The Denver Chronicles

Part 1

Part 2

Day 1 – 5:45pm

As we stand around waiting for the Comfort Inn shuttle (of course the only one that has yet to come), I feel my toes beginning to numb.  I notice a couple next to us that was on our flight.  The over-tanned woman is wearing a hat that says “bride” written in glitter (a clear sign of a Miami/Jersey native).  Another 5 minutes or so go by, and still no Comfort Inn shuttle.  We see a shuttle headed to the Double Tree (which happens to be another one of our limited options) and decide to hop on it.  I call the voucher number and reserve our room for $59 ($10 more than the Comfort Inn).  As we commute, Benny and the Shuttle Driver discuss where to go out.  Shuttle Driver recommends a crossroad on Market Street (I believe it was 15th).  It is almost pitch black outside.  That, combined with our current traveling fiasco, makes it feel much later than it actually is.  Finally, we arrive at the Double Tree.

Day 1 – 6:15pm

We walk into the hotel, slightly rejuvenated.  I head towards the front desk to check-in and see if this reservation is even valid (doubtful at this point).  A portly lady handles our situation…

Portly Lady  “How are you gentlemen?”
Wild Bill  “Terrible.”
Me  “We have had some airline trouble, and we are stuck here for the night.”
Portly Lady  “Oh I’m sorry.”
Me  “It’s ok.”

I continue to tell her our entire situation, which I need not repeat again…

Me  “Yeah, we understand that shit happens, but everyone has been a complete asshole.”
Portly Lady  “I’m sorry about that, do you have toiletries?”
Me  “No, those pecker heads (United) won’t give us our bags.”
Portly Lady  “Hold on just a sec.”

After we quiz her about places to go and whatnot, she returns with a box…

Portly Lady (as she opens the box) “Here you go.  Toothbrush, toothpaste, razor, shaving cream, anything else?”
Wild Bill  “Yeah how bout a free steak dinner?”
Portly Lady (laughing) “Well, I can’t do that, but let me see what I can do.”

She leaves and then returns again, with a different box…

Portly Lady  “I can start you off with 2 free drinks each at our bar?”
Me (instantly visualizing Portly Lady naked) “That’s awesome, thanks!”
Amy (handing us the vouchers and room keys) “Here you go.”
Me  “Thanks a lot, you’re the first nice person we’ve met on this trip.”
Amy  “Well I hope the rest of your trip goes better.”

As we walk away, Wild Bill makes an unnecessary crack on how Benny is going to play “carnival” (having a girl sit on your face, you then in turn guess her weight) with Amy.  Before we even head to the room, we walk up to the bar in the lobby.  After several minutes, no one has appeared to serve us (shocker).  We hear roars down the hall, they are coming from the second hotel bar (more of the sports bar type).  Wild Bill squeezes in between a few people to order a cocktail as I head to the restroom.  When I return, Wild Bill and Benny are still drinkless.  I notice 3 stools available at the corner of the bar, so I hustle over.  The Asian female who is bartending IDs all 3 of us, and then delivers the beverages (Crown and Ginger of course) in exchange for our first round of vouchers.  The man to my left is staring off at nothing, while the aroma from the pizza below him wafts its way into my nostrils.  Bored with Wild Bill, I decide to strike up a conversation with the random alone dude.  As with Dibs, I initiate the conversation by speaking intentionally too loud and waiting for a reaction (this method not only works when trying to pick up a girl, but apparently it is equally effective for someone trying to score some cock).  Random alone dude takes the bait…

Random Alone Dude  “Where you guys coming from?”

I tell him the saga, emphasizing the part where we received no compensation whatsoever from United, because our ill-fated scenario was “weather related”.  Wasting no time…

Me  “Wow, that pizza looks really good.  I wonder how the rest of the food here tastes?”
Random Alone Dude  “It’s really good.”
Me (scheming) “I might just have to order what you got.”
Random Alone Dude  “Oh please, take mine.  I can’t finish this.  Ask your friends too.”
Me  “Oh no, it’s ok, I don’t want to take your food (lie).”
Random Alone Dude  “I insist, if not it’s just going to waste.”
Me  “You sure?”
Random Alone Dude  “Positive.”
Me (to Benny and Wild Bill) “Do you guys want any of this pizza?”

They both dive in with little hesitation…

Wild Bill (to Random Alone Dude) “Thanks a lot man.”
Pizza Dude  “No problem.”

We continue to mill about with Pizza Dude as we cash in our second round of vouchers.  As we suck down the second round in record time, we make our peace with Pizza Dude and exit the bar (the bartender is not happy with Wild Bill’s inability to muster up a tip.  Benny later queues me in on high school stories of Wild Bill’s anti-Catholic (Jewish) tendencies).  Finally starting to feel high-spirited (drunk) again, we decide to run to a nearby liquor store before we head up to our room (which we have yet to visit).  A clerk alerts us that the nearest liquor store is only a block or two away, and points us towards the appropriate hotel exit.

As we head out, I realize the alcohol has only numbed my judgment, and has yet to take over the rest of my body.  By that, I mean it is freezing and I have just stepped into my first pile of snow with my open-toed sandals.  Yes, the liquor store is only 1 block away, but what the clerk has failed to mention is that we must cross an 8-lane freeway to get there.  I’m sure hobbling across a busy icy freeway, with sandals on, in pitch black darkness, is something my mother would appreciate.  Before I make my leap of faith, I have a mental flashback to my childhood, and the popular phrase, “We can buy a new ball, but we can’t buy a new you.”  Although now that I look back on my life, I’m sure if my parents could have foreseen the next 15 years of their child-induced misery, they would have bribed me to play kickball on the autobahn.  Anyway, we make it across safely (successfully) and dart out of the cold, and into the liquor store.

