Bellagio Casino Host Phone Number

It’ll come as no shock to you that Las Vegas is not the most pleasant city in the world. From the insane cabs that won't hesitate to steamroll you right into the ground, to the borderline-toxic stench wafting from the sewer grates, it's easy to see why the place wouldn't top too many travel lists. But as I sit in this cheap hotel room about two hours from the Strip, typing with the one arm I have left, I know for a fact that I will never return to Las Vegas.
“Hey, hey!” Reggie said as I walked up to the gate. “There he is! what took you so long?” Mike said, giving me a high five. We had been planning this for months. My friend Danny was getting married, and we had decided to have the bachelor party in Vegas. Behind Danny’s back, we had all chipped in to book a suite at the Bellagio hotel. We were obviously pumped for a weekend of slots, booze, and girls. “Where's Danny?” I asked, dropping my carry-on. “Went to the bathroom”, Reggie said, pulling a handful of chips out of a bag under his chair , “ he’ll be back in a minute”. Mike leaned into me and Reggie, and lowered his voice. “Alright boys, final check. Reggie, you booked the room, right?” He blinked a couple of times and scratched his stubbly chin. “Uhh… yeah”. “Awesome. Mitch, you got our rental car?” I held up my receipt. “ Of course”. “Alright!” Mike said a bit too loudly. “Alright what?” A familiar voice rang out from behind us. I turned around to see Danny walking towards us, shaking water off his hands. His khaki pants and button up shirt putting to shame my sweat pants and faded hoodie. “Jesus. Nicole must really be changing you, man”, I said, laughing and pulling him into a hug. “Trust me man, if I had never met her, I’d be naked half the time.” A few minutes later, they called our flight. With a few whoops from Reggie, we boarded the plane.
Two hours later we had touched down in Sin City. Reggie went to check in for the rental car while the rest of us watched the turntables for our luggage. As I absentmindedly watched the perpetual row of bags emerging from the plastic-flap-covered opening, I suddenly felt eyes on me. I raised my eyes from the bags and saw who those eyes belonged to. On the other side of the concourse, leaning against a wall, one guy stood out from the crowd. A black guy in his early twenties, wearing what appeared to be an old timely bellhop uniform. The gold buttons on his crimson jacket gleamed under the fluorescent lights. As I stared at him, with no small amount of confusion, the man whistled at me in two short bursts, equal in pitch, as if he were calling a dog. Dan put his hand on my shoulder, making me jump slightly.
We picked up the rental car and made our way to the Strip. As we gawked at the lavish hotels with flashy signs that could’ve been seen from the stratosphere, Danny turned to me. “ Shouldn't we get to the hotel first?” I smiled at him. “Sounds good to me,” I said turning into the Bellagio’s self parking area. “Wait…” Danny’s eyes lit up “ you didn't..” “ 15th floor.” Danny looked like a kid on Christmas morning. I will never forget that face.
“You didn't tell me you got a suite!” Danny said as he looked around the gigantic room we had rented. “Anything for the man of the hour”, I said, shoving the pocket sized Fireball I had bought on the plane into the mini fridge. “What’re we sitting around here for?” Reggie yelled, emerging from the bathroom. Mike looked up from his phone “ there’s a sick nightclub at Caesars Palace. Let's check it out.”
After shot number four, I was feeling like a king.I made my way from the bar back to my table, through the crowds of people silhouetted against the multicolored lights of the club, and found Danny,Mike,Reggie, and a girl who Reggie introduced as Lolita. After shooting Reggie my
world-famous she’s-not-staying-the-night glare, I took my seat and laughed at the tail end of the joke Mike was telling.
After a few minutes, I noticed a rather out of place man a few feet from our table. He looked like a real greaseball, with a shiny balding head that housed a combover synonymous with the word creepy. Had I not been so hammered, I would have been more suspicious when he walked up to our table. “Hello Gentlemen” He said with a grin that showed off slightly crooked, yellowish teeth. “You seem like the kind of guys that belong in some place other than a cramped one room night club. Perhaps someplace more… exclusive would better suit you.” Eying Danny’s expensive blazer and tie clip, the man leaned in close, putting his hands on the table. “ I'll cut right to the chase: if you follow me, I'll take you to the most exclusive casino in Vegas.” He raised his eyebrows. I turned to see what the guys thought, only to see Danny standing up from his seat, with Reggie close behind. I turned to look at Mike. He shrugged. “What the hell! It's Vegas after all,” Mike stood up and I followed suit, jogging a few paces to catch up with the group. After passing a row of Rocky Horror Picture Show themed slot machines, the greasy man banged open a door marked “Staff Only” to reveal a dark staircase with lights strung on either side of the stairs like a movie theater. Reggie let Lolita go first with a slurred,“ladies first”, Reggie then took a step down,stumbled, and proceeded to slide down the stairs, taking out Lolita like a lone bowling pin. Danny,Mike and I had to grip the handrails as we descended, due to us laughing so hard.
A strange mix of thick perfume and cigarette smoke greeted our nostrils at the bottom of the stairs. Mike could barely hold back a gag as we walked further down the hall. As we rounded a corner, I saw a large golden sign above the main entrance to the casino. “The Thomas Bernard club of Las Vegas” It read, with the image of two dice outlined with fire underneath. “Before everyone gets started, will you follow me please!” The greasy man said, leading us past rows of blackjack tables to a blue metal door that seemed out of place with the rest of the casino. “Here,” said the greasy man, abruptly open the door, “ is where you join the club”.
“Choose anywhere you want, sir.” The tattoo artist said, as Reggie sat down in the chair. If I had been in better shape, I would have thought that a tattoo was a pretty weird membership requirement. “ I'll give you $100 if you get it on your ass” Dan said, giggling. Reggie wasted no time dropping his jeans and pointing out the perfect place on his right cheek. Within the hour, Reggie was holding a mirror to admire the Devil’s Tongue flower that had been printed on his butt. Dan came next, who got his on his left shoulder blade. Mike got his on his bicep. He told us he could make it dance, but winced in pain as soon as he flexed. Reggie practically fell over laughing. I got mine on my left shoulder. As I stood from the chair, the greasy man entered. “All set?” He asked in a jovial tone. We nodded. “Excellent!” The man said, clapping his hands together, “Have fun!”. All four of us exited the room, and Reggie immediately jumped on one of the slot machines, dragging Lolita behind him. Strange, I had forgotten Lolita was even with our group. Did she even get a tattoo? Dan grabbed my shoulder. “ we're headed to the craps table. Come on!”.
An hour later, I was running the craps table like a champion. Cheers went up every time I rolled the dice, and a particularly good looking girl in a short club dress had been making eyes with me across the table the whole time. I jumped out between games and asked if she wanted to grab a drink. After we ordered,the girl grabbed my arm. “Have you heard the rumors about this place?” she whispered to me, with eyes that sparkled with curiosity. “Like what?” I replied, taking a sip of my beer. “Like about the people who run this place? I heard one of them went insane.” She spoke with the voice of an idle teenager, and I found myself slightly on edge as I responded. “Really? Interesting.”my hand curled tighter around the bottle I was holding. The bartender startled me when he walked over to us. “Miss, that's only a rumor. Trust me, I've worked here for almost 30 years. Mr. Bernard and his brother were killed when the boiler underneath their personal ski lodge exploded one winter. Bodies were never recovered. Horrible ordeal.” The bartender said, looking past us into thin air for a second, before turning to help a big buff dude who had just approached the bar. Something had seemed… weird about that bartender. He had rattled that story off almost as if he had memorized it beforehand. Like he’d had to say it more than once .I glanced in the direction the bartender had looked, where two casino security guards were staring directly back at me. “Hey are you ok?” The girl’s words snapped me back to reality, and I was vaguely aware that my hands were shaking. “Yeah” I said, clearing my throat. “Will you excuse me for a second?” She barely got a chance to respond before I was sprinting away from the bar. Something definitely wasn’t right. I needed to find the guys.
Dan wasn’t at the craps table. As I ran down the rows of bright, flashing slot machines, air reeking of cigarette smoke filling my lungs, I began to well and truly panic. I felt like I was drowning on dry land. I needed to find the guys. I must not have been running as straight as I thought; I ran into a group of people, and almost knocked a few down. Turning a corner, I saw Reggie and Lolita, facing a slot machine at the end of the aisle, seated with their backs to me. Relieved, I sprinted over to them. As I got closer, my relief slowly melted into horror.
The first thing I noticed was that Lolita was crying, tears streaming down her face, smearing her cheap makeup and turning her tears black with mascara. Then I noticed that she was whispering something I couldn’t hear into Reggie’s right ear. The third thing I noticed was that Reggie was dead. Not just dead. He looked like a burn victim. Though somehow his shoulder length hair and thick glasses remained in tact, his skin was a sickening, ashy black. His eyes were gone, and his mouth was open in a silent scream of agony. The final thing I noticed, and something that has rattled around in my brain for years, was that Reggie’s right hand was clutching his right buttock. Right where he had gotten his tattoo. His other hand was melted to his phone, where what was left of the screen displayed the frozen image of a phone call marked “Mom”.
I don’t know what I intended to say when I opened my mouth, but before I got the chance, I wretched, and vomited my dinner all over the tacky casino carpet. The room began spinning again, my skull throbbed like my brain had been replaced with a hornets nest. What the hell just happened? Why was no one else helping, or even noticing? That’s when I felt a hand on my shoulder. “ You don’t look well, friend.” The voice was the exact opposite of comforting. I looked up and found myself face to face with the greasy guy that brought us here. He was so close I could smell his rancid breath under a thick shroud of cologne. “Here, come with me.” I wanted to protest, to get this disgusting man away from me, but I was so in shock that I could only stand there as he put a hand on my back and guided me away from Reggie’s corpse. It took me a while to realize that he hadn’t noticed him. Or if he did, he sure as hell didn’t say anything.
The next thing I remember is sitting in a large, comfortable chair. I looked around and found I was in a lavish office, similar in design to the suite we had bought for the bachelor party. One thing that caught my eye, however, was the Devil’s Tongue flower in a vase on the bar. That was when all of the memories of what had happened flooded back into my head. I went to stand up from the chair, but found I was unable to pull myself from it. Why was I so weak? “Don’t bother” a voice came from behind the chair. I heard the sound of wheels on the carpet, and I started panicking all over again. My mind was awash with fear as saw through the large mirror on the wall,what, or rather, who was being brought in.
The greasy man from earlier was wheeling in a wheelchair with an IV bag attached to it, as well as a respirator. But I quickly realized it wasn’t for me. In the chair was what appeared to be the charred corpse of a man, barely more than a blackened skeleton in a pinstriped suit. His eyes were covered by the gauze wrapped around the top half of his head. Even so, the two black stains on the gauze right where his eyes should be made me feel like he could see more of me than I would ever like. Before I had a chance to say anything, ask why I was being shown this horrible sight,the greasy man shot me a wink and left. The door slammed, And as I sat helplessly, the corpse spoke. “Allow me to introduce myself” despite how emaciated he appeared, the “man” spoke with perfect clarity. “ I am Mr. Thomas Bernard. I suppose you’ve already heard about me, though.” Mr. Bernard sharply inhaled through the nasal respirator. “What the hell?” I was able to sputter our in my dazed state. “Yes I know. You’re thinking I should be deep in the Colorado mountains,frozen under layers of ice in the ruins of a long forgotten ski lodge. And above all, I should be dead, right?” My mind warped like heated metal. My mouth could only take in shallow, staccato breathes. What had they done to me? “If you haven’t already guessed, that story is about as true as the cheater at a poker table.” Said what was left of Mr. Bernard, with a chuckle that sounded fit for a crow with a broken neck, “Now I guess, considering you don’t have that much time left, I can tell you about how I came to own this...place”Mr Bernard said, seeming to choose the last word carefully.
“In my prime, I was the greatest businessman on the face of the earth, if I do say so myself. With monopolies in real estate, car manufacturing, and specifically… casinos. I owned some of the most popular casinos in the United States, and ended up bringing more tourists to Nevada then anytime in recorded history. I was a king.”
“ I believe it was a Wednesday. I remember going to sleep in my house, and waking up in a room that I could only describe as...as beautiful beyond the concept of beauty. It was as large as a stadium, surrounded by pillars connected by large, medieval arches. The floor was an intricate, polygonal mural that seemed to shift wherever I stepped. The pillars were covered with carvings. Looking closer, I found that these carvings were all different languages, From English, to French to Korean. Towards the bottom of the pillars, languages that were so old I hardly recognized them. Looking up, I noticed that the arches sat in the middle of the pillars rather than the top, and the pillars rose high above them into murky darkness.” Under the desk, I gained movement in my left big toe.
“A voice emanated from the infinite darkness surrounding me.” Mr. Bernard’s emaciated hands gripped the arms of the wheelchair. “I felt both fear and comfort in that moment. It was a voice unlike any other; Speaking English, yet somehow devoid of any accent or defining speech pattern.”
“ I was dead. I had died in my sleep, and was now in what it referred to as Fegefeuer. And whatever dwelled in this place…” Bernard leaned forward, and I swear I could hear his bones creaking and popping beneath his suit. By now I had completely regained feeling below my left ankle, and was swiftly feeling more and more of my entire leg. “ ...offered me a choice. To my right, a simple, red door appeared. ‘Through that door,’ the voice whispered, ‘is your afterlife. And this…’ from behind me came the bright, twinkling glow. Turning, I saw the geometric tapestry of the floor morph into a city street, and the pillars into Vegas strip signs. ‘is the powerful, regal life you ran prior to this very moment.’ Everything below my waist tingled as though it had fallen asleep, and was regaining feeling.
“I suppose you’ve been wondering why I look the way I do, Mr. Ross.” Bernard said, leaning back in his chair. “ I am a man of chance. My gambling has lead me to the most extravagant experiences and luxuries on this earth. I have also lost fortunes the working man could only dream of. With the future of my existence hinging on one choice… I played it safe.” Even with barely any flesh still attached to his blackened skull, and his eyes covered by bandages, I could clearly see anger spreading across his face, making small pieces of flesh fall like bits of paper into the ashtray on his desk. “It didn’t like that. One. Bit.”
And that’s when Mr Bernard stood up. I don’t know why, of all things, that haunts me the most. The fact that such a spindly, crude mockery of the human form had the ability ( or at least the compulsion) to stand as a man would. “Come one more!” Bernard suddenly roared, pulling me up by the front of my shirt so that we would be eye to eye if his head were not wrapped in gauze, “Maybe now I can sleep!”. I realized very quickly his ramblings were not directed at me, as the vacant stains on the gauze were aimed off in the distance. Beyond the walls of the office.
As quickly as he had lifted me, Bernard dropped me. “Not Enough?” He said, his voice suddenly strained, hands clutching his head. I realized in that moment that all of my feeling had returned. I knocked the chair over sprinting out of the office. Strange enough, it was not locked. As I sprinted down the hallway back to the casino, I began hearing something loud. As I rounded the corner back into the casino, it dawned on me exactly what that sound was. Dozens of voices, all screaming. All around me, people were screaming for help, or groaning in pain. It was then that I started…smelling it. Burning flesh tearing through the tomblike shroud of the casino’s stench. I saw people who seemed healthy an hour earlier crumpling to the floor, clutching at various body parts. I thought nothing. I ran, ignoring the dampness at the crotch of my pants. Ignoring the sweat running into my eyes, causing me to slightly stumble. Ignoring the group of three people I pushed through. That is, until I heard Danny’s terrified voice. “Mitch! HELP ME!” his voice cracked in desperation, trying to free himself from the grip of the two security guards holding each of his arms. I turned back, dazed and petrified, as I watched my friend get dragged further into the crowds of writhing bodies.
If she had not been there in that moment, I would have never made it to the door ten feet from where I stood. I would have crumpled onto that singed casino carpet and shut down like a robot in a cartoon. But the girl from the bar was there, and I didn’t realize it until she grabbed a hold of my suit jacket. She screamed one word into my face: “Run!”. I lunged to the door, and it came off its hinges as soon as I pulled on the handle. As I fell out into the dark corridor, I turned and watched as the entire casino seemed to...disassemble. Slot machines became bare wires and sparking lights. Roulette wheels telescoped upwards in layers. The ceiling seemed to melt into concrete and steel beams. My eyes were fixed, however, on the girl in the black dress, crawling on her elbows towards the doorway. I hadn’t noticed how radiant her light green eyes were, until the moment before her head was crushed by a large antique fire extinguisher. Her defined cheekbones and long brunette hair were suddenly lost in a mess of blood and jagged teeth. My eyes rose to the person responsible, and I initially could not understand what I was seeing. I knew it was the man who had lead us to the club, but his face was nothing more than a pile of flesh that wouldn’t look out of place on the Elephant Man. Bulbous skull, eyes swollen shut, and a wide mouth with no teeth. A mouth that was laughing.
I heard footsteps behind me, and turned to see the man in the bellhop uniform, the one who I had seen in the airport. He walked forward until he stood parallel with me, and turned. He gave me an acknowledging nod, then walked into the casino. As he did, the doorway gave off a blinding white light. There was a sound like lightning hitting a gas truck. Then, nothing. I stood up, and stared at the solid concrete wall where the hellish casino had stood. I knew then that I had witnessed something no one else would believe.
People gave me strange looks as I walked down the strip, but I hardly noticed. I made it to the rental car, and the next thing I remember is standing at the front desk of a motel.
I sat on the bed,not knowing what to think or feel. My questions outnumbered my answers one thousand to one, and even attempting to comprehend the tiniest things: The guards, her eyes, the roulette wheel breaking,that bellhop… and Danny’s voice, saturated with terror, fading into the dynn of screams. My phone buzzed on the bedside table, and I didn’t have to look to see it was Nicole calling me again. I stood and looked out the window, at the sun rising over the barren desert. Staring into that crimson ball of gas, all of my anger and confusion funneled into one solid pit in my stomach. I felt so… small. It took me a second to notice the burning pain shooting down my arm. I heard myself yelling, and felt the pain pulsing in my left shoulder. I frantically removed my shirt to see that the veins around the Devil’s Tongue tattoo had turned black. One more answer I didn’t need.
I spent hours cutting off my arm in the bathtub with the swiss army knife I kept in my back pocket. I used my belt as an improvised tourniquet, and bit down on one of the bath towels. I was scared when the first blood started to drip. After a while, it became nothing more than a morbid chore, intercut by crying and grunting from the pain. When I had finished,I covered my stump with the towel. The ambulance should be on its way right about now. We’ll see if it runs into any stubborn taxi drivers along the way.

