#can’t believe it took this to get slotty to show some emotion

[lfc-unbelievables]

What seeing English refs does to a mf

[billvsamerica]

Sin City

We’ve all noticed the lingering stare of a pervert.

On the high street when you’re shopping for Christmas presents or in the cinema when you’re watching the late night showing of Toy Story on your own again. But imagine you’re in a city full of them. Tight polyester trousers with flared bottoms, beer bellys flowing over the top of cheap plastic belts, topped off with a nice scruffy pair of Reeboks from the late 90s. But enough about my dad, this is the story of our latest adventure west.

A savory couple in a far from savory place

I always thought Vegas was a debauched place. That’s where it gets the nickname - Naughty Little Town for Naughty People. Prostitution and weed are both legal, but somehow in a much less savoury way than Amsterdam. With all that being said, we could never have known that the most morally reprehensible act we would witness would take place on the connecting flight from Chicago to Vegas.

Some of the most exciting parts of a holiday go on in the walkway of the airplane. Thoughts flood your mind: ‘Where will we be sitting?’ ‘What are my chances of survival if this thing goes down?’ ‘Who will the “third” person be?’ ‘Hopefully, there isn’t a “third” person!’ ‘Oh God, this things coming down, I’ve had a premonition. I need to warn everybody else on board.’ ‘No, don’t ruin it. It’s fine. You’re being stupid.’ ‘Oh, Jesus Christ! I just signed our death warrant.’ ‘I wonder if they have a TV?!’ etc.

Shelby and I took our spots next to the "third" person in the window seat, who we immediately disliked just for existing in a space near us, and opened our books: Shelby was reading an interesting book about the Appalachian area of America and taking on a challenging Sudoku puzzle. I was reading a different kind of book, still just as challenging though, the instructions on how to work the TV.

After the internal struggle of whether it’s okay to ignore the air stewardesses safety announcements, the passengers settled into the flight. The aircraft was not quite Wright Brothers old, but it was missing the mod cons of a transatlantic flight, like being able to choose an individual movie. However, it did have DirectTV channels. Shelby and I stuck on the Oscar nominated Can You Ever Forgive Me?.

I glanced over at the "third" person's film choice. I couldn't recognise the show, but the vibrant colours and teenage actors led me to believe it was some sort of kid's show. I looked at the man. No, it wasn't a large child traveling alone. It was definitely a man - a man wearing a tight t shirt that accentuated his man breast. I poked Shelby, she grunted her usual response:

"What the fuck do you want, fuckwit?"

She said, in a loving way though.

“What show is that?”

She glanced across at his screen.

"i-Carly"

"No, you Shelby. Now, what show is that?"

"It's called i-Carly. Now will you shut the fuck up?"

Bit weird.  Maybe he just put it on by mistake. Probably not watching it.

Fast forward three hours, I-Carly is still on his TV. And the man is inches from the screen. I looked at him intently. Does he not know we can see him? He's not in some sort of invisible perv’ chamber, although I'm sure those exist somewhere in Vegas.

I looked down to make sure nothing dodgy is...  Unfortunately, the man was definitely touching himself. Now, I'll give him a bit of credit. His hand was outside the trousers, but that only made it slightly better. Suddenly, it dawned on me - Shelby was in the middle. I wasn’t worried about her, per say. He was clearly into much younger people, but she might accidentally be hit with his flailing elbow or something. She looked across at him then up and me and mouthed,

"What do we do?"

For the last thirty minutes I tried my hardest to put the man off. I gazed out the window and loudly said a range of off-putting phrases:

"Wow! Look at that skyline," "Can't believe we're flying in the sky right now!" "Do you know why they stopped serving peanuts on flights? What about the people allergic to pretzels? Nobody ever thought of them!"

If that lot didn’t put him off, nothing would.

As we walked from the airplane into Vegas airport, we discussed what we should do. I was going to confront him, and say what? Don't do that sort of thing, you sick freak. I was going to grab him by the scruff of the neck, shake him and say,

“That's digusting, you sweaty little cretin!”

I was going to be the hero and stop all bad things happening forever everywhere... I... I... I picked up our bags and we got in a cab to Caesar’s Palace.

The taxi from the airport into Vegas took us adjacent to the strip. Huge replica buildings designed to look like other things. It’s all smoke and mirrors, a mirage in the middle of the dessert like the magic shows that run every night of the week. After taking a detour we didn’t ask for and racking up a huge bill, we arrived at Caesar’s Palace.

Anybody fancy a crap? (That’s not my dad, but a man in a shirt)

We walked through the modern building designed to look like the Colosseum - a gaudy Rome rip off - and bumped into our own ancient relics in the form of my parents. We hugged. They were here again, but their bags weren’t.