Day 1 – 7:00pm

I have been an avid liquor store patron since the age of 14, yet every time I am in one, I still feel as excited as my first time.  We rummage around the store, debating over which intoxicated figurehead will carry us into battle for the remainder of Operation Black Liver.  Will it be the Captain?  The Admiral?  Or perhaps the Sailor?  Apparently none of the above, as we decide to go with Wild Turkey, American Honey (the same beverage we started with back in Orlando).  We also grab 3 donkey dicks (23.5 oz cans) of JOOSE (sadly enough that is not spelled incorrectly).  On the way out, we see a couple of Denvernians (ugly chicks) and have them take a snap shot of us JOOSED up.  After making it back across the freeway, we head up to our room.

Day 1 – 7:30pm

As we slam down our JOOSE, we realize that it’s not even 8pm yet (although, appropriately it feels much later).  I call down to the front desk and have them arrange for a cab to pick us up at 9:15pm.  After downing the JOOSE, and finishing about half a bottle of whiskey, it’s time for the Denver bar scene.  By the time we make it out to the cab, we are locked, cocked, and ready to rock (wicked drunk).  As we did with Amy and the Shuttle Driver, we ask the cabbie where to go.  Again, in agreement with the others, he too says Market Street.  We ask him where to go to find some Denver women, and apparently he knows just the place (lie).

Day 1 – 10:00pm (estimate)

No longer cold (sober), I stumble out of the cab and hop into line for entry into the bar.  The first stop is called “The Front Porch” (I did not know the name at the time of the trip, but my credit card bill filled me in later).  The place looks very busy as we head inside.  We are falsely excited as the place is packed wall to wall, but about 1 minute into our excitement, we become very confused.  Nothing but dudes.  Literally two hundred people engulf this bar, yet there is not one woman in sight.  Luckily, we are pretty toasted, so our main concern has already switched from getting laid to Operation Black Liver.  Wild Bill (being tall) spots an opening at one end of the bar.  As we jolt our way through the crowd (swim through a sea of cock), we have also found the only 3 girls in the bar sitting on a couch right next to our bar spot.  As Wild Bill orders the first round, I scan the bar, still mystified, while Benny hits on the one hot chick out of the threesome.  Wild Bill turns around with excitement as he explains to me the liquor situation…

Wild Bill (giddy like a schoolgirl) “Dude, you flip for the drinks!”
Me (not really listening) “What?”
Wild Bill “You order a round and flip a coin to see if it’s free or not.”
Me (intrigued) “That’s tight.  Good luck!”

As Wild Bill turns around and waits to order, I reflect for a moment on this coin flip idea.  Allow me to digress for just a moment.

Several times in my life I have been to a bar where you flip for your drink, this is not entirely uncommon, but this place was a bit different.  Instead of ordering 8 drinks, and flipping the coin 8 times (statistically giving you a buy one get one free scenario), the bartender flips the coin only once for the entire round.  This makes the game much more risky, and rightfully so, much more exciting.  Back to the story.

Wild Bill turns around, no longer giddy.

Wild Bill (disheartened) “Fuckin bitch flipped it wrong.”
Me  “So you called it wrong?”
Wild Bill  “Well if you wanna be an asshole about it.”

After Wild Bill hands me a drink, I shift places with him and wait my turn at the bar.  Benny is still talking with the hot chick and her 2 nice (boring and unattractive) friends, now Wild Bill joins in on their conversation.  My focus has now turned onto the bartender that cost Wild Bill a cool 22 bucks.

Fuckin Bitch  “What can I get ya hun?”
Me (acting uninformed) “Yeah, uh what’s the deal here?”
Fuckin Bitch  “Well you order, I flip a coin, it’s either free or on you.”
Me (done talking, ready to risk all) “Let me get 3 Coronas and 3 shots of Jager.”
Fuckin Bitch  “Heads or Tails?”
Me (no hesitation) “Tails!”

Fuckin Bitch flips the coin, and without letting it teeter on the counter for even a second, smashes her hand on top of it.  TAILS!

Future Wife  “Looks like this round’s on the house!”
Me  “Sounds good!”

If I hadn’t gotten lucky here, this round alone, with tip, would probably be pushing near 60 bills.  I throw Future Wife 10 dollars for her troubles (being hot), then turn around and divvy up the drinks between me and my pals.  We slam the Jager, and are now double fisting with a Corona in one hand, and a Whiskey concoction in the other.  Before Benny shuffles in for his flip, he introduces me to Hot Chick and her friends…

Benny  “This is our buddy.”
Me (staring only at Hot Chick) “Hey ooooooo!”
Hot Chick  “Hey, my name is Montana, this is my friend [not important] and my other friend [equally as unimportant]!”
Me  “Hey Montana (that was either her name or where she was from, again not important), what brings you all to his great city (dump)?”

As she speaks, my hearing fades in and out as I am more drawn to the pink bra she is wearing which is visible through her grey sweater.  I finally tune back in…

Montana  “Hair?”
Me (um) “Um what?”
Montana  “Do you having long hair?”
Me  “Yeah, right now it’s up in a stallion (pony) tail underneath this hat.”
Montana  “Do you ever wear it down?”
Me (feeling like I belong at this bar (gay)) “Uh yeah, sometimes.”
Montana  “Can I see what it looks like?”

This conversation sucks, but she’s hot, I’m drunk, let’s just go with it…

Me (taking off my hat and removing my stallion tail) “Here ya go.”
Montana  “I like it, you should wear it down all the time.”
Me (thinking) “Please shut up and take your shirt off.”

Before I have time to come up with some stale response, Benny turns around with a handful of shots.  A side note here, we are on round 3 and have yet to offer these girls anything (gentlemen we’re not).

Me  “Did you win?”
Benny  “Free shots!”
Wild Bill (frustrated) “Yeah, real cool.  Fuckin’ Bitch.”

This rotation continues for another hour or so.  Somewhere in the mix, I strike up a conversation with one of the No-Name chicks after she turns down a shot offer made by Wild Bill…

Me  “What’s the problem?  Are you afraid of a good time?”
No-Name  “No, I just don’t like shots?”
Me  “So you are afraid of a good time?”
No-Name  “No, I’m just a beer chick (lesbian).”
Me  “Ok, well what kinda beer do you like?”
No-Name Lesbian (confirming my previous suspicion) “Budweiser.”

