The Call of the Dinosaur.

I didn’t actually call any dinosaurs during the trip to Las Vegas this past weekend, but I heard that phrase for the first time at the May Fast Week and I think it’s absolutely hilarious. What does it mean, you ask? Imagine what many people do after a night of massive drinking, and you’ll get the idea.

Vegas was awesome. Once I get pictures, they will probably explain things much better than I could ever write, but in the meantime here are some highlights:

--About 25 people came to the party

--Friday: everyone hung out and gambled

--Saturday: there were excursions to In ‘n’ Out Burger, various trips to lay out by the pool, and more gambling, which led to…

--Saturday night/Sunday morning: We originally planned to go out to eat and then to a club called Pure. It turns out Pure had some sort of Sports Illustrated Swimsuit thing going on, and we weren’t going to be able to get in. Our backup plan was a place called Tao, where we planned to eat dinner and then go to the adjoining club. Once we got there, we discovered that after paying $100 per couple to eat dinner, we’d have a receipt which would move us forward in line at the club, but we still wouldn’t be able to get in to the club because we had 4 more guys than girls. Apparently it was Molly Simms' (sp?) birthday party, and they were being particularly stingy about who got in. Bastards.

We debated whether to still eat dinner at Tao for a while. Finally, Monika and I came to a revelation (because it was our party and we decided we’d have enough of Tao’s crapulence) that we wanted to go find a food court and then go to a club that wasn’t quite so trendy (although they are all trendy to a certain extent). We ended up going downstairs in the Venetian to a food court where I had an awesome chicken sandwich, and everyone enjoyed what was a slightly inferior, but drastically less expensive dinner. However, we were all able to sit together, talk, and have a good time without a background of deafening (and low-quality) techno in the background.

After dinner, per Mike’s recommendation, we went to The Wynn and a club called Lure. It was still massively expensive getting in ($20 per guy, girls free), but much cheaper than the fictional Tao scenario ($30 per person). Lure was perfect. We got in and immediately plopped down in a couple areas in the middle of the bar that are typically reserved for people that buy bottles (imagine a bottle of Jack for $300 – yeah, right). We spent the rest of the evening drinking, dancing, and taking hundreds of pictures that will appear at some point.

When we left Lure, everyone was dead tired and most went to bed. After tucking in Monika, I returned downstairs to join Rajiv, Tal, Charles, Josh, and Mike – Josh and Mike had a 7 a.m. flight so clearly they weren’t going to sleep that night. Josh, I might add, landed from said flight and immediately drove to Colorado Springs, where his sister graduated later that night. Now *that’s* dedication!

Now, a few days later, I’m still a bit exhausted from the whole thing. My workout on Monday was not pretty. In fact, I felt the need to call some dinosaurs more at that point than when I was drinking Crown and Cokes like they were water.

The last thing I have to say is this, which Monika’s mom declared after her 50th birthday party, because I felt the same sentiment on Sunday evening:

“It was the best fucking party EVER!”