**NOTE: I'm not saying everything I remember is correct. Panic and confusion can make you think you heard or saw things that didn't actually happen. Please don't downvote me lol - I tried to write down exactly what I can recall/what I gathered from the texts I sent that night.
I also changed the names of everyone in my story for privacy reasons**
On October 1st, 2017, I had gotten just a few hours of sleep. I had slept at 6 AM the night before, but I knew I had to wake up early because my grandpa and my uncle were leaving that day I wanted to say goodbye. I had been sleep deprived for a few days, given we were in Vegas, and the night before I had also barely slept. This is an important detail, not to the shooting, but to my story, personally.
I spent a few hours hanging out with my grandpa and my uncle until they left for the airport. I was so happy to have seen my grandpa that weekend because it had been so long. He’s 90, so I’m never really sure when the last time I’ll see him will be. After my grandpa and my uncle left, my brother and our three friends wandered the Strip to go shopping and get food. After a few hours, my brother and I headed back to the MGM, where we were staying, to hang out with my dad since I was flying from Vegas back to school the next day. After the three of us talked, I was so tired that when two of my friends, Kristen and Courtney, asked if I wanted to go ziplining, I told them to book it for later, because I was going to take a nap. By the time I woke up, it was a little past 8 PM, and my dad asked me what I wanted to eat.
At around 9 PM, we finally decided on eating downstairs at Mori Moto in the MGM. Kevin, my dad’s friend, had been wandering the Strip earlier and eaten dinner by himself, but we asked him to come hang out for our last night in Vegas. I should note that both my dad and Kevin have had strokes, so they are both physically impaired but able to walk, just not well. Jordan and Stacey, my parents' friends, had driven halfway to the Grand Canyon before turning back around, and had also already eaten, but decided to join us just to hang out, as well. The kids (my brother, our friends, and I) made plans to go to New York New York for dessert after dinner.
We were all eating dinner when we looked outside and saw everyone - and I mean everyone - walking away from the casino, towards the food court. We were all confused, wondering what was happening, and my first thought (I don’t know why) was that there was a fight and everyone was going to watch. My second thought was maybe there was a show or concert that everyone was late for. We ignored it, but something in the pit of my stomach felt like something might be wrong. I don’t remember hearing anything, but everyone else at the table remembers hearing gun shots. I was so panicked I don’t know what I remember, but all of a sudden, everyone outside was running and we were being told to “hurry! To the kitchen, now!”
We walked to the kitchen, where they opened the back door leading to a hallway. According to my texts to my friend, this was around 10:22 PM. There were some people there, too, but we were told to stay in the kitchen. We heard from security (I think) that there was a shooter, and I began to panic. I always knew I wouldn’t be good in a situation like this, and I was right. I began to shake uncontrollably and the tears started rolling down my cheeks before I could stop them. My first thought was that there was a shooter in the casino, like a school shooting, but then I thought that maybe it was a guy who had gotten into a fight with someone else and had whipped out his gun. When I accepted that there wasn’t much I could do about the situation, I slowly began to calm down, until we finally got the okay to sit back down. According to my texts to my cousin, this was around 10:33 PM. In my texts to her, I said that there was a shooting outside MGM. We had thought it was inside, but it was outside, and we were all okay.
We proceeded to order dessert, and because we ordered the restaurant’s special, a dessert that lit on fire, we took videos of it. I didn’t save mine, but my brother and Kristen did. The videos were taken between 10:50 PM and 10:59 PM. I googled to see any news of what was happening, and I can’t remember if anything popped up, but I switched over to Twitter. There were reports of a shooter at the Route91 concert. I texted my cousin that I was reading twitter and that “I think the shooter is at mandalay bay.” I told her that they had a machine gun and that I thought the shooter was still active (it was 10:56 PM at this time). "I'm so sad," I texted my cousin. "We're eating dessert and people are literally dying outside."
Everything outside seemed to be okay. I was still shaking a bit but I had calmed down a significant amount. I assumed that the hotel was locked down, so were safe. People were walking back and forth from the casino again. We saw a woman across the restaurant laying on the floor crying. She was on the phone. We thought that maybe she had heard her friend had gotten shot. I had just barely calmed down when again when everyone else but me heard gun shots. There was no walking this time. Everyone outside began running away from the casino. My dad fell off his chair, and before I could panic, I told myself to calm down because I had to help him up.
I helped my dad up and with his arm around my shoulders, we walked to the kitchen. This time, we didn’t stop there. The door to the hallway was open, and we walked down, my dad’s arm still around my shoulder. My mom was on his other side and my aunt was behind him to make sure he didn’t fall and so no one would bump into him. Justin, my brother’s friend, was with Kevin, my dad’s friend, to make sure he was walking okay. I was focused on my dad, but every so often, I would remember someone else in our group and called for them to make sure they were still with us. There were tons of other people (it was pretty full, but not too full to where people were getting trampled or anything) until we hit the door to outside. I had no idea that was where the hallway led to, and if I was panicked the first time we evacuated, I felt like I was going to pass out from the fear this time. I had been crying the whole time we walked down the hallway, but now the tears were coming out faster and I was shaking uncontrollably. Being outside made me feel so exposed, like there was no way to hide if the shooter came. All of this was around 11 PM, according to my texts to my cousin (I sent her a text at 11:09 PM telling her we evacuated again).
My dad told me to calm down, but I just couldn’t. I saw my mom look at me as though she was going to cry, but the second she saw how scared I was, she held back her tears and gave me a hug and told me to calm down. Courtney and Kristen were both on the phone, with their sisters I think, probably telling them what was going on. I’m not sure, but Courtney was crying. Kristen seemed okay - she used to work as in emergency, so she was used to panic. I was texting my cousin the whole time, but my phone was going to die. I don’t know how long we were outside for, but it felt like an hour. It was probably 20 minutes. Courtney and I hugged each other and cried as we tried to calm down.
It’s so strange - I wasn’t crying because I was scared of dying. I can’t really piece together why I was so scared. My first thought was, “what if the shooter comes in here, to this hallway full of people? And I have to watch people die, watch him point the gun in their face and see the terror in their eyes? What will I do if he comes?” The thought of it terrified me. My second thought was about my dad. He can’t run, and that in itself made me panic.
They closed the automatic doors so that you could only open them from the inside. Most people stayed inside, but my group and some others were outside. We were all unsure of what to do. Jordan and my brother kept wandering around to see what the situation was, whether it was safe, what escape routes there were, and so on.
Everything that happened was a blur, so I can’t remember if this is chronologically correct, but I saw a little girl and her mom walk down the hallway, out to where we were standing. There were three women from the concert huddled across from us, standing in a doorway, and they asked the mom if they wanted to hide her daughter there, saying they didn’t have any children. It was at that moment when my heart sank. I had been so scared this whole time, and I was just now realizing that there were children out there. The fact that someone was shooting at pedestrians (which is what we believed was happening) was disgusting enough… the fact that there were children in the mix was absolutely heart breaking. Luckily, the little girl didn’t seem scared, though I’m sure she thought the situation was unusual. The ladies asked her about her favourite shows and kept her preoccupied.
I saw a man who had been shot in the arm. Someone had bandaged him up. At this point, I had already calmed down, and surprisingly, the sight didn’t make me scared again, probably because I couldn’t see the wound. There was blood all over the left side of his body. He seemed dazed, and he said that he was told to take a cab to the hospital. Kevin used his good arm to grab the man a chair. My dad said the man said he’d been shot at the MGM. I wasn’t sure if my dad heard wrong, but my brother said he heard the same. I don’t know what I heard.
I don’t know why, but it was one of my first thoughts to email all my professors and tell them I wouldn’t be coming to class for the next few days. I told them I would be going home with my parents instead, and then flying back for school. I asked for extensions on my assignments. My fingers trembled as I typed out the emails.
After I was done wiping my tears, I saw a woman crying in front of me, with two other ladies. They were wearing plaid and cowboy boots - I know they had to have been at the concert. I went up to the woman and hugged her, asking if she was okay. She told me her friend had been shot and she didn’t know where she was. “She was shot in the face, these men took her and told us to run,” she said. I hugged her again, unsure of what to say. “She’s going to be okay,” I told her, hugging her again, and at that time, I held on to the hope that she really would be okay.
Jordan returned after wandering around to tell us that security said it was okay for us to go back up to our room. I thought we were going to go back into the hallway, but we were to continue outside to the lobby. I didn’t know how close we were to the entrance, and it’s a good thing I didn’t, because I probably never would have been able to calm myself down. I asked the women where they were staying, and they said the Excalibur. It wasn’t safe to walk the Strip yet, so I asked my dad if they could come with us, and my dad said yes. We walked to the entrance, my dad’s arm around my shoulders again, and I tried not to panic. I took deep breaths for the few minutes it took for us to get to the lobby. Everyone seemed to be sitting around. I guess they didn’t have rooms or something. I have no idea, but no one seemed too scared. We walked to the elevators, and I was still scared, knowing I wouldn’t feel okay until we got to our room.
When we got to our room, we closed all the blinds, shut off most of the lights, and all sat away from the Strip. Emily, Barbara, and Lucy, the three women who came with us, were making calls to the hospitals, trying to find their friend. They called her family to let them know what was happening. Barbara broke down in tears every few minutes. Lucy seemed in a state of shock, not crying, but continually repeating that they needed to leave and find their friend. Emily remained calm, telling Barbara (her mom) that it was going to be okay but she needed to calm down. She told Lucy they couldn’t leave because it wasn’t safe. Barbara told us what happened while they were at the concert.
“We thought it was firecrackers,” she said. She said she thought it was strange that someone managed to get fireworks into the concert, but they ignored it. She said she didn’t realize what was happening until they were all told to get down, and even then she didn’t understand. It wasn’t until she watched a bullet pass her face and hit the ground beside her when she understood what was happening. Her friend had been shot in the head, and two guys had picked her up and told the rest of them to run. Barbara began crying again. I hugged her, said Serena (her friend) would be okay, but I didn’t really believe that. I thought if she’d been shot in the head, there was no way she had made it. I didn’t want to watch them get bad news - I didn’t think Barbara could take it. My heart sank again.
I was feeling 90% okay in our room. I figured that the shooters (at the time, we believed there were multiple) was aiming at pedestrians, and we were so high up that it was okay. I doubted that they would aim into hotel rooms, but we lay low just in case. My cousin gave me updates from the police scanner - reports of shooters at Aria, Bellagio, NYNY. My stomach dropped, thinking about how we wanted to go to NYNY for dessert. “Do you think there’s a shooter at every hotel?” I asked my cousin. She said probably. I was a little scared, but I knew panic wouldn’t solve anything. I kept telling myself we would be okay.
Every time someone opened the bathroom door, we all jumped. Someone knocked on our door, and all our eyes widened. It was just hotel staff, asking if we needed anything. We turned on the news to see what was happening. The sound of the gunshots in the videos made my heart race, so I covered my ears every time. I was shivering, even though it wasn’t cold. I knew no amount of blankets would keep me warm, because it felt like the cold was coming from inside my body, but Courtney and I shared a blanket anyway. We read tweets, we watched the news, we listened to the police scanner. Emily continued calling hospitals. I had been okay in the hotel room, periodically crying, but mostly okay, until I saw Emily cry. She had been so strong the whole time, and the moment she broke down was so heart breaking.
I kept thinking about all the kids out there. I assumed that they would be first priority, that people were hiding them to make sure they were okay, but I was still scared for them. More accurately, I felt guilty. Here I was, safe in my hotel room, when children were out there, not even sure what was going on. Every so often, I would say “this is so fucked.” That’s the only way I could describe it. It was so, so fucked. I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that someone could shoot out into a crowd, killing innocent people, but it completely blew my mind that someone could potentially be shooting a child and not even care.
I thought about the people who had been shot. I thought of the people who had been at the concert, scared for their lives. I thought about Barbara and Emily and Lucy’s friend. I thought about how all three of them must be feeling, since they were actually at the concert. If I was this scared, how were they feeling? I thought about the friends and families of people who’d died, or were missing. People died tonight, not even a 15 minute walk from where I was standing. I felt physically sick. I started crying again.
We turned off the news. I was glad because I didn’t want to keep hearing the gunshots. I was relieved to be in our room, but I felt guilty because of all the people who were still out there, scared and defenceless. Finally, the police scanner reported the shooter down. We turned on the news again - 20 dead, 100 wounded. I cried again.
I thought of all the people I had met while I was in Vegas, even the people I had just passed by. I texted the guy I had met at the club the other day. I wondered if the couple we’d seen come from the concert yesterday were okay. I thought of the people we had stood in line with at the food court. I wanted them to all be okay. I thought about how lucky it was that we decided to spend the last night all together. I would have been freaking out if Kevin was off on his own, especially with his inability to run. I would have been worried sick if we couldn’t get a hold of Jordan and Stacey. What if the kids had gone to NYNY for dessert? I would have felt so bad for making my parents worry like that. I would have been so scared not knowing if I was going to see my parents again. Thank God my grandpa had already left. Thank God my cousin wasn’t there.
My head raced with all the what-ifs. What if we’d been wandering the Strip? If we had eaten dinner any earlier, we definitely would have been. It was our last night in Vegas. What if we’d been at NYNY? I love country music. I wanted to go to that concert. I probably would have asked everyone to stand outside and listen.
It was around 3 AM when we all went to bed. My parents' friends went back to their rooms. Courtney asked if I wanted to sleep in her bed, since all our friends had left and I would be sleeping alone, but my aunt stayed with me. I fell asleep around 5:30 AM.
I woke up at around 8:30 AM. The three women had already left, but had left us a note saying they had left at 6:30, saying thank you and to keep in touch. I turned on the news. 50 dead, 400 injured. I cried. An hour later, the death toll rose to 59, with 500+ injured. I cried again. I usually cry when I hear of mass shootings or bombings around the world, but this time, I couldn’t stop. This time around, it felt too real. It very well could have been me. Why wasn’t it me? Why did those people have to die? The chances of us being on the Strip during the shooting were astronomical. It was all because of my nap that we hadn’t eaten any earlier. I started to cry again.
We went downstairs for breakfast. The tone was so strange… everything felt very somber. I can only recall one rowdy table in a sea of quiet. I don’t know how to explain it, but the air felt very respectful, like we all had an understanding of what had just happened and we should all be respectful of the situation. Some people were gambling, but it was a lot quieter than usual. I remember hearing someone spin the wheel at one of the gambling tables, and it sounded like automatic gunshots. My body tensed.
All my professors were incredibly understanding and I was so grateful. For some reason, I thought they wouldn’t be so understanding, but they all emailed back saying they were glad I was safe and we could talk about due dates when I got back. I teared up reading the emails. (You can see that I was an emotional mess).
I texted Emily, who had left her number. Her friend was in the ICU. She’d been shot in the cheek, and the bullet exited her other cheek. She’d broken her jaw and it would have to be wired for 6 weeks straight, but she was going to be okay. I can’t even explain the relief I felt. I thought for sure she wasn’t going to make it. The guy from the club texted me back. He and all his friends were okay.
I received texts from both the night before, while it was happening, and the morning after, from my good friends to people I hadn’t seen since high school. I felt so grateful to have so many people care about me enough to ask.
I went home with my parents that day, and my aunt and I slept in the same bed again. I was still in shock over what happened. I cried reading about the people who died. I thought about their family, their friends… the children who would grow up without mothers or fathers. The husband who died protecting his wife. The guy who was a year older than me, who lived where I used to go to school. I had two mutual friends with him. That could have been me. A 20 year old girl had died. That’s my cousin's age. A mom left behind three children. I can’t even find the words to explain what I was feeling. I became obsessed with reading about Stephen Paddock. What was his issue? What could possibly possess someone to do something like this? I read news articles, googled him every half hour, read every recount of the event from various people, looked up stories on Reddit… I quite literally became obsessive. I didn’t know what to believe. What we had experienced, what people were saying… it didn’t exactly align with what story was being put out there. It didn’t sit right with me. But I also understood that panic and confusion could mix up memories… although the timeline of my story (which I got from text messages I had sent out) didn’t fit with the police timeline, either. I was so confused. I needed answers.
I flew back to school two days later. I held back my tears as my mom dropped me off at the airport, but as soon as she left, I started crying. I felt so alone.
I got back to my apartment and immediately locked the door. I had a habit of leaving it unlocked, but I didn’t feel safe doing that anymore. I got into bed and cried. I had been crying on and off for the last few days, but now I felt so alone. I didn’t tell anyone I was back in town because I didn’t feel like seeing anyone. I read up on Stephen Paddock that night, until I came across a supposed photo of his face after he had shot himself. I only saw it for a second, but it’s an image I still can’t get out of my head. I began sobbing. I couldn’t sleep now. I texted all my friends to see who was awake, but it was 2 AM - everyone was asleep. My lovely friend texted his old roommate to ask if I could sleep over, and his amazing roommate said yes. I walked over to his place and he let me in. He was so incredibly nice to me that, again… surprise, surprise, I wanted to cry. I’m really not ever this emotional. It’s been a taxing time for me.
I’ve had a tough time falling asleep. I have awful dreams. I used to get sleep paralysis, right after my dad had his stroke, and I was getting it again. I have dreams about shootings. I used to sleep in pitch black, and now I’m afraid of the dark, so I keep a light on and turn on Friends and I fall asleep around 4 AM, when I’m too tired to keep my eyes open any longer. Loud noises make me jump. My heart races when I hear police sirens. The thought of crowded places, like clubs or concerts, gives me anxiety. I suddenly have this constant pit of anxiety in my stomach, everywhere I go. For the first 2 weeks, I constantly felt like I was going to cry, and a lot of the time, when I was alone, I did cry.
I wasn’t exactly crying because I was scared, but because I was so angry that I felt this way. It wasn’t fair that I used to love living alone, and now I couldn’t even sleep in my own bed. It wasn’t fair that I went from being happy-go-lucky to constantly afraid of what was around the corner. I didn’t want to feel anxious walking down the street. I didn’t want to start tearing up every time someone asked me if I was okay. I hated sitting in class and randomly start thinking about the shooting and wanting to cry all over again. I felt like I had no one to talk to. I talked to my cousin, but I didn’t want to talk to anyone else because it felt like they didn’t understand and I didn’t want to annoy them. The day after the shooting, social media was flooded with Pray for Vegas posts. But everything went back to normal after that. People posted selfies, travel photos, food snaps… it was as if it never even happened. But for me, it did. For everyone there, it did. I couldn’t just forget, but I completely understood. Whenever there was a tragedy elsewhere in the world, I would feel heavy hearted that day, but the next, it was as if nothing would happened. The difference this time was that I had lived it.
I deleted my instagram for a few days because I couldn’t handle that everyone had gone on with their lives, as though nothing had happened. No one else I followed felt the same anxiety I did. I couldn’t, for the life of me, stop reading up on Stephen Paddock. I thought maybe if I knew why he did this, I would feel some sort of peace. But the stories kept mixing up and nothing felt right, and I felt more and more distraught. I knew I had to stop, because it was hindering my sleep and study schedules, but I couldn’t. Plus, reading other people’s stories made me feel less crazy. I read about one guy who wondered why he hadn’t died, when people around him did. Another woman talked about how she typed her whole account of the story with butterflies and a racing heart - exactly how I typed this up. She said she couldn’t be in large crowds anymore. She’s okay during the day, but scared when nightfall hits. I understood all of this.
I was sitting in one of my classes when I suddenly felt a wave of anxiety, and I sat in the bathroom for 20 minutes and cried. Every night, when I couldn’t sleep because I was too scared, I would cry because I felt so mad that I was too scared to sleep. Then I felt guilty for being so shaken up, when I wasn’t even at the concert. I didn’t see any bullets. I didn’t see anyone die. The worst I saw was someone who’d been shot. How could I be this scared when others saw people die right in front of them? What right did I have to be this traumatized, when I had been in the same hotel room as people who had watched their friend get shot?
I looked back on texts from the night of the shooting and took screenshots - why did everyone else hear gun shots? Why did we evacuate at around 10:15 PM, and then again at around 11? Why did we really believe there were multiple shooters? Why were there other reports of multiple shooters? I know confusion and panic and hysteria can make you believe you heard or saw things you didn’t, but the timelines still aren’t adding up. I still don’t understand. I’m not saying there was a conspiracy. I just want to know the truth. I thought maybe writing out my story would help me get some of my thoughts off my chest, so here I am.