I immediately abandon this conversation as it is my turn in the rotation.  Wild Bill is currently 0 for 3 on the flips, Benny is 1 for 2, and I’m still shooting 100%, going 2 for 2.  Future Wife comes over to take my order…

Me (still milking my hot streak) “Yeah, let me get 3 Coronas, 5 SoCo and Limes, and 1 Budweiser for the Bull Dyke.”
Future Wife (less enthusiastic than at the beginning of the night) “Heads or Tails?”
Me  “Always Tails.”

Again, she flips the coin, smashes it with her hand, gives me a smug look, and then announces the verdict…

Future Wife  “Tails.”
Me  “Wow, you are very lucky for me!”
Future Wife  “Yeah, whatever.”

I’m not sure why Future Wife is turning into an actual fuckin bitch.  I’m tipping her more than generous amounts for every round, which takes her all of 10 seconds to pour.  With all free rounds combined, I would be looking at about 150 dollars right now.  Instead, I have only spent 30 (20% tip, smile Actual Fuckin Bitch).  I turn around and pass out the drinks.  No-Name Lesbian grunts and opens her Budweiser with her eye socket.  This is the last time I will speak to any of the 3 girls.  All my attention is now zeroed in on Actual Fuckin Bitch.  I have consumed enough drinks, and she has copped enough of an attitude for quite a showdown.  I firmly hold my spot at the bar, neglecting the rotation, Wild Bill and Benny don’t seem to mind (or even notice for that matter).  I flag her back over…

Actual Fuckin Bitch  “What do you want?”
Me (wasting no time on getting foul) “What else can I flip for?”
Actual Fuckin Bitch  “What?”
Me  “Besides drinks, can I flip you for anything else?”
Actual Fuckin Bitch (not appreciating my new found beer muscles) “What are you trying to say?”
Me (throwing her a curve ball) “Like for money?”
Actual Prude Bitch (confused, but still not amused) “Money?”
Me (the truth comes out) “Or sex?  I just figured with the money, I’d pay you for sex.”
Actual Prude Bitch  “You see that large guy over there?”
Me  “Yes.”
Actual Prude Bitch  “If you say something like that to me again, you will be having sex with him.”
Me  “I think I love you.”

She may have been a bitch, but she burned me good, and I love it.  I order a round for me and her to bury the hatchet, and for the first time, I lose the flip (luckily it was just 2 shots).  I depart on cordial terms with Future Bitch Wife and turn back towards Wild Bill and Benny, who are now Hot Chick/Lesbianless.

Me  “Where did Snow White and the Dwarfs go?”
Benny  “Wild Bill said something to them, and they just left.”

I quiz Wild Bill, he just smiles and shrugs.  Regardless, it’s about time to leave this bar before all the shots catch up with us.  Right now I feel great and look like this, but it’s only a matter of moments before I black out and look like this.

Day 2 – 12:30am (complete guess)

As we jolt our way back out the front door and into the streets, it is absolutely freezing.  I can feel the alcohol taking over my brain, I try to shake it off but to no avail.  We see a bar across the street and decide to dive in before last call.  The bar looks busy, but there is no line outside.  As we get ready to walk through the front door, we are stopped.

Bouncer  “I’m sorry, I can’t let you in?”
Wild Bill  “Your sister let me in!”
Bouncer  “Excuse me?”
Me  “Nothing.  What’s the problem?
Bouncer  “You’re not wearing shoes.”

I can tell this is going to end poorly.

Me  “Yes sir, quite an observation.  Do you realize that I’m standing in snow right now?”
Educated Bouncer  “Yes.”
Me  “Alright, and do you think I would intentionally choose to stand in the snow while wearing sandals?”
Educated Bouncer  “No.”
Me  “Do you not see where I’m going with this?”
Educated Bouncer  “No.”

I explain to him the story; he shows no remorse.

Dickless Cocksucker  “No shoes, no entry.”
Me  “Did you not just hear the story?  How bout some fucking sympathy?”
Dickless Cocksucker  “Even with shoes, I don’t believe you need anymore to drink sir.”
Me  “What are you my therapist or something?”
Not My Therapist  “No.”

Alright, I wish Not My Therapist wasn’t half my IQ and 3 times my size because I would love to knock him out right about now.  I’m not really sure what Wild Bill and Benny are doing at this point, but I’m trying my best to keep it calm.  Unfortunately, I was in fact blacking in and out during this conversation, so there’s a chance that when I thought I said…

Me  “I apologize for the dress code issue kind sir, but the airport has my luggage and refuses to give me access to the appropriate footwear.”

I actually said…

Me  “I’m wearing sandals because your whore of a mother wanted to keep my shoes as a souvenir after I finished pounding her from behind like the junkyard dog that she is.  Oh yeah, and she also wanted me to tell you that you’re adopted.”

Either way, we will not be getting into this bar.  Furthermore, I’ll never know the name of this bar because I have no paper trail to confer with, but I believe it was directly across the street from The Front Porch.  This is the last thing that I remember from the night.  Apparently Wild Bill and I found it appropriate to harass everyone in our sights.  Benny finally managed to stuff us in a cab, which I’m told we made stop at 7-11 so we could grab one last unnecessary beer before the night’s end.  Next thing I know, I wake up haggard as hell in our hotel room.

Day 2 – 8:15am

Feeling completely sober (yeah right) after 6 hours of sleep, I waste little time before waking up Wild Bill and Benny who are spooning like a high school couple.  How we divvied up the sleeping situation, we will never know.  It’s freezing cold outside, so I find it to be an appropriate time to leave my mark on this city.  Wild Bill gets up, shakes off the cobwebs, and then sits in a chair which proceeds to crumble to the ground.  After Gulliver brushes himself off, we decide to go down to the lobby and check out the breakfast buffet.  I order an overpriced orange juice and an undercooked omelet from an underage chef who I make a pass at anyways.  We fuel up and then head back to the room to grab our luggage.

Day 2 – 9:30am

Our flight isn’t until noon, but we don’t feel like depending on Denver to do us any favors so we head to the airport early.  We wait out front for the shuttle, and then hop on as it pulls up.  The shuttle is completely full, so when the driver asks if anyone is willing to give their seat up for a passenger with a 10:30am departure, we keep silent.  Hey, early bird gets the worm Fucko.

