More Vegas Stuff
Last night I told the cabbie to take me to home. He flat out said, "I used to live there. You gettin' along with the hookers and drug dealers?"
I swear, the Redneck Riviera has a well-known reputation around town for being the place to get a $20 crack whore and a $20 baggie of rock. If it weren't for the strippers, I would have moved out a long time ago. But then I'd have no material. Who wants to live in the Rio anyway? Jay Greenspan has been here since Day 1 and he hasn't seen sunlight in weeks.
A couple of hippie kids (or spun out wookies as my buddy the Joker would say) moved in to the adjacent complex. There are at least five of them in a mini-school bus. I assume they are heading out East to catch the Trey Anastasio Band tour. There are two white guys with dreadlocks longer than Bob Marley ever had. There are three girls and two of them have hairier armpits than me. I hit on the clean shaven one.
Of course, they have a puppy. What is a neo-hippie clique without a puppy? The girls have weird names like Astral, Rainbow, and Jupiter. They walk around in a half-daze. I wonder what the fuck they are doing in Las Vegas?
The only time I spend outside is when I'm standing around sweating my balls off waiting for a cab. I walk for one minute from the drop off to the front of the convention center. Then it's a three minute walk down a dimly lit large corridor with doors to other convention rooms all over the place. Right now there are more pre-teens in town for a dance competition. It's nerve racking to see so many underage girls dressed up like strippers and the Hilton Sisters. I shuffle by numb to all of them.
I rush by all the tourists who are trying to buy t-shirts or get pictures of their favorite overrated poker pros. I glance at the hotties that the various poker companies hired. Imperial and Let's Poker hired college girls and they have that fresh girl-nextdoor look that I like. They wear tank tops and short jean shirts or skirts. Bluff hired models and actress wannabes who wear tight shirts and spread out all over the poker room and hallways. They are near perfect, but dumb as shit. Absolute hired strippers and porn stars. They have fake boobs the size of beach balls and I swear I must have seen half of them dance at Cheetah. When I walk past the, I have this strange feeling I've seen them in a dozen or so adult films. I like the hot Swedish girls that sell the poker chips. If I only spoke Swedish...