We just spent a week in Vegas split between two hits and three hotels.
This is my 6th time in Vegas, my fiancé’s 3rd time, and my friend’s 2nd time. We love the city. It is the only place like it on Earth. I love it, but this massive adult theme-park needs to be treated with respect and best approached with experience. So, I hope this report will help others.
We were here last year, and although we had an amazing time, we did make some mistakes. This year’s trip was refined to near perfection.
Flights (UK to Vegas).
We’re from the UK. We flew direct with Virgin Atlantic. As far as I know VA are the only airline that flies direct from UK to Vegas. We used 80,000 airmiles to upgrade to Premium seats. When you’re sat on your arse for 11 and a half hours, the extra comfort, space, and legroom are well worth it. It also means the actual cost for the flight was super low compared to booking Premium seats without miles (£400 compared to around £1500).
As it's a 747, I would recommend getting seats on the upper deck. As it is the top bulge of the plane, it only holds around 70 passengers. It feels exclusive, with faster service from the staff, shorter lines for the bathroom, and far less chance a child or baby will be sat near you.
Jetlag.
Something I didn’t take into account last time was the effect of jet lag. We paid for it. With the West Coast being 8 hours behind the UK, we tried a different tactic this time around. As soon as asses touched seats on the plane, we adjusted clocks to Vegas time. We respected the need to sleep by front-loading the flight with lots of booze and soon got our heads down. With those few hours of sleep, we were much better adjusted when we landed.
ESTA.
Immigration into the US can be a pain, but here’s a tip; if you’ve travelled to the US before with the same ESTA, you can use the automated passport scanners and skip the massive line.
Food.
We’re foodies. We’ve traveled the world and eaten at many Michelin Star restaurants. It’s our thing. It’s our passion. We had high hopes for Vegas food last year, but we came to the quick realisation Vegas can’t do quality. It's not surprising. The sheer volume of people that pound the strip means restaurants don’t really need to try to turn a profit. As I said above, Vegas is a theme-park. It supplies the fake and gaudy like no other, but on the flip side it can’t really do genuine or authentic. Last year we had to pay truly spectacular amounts of money before we got a properly impressive meal at é by José Andrés in the Cosmo. I can’t afford to do that again. So, this year we did things differently. We embraced the brash, the massive, and the crappy and ate like the locals.
Finances.
Vacations are my opportunity to live large. I look forward to them all year, and save for them with the intention to experience things way beyond my normal life. I want luxury. I want finery. I want to be treated like a rockstar, because these things just don’t exist in my day to day life. I spent a lot on this holiday, but that’s because I saved for it and budgeted hard for it. If you’re doing Vegas, then you have to do it right!
Hotel 1: The Vdara.
After the flight and immigration we got a cab to our first hotel; the Vdara. What a brilliant hotel. It doesn’t have a casino attached, so is less Vegas and less insane than many strip hotels, but I’ve been there and done that - so this was a beautiful, calm hotel for the start of our trip.
We went for a Lake View Suite. Sounds fancy, and it was, but so much cheaper than an equivalent at one of the other big hotels. The room was massive, and modern. It also had a microwave and food preparation area with fridge separate to the mini bar.
The Vdara also has a nifty room service robot that can deliver snacks and drinks to you autonomously. It is a novelty now, but it worked well and I can see it being rolled out to other hotels soon.
As for location, the Vdara is right behind the Aria and the Bellagio. There’s a sneaky walkway to the Bellagio, or a short walk across the valet to the Aria. From either of these hotels you are straight onto the strip.
Adventures.
Day 1.
First port of call was a walk down the strip to In-n-Out burger next to the High Roller. We don’t have In-n-Out in the UK so its a real treat.
We walked the strip until well after dark, visiting Caesars, the Bellagio for coffee, and finally back to the Vice Versa bar at the Vdara. It is a quiet lobby bar with a calm outside section. We had a few drinks there and then off to bed.
Day 2.
Breakfast at Eggslut at the Cosmo. Expensive, but very tasty. Get the cookie. I has just the right amount of gooey inside and salt crust to make the perfect pud.
Back to the Vdara for a workout at their OK gym and then relaxing at the pool. They do a bag check, but we just had water and coke so let us in. I think they were looking for booze.
After our fill of the sun (still 30^o C + in October) we made our way back to the Cosmo for a late lunch at Block 16. This is their new “street food” area with an excellent selection. We went for the sushi rolls at Tekka. Really good, and bigger than expected. They also have Asahi on draft. Again, a little expensive for the type of food but nice.
Hopped in a taxi for a walk around the canals at the Venetian, then over the the Wynn for drinks at Parasol Down. We like drinking outside, and it was really relaxing sipping cocktails by the waterfall. I had a crab cheesy dip thing with breads that was surprisingly tasty.
We headed back to the Vdara to get ready for our evening at the Luxor. It started with drinks at an Irish bar I forget the name of. It actually had genuine Irish staff and live music, so the fakery was better than most. A few pints later we went to see the Blue Man Group. Hilarious and a lot of fun. Well recommended.
After BMG we wandered to the Mandalay looking for food, but their restaurants were all taken over by a massive convention. We hopped into a cab and made our way back to the Cosmo to Beauty and Essex for food. The restaurant was very cool. You enter through a secret door in a cheesy gift shop. You’re then lead to a dimly lit, intimate table by a pretty server lady. Food was only OK, but definitely not up to scratch for the price. However, the atmosphere was amazing.
Day 3.
Breakfast was a 15 inch pizza slice from Pin Up Pizza at Planet Hollywood. Horrible, greasy pizza, but the novelty was fun. We checked out and picked up our car from our Turo host, a Tesla Model X for the next leg of our trip; a week in San Diego. Amazing city. Go.
Vegas Day 4.
Hotel 2: The SLS.
It was fight night. Hotels were stupidly expensive because of McGregor vs Khabib, so we stayed for one cheap night at the SLS. When we booked it it was still the W, but the SLS since took it over. The room was a Fabulous King, but I’m not sure that name is relevant anymore. Anyway, the hotel is still in a state of flux. The W side was dead. The bar was closed and the few remaining staff seemed to just be milling around. It was odd.
The room was spacious, and had an interesting theme, but seemed a little empty given its square footage. It did have a mirror above the bed, though. Very Vegas. After the long drive from SD, we freshened up and got dinner at Bazaar Meats by José Andrés. This was my favorite meal in Vegas. José Andrés can actually be counted on for a great theme and good food. It wasn’t quite good enough for the price, but it was closer than any other restaurant we visited on this trip.
The atmosphere and decor were incredible. A massive industrial fire pit grilling many meats greets you as you enter. The entire room is bordered by the various kitchens and preparation areas, and produce is proudly on show. There were some freakishly huge vegetables and a vast array of meat slabs all around. Of all the Vegas restaurants I’ve visited, the theming here was on point.
After dinner, we stayed at the SLS for drinks around the casino watching the fight in the sports bar.
Vegas Day 5.
Hotel 3: The Cosmopolitan.
We checked out of the SLS quickly, glad to be away from its strangeness. As if to confirm our ikky intuition, we passed a crime scene investigation outside, little orange cones all over indicating spent bullet casings. Welcome to America, motherfucker!
We headed to our next and final hotel - the Cosmo. What an incredible place. By far and away my fave hotel on the Stip. In addition to the hotels this trip, I’ve stayed at the Stratosphere, Luxor, Aria, and Bellagio. This was better than them all.
Even though it was around midday when we hit the check in desk, the concierge sorted us out with a room upgrade to an immediately available room. With three of us sleeping in one room, he wanted to ensure we were comfortable, so booked us into an unlisted suite with two bathrooms, a japanese soaking tub, and a massive balcony on the 55th floor overlooking the Bellagio fountains and the strip.
That view was breathtaking, and the room was stunning. Only one minor issue - we found a diaper behind the sofa that housekeeping had missed from the last guest. We complained to the front desk and they sorted it with a $75 credit and resort fees refunded. Score!
Lunch was at Secret Pizza. A good slice. Be aware they have more slices available than is on display.
We went to Walmart to pick up booze and snacks. And a kettle. I’m English. I need my tea. Vegas hotels don’t have tea and coffee making facilities in the room, so a $15 kettle and some tea was a must. For the cost of three drinks at Starbucks, this is a good move for us Brits. The Cosmo room also had a little bar with additional fridge to the mini bar, so we packed that bitch with booze, mixers and fruit.
After Walmart we picked our friend up at the airport and got her showered and dressed ready for dinner. A few drinks at the Chandelier bar in the Cosmo, then over to Jaleo by José Andrés. I’m sure you’re seeing a theme with our booked restaurant choices, but José is consistently good. Jaleo was no exception. The paella was a touch disappointing this time, but the other dishes were amazing.
We drank a bit too much sangria, so kept the party going with drinks in Beauty and Essex. It may be a restaurant, but the little bar area also has seating for drinkers to watch the patrons come and go (and the pretty front of house ladies). It proved a great spot to people watch and enjoy their amazing cocktails.
After too many drinks, we retired to the room and enjoyed the view with more drinks and snacks on the balcony. That experience was priceless. The twinkling view of the Vegas madness far below our own intimate little party felt very special. We got pretty messy loving that very special moment, and eventually found the bed. After all, our friend had been up for nearly 35 hours. Hardcore!
Day 6.
To work off the punishment to our livers the night before, we hit the Cosmo gym. It is OK, and actually has a good number of heavy dumbbells. Many hotel gyms I’ve been to stop at around 60lbs but the Cosmo went way up to 100lbs weights. There were only two benches though, so I can see it being a problem when busy.
We got brunch at Lardo in the Cosmo Block 16 street food thingy. Great food, but three sandwiches, a coke, and one fries cost nearly $75! Fucking ridiculous. Street food prices these are not.
After nursing my abused credit card, we headed to The Range 702. We’d booked the Triple Threat package where you get to pick three guns of your choice with 25 rounds each. I shot a Colt, a P90 and an M4. The girls both opted for two handguns and an AK47. The automatic rifles were quite an experience. Loud and violent.
I have shot at The Strip Gun Club before and they were very attentive and let us take our time. Our shooting at 702 felt a little rushed in comparison. They have you shoot all your guns back to back, so for the girls especially they were a little beaten up after their sessions. It would be better to alternate shooters with each gun to give the wrists a rest, but hey, it was a noisy, blasty, shooty good time anyway.
After the blasting we went back to the Cosmo to get ready for our evening. This is where we again paid for wanting to wing it and not book too many things. All dressed up, we headed to the Bellagio because we wanted some drinks at Hyde to watch the fountains as the sun went down. It was booked out by a conference party. So we went to try at Spago. Same story. Booked out by conference weenies. We tried back at the Cosmo at the Chinese Mexican called China Poblano, but again the same fucking story! Booked out by conference weenies.
We said fuck it, went to the room, threw on our shorts and sneakers, and hit the strip for a dirty night. We walked the craziness with slushy margaritas and ended up at In-n-Out again. We had a burger and then went on a drunk hunt for pudding.
Ok. Let me make one thing clear. If you cover a cupcake or doughnut or cookie in enough frosting to choke a donkey, then it will just taste like frosting. And it seems like that’s all you can get at the quick and easy places on the Strip. Our failed pud-hunt brought us to Caesars. I remembered the Gordon Ramsey restaurant did a sticky toffee pudding. Somehow we got seating for three, even though we looked like we’d just been kicked out of a pool party.
I say somehow, but when we entered we could see why.
Gordon Ramsay’s Pub and Grill is the perfect metaphor for Vegas. I’ve eaten at two of Gordon's Michelin starred restaurants in London and one that didn’t have a star. They are all exquisite. Decor, food, service and the general experience all live up to his reputation for perfection. London is possibly the best place on earth for fine food. Gordon has to be on top of his game to make it there. And he does. Vegas he does not. Vegas is about churning out vaguely thematically relevant crap to the clueless for huge profit. Gordon’s Pub and Grill is hilarious. The theme is old English pub in the middle of a Roman themed casino. With TVs. Lots of TVs. It’s as if someone described a pub down the phone to the designer it’s that bad.
We had the corned beef poutine (not an English pub dish) and and the sticky toffee pudding (better). The poutine was terrible. Just fries with pastrami meat (not corned beef) and bad cheese. There was hardly any gravy. The pud was good though, but maybe that was because of a few sunk pints. It hit the spot and the size of it caused comment from the table beside us (who were eating burgers - sigh).
Anyway, after done there, back to the room for more balcony drinks and that view.
Day 7.
A quiet one today. Using the room credit we got a daybed at the Cosmo pool. The cabana bed thing is a $200 minimum spend. The $200 lasted us all day. We managed to eat well, with breakfast, other nibbles, and a few drinks reaching $200.
The pool is gorgeous and the attendants were very attentive (hence the name, I suppose).
By the time we’d spent our credit, it was nearly dinner o’clock.
Dressed up pretty, we headed to New York New York and got Shake Shack burgers. Tasty. Not quite In-n-Out good, but still better than anything in the UK. We played some giant jenga with some random people at one of the outside bars, then went to the Zumanity show.
Zumanity was great fun. Very naughty, funny, and the acrobatics were impressive. Well recommended. The boobies on show and the sexy theme got us ready for our next stop - the Palomino Strip Club.
My fiance and I had been to the Palomino the year before and we loved it. It is the only club in Vegas that does full nude and booze so it is a no-brainer to be number 1. Our friend had never been to strip club before, so that night was a special treat. We got a bottle service table at the runway with champagne and a stack of ones. It was spectacular pervy fun drinking, watching the girls, and chatting with them as they visited our table. We all got a few sofa dances and had a brilliant night. The girls were super attentive, really looked after my friend as it was her first time, and made us feel very special.
We got a drunk burger at In-n-Out (our last - I promise) and somehow made it back to the room alive
Day 8.
Our last full day. After the craziness of the night before, we slept in.
Brunch was at Mon Ami Gabi. Much like Gordon’s Pub, this place was a hilarious parody of a Parisian café. It was nice to sit outside and watch the Strip go by as I munched my lunch, but the food was pretty bad for the price.
After brunch we walked up the Strip past the Mirage and then over to the Venetian. The girls did some hard-core shopping while I made stupid comments, made their lives difficult, and generally didn’t help. I don’t like shopping, OK. Because I’m a child, they soon gave up. Back to the room for our last bookings of the trip. Yay.
After getting pretty, we hit the Skybar at the Waldorf Astoria (previously the Mandarin Oriental). Gorgeous views and really tasty cocktails.
We hit up Lemongrass for dinner without a booking because the Aria was next to the Waldorf. We ordered way too much food, so got most of it boxed up. We dumped it at the room, and then grabbed a cab to the Wynn for our last big destination.
We were on the guest list to see Afrojack at Intrigue. Great club. The line wasn’t too bad. About 30 minutes as they checked on everyone. My friend had a bit of an issue with her ID as it is an English driver's license, but she found a picture of her passport on her phone to confirm it was her. The girls both got two free drink vouchers and I got one (am I not pretty enough?).
The club was just my thing. It was not massive, but still big. The large outside area around the fire fountains and the waterfall was perfect to escape the heat and craziness of the dance-floor. We stayed for far too long given we had a 9 hour flight to catch the next day, but it was worth it. An amazing last night in an amazing city. Of course when we got back in we ate the rest of the Chinese food on the balcony.
Day 9.
One last (expensive-ass) Eggslut, and we were on our way home.
Thank you Vegas.