Day 2 – 10:00am

Back at Denver Airport (ew), we hop into a very long security line.  The line moves smoothly, and as I look to my left, I see a familiar face.  It’s our old friend, Pizza Dude from the Double Tree sports bar!  We say hey to Pizza Dude.

Us  “Hey!”

He says hey back.

Pizza Dude  “Hey!”

As it’s my turn to go through security, I surprisingly pass with very little harassment.  While I await for Wild Bill and Benny to clear through, I catch a sight of something very odd over by security.  Ok, I understand that ever since 9/11 airport security has been appropriately tightened, but where do we draw the line?  Do these two strike you as a security threat?  I mean seriously, this would be one hell of a spy getup.  As Benny laughs coyly in the background, I continue to be amazed as Airport Scientists (security) feel up Granny’s fanny.  As Wild Bill passes through, I shake off the disturbing image and we head towards are gate.  We are a couple hours early, so of course we stop in at our favorite watering hole, and low and behold, Byron is on duty!

Me  “Byron my man!  What’s up buddy?”
Byron  “Back so soon?”
Wild Bill  “Never left.”
Byron  “Figured.  How’d Denver treat you?”
Wild Bill  “3 pints of 2 Below and 3 shots of Jack please.”
Byron  “Wow.  Rough night.”

As Byron loads up the glasses so we can in turn load up ourselves, I catch another familiar face, this time to my right.  It’s Hip Asian Kid!  But wait, wasn’t Hip Asian Kid suppose to be outta here at 8:51am?  What’s he doing drinking alone at 11:00am?  I inquire…

Me  “Hip Asian Kid, what are you still doing here?”
Hip Asian Kid  “I’m on standby for the 12:00pm flight.”
Me  “Shit what happened, got drunk and overslept?”
Hip Asian Kid  “I wish, the Vegas airport wasn’t opened in time for my flight.”
Me  “Ah man, that’s no good.”

I hear the over the intercom…

Intercom  “Now boarding flight [whatever] to Vegas.”

Me  “Well, see ya man!”
Hip Asian Kid  “Yeah, see ya.”

I grab Wild Bill and Benny and we skip to our gate.  Again, the sad cloud has lifted as we smile ear to ear while boarding the plane.

The flight we were trying so hard to get on, the 8:51am, was canceled.  The first flight out of Denver to Vegas was the 12:00pm, and well my friends, we were on it.  After all of Denver’s (and United’s) bullshit, we made it to Vegas.

Let me tie up some loose ends for you.  First off, our luggage did not arrive until the next day.  The Vegas airport was a complete shit show and we spent a good couple of hours their dealing with the debacle.  Miraculously, my luggage was delivered unscathed to my hotel; Wild Bill and Benny, believe it or not had to go back to the Vegas airport to retrieve theirs.  But what about the rest of our crew, what did fate have in store for them?

Well Cola and Murph did not end up renting a car, but instead they hitchhiked a ride with 2 gentlemen whom had a lot of street cred all the way from Phoenix to the front door of Ballys.  Rizzo, Bonk, JP Money, and Roe were also dropped off in Phoenix while en route for Vegas.  They did in fact rent a car and Bonk drove 4 hours through darkness to the city of lights.  Dave in Atlanta caught a morning flight to Vegas, and Bonk’s cousin Joel caught a morning flight in from Michigan.  So that’s 11 out of 12 accounted for.  Our last buddy, Wingquest, lives in LA.  He drove about 3 hours towards Vegas, and was then forced to turn around due to road closures.  The next day he drove 11 hours (it usually takes 4, but heavy snow caused major delays) straight to the strip.  A 17 hour solo road trip to Vegas, now that’s dedication!

Ok, we get it, Denver sucks, but what about Vegas, surely Vegas doesn’t suck?  You are correct, Vegas is amazing.  I’ve been there 3 times, and when I can remember enough of a future visit, I’ll be sure to write about it.

The AFTERMATH.

For people who lead eventless lives, thus questioning the validity of my stories, this should help (as if the pictures aren’t enough).  Dec 17, 2008 check it out, also try The Front Porch.  I write these stories so my friends and I have something to reflect on in the future; this way when our lives have become sedated and meaningless, we can convincingly tell ourselves that we used to have a good time.

I’ll also note that on the way home, I again got stuck in Denver for a night, this time alone.  This is no joke, although I wish it was.  Joel, Bonk’s cousin, was delayed at the Vegas airport along with me so we drank together for a bit.  My flight left before him, but I still missed my connection in Denver.  The reason my flight was delayed was because some kid had gotten sick and vomited and they had to clean it.  Once stuck in Denver, again, I had to deal with United Douche Bags, again.  Honestly, they tried so hard not to comp my room, I almost lost my fucking mind.  They also told me that it would be 2 days until I could get a flight home (this means that I would be spending Christmas in Denver, sorry, not gonna happen).  After A LOT of bullshit, I was placed on a 6am flight for the following morning and put up at a Westin hotel.  I slept for a few hours before my 4am wake up call.

Once at the airport, I had no boarding pass.  All I had was a piece of paper that said I was “suppose” to be on the 6am flight.  After being “randomly selected” for a security screening (seriously), I made it to the gate only to realize that my boarding pass was not secure and that I’m on a waitlist of an overbooked flight.  After an hour of nervous tension, my name is announced over the intercom and I do receive a seat assignment.  Once again, the big guy in the sky (not United) has got my back.

The Denver Chronicles

Part 1

(click the LINKS within the story for pictures)

Day 1 – 6:00am

Unable to sleep, I am again awaken by impending excitement.  Although the alarm is set for 8:30am, I have been waking up every hour on the hour since I decided to pass out around 1:00am.  Like a child on Christmas morning, as is an Adult on Vegas eve.  Thoughts of flashing lights, blaring sirens, the sweet sound of stripper breasts banging together, the sensational smell of overpriced buffets, and of course the beautiful concept of the breakfast beer cannot be suppressed any longer.  Again unable to force myself back to sleep, I chalk up the extra 150 minutes of shut eye as a loss and fire up a couple episodes of the TV show Las Vegas.  Go figure.

