stretch, and by "stretch" I mean long shot, but they both wanted me :) a, how shall I say, wildly provocative bachelorette, and a girl Craig and I nicknamed "Grabby McGrabberson."

The highlight though, was the elevator back down to the hotel after the club closed at like 4am.

In the elevator is me, Aaron, Vanessa, and another friend of Vanessa's whose name I don't remember. Along with us are two jolly Irish guys, and a big football player guy with his girlfriend.

I'm nestled in the back of the crowded elevator.

As we are descending, the Irish guys break into some sort of Jolly old Drinking song. Yea! Aaron and I join in on about the third verse. I turn and notice Big Football Player Guy (BFPG) was not particularly enjoying the Irish singing.

It was hard to tell, but from the way her fingers were plugging her ears, I don't think his girlfriend was either.

When we finally reached the bottom, BFPG and Girlfriend try to exit first. I think he must've said something rude while leaving, because one of the Irish blokes gave him a little shove in the back on the way out.

BFPG: "Don't F**kin push ME!" **shoves Irish guys back***

Next thing I know fists are flying everywhere.....in the elevator...with me in the back!

Aaron and I, being the geniuses that we are try to break it up. Big mistake.

There's three people fighting, so at any one time, we can each only hold one guy back while the third guy is free to rain down blows! Next thing I know, I see Aaron on his back in the elevator.

Again, displaying my raw knack for genius solution, I jump in the middle of the three yelling, "IT'S OVER! COMMON GUYS IT'S OVER!" It became clear to me that they cared neither for my word, nor my safety when the fists continued to fly with me in the middle.

"Huh...well now I'm a pickle"

I look down again and see Aaron being dragged on his back out of the elevator. The next thing I know, I am airborn. Yes, AIRBORN. I don't know what happened, other than I somehow got LAUNCHED out of the elevator and landed some 7 or 8 feet from the elevator door.

Suffice to say, we got the hell out of there. Allow me to settle your nerves by assuring you that my face was neither harmed nor blemished! (my vanity shall live on!).

And that was only night one.

Night two involved another snafu. We went to Club Jet in the Mirage, and decided to splurge for VIP bottle service. The club was so loud that talking to new people was pretty much out of the question. I was forced to use raw sexual magnetism to dance with women ;)

Anyways, Danny was holding down the fort at our table while the rest of us were out dancing. Apparently, the waitress had a disagreement with him earlier because she thought he had stiffed her on a tip (not the case as there was some mix up). To add to the disagreement, someone on the dancefloor apparently touched her ass whom she mistook for Danny. Again, not the case. (I wasn't there but a few of my friends were).

Danny's got two strikes (albeit, unearned).

Part of the "show" at the club involves bubbles periodically coming down from the ceiling. Since all of our drinks were on the table, Danny decided to cover up our drinks with napkins.

Seemingly a good idea....except when there's an exposed candle at the table.

So you can imagine my surprise when Brent finds me and tells me Danny has been kicked out. "What for!?!"

Brent: "Well, apparently there was a fire at our table."

Me: "A FIRE at our table!?!"

Strike three.

Incoming text message from Danny: "I'm out. They're accusing me of being a sexual predator and a pyro!"

We managed to convince the bouncers that it wasn't his fault and to let him back in, but I still had to slip one some money.

Definitely an entertaining, fun, and I guess a bit dangerous trip this year ;)