So, you wanna go to SHOT show? You think it's all fun and games? Get to play with guns? See Jesse James and R. Lee Ermey? SHOT show is the annual pilgrimage of the unwashed masses to Las Vegas to rub elbows with youtube celebrities, bloggers and overseas businessmen copying US made equipment and share infectious disease.
If you love guns, gambling and gonorrhea - SHOT show is for you! It is not my typical idea of a good time. I am not a big fan of Las Vegas.
However: I do attend for a few reasons. First, I do enjoy travel and I'm platinum on AA so I can usually score an upgrade. Second, industry people are in there that I do hundreds of thousands if not millions of dollars with business with so it's nice to put a face with the name and see what deals are out there. SHOT for me has been a bust for the past few years. Being a value guy, I want to buy at $1000 and sell at $3000 and as of recently the gun business is more like buy for $1 and sell for $1.10 if you get what I mean.
We used to do business at SHOT and now it's just checking in on foursquare, instagram and rubbing elbows with bloggers and the like. I want to make money, not spend money so this is very annoying to me.
Anyways, onto the play by play.
Monday, January 16th. One day before SHOT show.
http://imgur.com/a/HoFUm
Every time I've been rejected by a woman, I move $1 from checking into savings and I take the bankroll down to the Wynn for some play. Lets do this.
The TSA line is a shitshow thanks to, well TSA.
I slog my way to the lounge, as shitty as it is to wait for my winged chariot to DFW. I have gone from being in an abusive relationship with Delta to being in an abusive relationship with AA. Although if you really want to experience the battered spouse feeling, UA is a few gates over. This trip's light reading is trying to finish "The Tipping Point" by Malcolm Gladwell. Such a good book as well as "Outliers" if you want a good read.
I walk up to the podium to find out that my upgrades do not clear, even as an AA Plat thanks to the addition of a FOURTH elite tier. Goddamn fucking W. Doug Parker. Asshole. I gate check my bags to make life easier for me and the rest of the folks. The gate agent calls concierge key and executive platinum passengers. I look down and realize I'm wearing a suit and board with the executive platinum folks because I do not care and I look the part. If you walk with a purpose and are dressed reasonably well, you fit the profile. I settle into my window seat and try to finish outliers. I pass out before takeoff and I'm awoken by the dulcet tones of the flight attendants preparing for landing. We land at Dallas a few minutes early and I hightail it to the Centurion for a quick bite to eat. I grab a plate and help myself to some of the excellent brisket, pecan encrusted chicken and some roasted jumbo asparagus. Yes, my pee is going to smell funny. No, I do not care. The lounge is packed. The bar is full and I grab a quick single malt as I have my meal since American's not going to feed me. They begin boarding to Mccarran as I walk out of the lounge. No time for a stop in the spa on this trip. I make it to the gate just as the call group 2 boarding.
I bypass the main line and walk up through the priority line giving no heed to the people that have been waiting there before me as I hold up my paper boarding pass with PLATINUM to the gate agent. I board and take my usual seat - the exit row without the seat in front of it. I'm aghast to see this sight.
http://imgur.com/a/dygil
The savages. Literally. The savages.
I put my loathing away for a moment and look down at the exit row. I have the window. The aisle is a large middle aged man and in the middle is what I believe to be a formecurrent linebacker for the Dallas Cowboys wearing a 52 regular sports jacket. He's not a fat guy in a little coat, he's a big fucking hulk of a man stuffed in an exit row seat that is already an inch narrower due to the tray table. I grimace as I take my seat and give him the manly nod. He does not look happy about the fact that his knees are in the seat in front and I'm stretched out like a Cheshire cat in front of a fireplace on a cold January afternoon.
The boarding door closes for an on time departure and Stephanie the FA takes her seat. He leans over and asks if he can take the empty row across the aisle and she takes one look at the three of us and gives him the nod. I bail out to give him a path of egress and suddenly the trip to Las Vegas has just become way more comfortable. I finish The Tipping Point somewhere over west texas, so I pop a xanax and dr pepper and zone out for the rest of the ride. I awake to feel one of the FA's jostling me awake telling me to put my seat up. I do so and we have a ride so smooth that not even the Delta guy behind me can complain about light chop. We catch the TYSSN4 arrival and the next thing I know it the Messier Dowty landing gear of the A321 touch the paint at Mccarran for a smooth rollout down 25L.
My phone battery is approaching grim death since this seat has no power plugs and I find bartman383 has sent me a message. He has been enjoying LV with his wife and their due to bad weather they are in the city of sin for a few extra nights. He invites me to dinner. I'm still pretty full from DFW and I tell him I'll be over there once I get my bags and the car and I'll see him when I see him. He gives me the info for the hotel as we pull up to the gate.
First stop: Centurion lounge. AA's app tells me bags being unloaded. I grab a quick bite of fried chicken and brussels sprouts since they are good for you and a chocolate pudding. The brisket and pecan encrusted chicken from DFW still has me full but I'm well aware of the speed of a union baggage handlers nowadays and who doesn't like chocolate pudding? Terrorists. That's who. Want to know how to screen for terrorists TSA? Set up a table of free chocolate pudding at the airport. The people who don't take any are members of ISIS. It's just that simple.
I grab my bag and hoof it to Hertz. I'm an idiot and I am an hour late for my pickup. Oops. Will an Audi A3 suffice? I sigh and I accept my Teutonic quattro chariot. I do a burnout in the parking garage and hightail it to the exit. I flash my #1 card and my ID and the gatekeeper gives me the go ahead. I get onto the the strip and traffic is awful. I'm going to be late for dinner. I make a left onto Russell Road and hightail it up the 15. I manage to get the car up to 100 as I pass the Luxor. My phone is dead so I can't message Bart about being late. Fuck. The exit approaches quickly as I put the 4 wheel disk brakes to work and sling the car around and head south on Las Vegas Bl. I accidentally turn into the Bellagio and I'm now running even more late. Fuck. Eventually, I get the car into the garage at the Cosmopolitan and head upstairs. I cannot remember the name of the restaurant but I head up to the third floor where all the restaurants are and I see this sign that's reminiscent of my days in retail.
It says RESTAURANT - LOUNGE - PAWN SHOP.
I laugh. I walk in. It's literally a pawnshop. I look around puzzled.
FC: Is this a restaurant?
Bald Headed Guy: Yes, through that door.
He points towards a door. I walk in to find a bustling restaurant, lounge via the entrance of pawnshop. This is insane. I pass a mirror and check myself out. I adjust my tie, after all it is YSL and the ladies LOVE YSL. Remember that. I find the hostess and inform her I will be joining some friends for dinner. They probably do not have me on the reservation though but I turn on the charm and she smiles and says no problem at all. She asks if my tie is from Hermes. I say no, I'm a YSL guy. She looks impressed as I tell her I'll make a quick lap of the room to see if they're there and surprise them. She gives me a nod and tells me to go right ahead. Still got it.
I spot bart and his wife who I can only remember vaguely from gunnitlive after party video and I pull up a chair. Bart is surprised to see I made it and they are in the middle of dinner. They offer to ply me with food and beverage but I decline as I'm driving so no booze for me and no food since I am stuffed from Dallas. We chat about life and liberty over libations. Bart's wife thinks I am hysterical. She's had a few drinks and they are already into their main courses. The brussels sprouts are way too salty and we have to send it back. No bueno.
Bart invites me up to his suite on the top floor of the hotel where we are to meet Brogelicious later in the evening. I say, when in rome......we head to the top floor of the hotel tower where Bart shows me his view from the balcony and cracks open the mini bar for some more libations. He asks if I want a drink and I say I better not. I'm driving.
Not 30 seconds after arriving, brogel shows up. Bart's wife hugs brogel. She's infatuated with him. We start shooting the shit and bart opens up the minibar and tells us to take anything we want, it's on the hotel. I laugh and I look outside as bart opens his yeti 110 for some silver bullets. Apparently he is so baller the hotel will send up a yeti 110 filled with beer to make him happy. His wife is apparently such a baller. I ball on a budget. They just ball. Hahaha.
We shoot the shit some more about guns, gun stuff and people on the reddit for a while. I get a little thirsty and I crack open bart's cooler. I ask him how long the stuff in the cooler is supposed to last and he says until Wednesday.
I look down and I am agape at what I see.
We had two bags of grass, seventy-five pellets of mescaline, five sheets of high-powered blotter acid, a saltshaker half-full of cocaine, and a whole galaxy of multi-colored uppers, downers, screamers, laughers... Also, a quart of tequila, a quart of rum, a case of beer, a pint of raw ether, and two dozen amyls. Not that we needed all that for the trip, but once you get locked into a serious drug collection, the tendency is to push it as far as you can. The only thing that really worried me was the ether. There is nothing in the world more helpless and irresponsible and depraved than a man in the depths of an ether binge, and I knew we'd get into that rotten stuff pretty soon.
I mentally prepared my butthole and I decided to help myself to a coors light against my wishes but Bart, Bart's wife and Brogel are all drinking so I let peer pressure take hold as I cracked open a beer with them. We head out to the balcony to smoke some cuban cigars together as bart's wife takes a photo of all of us. We all look like hell. Haha.
As bart downs his second beer, he asks me a question.
Bart: ever go hunting?
Me: Ducks a little bit but not much
Bart: ever want to hunt some deadly game?
Me: Like on african safari?
Bart: No, I mean like.........man.
Me: Hahahahhahaaha you're just fucking with me. Hahahahahhaa. That's really funny.
Bart: No really, the concierge here at this hotel will set it up for us. It's amazing. I remember my first hunt......
Brogel starts laughing and I realize they've been doing a bit. I've been had.
We bullshit about SHOT and Barrett's shotguns and other things and next thing I know, it's late but bart hands me a mixed drink. I sip it a bit and I was in the middle of a tirade complaining about my customers. Suddenly, there was a terrible roar all around us, and the sky was full of what looked like huge bats, all swooping and screeching and diving around the city, and a voice was screaming: Holy Jesus. What are these goddamn animals? Nobody seems to understand what I'm talking about. It's cold on the balcony. Our cigars are done. We head indoors. No point in mentioning these bats, I thought. Poor bastards will see them soon enough.
Back indoors I realize Brussels sprouts and coors light is a bad choice. Seriously no bueno. I excuse myself to the bathroom and drain the vein. The asparagus funny smelling pee and the side effects of beer and brussels sprouts is a noxious combination that a defense contractor should weaponize it. It's pretty bad and not even cuban tobbaco can mask the smell.
I sit back down and continue to talk about guns and stuff with bart and the gang and bart asks who ruined the bathroom. I apologize as he sprays a bunch of febreze around and opens the balcony. I apolgize to brogel. He is not accepting my apology. (sorry :( )
Nearly 11, it's about time to pull chocks and mosey on down the dusty trail. I don't want to prompt an evacuation of the hotel due to noxious odors so I decide to leave and bart seems to be kinda mad that I've ripped ass and polluted the sanctuary of his hotel. Half a coors light and brussels sprouts are no bueno in my book now. Bart decides to party hard with his wife and I offer brogel a ride home. He seems skeptical to share a confined space with me after I have just destroyed bart's hotel room. The car has 4 windows and the Uber will cost him a few bucks he can put towards ammo. He relents as we head down to the garage to find my car. Thankfully we find it quickly and I manage to contain the weapons of ass destruction for the 16 minute ride off strip to casa de brogel.
He says I'm not that bad a dude and I agree as I hightail it to my hotel. I cannot find my hotel reservations so I call my travel agent to see.
Apparently the Wynn was not in my travel budget this year. I have come to find out I have been booked at Circus Circus, much to my chagrin. How bad could it be? I've stayed at the Wynn. I've stayed at Encore. I've stayed at the hotel that Elisabeth Shue's character got raped in in Leaving Las Vegas - but Circus Circus? Did I mention that I HATE CLOWNS? I HATE CLOWNS. Fuck.
I pull into the parking garage and the check in line resembles something straight out of the TSA line at Mccarran. 45 minutes to check in. The clerk is friendly and says he's also from Louisiana which is neat. He asks if I've stayed there before and I, being a connoisseur of old vegas history I decide to make a joke and I tell him the last time I was there, Jay Sarno owned the place. He got a laugh. I head up to my room and unpack. The lobby is clean as an old vegas casino can be, the room is clean and there's no way to plug anything in since the hotel predates personal electronic devices. I plug my phone into my external battery and collapse on the bed. I message Bart and chugbleach instead of falling asleep about show tomorrow and I offer to pick bart up early since there is no shuttle from the cosmo.
Tuesday, November 16th SHOT Show Day One
I awoke several hours later in a daze......the clock said 10AM. The show opened at 8:30. Fuck me to tears. I hurry up and get dressed and down to the sands convention center. The parking lot is FULL. The entire complex is a mess. When my man Steve Wynn built his joint he didn't build enough parking. So people would park at the Venetian and now FUCKING NOBODY CAN GET A PARKING SPACE. Holy shit. I eventually say fuck it and park over at the Wynn and walk over to the Sands. I meet up with a few of my regular suppliers and I see nothing interesting at all. Bart went to bed at 6AM after spending all night partying with his wife over at the palazzo. I joke and say that he just should have stayed there. Bart is amazed at the size of the show and we have lunch at the most disgusting place in las vegas - the convention center bistro snack bar. Bart is a wise man as he grabs a powerade and a fruit cup. I decide to try an "italian beef" and a fruit cup instead of fries to stay semi health conscious. The "italian beef" is the most disgusting thing I have ever eaten. It is flat out depressing. They give me fries with it and I demand a fruit cup. The sassy black woman working the stand asks me "DID YOU ASK FOR FRUIT? CAUSE RIGHT HERE SAYS FRIES" and I channel my inner Louis CK from the "this is how I talk" bit from SNL as I shoot back "WHY YOU FRONTIN ON ME I ASKED FOR FRUIT AND YOUR ASS BETTER BACK UP AND GET ME SOME FRUIT" so she goes back and gets me some fruit.
The "italian beef", my fruit cup, bart's fruit cup and powerade comes to $81. My platinum amex comes out and I treat bart to "lunch". We bullshit about guns and stuff in the Springfield booth as we wait at the world's worst concession stand. We eat and Bart is so hungover that he thinks he is in need of physical therapy and a wheelchair. There is no way he is going to party tonight before his trip home. Or so I think. Haha.
I meander around the show a bit more and I find this, the most USELESS PRODUCT OF 2017. It's made by a company called radetec.
http://imgur.com/a/GOiCB
It's a shot counter. For your gun.
A digital odometer, for your gun.
The only person that would buy this is the guy like my dad that kept a spiral bound notebook in his car where he documented how many miles he traveled per tank, gallons dispensed, PRICE, service station and whether they had a different price for cash/charge, oil consumption, tire rotations, alignments, all services - scheduled or otherwise, and a running odometer. Does anyone know the gun owner who asks for a round count when they are looking at a used gun? The question I always shoot back is "do you want to be lied at a little or do you want to be lied at a lot?" because that's what you're asking for when you ask for round count.
UNLESS YOU BUY THIS PRODUCT!
I roll my eyes so far back into my head that I nearly lose my balance. This is idiotic. I cannot fathom anyone willing to buy this. What a waste of perfectly good exhibition space.
Bart heads back to his hotel after visiting SHOT show for a few hours, not getting any swag and to get an IV of fluids since he looked like he was rapidly approaching grim death.
I wrap up visiting prime vendors and checking out the new products, or lack thereof because I have something on the schedule. At 4:30 there's a suicide prevention for retailers seminar hosted by the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention. As many of you know this is an issue that is important to me and perhaps we as retailers should be doing more. The keynote was from their chief medical director talking about the accessibility of firearms and the mindset of the "typical" suicide. Mostly men. If you are a veteran you are at a significantly larger risk. The information was presented very not surprisingly and one of the things discussed was that we only spend around 21M a year on suicide prevention.
A few take away facts from the keynote:
When suicide barriers are put up on a bridge, suicide rates for the entire area drop. The key to preventing suicide is getting people to talk about their problems. Once you can get someone out of that mindset, they are statistically less likely to do it and live productive lives afterwards. There are certain terms that they are trying to get away from - for instance, they are not saying "committed suicide" they are now saying "died by suicide" in order to bring awareness and tell it like it is.
One thing that really was interesting to me was my reading on the flight in from Dallas. In The Tipping Point, Gladwell discusses how things stay the same and suddenly they all change. One of the things that he discusses is in micronesia - where teen suicide was practically unheard of became an outright epidemic. One teenager did it, for reasons passing understanding to me as an outsider and then all the other kids realized that they too could escape their pain by hanging themselves as well and suddenly the suicide rates in micronesia became so high to where it became a public health issue. I wish I could show you all the article I wrote on TTAG about my friend's death but it has been lost in the cloud and I am unable to find the last draft I sent to print, but it echoes some of the problems we have with suicide and mental health in the firearm industry.