Day 1 – 8:45am

It is time to put in a phone call to my airport escort, Big Bill.  Or as he is better known on the Vegas Strip, Wild Bill.  With no answer, I give little hesitation in calling back immediately.  He is beeping in as I am calling.

Me  “The big guy!”
Wild Bill  “What’s happenin’ buddy?”
Me  “Just trying to get this party started, what’s the deal?”
Wild Bill  “My buddy just pulled up, we will be at your place in 15 minutes (lie).”
Me  “Alright, put some hustle behind that lack of muscle sir.”
Wild Bill  “See you soon.”

Day 1 – 9:00am

Of course, no sign of Wild Bill.  I have known this character for sometime, so I do not show concern because this was expect.  Standing 6 foot 4, I just assume it takes him awhile longer to get ready because he has to reach a bit farther.  After popping some medicine (I am battling a cold) and taking down a few popsicles, I peruse the rest of my fridge for something to eat.  A half carton of soon-to-be spoiled milk, a single slice of cheese, a 3-month old bag of carrots with only one left, a half empty jar of cheese dip, and like every other collegiate male fridge, a side door loaded with every condiment and/or sauce known to man.  Fighting off hunger pangs, I head north to the freezer.  This is where the previously referenced popsicles reside, along with a half empty bottle of Jack Daniels.  I give serious contemplation to rippin a shot, but I figure due to my cold, I will give my body the courtesy of waiting until the airport before Operation Black Liver commences.

Day 1 – 9:20am

Phone rings…

Wild Bill  “I’m pulling into your neighborhood (lie), come on down.”
Me  “Roger that.”

Assuming that I forgot at least one item of importance, I do one last scan of the house.  Everything seems to be in order, so I twist up my stallion (pony) tail, toss on a backwards cap, grab my bags and head out the door.  Dressed like a true Floridian, I head down three flights of stairs to the street level dressed in sandals, brown pants, a black Buccaneers Polo t-shirt, and a UCF fitness instructor windbreaker.  This chosen travel attire will soon prove not to be an auspicious one.

Day 1 – 9:30am

Clearly it does not take 10 minutes to get from the front of my neighborhood to my front door.  Why Wild Bill always finds it necessary to fib to his buddies like some sort of unfaithful mistress will forever be a mystery.  Several minutes later, I see the dirty two-tone Durango in the distance.  I fidget through my car, looking for an alternate pair of sunglasses as Wild Bill and friend come roaring up the street.  His buddy, who will from here on be referred to as Benny (because that’s his name), rolls down the shotgun window and shoots me a pleasant greeting.  I throw him an excited hand shake and head to the back of the Durango as Wild Bill leaps out to help me squeeze in my luggage.

Wild Bill  “Good day sir.”
Me  “Good day to you sir.”
Wild Bill  “Vegas Baby!”
Me  “Vegas.”

We shift around a piece of luggage and find room in the back in which to stuff my duffle bag.  I keep my backpack with me.

Wild Bill  “Thought you might be needing one of these.”

As Wild Bill hand shakes me an M&M…

Me  “Absolutely sir, good man.”

I pile in the back of the two-tone as we head towards Wild Bill’s brother’s place so he can give us a lift to the airport.  As we make the 5 minute trek, I learn that Benny is a Vegas virgin.  Wild Bill and I start pumping up the sights and sounds of the Sinner’s Mecca.  Not that we are experts on the city, but little experience does prove to be better than none at all.  Upon arriving at Tom (Wild Bill’s Brother)’s place, Wild Bill raps on the door mercilessly until Tom awakes.  As he stumbles down the stairs, awake yet disoriented, Wild Bill hustles inside to lighten his traveling load (take a massive dump).  Tom hands Benny and I each a packet of Gummy Starburst.  Although I have sworn off Starbursts as a weak attempt at a diet (I’m not fat, just bored), I decide to throw back a couple in the spirit of vacation.  Believing they would have been benchmarked off Lifesaver Gummies, I have assumed wrong.  Much like Gushers, they have a mysterious “goo” inside them that squirts out into my mouth.  But unlike Gushers, which are delicious, these are not.  So if you ever get the chance to try them, don’t.  Anyways, Wild Bill finishes wiping from the knees up and we head back outside and pile back into the Durango.  All heads accounted for, off we go to MCO (the unexplainable airport code of Orlando International Airport).

Day 1 – 10:15am

As we pull up to United curbside check-in, all 3 of us have already printed out our boarding passes, as well as having paid a ridiculous $12 per bag luggage fee (originally $15, we were given a $3 discount because of our online prepayments.  Thanks United for all your help).  This will be our first “beef” with United Airlines, a “beef” that will eventually turn into a full-blown hatred of anything and everything for which United Airlines stands.  We toss the Skycap a couple of unnecessary dollars for giving us our claim ticket (which will soon be very necessary), give our thanks to Tom, then head inside.

Now the next obstacle is always a train wreck, but must always be dealt with: security.  Besides the giant lines and disorganization, the thing that always chaps my ass about these “security checks” is the caliber (education level) of the people actually conducting them.  The lady comparing my ID to my boarding pass can be presumed to have a skull as thick as the bifocals that she is wearing.  Moments later, she returns them both to me and wishes me a pleasant trip.  It is amazing how she knew it was my ID, seeing as though she never looked up in an attempted to make a face-to-picture comparison.

Obstacle number 2: the screaming infant.  We have about 4 passengers to go before we contract terminal cancer from the metal detector, but we won’t have to worry about that as long as Baby McWuss refuses go through.  His mother, also appearing to be highly educated, holds him like a football as he screams shamelessly.  The security officer/bag screener, whom appears to have an awful lot of street cred, finds it to be a good idea to take his focus off of the bag x-ray machine and divert it all towards Baby McWuss.  Don’t worry about the other items sliding on by, a box of syringes, several elbows of hashish, perhaps even the body of Jimmy Hoffa; let’s just have ourselves a good chuckle at the ear sore.  As the line and level of frustration begin to build, finally Educated Mother darts through the metal detector with Baby McWuss as if trying to smuggle the neighbor’s Labrador passed the invisible fence.

