Around Day 3, I attempted to channel one of those arrogant male models from Europe, lounging about the sun-scorched Bamboo pool at the Cosmopolitan with my shirt off. But soon I got self-conscious, and placed it back on. It was also 120-degrees in the shade. I’m Frosty the Snowman in such cruel weather. I MELT. I’m also pasty and freckly. A fair-skinned white boy. It’s the German-Irish curse. Plus, I’m still working on my weight deal. I also barely went in the water because I kept seeing people spitting and dribbling into it. Like…first they submerse themselves…then they come back up, and all this, like, spittle-y, bubbly, pool-watery syrup starts to shoot out of their mouths. Multiply that by, like, 80 people (that’s 80 mouths, I think) and the whole thing just becomes dizzyingly unappetizing.
And don’t get me started on trying to read a book in a chaise lounge. I can’t do it! I have to sit in a regular chair or couch to read. On a chaise lounge, I can never get the back part to stick upright enough. So now my stupid legs are jutting out forward, while the top half of me’s bent partially upward in a manner that’s never conducive to comfortable reading. Also, I never know where to rest the book. On my belly? In my lap? What if my bathing shorts are wet? Then the book will get soggy. So then I try to just lie FLAT on the damn thing and hold the book up over my head, but my arms are too short and the muscles in my armpits get sore.
Are you starting to gather that it’s exhausting being me…?
No matter. I was really only down by the pool for the butts in bikini bottoms. Sadly, the eye candy wasn’t great. And too many kids! STOP WITH THE KIDS in Las Vegas. They’re everywhere.
I gotta say…as far as bathing suit choices worn out by the pools go…there are some VERY bold men and women out there. Cheese, folds, and blemishes be damned, they are OUT THERE, JERRY, AND LOVIN’ EVERY MINUTE OF IT. God bless ’em. But I’ve got meals to eat.
Speaking of which, the one super fancy-pants place the wife and I dined at was called Giada…from famed TV chef and granddaughter-of-movie-producer Dino, Giada de Laurentiis. Don’t get me wrong…the fare was quite scrumptious (and appropriately pricey)…but, man-oh-MAN could I have stood for a helluva lot more AIR-CONDITIONING in the joint. It was SO stuffy and hot in there. Hell, it was hot in Vegas EVERYWHERE. How are we all DOING this, with the heat? How does anyone cope? It’s getting worse and worse every year. You could see beads of sweat on the serving staff’s faces. I kept asking for more water. And thinking cool thoughts.
And, typically, NO ONE ELSE seemed uncomfortable but ME…
Call me White Trash (and I know you already think it) but I have to say, honestly, that my most favorite meal in Vegas turned out to be the evening we went to Sammy Hagar’s Cabo Wabo Cantina. I tried both the white and red sangria and sufficiently annihilated a plate of the Baja Style Grilled Fish Tacos. Not sure I needed the sauce, though (the chipotle crema). Perhaps just an extra squeeze of a lime.
And Sammy’s hilarious. On the way back to L.A., we listened to an old Howard Stern interview with Sammy. Can you believe what a buncha BABIES Van Halen are?? They make Pink Floyd look like they’ve got their shit together. But good for Sammy and his tacos. And his bobbleheads.
The cantina is located inside a very vast and disorienting mall beneath the Planet Hollywood resort. A madcap maze of shops and surplus all leading to the Zombie Burlesque show at the V Theater. But even more eye-popping than hot, half-naked, living dead girls was the sudden, unexpected appearance of Sin City Sindy, the World’s Largest Stripper at 31-feet tall, who stands outside the Showgirl Bar. Oh, did I enjoy my time with her. Can you tell…?
The Zombie Burlesque show was hardly the experience I had with Blue Man Group, but it was harmless enough. And perhaps that was the biggest problem. I mean, I was expecting BURLESQUE. I wanted girls, girls, GIRLS. But I mostly got guys with dark circles around their eyes. And they were funny, I guess. The host was actually rockin’. He was working his ass off. And it was fun to see twisted appearances by Turf and Tiny Bubbles, the king-sized drag queen. But the show didn’t turn me on at ALL. I need more burlesque in my burlesque. Where was the SEX? I didn’t even mind that most of the show’s humor was gay-centric, I just wanted to walk out of there with a third leg. But I can’t complain too much cuz they did give us free green zombie ooze Jell-O shots. And I DID score this bitchin’ after-show pic with some of the cast. But again…NO GIRLS!
Maybe they got sick of being groped by demented octogenarians and pervy necrophiles.
Speaking of gay, the week I was in Vegas was the time the Supreme Court came down with the landmark Same Sex Marriage ruling. Ever the opportunist, I posted this pic to my Facebook while everyone else turned to rainbow colors. I loved these guys. And they made me feel mighty real.
I almost forgot.
The Bamboo pool area I ogled ass at caught FIRE last week! Did you see this?
Well, anyway…the point is, I suck at Las Vegas. And I really have no shame about it. But at least I didn’t gamble my house and car and wife and dogs away.
What I DIDN’T think was gonna suck was my NEXT stop on this adventure. Namely? The Grand Canyon. I’ll tell you all about that nightmare next time. One good thing came from it, however. The Grand Canyon Wine Co. in Williams, Arizona, is awesome!
And Good Luck.
WINE PAIRING: I’m breaking the rules again but that’s what writing about Las Vegas does to you. Foregoing a proper wine suggestion this time, I have to say I was knocked out by the Wild Washington Apple Cider from Tieton Cider Works. I enjoyed a few of those during my stay at the Cosmopolitan. Really crisp and refreshing stuff!