After the keynote, the good doctor opened the floor up for questions. Her keynote posed a lot of statistics but not a lot of answers. I am a detail oriented granular data guy and I did not get a solid grasp of the AFSP solutions posed, if any.
Several firearm dealers discussed the lack of a cohesive solution and the takeaway was they're trying to develop awareness for the suicide problem. Their goal is to lower suicide rates but how they get there is yet to be determined. I didn't like hearing that and the comments from the crowd reflected the lack of a "here's what you can do TODAY to help this problem" part of the initiative.
Going around the room, one dealer who used NICS said that if a customer was just flat out acting funny - he'd lie to the customer and say there was a delay with NICS even though there was an approval just to get them to not be able to have a gun for a few days. The crowd applauded this initiative, however I'm not sure lying to customers is the best way to run a business and treat them with respect. Another dealer brought up an interesting point. When someone comes in looking to buy a gun and they don't know what kind of gun they want, what caliber, and are generally clueless - they're either buying a gun to kill themselves with, OR perhaps they are a very uneducated prospective customer - and there is no clear way of finding out which is which.
The problems presented by the AFSP are real. The solutions aren't there though. Yet. Ideally I'd like to see some change to that. However, there's some problems.
I hung around and asked the good doctor and her staff some questions and I am in no way denigrating her life's work and her dedication to preventing suicide since she has dedicated her life's work to the issue, but the conversation went something like this.
Did you do any research on the accessibility of firearms from a retailer from the legal standpoint?
"No, we haven't"
Do you know how the NICS or state POC background systems work in regard to mental health holds, etc?
"No"
One of the problems that I foresee right off the bat is that you talked about how you are fighting time, and if you can get someone out of that suicide mindset - even for a few hours, you can get them into that higher survival bracket. If we apply a one size fits all solution to it like California and put a 10 day wait on everything with the goal of protecting someone from their own life, how do we balance that with the needs of the woman who has been hiding from her abusive spouse and needs a gun right away?
"That's a good question that I don't have an answer for."
Their initiative, I admire - the lack of solutions is a little off putting however. I tell the doc about how my friend's suicide has impacted me and she seems to be sympathetic to the situation as does her colleagues. I am given her cards and told to call the next time I'm in New York so we can get together and discuss things within the industry. I'll give them a buzz in a few weeks when I'm up there on business. On my way out of the hall, I run into Massad Ayoob. Nice guy. I've admired his work over the years. Bart invites myself and chugbleach to dinner, I can't reach Chug and even though I am beat I decide to hang out with Bart and Mrs Bart
Bart: What do you want to eat?
FC: Let's find a nice seafood restaurant and eat some red salmon, I feel a powerful lust for red salmon.
I begin vomiting.
God damn mescaline. Why the fuck can't they make it a little less pure?
We eventually head downstairs and order too much food. We are tired and not very hungry. Bart is still hungover and barely able to process food. His wife is grazing on all sorts of meat products. I am in awe of how they are both still upright after six nonstop nights of partying. I've only been here one day and I feel like I am about to die.
Dinner concludes with an awkward hug with bart's wife - I don't know how other men feel about wife hugs so I have just avoided the prospect entirely. Like flying through Denver on Frontier. Or flying on Frontier. Ever.
I drive over to the Wynn to set up my markers and the poker room is full. I draw a $2500 marker at the craps table and watch the game a bit. I have never played craps before in my life but the three people there seem to be having fun.
I look down at my phone and I realize a plane has landed. fluffy_butternut has landed in Las Vegas on business. I had lost a bet and offered to pick him up from the airport. I cash back in my chips against my casino credit and head back to my car. I cannot find my car. Fuck. I wander the wynn garage which is covered in construction debris. I eventually find it and haul ass to the airport. Now, I didn't know this but fluffy has the WORST SENSE OF DIRECTION AT ALL. Seriously. I have no idea how he even made it to the correct city. He lands and has to get his bag and stuff and I circle the airport. He lets me know he's at door 77 wherever the fuck that was. I drive into the pickup portion and I see no sign. He then says he's coming up a level, and I tell him that I'll be there shortly. I park the car and Metro PD starts yelling.
Metro: You can't park your car here.
FC: Why not? Is this not a reasonable place to park?
Metro: Reasonable? You're on a sidewalk! This is the sidewalk!
I give the man a $20 and tell him to keep it running as I wander Mccarran screaming FLUFFY! HERE FLUFFY! I message fluffy to let him know I am the car parked on the sidewalk. I instantly figure out who he is having never seen a photo of him and I throw his bags into the car as we head for his hotel. I haul ass out of the airport and get the A3 on the highway.
Now this was a superior machine. Thirty nine grand worth of gimmicks and high-priced special effects. The rear windows lit up with a touch like frogs in a dynamite pond. The dashboard was full of esoteric lights and dials and meters that I would never understand.
We check in at the Rio where the desk clerk is friendly and flirty. I express amazement there is no line. Fluffy checks in and we take his bags upstairs and he offers to buy me food for driving him to the airport. I decline. We head to the bar anyways. He orders two beers and we decide to call chug. He's staying out in Summerlin or something because his company is apparently run by cheapskates. He asks if we want to hang out and shoot the shit. I say sure and ask if he wants us to pick up food or anything from CVS or something since I have the car and I'm able to do anything I want. He asks for some toothpaste. No problem. I may be an asshole on the internet but I have a heart of gold. We get some toothpaste get to the hotel.
Arriving at the lobby, we have no idea where he is. It turns out he gave us the address for the hotel across the street. We laugh and go to that lobby and shoot the shit till 3AM much to the chagrin of the hotel clerk. Fluffy has some beers and we plan on dinner the next day. I drive fluffy back and arrive at the hotel at 4. Fuck me to tears.
Wednesday, January 18th. Day 2 of SHOT show.
Alarm goes off at 7:30 AM. I wash up, eat and get breakfast. In the garage by 8:15. Nice. I get some dillo dust and check out the new Sig 220 DA/SA and SAO legions. Daddy likey. I go to a competing firm and I piss of my state sales manager by telling him his newer designed triggers suck ass. He says the company tested them and they're the same in every way. I ask him why the triggers have two different part numbers in the catalog and how come they're not interchangeable and if that's really the case, how come there's X changes in the supposedly identical pistol parts that he's holding side by side. He gets mad at me and says I'm not an expert on their product and perhaps I should take his job since I'm so smart. I agree that I'm smart and I hold firm that if he didn't want me to complain about the shitty trigger, they should stop selling guns with shitty triggers. I am nearly kicked out of the booth.
I meet up with some of my wholesale reps and I'm mid convo when I see Itsgoodsoup and his friend walking around the show. I yell SOUP but he does not hear me. So I grab his friend and find him and I tell him we should get together at dinner with fluffy and chug. He agrees.
The show winds down, I get some business done and nothing much else. We break for a shitty gunnit live lite and I take a few questions from the crowd in fluffy's suite at the Rio. Dinner is at 8 and we arrive at the restaurant late to find soup and his friend sitting at one table and chug and his girlfriend sitting at another. Perhaps we should have gotten here a little earlier. Hahaha. So, fluffy said the place is really good and I order a few of the specialties of the house. Apparently according to yelp they do a kickass peking duck. Soon to be mrs chug is a vegan. But we can eat meat in front of her. I wonder how it's served and Soup's vancouver raised asian friend tells me that they normally carve it tableside. Our vegan says as long as there's no head she's cool. We're not sure if they can fulfill that request. So we order and food starts coming out and we tell tall tales of shot show BS and other stuff. Sure enough, the duck comes out with the head. No bueno. Haha. But I decide to treat us to vegan donuts at the vegan bakery across the street later. Seven courses later we are full. Vegan bakery closed. I am committed to getting her some vegan donuts though. We head to Fremont street to gamble. Fluffy wanders about and we try craps and we're not impressed. We hit some slots and eventually I hit the craps table where chug explains the game to me. We start betting on dice. And somehow we start winning. I find that the house allows you to take 10X behind the line. No idea what this means so I plop $5 on the pass line and the point hits 6. I drop $50 behind it and it hits. We go a few rounds and leave ahead. It's 2:30 AM. Fuck. I drive everyone back to their hotel. I get to sleep around 4.
Thursday, January 19th. Day 3 of SHOT show.
Wake up at 10AM feeling like crap. Debate whether to head straight to show and wander about. Fuck it. Went to halal guys for some halal. Delicious. Got vegan donuts. Dead drop them at the Palazzo lobby for chug and his girl. Show is a bust. Literally nothing exciting. Fluffy offers to buy me dinner. One of my customers who lives in Summerlin offers to take me to dinner. I pass on fluffy and he destroys the seafood buffet at the rio. I head to Sinatra at the Wynn for dinner with my customer. All good in the hood. Chug has been invited to the Glock dinneafter party and I'm not so we all go our separate ways. I call foghorn5950 and due to some weather, he's flying home early and our plans to hangout are fucked up unless I go tonight. I grab fluffy and we head to Whiskey Down. He orders a makers and I give him a funny look. I tell the waitress make it a bulleit. Everyone laughs. I talk shop with Jeremy also from TTAG and we shoot the shit over cigars and talk about useless products. Next thing we know, chug is out of the dinner and wandering the strip. We decide to meet up at the Linq. It takes us nearly 30 minutes to get out of Whiskey Down at MGM because the waitress was awful and messed up everyone's tab. It was a fucking disaster. To boot, MGM is now charging for parking.
FC: What a bunch of fucking jews
Fluff: You should just tailgate that lady in front of you out and screw them out of the $7
FC: I should
We pull behind her and watch as she gets flustered at the awful parking machine. Her nevada license plate says VETERAN. As the gate goes up we haul ass and screw MGM out of $7. I shout "THANK YOU FOR YOUR SERVICE" out the window as we blow right by her up to the Linq. Through fluffy's awful navigation, we wind up at the loading dock for the Linq. Eventually we find chug and gf hanging at the penny slots. They are holding vegan donuts, which she is very appreciative of. Least I could do after showing her the head. Fluffy plays the House of Cards slot machine.
He stuck $100 in, played for 6 minutes and then got really mad and hit the cash out button and $80 was left after 5 minutes.
ITS EXACTLY LIKE THE FEDERAL GOVERNMENT!
Chug's gf asks to play a special slot machine called kitty glitter. We ask and the linq does not offer it but Harrahs next door does. So we head over there and the slot tech finds the kitty glitter machine. Fluffy sticks a C note in there and tells her to play and have a blast. So she's banging away at the one armed bandit WHEN SUDDENLY I HEAR THE SOUND.
It's PUTTIN ON THE RITZ in shitty .wav file internal speaker format. Hahah. She's just hit the progressive jackpot on the penny KITTY GLITTER machine. THIS PLACE IS AWESOME! We cash out after some play and a good time was had by all. I dump off fluffy at the rio since it was very close and drive everyone else back. It's late, I'm tired and the Palace Station oyster bar is open 24 hours......I head over there and there's a 45 minute wait.
So, I pull out my backup bankroll and using everything chug and fluffy have taught me about craps I belly up to the $3 min table where they let you take 10x behind the line. I'm still learning and the table is slow so one of the boxmen start explaining the game to me.
Box: So if you place the 6 or the 9 or individual numbers you can bet those but you gotta pay a little juice on it like a commission
Me: Like when you buy the hook?
short pause
Box: Yeah! Exactly like that! You got this!
So I played a little and went up a bit and down a bit. As you do. Plunked $5 down on the pass line and took full odds and the point hit. This game is pretty cool! So I hung around and watched for about an hour and finally decided to eat my winnings. I take $5 off my stack and, drop it on the pass line and announce dealer bet - $5 to pass. It hits. The dealers love me.
Maybe Vegas isn't so bad after all.
http://imgur.com/a/LGhDj
I have the pan roast at the oyster bar. No line. It is DELICIOUS. I get back to the hotel at 5AM. I don't care when I wake up.
Friday, January 20th. Day 4 of SHOT show.
Wake up around noon feeling like crap. Go to show. Debate destroying milk cart with wheels with an ax borrowed from fire station. Decide against it. Gas up car and find myself out by palace station again. Played some craps, hit the buffet and went for an early sleep.
It's midnight. The neighbors in my the hotel are having sex. A LOT OF SEX. I can hear everything. I gently knock on the door. No answer. I knock slightly harder. No answer. I head back to my room and close the door just as I hear their door open. I zoom back out to find a puzzled middle aged stocky and perhaps sticky Latino man looking both ways.
I get in his line of sight.
Me: Hey. I'm next door. It sounds like you're having a lot of fun. I get it. I really do. In fact I haven't had sex since the bush administration so I'm gunning for you man I really am. But it's midnight and I have a 6am flight and a rental car to return. So trust me when I say I'm really happy for you but if you don't mind I really need to get some sleep tonight okay?
The awkward silence is deafening. He nods without saying a word and mouths okay. I give him a manly nod and thumbs up.
Me: thanks. I'd shake your hand or fist bump but well you know.....
I give him a peace sign as he goes back into his little pleasure palace and I turn to realize that I have just locked myself out of my room. I am wearing boxers, a tshirt and barefoot. I head downstairs to the lobby. The check in at the front desk resembles the TSA line at Mccarran. Normally I would not be this rude but desperate times call for desperate measures.
The line is 50 people deep. I walk past every person. Fuck your queue. I approach the desk where someone is helping a guest and I raise my right hand as if I were in a deposition to get them to stop. The staff and guest looks puzzled as the angry barefoot man clad in nothing but boxers and a "uzi does it" tshirt approaches the desk.
Me: excuse me. I don't mean to interrupt. I have an emergency. I'm up on 8 and my neighbors are having a lot of sex. I mean a LOT of sex.
(This is the same front desk clerk who actually checked me in Monday night by coincidence looks back at me very awkwardly and puzzled.)
Me: this isn't your regular sex. I'm talking this is your (I begin air humping the front desk and slapping the granite counter with my palm and grunting loudly) sex. You could hear the plan B packaging open.
At this point - the ENTIRE FRONT DESK STAFF HAS STOPPED CHECKING IN GUESTS. The people in line and are watching the show. The clerk is stunned. Speechless. Shock and awed. Crapped out and busted. The women are covering their children's eyes and ears. The men are wondering if this show requires a 2 drink minimum.
Me: now I get this is Vegas. Everyone wants a good time. It's midnight. My flight leaves at 6 which means I have to be up by 4. And this just isn't working. So I asked them to keep it down and I locked myself out of my room. So if you can make me another key or move me I'd appreciate it.
The clerk nods.
Clerk: of course. may I see your ID?
Years of ballet have prepared me for this day. I step back to make sure my genitals are still ensconced in my boxers as I pirouette and gesticulate wildly.
Me: DO I LOOK LIKE I HAVE ID?
The floor manager steps over and asks me to head down to the end of the desk where she will make me a key. I give her the room number and thank her after she offers to have security sent up to shutdown the best little whorehouse in Vegas. I tell her it may not be necessary. As I take my keys and walk away the people in line break out in raucous applause.
I take a bow and miraculously my boxer shorts don't rip. These people are my subjects and I have been crowned the the king of the three ring circus that is the circus circus lobby. Im offered a $1 tip from a kind soul but I decline.
My walk back to the hotel elevator bank is uneventful. So much so that I realize it is going too well. The other shoe, if I were wearing one felt as if it was about to drop. Suddenly a dumbass in a rascal scooter is heading toward me at flank speed as his head is turned to look at everyone BEHIND HIM. There's no way this will end well.
For you gentle readers joining us mid conversation - it's midnight and I need to be at the airport in 4.5 hours. I can just see it now. (Cue the harp noises)
Scene: Emergency room
Nurse: Allergic to anything? Me: NKDA Nurse: cause of injury? Me: what's the IC10 code for "run down by drunken buffoon on motorized wheelchair?"
I saw my life and confirmed upgraded first class seats home being given away by the Mccarran gate agent flash before my eyes and my catlike reflexes kicked in and I jumped to my left into the wall, mid 1960's Las Vegas union construction being the path of least resistance. Think "The Bodyguard" with Kevin Costner.
The buffoon barely realizes what happens. Children are amazed. "HEY MOM! Look! That guy just ran into a wall!"
Me: it was that OR GET RUN DOWN BY SOME JACKASS ON A GODDAMN SCOOTER GOING FULL SPEED DRIVING LIKE A....
I look down and a midwestern nuclear family with two children of formative age are waiting for the elevator. I change my last word.
Me: LUNATIC!
I look over to the parents.
Me: I'm really sorry. This is a family joint and I shouldn't have cursed the drunken scooter driver like that. Sorry kids.
Parent: no big deal. They've heard fucking worse.
I crack a smile at her word choice. Fucking worse. Yeah. That sounds like my evening.
After jumping into a wall, I'm now wide awake and unable to go back to sleep. I make the plane and push on time. The 737 comes to a stop short of the runway and holds. Something is wrong. The pilots come on and say that they loaded more cargo and passengers than planned so they have to redo their numbers. We're waiting on the taxiway with both engines running as they do this and the waiting music comes on. What's the first song?
Whitney Houston - "I Will Always Love You"