Obstacle number 3: the “too many bins lady”.  Unless she is Jane Bond, I highly doubt the wannabe British Op in front of us has the need to use 6 bins.  Do not be skeptical, this is not an exaggeration.  Perhaps she had one bin per tooth?  I cannot be certain.  Anyways, once Jane Bond snails her way through, I finally get my chance to make to the other side.  Nearly stripped down to my birthday suit, I walk through the machine, which to my surprise does not go off.  I left a shooter of American Honey that Wild Bill had given me in my bag which was rolling through the x-ray.  I’m not sure if this shows up on the scan or not, but our Street Cred Screener gave me a gold-tooth grin and a head nod so I figured all was well.  Wild Bill is the last to come through, as soon as he re-robes himself, we file into the tram and head to the terminal.

Day 1 – 10:45

We check our gate to make sure the flight is on-time; everything appears to be up-to-par.  Benny and I decide to throw down a small meal to help line our stomachs for the party to come.  Along with Wild Bill, we sniff out an airport Wendy’s and hop in line.  I order a grilled chicken sandwich and ask for some hot sauce to spice it up a tad.  The sales associate (GED cashier) told me all they have is chili sauce.  I grab a couple packets and wait 10 minutes for my sandwich (true).  Finally I get my meal and trot over to Wild Bill and Benny.  I take the cup of ice I had received and pour in the shot of American Honey.  That stuff is delicious whiskey, even on the rocks (true).  We all toss away our scraps and head back to the gate as the plane begins to board.  Before I board, I make a call into Cola (from The Memphis Chronicles), a buddy of mine who is leaving from Tampa to rendez vous with us in Vegas.  All in all, we have about 12 champions gathering for this adventure.  Cola, whom is flying in with our buddy Murph, answers…

Me  “Hey ooooooo!”
Cola  “Good morning to you sir.”
Me  “Ready to rock brotha?”
Cola  “Yes sir, already in Atlanta, about to board.”
Me (surprised) “Atlanta?”
Cola  “Yeah, we just got in from Tampa a bit ago.”
Me  “Oh, I thought we were the first group making it into Vegas?”
Cola  “No sir, Murph and I get in around 2:00pm (that‘s what he thinks), Vegas time.”
Me  “No shit, well have a good flight.  Drain a few cocktails before I get there.”
Cola  “I’ll try my best, fly safe.”
Me  “Right on, peace brotha.”

I hang up, a little distraught because I felt “one upped” by not being the first to arrive; that feeling is quickly suppressed as I hear our seating section being called to board.  I sit in the isle seat behind Benny and Wild Bill.  In true Wild Bill fashion, even though he was the one who had purchased both his and Benny’s ticket, he managed to screw up and put his 6 foot 4 ass in the middle, assigning the isle seat to Benny.  Benny, showing no mercy, refuses to make the switch (good play sir, good play).

Day 1 – 11:30am

To everyone’s surprise, the plane departs on time.  Smiles are big and spirits are high.  Speaking of spirits, isn’t it about time for our first round of cocktails?  As the cart lady approaches, we shell out $6 apiece for our first round.  I go for a rum and diet with lime.  The others order whiskey and shoot several sexual orientation jokes my way; allow me to digress for just a moment.

By itself, diet coke with lime tastes like aids.  However, if you mix it with rum or whiskey, it is delicious.  I’m not sure how or why this works, but give it a try sometime.  Back to the story.

I sit back and start to eye up the plane.  To my right there is a college surfer looking dude, who agreed to give his window seat up for an Asian toddler, the mother of said toddler resides between the two.  It only takes one M&M and a cocktail or two before my female radar is in full swing.  The only thing I can see around me is the girl in the window seat in the row behind me.  As I recline my seat in an attempt to get a better look, I’d be shocked if she had her learner’s permit.  In the middle seat next to her, I can only assume that man to be her disapproving father.  I turn my head around and reach in my bag for some music.  Expectedly, my iPod-turned-paperweight does not work.  I try to jam my headphones into the outlet on the seat’s arm, but of course someone has broken off what appears to be a piece of another headset in my outlet.  I notice the lady next to me has fallen asleep, and with her permission (lie), I commandeer her outlet.  I do a bit of light-reading as I jam out to half elevator tunes and half early 90’s pop-rock.  Before my brain has time to conjure up a sober thought, Wild Bill has already ordered me round 2; this time whiskey.  I opt for Crown, but all they have is Jack.  I reluctantly accept.  United… The Greyhound of the skies.  My neighbor awakes and notices my robbery.  She says nothing the rest of the flight, yet I see her staring intently at the E! True Hollywood Story of Charlize Theron.  I found the show quite enjoyable, although I did in fact have audio.  From behind, the guy in the window seat next to Wild Bill looks remarkably similar to him.  Besides that paradox, the rest of flight goes relatively smooth.  We land in Denver with plenty of time to hit our connection to Vegas.  Everyone on the plane is extremely slow to get off, it’s as if they do not know we are on a Vegas vacation.  One jackass darts passed us to catch up with his family, which happens to be just one row in front of Wild Bill, thus two rows in front of me.  He becomes the culprit of congestion as it takes him several minutes to locate the correct overhead bin.  As we stumble off the plane, and through the hanger, that terrible Denver smell takes over, along with a chilly breeze.  We make it into the Denver airport with high hopes of Vegas.

Day 1 1:00pm (Mountain Time)

As we land, Benny and I are absolutely starving.  The one positive thing about Denver that I can remember is that the airport has a restaurant called The Steak Escape.  You may have heard of this chain, it is rather well known.  Anyways, I have been eating their Wild West BBQ sandwich (no onion) since I was about eight years old.  We hustle to the main food court and eureka!  There it is!  We each throw in an order, slam it down, and now search out a watering hole.  We head to the Colorado Sports Bar and plan to slug a few as we wait for our connection.  Oh Denver, how we hate you so (not yet, but soon enough).  As we sit at the bar, Wild Bill and I order a beer called “2 Below”, Benny goes with a Blue Moon.  Byron, our elderly but still “on his game” bartender, IDs us then delivers.  I notice a girl one barstool to my left, she appears to be attractive enough and about our age.  I open the conversation…

Me (referring to the empty stool between us) “Do you mind if I set my bag here?”
Girl  “No worries, it’s cool.”