That night, we had a quick go on the slot machines, or as cool locals call them, ‘the slotties’ (and lost a bit of money). My dad became slightly enamoured with the virtual blackjack game, and then we all headed to bed to recuperate for the next day. The city may never sleep, but we were certainly going to.

The next morning, we looked out through our curtains at the view of the famous Belagio Hotel’s dancing fountain show, the Eiffel Tower, and a giant poster of Donnie Osmond. We had a fat breakfast, then walked down the strip.

Along the way, we ducked into a casino for a cheeky lil dabble. Dad spotted the virtual blackjack, and I saw his eyes light up. He was straight on it. We watched eagerly with anticipation as he turned his $20 into $5 and then into $25 and then into $15 and then he cashed out. With his cashed out voucher, I jumped onto a huge slot machine that I had no idea as to the workings. I hit a few buttons, and it flashed on the screen “Extreme!”. The lights started strobing and the lines span like the slick tires on a Ford Escort. My cash started building along with my adrenalin..  15-20-25... It kept going up and up and stopped, eventually, at $85. I took the money out and left the casino $85 richer because I didn’t give my dad his investment back.

What a start! Maybe I was a natural. Next stop, World Poker Tournament, but first, the off license for a can of beer that I could legally drink on the high street. It was like being back in Worcester on a Tuesday morning, I mean Wednesday afternoon, I mean Saturday evening.

The strip was packed with hen-dos, lad’s holidays, and waddling families who wanted a change from Disney. Me and my dad walked passed a man selling his hip-hop CD. I declined.

“Forget you then in your Bill Cosby sweater,” he said and laughed.

This drove me to grab another beer from a CVS. Inside, the cashier said,

“What a lovely sweater!”

Me and dad-livin’ it large Vegas

As you can imagine, I had very mixed emotions on the jumper and have not worn it since.

Shelby and mom stormed ahead up the strip, leaving me and dad to be awkwardly approached by dancing girls requesting a photo with us. It’s as if we looked like a couple of creepy blokes or something. We walked next to a bar where a man was strapped to a wooden chair and being forced to drink a strange green liquid by a woman in her underwear. Normally, this might be cause for alerting the authorities, but not in Vegas.

A group on a stag do walked passed us and my dad turned to me,

“Did you see that shirt? I need to get one of those!”

I had to tell him that it said “VAGITARIAN” not “VEGETARIAN”.  He didn’t want one anymore.

After walking the equivalent of a half marathon up and down the strip, Shelby wanted us to recuperate at one of the West’s staple restaurants, In and Out Burger - a place known for juicy hamburgers. We’d heard that they also had veggie burgers for the three of us who don’t eat the carcasses of dead animals.

Our number came up and we sat down at a table that had just been vacated. The remnants of ravenous tub tubs lay around and an In and Out employee was kind enough to offer to clean it up for us. She picked up a tray with the remains of a sweaty burger on it. In slow motion, the burger, wrapper, and discarded sauce tumbled off the tray and down, down, down, onto my dad’s cream trousers, the only pair he had as his bag was currently somewhere in Uzbekistan.

Turned a corner in Nevada to see the New York Skyline (and a rollercoaster)

This hilarious event only slightly made up for the fact that the veggie burger was two pieces of lettuce and a tomato between a couple of soggy bits of bun. As the name suggests, we were in and out of there real quick.

The next day we went to Fremont Street, the second most famous street in Vegas after the strip. A biting wind whipped through the dimly lit passageway lined with souvenir stores, Irish bars and strip clubs. Grubby looking men stood along the street staring wildly at the tourists passing by. They held cardboard signs that read quite witty things like “I’ll look after your wife while you gamble” and some less witty - “Horny!”.

A woman danced on a huge stage with barely any clothes on while a bunch of homeless people rocked back and forwards in front of her, totally unaware, it seemed, that she was there. An abandoned car with red flashing lights moaned and groaned as a zombie popped out the top. In fairness, it was advertising a local Walking Dead Exhibit, but I wouldn’t have been that surprised if it was actually happening on this street.

Having survived Fremont Street, I decided another dabble was in order (I was continually having these dabbles the whole time, but I’m only going to tell you about the times I won). I selected my machine, one without a chair that looked very old, and put in my note. The machine started to freak out and I knew I was onto another winner - $160 coughed up this time. I was a genius. A genius I tell you and definitely did not spend all that money very quickly in other machines. Ahem.

Join me next time as I recount the next stage of the adventure, our journey to the grandest canyon of them all and beyond to the red rocks of Sedona, Arizona.