Hey guys, I'm sitting at work now back in Arkansas, and thought I'd give a brief rundown of my experience in Vegas for the first time for those that are in the same boat as me.
I'm a 30/M and my girlfriend is around my age(she'd kill me for telling everyone her age, typical female. ;). My birthday was in January, and she decided to surprise me with tickets to go see my favorite comedian Bo Burnham at the Hard Rock. I've never been further than Texas to the West, so I wasn't really sure what the expect, but I can easily say Vegas... is no Arkansas. ;)

• Airfare - We decided to be cheap and use Allegiant Airlines for the flight. The airline that charges you for each checked/carry on bag, to assign seats, to use the bathroom, everything. The fees were higher than the flight. The trip over was uneventful, but the trip back was exciting. Halfway during our takeoff, our pilot had to slam on the brakes due to an emergency maintenance light popping up right before we were to lift off the ground. We were stuck in the plane for 2 hours while they banged and hammered whatever broke. We also were delayed 20 minutes because a couple was late and couldn't be found. They showed up right at takeoff, and were arrested for banging on the terminal door and breaking it. Federal offense and what not, so they might be in Guantanamo now, who knows.
  
• Hotel - Stayed at Polo Towers for free. GF's boss owned a timeshare there. It was decent, but I loved the location. Right in the middle of the strip and close to everything. We get suckered into a timeshare presentation since Polo Towers was offereing free show tickets(Rock of Ages, was awesome). Don't listen to the "Only lasts 90 minute" spiel, it lasted 3 1/2 hours, and you have to say no about 10 times for them to let you leave. Worth it though for free $200 tickets. It was old, but still pretty nice, with a heated pool and hot tub on the top overlooking the strip. Each time we went up there, the hot tub was taken, so that's a bummer. It sits right inbetween the MGM Grand and the Paris, so if you're looking for a decent place to stay, it works. I have no clue what it costs compared to those(we were there for free afterall), but I can imagine it's probably cheaper. You shouldn't be spending your vacation cramped up in a hotel anyway.
  
• Casinos - Casinos were pretty cool. We aren't huge gamblers, so after a couple they all started to look the same. (don't hate me). I decided to take a $20 into each one we went to, and I managed to win nothing, so that is why I hate gambling, haha. Drinks were expensive(we didn't gamble enough to have anyone offer us anything free), so that was disappointing. If you enjoy gambling, I'm sure you'd love it, but I much more enjoyed my time spent outside. I will say though, the Venetian was great and the Gondola rides were beautiful. Listening to the guy sing while he was rowing up the water was amazing. Caesar's Palace was huge as well, and I'm pretty sure the real Caesar has never visited. (thanks Zack Galafanakis)
  
• Transportation - if you are travelling with a group/Wife/GF, make sure you both download the Uber and Lyft app. Both offer new user signup credits, and between both of us, neither of us paid for any transportation while there. We just got Uber here in the town I live, but this was my first time using it. From all the research I read about, Cabs/taxis are way overpriced in Vegas, so I'm happy with UbeLyft. Both apps are fairly easy to use(I preferred Lyft though), and drivers from both companies were pretty good. I definitely preferred Lyft though. The app was better, and the Lyft drivers were just much more talkative and interesting. One of our Uber drivers literally said nothing the entire trip, other than "thanks" at the drop off. We also considered the "Duece" bus, that runs up and down the strip. It's $8 a day, but makes so many stops that it was better to just walk.
  
• Food - Food surprisingly wasn't as expensive as we thought. We ate at Mon Ami Gabe for Breakfast($30 for 2). It sits on the Strip across from the Bellagio fountains, and has outdoor seating which puts you right across from the fountain. We are simple Arkansans, so we just got Waffles/Eggs/Bacon, but man the bacon was DELICIOUS. Loved it. For lunch, we had 800 Degrees Pizzaria. The pizza crust was too thin and the sauce was too sweet for my liking. Pink's "world famous chili dogs" were a disappointment(my favorite is Ben's Chili Bowl in DC), and finally we ate at 35 Steaks+Martini at the Hard Rock($160 for food and alcohol) and it was great. Steak was cooked perfectly, was tender, and the smashed red potatoes were delicious.
  
• Entertainment - The whole point of Vegas right? We went and saw Rock of Ages at the Rio, and it was amazing. I've never seen the movie with Tom Cruise, but my GF and I are watching it tonight. The lead singer, Drew, was great and the Narrator was hilarious. I definitely recommend seeing it if you get the chance. The actors come out into the audience and interact which is nice. It's a little dirty(okay, a lot dirty), so I wouldn't take small kids if you can help it(we saw several under 8 or so). The main reason we went was to see Bo Burnham, and he was hilarious. He has specials on Youtube/Netflix, and is definitely worth a watch if you like "musical comedy". Definitely worth the trip. There is so much free stuff going on up and down the strip though that you can just do all the free stuff and not spend a dime. From street dancers, people singing, or pictures with a grown dude wearing a diaper, there's plenty to keep you entertained if you're on a budget.
  