She talks like a snowboarder, so I continue to engage in a roundabout way.  Allow me to digress for just a moment.

Whenever you are talking to a stranger, especially in an airport bar situation, there is always that time frame where you have yet to engage in a direct conversation, but yet every couple of minutes or so you stare into the distance and ask a rhetorical question that your new friend replies to while also avoiding eye contact.  A very strange practice, but almost a precursor in this scenario before we get to an actual conversation.  Back to the story.

So I begin to speak loudly to Wild Bill, hoping our new friend gets the hint that she is suppose to overhear our conversation and barge in.  It works flawlessly…

Me (to Wild Bill) “First cocktail (airport cocktail) of many, to Vegas sir!”
Wild Bill  “It’s about to get real silly.”

New friend overhears, as predicted…

Girl  “Vegas huh?”
Me  “Yeah, we had to stop here for our connection.”
Girl  “Oh I just came from there.”
Me  “Oh yeah. Good time?”
Girl  “Well of course, but I wasn’t visiting, I live there.”
Me  “Oh no shit?”
Girl  “Yeah, on my way to visit family for a bit.”
Me  “I’m doing like the opposite of that, but that’s straight.”
Girl  “I hope you guys make it.”
Me (slightly intrigued) “Um me too, why wouldn’t we exactly?”
Girl  “Well I got delayed leaving there, you know it’s snowing there for like the first time in like 30 years?”

I had heard it was snowing there, but this did not register with me seeing as though I am a Florida boy.  I assume it is always snowing everywhere, at all times, except in Florida.  Apparently this assumption is incorrect.  We continue…

Me  “Is it really that bad?”
Girl  “I mean, it’s not like crazy, but the Vegas airport isn’t prepared to handle snow.”
Me (starting to show actual concern) “Um what do you mean, it’s an airport isn’t it?”
Girl  “Well yeah, but they don’t have plows and shit to clear the runway.”
Me  “Why not?”
Girl  “Because this kind of shit never happens.”
Girl (to Byron, our bartender) “Can I get a double Bloody Mary?”

Dibs.

Me  “Well, should we be worried about hitting our connection?”
Girl  “I mean it’s not snowing bad, but I promise as long as it’s snowing, no one can land.”
Me (concerned) “Oh shit, that’s no good.”

Allow me to back up a moment.  Although we never believed anything weather related would actually hinder us, all of our minor concerns were on the fact that Denver would be the instigator.  None the wiser, we had never given thought to the idea that the Vegas airport might actually have some problems.  I text a friend of mine who is visiting Vegas at the time, and she alerts me that it is still in fact snowing.  Just then, bad news arrives.  Some random guy standing at the far end of the bar by Benny delivers, you guessed it, bad news.

Bad News Dude  “Damn, my flight to Vegas just got delayed.”
Wild Bill  “What time is your flight?”
Bad News Dude  “Well it was at 3, now it’s at 4.”
Me (overhearing) “Well ours it at 2:15, so I’ll go check.”

I drop my conversation with Girl-turned-Maybe Hot Chick and focus on the possible problem at hand.  I run to the departure board, and sure as shit, Bad News Dude was not drunk, but indeed just full of bad news.  Our flight had also just been delayed an hour.  I hobble back into the bar, a little disheartened but at this point, nowhere near defeated (this will soon change).  I pick back up conversation with Maybe Hot Chick…

Me  “Damn, we are delayed an hour too.”

United… Next time you want to fly, don’t.

Maybe Hot Chick  “I told you, as long as it’s snowing, you aren’t going anywhere.”
Me (upset with Maybe Hot Chick’s response) “Oh don’t say that.”
Maybe Hot Chick (bringing up a good point) “Well wouldn’t you rather be stuck here at the airport bar instead of circling around an airport unable to land?”
Me (agreeing with her point) “This is true.”

Now my mind begins to wonder.  It is right about the time Cola and Murph are suppose to land in Vegas.  I put in several phone calls that go straight to voice mail; this is a sign that they remain in the air.  I also put in a phone call to Rizzo (from The Key West Chronicles and The Memphis Chronicles), and one to Bonk (also from The Key West Chronicles); two other lads joining us from Tampa.  Although they are leaving from the same place as Cola and Murph, their traveling schedule was a bit different.  They, along with Roe and JP Money, are leaving as a foursome from Tampa sometime around 5:00pm ET.  So most likely, they are on the plane as I’m trying to contact them.  I decide it best to stop trying to play operator and just start drinking heavily.  Rounds one and two have already been briefed on Operation Black Liver, so we decide it’s time for a shot.  Benny, from a couple seats down, orders three shots of SoCo and Lime, and throws on a p.s. …

Benny (referring to Maybe Hot Chick) “Unless the lady down there would like one?”

She agrees.  After the shot, Maybe Hot Chick becomes Dibs.  Dibs and I continue to talk while we all anxiously await the progressing weather situation…

Me (being lame) “So Vegas huh?  What do you do?”
Dibs (not noticing me being lame) “I work at Hooters and Planet Hollywood.”

Dibs.

Me (intrigued) “Oh yeah, what do you do?”
Dibs  “I bartend at Hooters, and deal Black Jack at Planet Hollywood.”
Me (as I stare at her breasts trying to find truth to these claims) “Oh that’s cool, how long have you been out there?”
Dibs  “About a year and a half.”
Me (still scanning her body for clues) “That’s cool, dealing Black Jack huh?  Got any good stories, or recent ones that are easier to remember?”