• Fremont - We weren't sure if we would have time to see Fremont Street, but we squeezed it in Saturday night. This was how I actually pictured Vegas. Small, cramped streets full of lights and chock full of nastiness. It was great. So many local entertainers, and the light show above the street was great. We didn't get a chance to zipline across, but we will next time. Both ends of the Fremont Street Experience had rock shows going on, and they were both great. We went across the street towards East Fremont, and things got a little less lit and scary so we quickly turned around to avoid any issues, lol. I'm not sure if that part is any worse, but it looked it, and I'd advise staying away. We got to check out the "Heart Attack Grill" which lets you eat free if you weigh over 350 pounds. I kept trying to get my GF to go weigh herself in front of everyone, but for some reason she wouldn't(We wouldn't have eaten for free anyway :()
  
• The Strip - Awesome. Seeing the fountains at night was a sight to see. Seeing the homeless man on a crosswalk bridge with the "my ex wife got a sex change and ran off with my GF" was hilarious as well. All in all, definitely worth the trip. There is so much to see, and it seemed like each day/night, there was always something new to see as well. Got to see the Budweiser Clydesdales, they were in town promoting the grand opening of the Beer Gardens at the Paris hotel. There are also so many beggers/people try to sell you something. If you make eye contact, it's over. You apparently can find hookers very easily as well, just talk to the very sweet little old hispanic lady every block handing out cards with phone numbers.
  

I'm sitting here at work, so I'll format this better and add to it when more thoughts pop into my mind.
edit Added an album. Haven't edited any of the pictures and there may be a lot of duplicates - http://imgur.com/a/7yftt

When I travel, I often tell lawmakers I’m headed to their home state or district. I often suggest we meet for coffee or breakfast sometime. As a reporter, it’s a helpful contrast to see House members and senators in Washington – and also on their home turf.
It helps me understand them better, get a sense of the issues which are important to them and determine what makes them tick.
TRUMP NEEDS A TRANSFER, MAY HAVE TO ROB PETER TO PAY PAUL
Years ago, I casually mentioned to the staff of then Rep. Barney Frank, D-Mass., I was traveling to the Congressman’s district to attend a wedding. A few weeks passed and I didn’t give it any more thought. Much to my surprise, Frank himself phoned back the day before I left with suggestions for restaurants and dining. He also gave me a brief tutorial about the culture of his district.
Most lawmakers love to hear when you are coming to their district or state. They know every nook and cranny. They know the people. The attractions. The restaurants. And they love to show off the place they represent in Washington.
I had never been to Las Vegas until a few years ago. In that instance, I didn’t tell any members of the Nevada delegation I was heading to the Silver State. But when I returned, I ran into then Rep. Shelley Berkley, D-Nev., in a corridor just off the House floor. I told Berkley I had recently visited Las Vegas.
“Where did you stay?” inquired an interested Berkley.
I subsequently told Berkley I stayed at The Venetian, the legendary hotel and casino known for replicating the canals of Venice, the Palazzo Ducale and the Rialto Bridge.
It’s also operated by business magnate Sheldon Adelson.
“Oh, Chad,” Berkley chided gently with a smile on her face. “You stayed at the only non-union hotel on the Strip.”
Las Vegas is a union town. And Adelson is well-known for bucking the labor movement.
“Well,” continued Berkley. “Did you lose any money?”
I don’t gamble much. But I did hit the numbers a few times on the roulette wheel and had some good runs on slot machines.
“We actually came out ahead,” I told Berkley.
She grimaced a bit. On one hand, Berkley perhaps hoped I had won, and thus enjoyed myself and would come again. On the other hand, perhaps Berkley was concerned that my good fortune was bad for the Vegas economy. It was still struggling at that point after the 2008 financial collapse. Many residents were miffed by some stinging remarks dished out by President Obama.
“You don’t blow a bunch of cash on Vegas when you’re trying to save for college,” the former President once said, stirring the ire of locals.
“Well, Chad,” sighed Berkley. “Did you see any shows?”
CAPITOL ATTITUDE
I hesitated to answer for a moment. Yes. I had. But I was worried about Berkley’s response.
“We went to see Jersey Boys,” I told the Congresswoman, “But I’m afraid you’re going to tell me they’re against health care reform.”
Berkley laughed.
——————————————
Fast forward to the government shutdown of 2013. It was a Saturday evening and the Senate just wrapped for the day. No end to the shutdown was in sight. I was the last reporter leaving the Capitol. As I came to the first floor elevators near the Senate Carriage Entrance, Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid, D-Nev., materialized. He too was heading home. Reid had known I had visited Vegas a few times by that point. I asked how he was doing and mentioned I needed a vacation once the government was funded again.
I told Reid of one of my favorite restaurants in Las Vegas: Lotus of Siam. It’s a well-known Thai restaurant located off the Strip. The restaurant is in a different location now. But at the time, Lotus of Siam occupied a spot in a run-down strip mall. The entrance to the restaurant belied the culinary magic inside. The walls were plastered with pictures of Hollywood types and rock stars, all who patronized Lotus of Siam when they visited Las Vegas.
Reid proceeded to tell me Lotus of Siam was one of his favorite restaurants. I asked what dishes he liked there. And with that, the Senate Majority Leader whipped out his phone dialed his wife Landra, asking for the name of a dish the two of them often enjoyed.
“Honey, what is that dish you like so much at Lotus of Siam,” Reid asked his wife. “It’s with pumpkin?”
——————————————
Wendy Sherman was one of the most senior figures at the State Department in 2014. Sherman and other officials journeyed to Capitol Hill to lead a Senate-wide briefing in the basement of the Capitol Visitor’s Center on North Korea’s nuclear program.
TV networks positioned a bank of cameras in the Senate subway station in hopes of grabbing a few senators as they came and went from the briefing. I asked another colleague to handle the stakeout and headed to Cups, a coffee shop in the basement of the Russell Senate Office Building. My plan was to grab a cup of coffee and then cut past the subway station stakeout en route to the Capitol Rotunda. That’s where I was scheduled to meet a source.
Just as I walked up to the stakeout, Harry Reid appeared atop a small escalator leading to the subway station and near where senators would receive their briefing. I hadn’t spoken to Reid directly in a while. He waved hello. We met at the top of the escalator. I told Reid that I’d be heading to Las Vegas again in a few weeks during the upcoming Congressional recess.
We spoke for a moment, ear-to-ear. Naturally, all of the cameras at the stakeout focused on the two of us talking, as though we were exchanging important information about Pyongyang.
“Where are you staying,” Reid asked.
HARRY REID CALLS ELIZABETH WARREN A ‘GOOD PERSON,’ BUT REFUSES TO ENDORSE HER FOR PRESIDENT
I told Reid we previously stayed at the Bellagio and Mandalay Bay. But we weren’t sure yet this time.
“Stay at Wynn,” said Reid, without missing a beat.
“Wynn” is a hotel/casino complex on the north end of the Vegas Strip. Casino Mogul Steve Wynn ran the place until being forced out last year due to sexual misconduct allegations. Reid was telling me this years before anything was known publicly about Wynn’s alleged infractions.
Reid, being Reid, was always frank in his assessments of most situations. Even if it came to hotels on the Vegas Strip.
“Steve Wynn is an ass but a friend,” said Reid of Wynn. “But he has the nicest place in Las Vegas.”
I thanked Reid for the suggestion and headed up to the Rotunda. Reid went the other direction, toward the North Korea briefing.
By the time I reached the Rotunda, my email exploded with questions from reporters at the stakeout who spotted the escalator exchange but couldn’t hear what we were saying.
“What did Reid tell you about North Korea?” they all asked.
“Nothing,” I told them.
“Come on, Chad. What did he say?” probed one incredulous colleague.
Finally, one of Reid’s aides reached out, curious what the Majority Leader had said.
Reid’s staffer was just being diligent, wondering if he needed to brace for a juicy report on North Korea.
“He told me to stay at Wynn,” I replied.
No special information about Pyongyang. No intelligence on Senate parliamentary strategy. No information on Reid’s political future.
Just an unsolicited hotel recommendation.
Stay at Wynn.
——————————————
CLICK TO GET THE FOX NEWS APP
Perhaps one of the most interesting manifestations of democracy I’ve ever seen unfolded in Las Vegas during the 2016 presidential caucus in Nevada. Most of the hotels and casinos granted workers an hour or so off the clock to attend a caucus. The lines of caucus goers represented a fascinating cross-section of every type of employment possible in Las Vegas. Those in line were attired in full work regalia – just taking a few moments to make their voices heard: Blackjack dealer. Bartender. Bellhop. Showgirl. Custodian. Limo driver. Chef. Dishwasher. Housekeeper. Security Guard.
All political caucuses and primaries reflect the states or towns in which they’re held. But this was a presidential caucus in Las Vegas. And those participating in a caucus in Las Vegas were going to cut a very different political figure than caucus goers in Iowa, Colorado, Hawaii or Kansas. It was signature Las Vegas.
Source: Fox News Politics
from MAGA First News https://magafirstnews.com/fox-news/politicians-show-their-cards-in-las-vegas/
via IFTTT

When I travel, I often tell lawmakers I’m headed to their home state or district. I often suggest we meet for coffee or breakfast sometime. As a reporter, it’s a helpful contrast to see House members and senators in Washington – and also on their home turf.
It helps me understand them better, get a sense of the issues which are important to them and determine what makes them tick.
TRUMP NEEDS A TRANSFER, MAY HAVE TO ROB PETER TO PAY PAUL
Years ago, I casually mentioned to the staff of then Rep. Barney Frank, D-Mass., I was traveling to the Congressman’s district to attend a wedding. A few weeks passed and I didn’t give it any more thought. Much to my surprise, Frank himself phoned back the day before I left with suggestions for restaurants and dining. He also gave me a brief tutorial about the culture of his district.
Most lawmakers love to hear when you are coming to their district or state. They know every nook and cranny. They know the people. The attractions. The restaurants. And they love to show off the place they represent in Washington.
I had never been to Las Vegas until a few years ago. In that instance, I didn’t tell any members of the Nevada delegation I was heading to the Silver State. But when I returned, I ran into then Rep. Shelley Berkley, D-Nev., in a corridor just off the House floor. I told Berkley I had recently visited Las Vegas.
“Where did you stay?” inquired an interested Berkley.
I subsequently told Berkley I stayed at The Venetian, the legendary hotel and casino known for replicating the canals of Venice, the Palazzo Ducale and the Rialto Bridge.
It’s also operated by business magnate Sheldon Adelson.
“Oh, Chad,” Berkley chided gently with a smile on her face. “You stayed at the only non-union hotel on the Strip.”
Las Vegas is a union town. And Adelson is well-known for bucking the labor movement.
“Well,” continued Berkley. “Did you lose any money?”
I don’t gamble much. But I did hit the numbers a few times on the roulette wheel and had some good runs on slot machines.
“We actually came out ahead,” I told Berkley.
She grimaced a bit. On one hand, Berkley perhaps hoped I had won, and thus enjoyed myself and would come again. On the other hand, perhaps Berkley was concerned that my good fortune was bad for the Vegas economy. It was still struggling at that point after the 2008 financial collapse. Many residents were miffed by some stinging remarks dished out by President Obama.
“You don’t blow a bunch of cash on Vegas when you’re trying to save for college,” the former President once said, stirring the ire of locals.
“Well, Chad,” sighed Berkley. “Did you see any shows?”
CAPITOL ATTITUDE
I hesitated to answer for a moment. Yes. I had. But I was worried about Berkley’s response.
“We went to see Jersey Boys,” I told the Congresswoman, “But I’m afraid you’re going to tell me they’re against health care reform.”
Berkley laughed.
——————————————
Fast forward to the government shutdown of 2013. It was a Saturday evening and the Senate just wrapped for the day. No end to the shutdown was in sight. I was the last reporter leaving the Capitol. As I came to the first floor elevators near the Senate Carriage Entrance, Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid, D-Nev., materialized. He too was heading home. Reid had known I had visited Vegas a few times by that point. I asked how he was doing and mentioned I needed a vacation once the government was funded again.
I told Reid of one of my favorite restaurants in Las Vegas: Lotus of Siam. It’s a well-known Thai restaurant located off the Strip. The restaurant is in a different location now. But at the time, Lotus of Siam occupied a spot in a run-down strip mall. The entrance to the restaurant belied the culinary magic inside. The walls were plastered with pictures of Hollywood types and rock stars, all who patronized Lotus of Siam when they visited Las Vegas.
Reid proceeded to tell me Lotus of Siam was one of his favorite restaurants. I asked what dishes he liked there. And with that, the Senate Majority Leader whipped out his phone dialed his wife Landra, asking for the name of a dish the two of them often enjoyed.
“Honey, what is that dish you like so much at Lotus of Siam,” Reid asked his wife. “It’s with pumpkin?”
——————————————
Wendy Sherman was one of the most senior figures at the State Department in 2014. Sherman and other officials journeyed to Capitol Hill to lead a Senate-wide briefing in the basement of the Capitol Visitor’s Center on North Korea’s nuclear program.
TV networks positioned a bank of cameras in the Senate subway station in hopes of grabbing a few senators as they came and went from the briefing. I asked another colleague to handle the stakeout and headed to Cups, a coffee shop in the basement of the Russell Senate Office Building. My plan was to grab a cup of coffee and then cut past the subway station stakeout en route to the Capitol Rotunda. That’s where I was scheduled to meet a source.
Just as I walked up to the stakeout, Harry Reid appeared atop a small escalator leading to the subway station and near where senators would receive their briefing. I hadn’t spoken to Reid directly in a while. He waved hello. We met at the top of the escalator. I told Reid that I’d be heading to Las Vegas again in a few weeks during the upcoming Congressional recess.
We spoke for a moment, ear-to-ear. Naturally, all of the cameras at the stakeout focused on the two of us talking, as though we were exchanging important information about Pyongyang.
“Where are you staying,” Reid asked.
HARRY REID CALLS ELIZABETH WARREN A ‘GOOD PERSON,’ BUT REFUSES TO ENDORSE HER FOR PRESIDENT
I told Reid we previously stayed at the Bellagio and Mandalay Bay. But we weren’t sure yet this time.
“Stay at Wynn,” said Reid, without missing a beat.
“Wynn” is a hotel/casino complex on the north end of the Vegas Strip. Casino Mogul Steve Wynn ran the place until being forced out last year due to sexual misconduct allegations. Reid was telling me this years before anything was known publicly about Wynn’s alleged infractions.
Reid, being Reid, was always frank in his assessments of most situations. Even if it came to hotels on the Vegas Strip.
“Steve Wynn is an ass but a friend,” said Reid of Wynn. “But he has the nicest place in Las Vegas.”
I thanked Reid for the suggestion and headed up to the Rotunda. Reid went the other direction, toward the North Korea briefing.
By the time I reached the Rotunda, my email exploded with questions from reporters at the stakeout who spotted the escalator exchange but couldn’t hear what we were saying.
“What did Reid tell you about North Korea?” they all asked.
“Nothing,” I told them.
“Come on, Chad. What did he say?” probed one incredulous colleague.
Finally, one of Reid’s aides reached out, curious what the Majority Leader had said.
Reid’s staffer was just being diligent, wondering if he needed to brace for a juicy report on North Korea.
“He told me to stay at Wynn,” I replied.
No special information about Pyongyang. No intelligence on Senate parliamentary strategy. No information on Reid’s political future.
Just an unsolicited hotel recommendation.
Stay at Wynn.
——————————————
CLICK TO GET THE FOX NEWS APP
Perhaps one of the most interesting manifestations of democracy I’ve ever seen unfolded in Las Vegas during the 2016 presidential caucus in Nevada. Most of the hotels and casinos granted workers an hour or so off the clock to attend a caucus. The lines of caucus goers represented a fascinating cross-section of every type of employment possible in Las Vegas. Those in line were attired in full work regalia – just taking a few moments to make their voices heard: Blackjack dealer. Bartender. Bellhop. Showgirl. Custodian. Limo driver. Chef. Dishwasher. Housekeeper. Security Guard.
All political caucuses and primaries reflect the states or towns in which they’re held. But this was a presidential caucus in Las Vegas. And those participating in a caucus in Las Vegas were going to cut a very different political figure than caucus goers in Iowa, Colorado, Hawaii or Kansas. It was signature Las Vegas.
Source: Fox News Politics
from MAGA First News https://magafirstnews.com/fox-news/politicians-show-their-cards-in-las-vegas/
via IFTTT

When I travel, I often tell lawmakers I’m headed to their home state or district. I often suggest we meet for coffee or breakfast sometime. As a reporter, it’s a helpful contrast to see House members and senators in Washington – and also on their home turf.
It helps me understand them better, get a sense of the issues which are important to them and determine what makes them tick.
TRUMP NEEDS A TRANSFER, MAY HAVE TO ROB PETER TO PAY PAUL
Years ago, I casually mentioned to the staff of then Rep. Barney Frank, D-Mass., I was traveling to the Congressman’s district to attend a wedding. A few weeks passed and I didn’t give it any more thought. Much to my surprise, Frank himself phoned back the day before I left with suggestions for restaurants and dining. He also gave me a brief tutorial about the culture of his district.
Most lawmakers love to hear when you are coming to their district or state. They know every nook and cranny. They know the people. The attractions. The restaurants. And they love to show off the place they represent in Washington.
I had never been to Las Vegas until a few years ago. In that instance, I didn’t tell any members of the Nevada delegation I was heading to the Silver State. But when I returned, I ran into then Rep. Shelley Berkley, D-Nev., in a corridor just off the House floor. I told Berkley I had recently visited Las Vegas.
“Where did you stay?” inquired an interested Berkley.
I subsequently told Berkley I stayed at The Venetian, the legendary hotel and casino known for replicating the canals of Venice, the Palazzo Ducale and the Rialto Bridge.
It’s also operated by business magnate Sheldon Adelson.
“Oh, Chad,” Berkley chided gently with a smile on her face. “You stayed at the only non-union hotel on the Strip.”
Las Vegas is a union town. And Adelson is well-known for bucking the labor movement.
“Well,” continued Berkley. “Did you lose any money?”
I don’t gamble much. But I did hit the numbers a few times on the roulette wheel and had some good runs on slot machines.
“We actually came out ahead,” I told Berkley.
She grimaced a bit. On one hand, Berkley perhaps hoped I had won, and thus enjoyed myself and would come again. On the other hand, perhaps Berkley was concerned that my good fortune was bad for the Vegas economy. It was still struggling at that point after the 2008 financial collapse. Many residents were miffed by some stinging remarks dished out by President Obama.
“You don’t blow a bunch of cash on Vegas when you’re trying to save for college,” the former President once said, stirring the ire of locals.
“Well, Chad,” sighed Berkley. “Did you see any shows?”
CAPITOL ATTITUDE
I hesitated to answer for a moment. Yes. I had. But I was worried about Berkley’s response.
“We went to see Jersey Boys,” I told the Congresswoman, “But I’m afraid you’re going to tell me they’re against health care reform.”
Berkley laughed.
——————————————
Fast forward to the government shutdown of 2013. It was a Saturday evening and the Senate just wrapped for the day. No end to the shutdown was in sight. I was the last reporter leaving the Capitol. As I came to the first floor elevators near the Senate Carriage Entrance, Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid, D-Nev., materialized. He too was heading home. Reid had known I had visited Vegas a few times by that point. I asked how he was doing and mentioned I needed a vacation once the government was funded again.
I told Reid of one of my favorite restaurants in Las Vegas: Lotus of Siam. It’s a well-known Thai restaurant located off the Strip. The restaurant is in a different location now. But at the time, Lotus of Siam occupied a spot in a run-down strip mall. The entrance to the restaurant belied the culinary magic inside. The walls were plastered with pictures of Hollywood types and rock stars, all who patronized Lotus of Siam when they visited Las Vegas.
Reid proceeded to tell me Lotus of Siam was one of his favorite restaurants. I asked what dishes he liked there. And with that, the Senate Majority Leader whipped out his phone dialed his wife Landra, asking for the name of a dish the two of them often enjoyed.
“Honey, what is that dish you like so much at Lotus of Siam,” Reid asked his wife. “It’s with pumpkin?”
——————————————
Wendy Sherman was one of the most senior figures at the State Department in 2014. Sherman and other officials journeyed to Capitol Hill to lead a Senate-wide briefing in the basement of the Capitol Visitor’s Center on North Korea’s nuclear program.
TV networks positioned a bank of cameras in the Senate subway station in hopes of grabbing a few senators as they came and went from the briefing. I asked another colleague to handle the stakeout and headed to Cups, a coffee shop in the basement of the Russell Senate Office Building. My plan was to grab a cup of coffee and then cut past the subway station stakeout en route to the Capitol Rotunda. That’s where I was scheduled to meet a source.
Just as I walked up to the stakeout, Harry Reid appeared atop a small escalator leading to the subway station and near where senators would receive their briefing. I hadn’t spoken to Reid directly in a while. He waved hello. We met at the top of the escalator. I told Reid that I’d be heading to Las Vegas again in a few weeks during the upcoming Congressional recess.
We spoke for a moment, ear-to-ear. Naturally, all of the cameras at the stakeout focused on the two of us talking, as though we were exchanging important information about Pyongyang.
“Where are you staying,” Reid asked.
HARRY REID CALLS ELIZABETH WARREN A ‘GOOD PERSON,’ BUT REFUSES TO ENDORSE HER FOR PRESIDENT
I told Reid we previously stayed at the Bellagio and Mandalay Bay. But we weren’t sure yet this time.
“Stay at Wynn,” said Reid, without missing a beat.
“Wynn” is a hotel/casino complex on the north end of the Vegas Strip. Casino Mogul Steve Wynn ran the place until being forced out last year due to sexual misconduct allegations. Reid was telling me this years before anything was known publicly about Wynn’s alleged infractions.
Reid, being Reid, was always frank in his assessments of most situations. Even if it came to hotels on the Vegas Strip.
“Steve Wynn is an ass but a friend,” said Reid of Wynn. “But he has the nicest place in Las Vegas.”
I thanked Reid for the suggestion and headed up to the Rotunda. Reid went the other direction, toward the North Korea briefing.
By the time I reached the Rotunda, my email exploded with questions from reporters at the stakeout who spotted the escalator exchange but couldn’t hear what we were saying.
“What did Reid tell you about North Korea?” they all asked.
“Nothing,” I told them.
“Come on, Chad. What did he say?” probed one incredulous colleague.
Finally, one of Reid’s aides reached out, curious what the Majority Leader had said.
Reid’s staffer was just being diligent, wondering if he needed to brace for a juicy report on North Korea.
“He told me to stay at Wynn,” I replied.
No special information about Pyongyang. No intelligence on Senate parliamentary strategy. No information on Reid’s political future.
Just an unsolicited hotel recommendation.
Stay at Wynn.
——————————————
CLICK TO GET THE FOX NEWS APP
Perhaps one of the most interesting manifestations of democracy I’ve ever seen unfolded in Las Vegas during the 2016 presidential caucus in Nevada. Most of the hotels and casinos granted workers an hour or so off the clock to attend a caucus. The lines of caucus goers represented a fascinating cross-section of every type of employment possible in Las Vegas. Those in line were attired in full work regalia – just taking a few moments to make their voices heard: Blackjack dealer. Bartender. Bellhop. Showgirl. Custodian. Limo driver. Chef. Dishwasher. Housekeeper. Security Guard.
All political caucuses and primaries reflect the states or towns in which they’re held. But this was a presidential caucus in Las Vegas. And those participating in a caucus in Las Vegas were going to cut a very different political figure than caucus goers in Iowa, Colorado, Hawaii or Kansas. It was signature Las Vegas.
Source: Fox News Politics
from MAGA First News https://magafirstnews.com/fox-news/politicians-show-their-cards-in-las-vegas/
via IFTTT

When I travel, I often tell lawmakers I’m headed to their home state or district. I often suggest we meet for coffee or breakfast sometime. As a reporter, it’s a helpful contrast to see House members and senators in Washington – and also on their home turf.
It helps me understand them better, get a sense of the issues which are important to them and determine what makes them tick.
TRUMP NEEDS A TRANSFER, MAY HAVE TO ROB PETER TO PAY PAUL
Years ago, I casually mentioned to the staff of then Rep. Barney Frank, D-Mass., I was traveling to the Congressman’s district to attend a wedding. A few weeks passed and I didn’t give it any more thought. Much to my surprise, Frank himself phoned back the day before I left with suggestions for restaurants and dining. He also gave me a brief tutorial about the culture of his district.
Most lawmakers love to hear when you are coming to their district or state. They know every nook and cranny. They know the people. The attractions. The restaurants. And they love to show off the place they represent in Washington.
I had never been to Las Vegas until a few years ago. In that instance, I didn’t tell any members of the Nevada delegation I was heading to the Silver State. But when I returned, I ran into then Rep. Shelley Berkley, D-Nev., in a corridor just off the House floor. I told Berkley I had recently visited Las Vegas.
“Where did you stay?” inquired an interested Berkley.
I subsequently told Berkley I stayed at The Venetian, the legendary hotel and casino known for replicating the canals of Venice, the Palazzo Ducale and the Rialto Bridge.
It’s also operated by business magnate Sheldon Adelson.
“Oh, Chad,” Berkley chided gently with a smile on her face. “You stayed at the only non-union hotel on the Strip.”
Las Vegas is a union town. And Adelson is well-known for bucking the labor movement.
“Well,” continued Berkley. “Did you lose any money?”
I don’t gamble much. But I did hit the numbers a few times on the roulette wheel and had some good runs on slot machines.
“We actually came out ahead,” I told Berkley.
She grimaced a bit. On one hand, Berkley perhaps hoped I had won, and thus enjoyed myself and would come again. On the other hand, perhaps Berkley was concerned that my good fortune was bad for the Vegas economy. It was still struggling at that point after the 2008 financial collapse. Many residents were miffed by some stinging remarks dished out by President Obama.
“You don’t blow a bunch of cash on Vegas when you’re trying to save for college,” the former President once said, stirring the ire of locals.
“Well, Chad,” sighed Berkley. “Did you see any shows?”
CAPITOL ATTITUDE
I hesitated to answer for a moment. Yes. I had. But I was worried about Berkley’s response.
“We went to see Jersey Boys,” I told the Congresswoman, “But I’m afraid you’re going to tell me they’re against health care reform.”
Berkley laughed.
——————————————
Fast forward to the government shutdown of 2013. It was a Saturday evening and the Senate just wrapped for the day. No end to the shutdown was in sight. I was the last reporter leaving the Capitol. As I came to the first floor elevators near the Senate Carriage Entrance, Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid, D-Nev., materialized. He too was heading home. Reid had known I had visited Vegas a few times by that point. I asked how he was doing and mentioned I needed a vacation once the government was funded again.
I told Reid of one of my favorite restaurants in Las Vegas: Lotus of Siam. It’s a well-known Thai restaurant located off the Strip. The restaurant is in a different location now. But at the time, Lotus of Siam occupied a spot in a run-down strip mall. The entrance to the restaurant belied the culinary magic inside. The walls were plastered with pictures of Hollywood types and rock stars, all who patronized Lotus of Siam when they visited Las Vegas.
Reid proceeded to tell me Lotus of Siam was one of his favorite restaurants. I asked what dishes he liked there. And with that, the Senate Majority Leader whipped out his phone dialed his wife Landra, asking for the name of a dish the two of them often enjoyed.
“Honey, what is that dish you like so much at Lotus of Siam,” Reid asked his wife. “It’s with pumpkin?”
——————————————
Wendy Sherman was one of the most senior figures at the State Department in 2014. Sherman and other officials journeyed to Capitol Hill to lead a Senate-wide briefing in the basement of the Capitol Visitor’s Center on North Korea’s nuclear program.
TV networks positioned a bank of cameras in the Senate subway station in hopes of grabbing a few senators as they came and went from the briefing. I asked another colleague to handle the stakeout and headed to Cups, a coffee shop in the basement of the Russell Senate Office Building. My plan was to grab a cup of coffee and then cut past the subway station stakeout en route to the Capitol Rotunda. That’s where I was scheduled to meet a source.
Just as I walked up to the stakeout, Harry Reid appeared atop a small escalator leading to the subway station and near where senators would receive their briefing. I hadn’t spoken to Reid directly in a while. He waved hello. We met at the top of the escalator. I told Reid that I’d be heading to Las Vegas again in a few weeks during the upcoming Congressional recess.
We spoke for a moment, ear-to-ear. Naturally, all of the cameras at the stakeout focused on the two of us talking, as though we were exchanging important information about Pyongyang.
“Where are you staying,” Reid asked.
HARRY REID CALLS ELIZABETH WARREN A ‘GOOD PERSON,’ BUT REFUSES TO ENDORSE HER FOR PRESIDENT
I told Reid we previously stayed at the Bellagio and Mandalay Bay. But we weren’t sure yet this time.
“Stay at Wynn,” said Reid, without missing a beat.
“Wynn” is a hotel/casino complex on the north end of the Vegas Strip. Casino Mogul Steve Wynn ran the place until being forced out last year due to sexual misconduct allegations. Reid was telling me this years before anything was known publicly about Wynn’s alleged infractions.
Reid, being Reid, was always frank in his assessments of most situations. Even if it came to hotels on the Vegas Strip.
“Steve Wynn is an ass but a friend,” said Reid of Wynn. “But he has the nicest place in Las Vegas.”
I thanked Reid for the suggestion and headed up to the Rotunda. Reid went the other direction, toward the North Korea briefing.
By the time I reached the Rotunda, my email exploded with questions from reporters at the stakeout who spotted the escalator exchange but couldn’t hear what we were saying.
“What did Reid tell you about North Korea?” they all asked.
“Nothing,” I told them.
“Come on, Chad. What did he say?” probed one incredulous colleague.
Finally, one of Reid’s aides reached out, curious what the Majority Leader had said.
Reid’s staffer was just being diligent, wondering if he needed to brace for a juicy report on North Korea.
“He told me to stay at Wynn,” I replied.
No special information about Pyongyang. No intelligence on Senate parliamentary strategy. No information on Reid’s political future.
Just an unsolicited hotel recommendation.
Stay at Wynn.
——————————————
CLICK TO GET THE FOX NEWS APP
Perhaps one of the most interesting manifestations of democracy I’ve ever seen unfolded in Las Vegas during the 2016 presidential caucus in Nevada. Most of the hotels and casinos granted workers an hour or so off the clock to attend a caucus. The lines of caucus goers represented a fascinating cross-section of every type of employment possible in Las Vegas. Those in line were attired in full work regalia – just taking a few moments to make their voices heard: Blackjack dealer. Bartender. Bellhop. Showgirl. Custodian. Limo driver. Chef. Dishwasher. Housekeeper. Security Guard.
All political caucuses and primaries reflect the states or towns in which they’re held. But this was a presidential caucus in Las Vegas. And those participating in a caucus in Las Vegas were going to cut a very different political figure than caucus goers in Iowa, Colorado, Hawaii or Kansas. It was signature Las Vegas.
Source: Fox News Politics
from MAGA First News https://magafirstnews.com/fox-news/politicians-show-their-cards-in-las-vegas/
via IFTTT