I still cannot quite tell if Dibs is hot or not.  Her face is definitely cute, but she is wearing a sweater and jeans, while sitting down, thus making it very difficult to develop an accurate mental nude visual.  By this point, I’m a little sauced up so I just make up some aesthetically pleasing visual imagery of my own.  She begins to tell some story about a drunk guy giving her the finger, and then another drunk guy hitting on her…

Me  “Well in the drunk guy’s defense, I’ve definitely hit on a Hooter’s bartender before.”
Dibs  “Well I expect it, but it’s kind of annoying while dealing Black Jack.  But I guess it’s part of the job.”
Me  “Wait, someone was hitting on you while you were wearing black slacks and some sort of monkey suit?”
Dibs (laughing) “No, it’s a little different than that where I work.”
Me  “I don’t get it?”
Dibs  “Where I work they dress sexy.”
Me (baffled) “A sexy Black Jack dealer?”
Dibs  “Go to Planet Hollywood and you’ll see (true).”

I wouldn’t quite understand the significance of what she told me until I later visited the area.  If in Vegas, goto Planet Hollywood and check out the “Pleasure Pit.”  It’s time to do another weather check.  This time Wild Bill heads out to check the departures.  He returns disgruntled…

Me  “Don’t fuck with me sir.”
Wild Bill  “6:00pm we depart.”

United… If you like kissing your sister.

Benny  “6:00pm?  Fuck.”
Me (trying to instill the “half-full” attitude) “Hey, at least we’ll make it tonight (lie).”

Right as I open my fat mouth, my cell phone rings, as does Wild Bill’s.  We both are staring at the same unknown number.  This cannot be a good sign.  A recorded message plays…

“Flight [whatever] has been canceled.  Please seek a customer service representative for assistance.  We apologize for any inconvenience this might cause.”

United… If you like choking on pubic hair.

Son of a bitch!  We frantically check the prompter one last time, but it still says delayed.  We sit in the bar and continue to drink.  Finally, I find out that Dibs does in fact have a nickname…

Me  “Well it looks like we’ll be here for a while.  What’s your name?”
Dibs  “Patricia.”
Me  “Well Patricia, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

I officially introduce Patricia to Wild Bill and Benny (as if it even matters by this point) and we order another round.  As time keeps winding down, I decide it would be benevolent to go check in with customer service and see how fucked we actually are.  I encourage Wild Bill and Benny to slam the rest of there beers, and we say goodbye to Patricia and throw Byron a high five as we depart.  As we search for customer service, I see a giant line in the distance and assume the worst.  Of course, we have reached customer service.  Apparently we should have gotten here early, I blame Patricia, Byron, and the booze.

The Vegas airport has temporarily been shut down, so we now wait at the tail end of a line that consists of every gambling junkie this side of the Rockies.  We rotate in line as we take bathroom breaks.  About 5 minutes of waiting have gone by, Benny and Wild Bill are in the restroom.  A hip Asian kid approaches me from behind, he is now last in line…

Hip Asian Kid  “Looks like we are here all night.”
Me (drunk and frazzled) “What do you mean?”
Hip Asian Kid  “I just talked to my travel agent, next flight out is tomorrow morning.”
Me  “Fuck you.”
Hip Asian Kid  “No man, I’m serious.”
Me  “What time?”
Hip Asian Kid  “8:50am.”
Me  “Holy Fuck, that’s ridiculous.”

Just as I speak, Wild Bill heads out of the bathroom…

Me (to Wild Bill) “This cat (no Asian joke intended) is telling me we leave tomorrow.”
Wild Bill (finally turning into Wild Bill) “No.”
Me  “That’s what he says.”

Hip Asian Kid throws an agreeing head nod, just then Benny enters.  We explain the news, and then Wild Bill and I decide to walk the airport.  Benny decides to hold strong in line (not much of a problem, as he has just thrown in a lip).  A couple minutes of dicking around on the “people-movers” then Wild Bill and I head back.  As we are about to rejoin our party in line, a man is leaving from the customer service desk.  He is not going to Vegas, but apparently all the parties around him were.  He explains how the airport is shut down, and he has heard that noon tomorrow is the earliest available flight.  He is kind and knowledgeable, so I resist all urges to kick him in the shin because I am a firm believer of “not shooting the messenger”.  He also says that the customer service line takes about two and a half hours.  This, to me, becomes unacceptable.

Wild Bill and I stand around at the front of the line, while Benny holds our “just in case we follow the rules” spot.  This will not be necessary.  As I search for a quicker alternative than the line, I notice that next to the very helpful (useless) customer service employees, there are several electronic ticket machines.  Wild Bill and I look up at a sign that is nearly hovering over us that reads “E-ticket Customers Enter Here”.  Well, we are all e-ticket customers (in this day and age, it is a safe assumption that almost all other patrons in line are as well), so we walk directly up to one of the empty automated machines and start pushing buttons.  I enter my ticket confirmation number, along with another series of numbers that I can’t remember (age, birthday, social security, something to that effect).  The machine prompts me to pick up the phone attached to it.  I do as instructed…

Operator  “United Airlines, what can I do for you?”
Me (angered, but slightly humored that we cheated the line) “Uh yeah, I was told my flight was canceled and need to rebook.”
Anti-Christ  “Ok, go ahead and let me have your flight information.”

Wild Bill keeps throwing me elbows and reminding me not to forget him and Benny.

Me (to Wild Bill) “Relax dummy.”
Anti-Christ  “Excuse me?”
Me (whoops) “Sorry, I was talking to my friend.”
Anti-Christ (after I give her the necessary information) “Ok, the earliest I can do is a flight into Las Vegas leaving tomorrow at noon.”
Me (fuck) “Noon?  Really?  I heard there was an 8:50am flight?”
Anti-Christ  “Yes sir there is, but that flight is already full.”
Me (regretting the extra hour spent at the bar) “Um ok, well I guess if that’s the best you can do.  I’m going to need three of us on that flight.”
Anti-Christ  “Who are the other passengers?”

I give her Wild Bill and Benny’s information.  She gives me a confirmation number, then tells me to scratch it out and write down another one.  What little faith I had in Anti-Christ has just been lost.  At this point, I have also just learned that Benny’s name is actually Mark.  Not really sure what’s going on with this Benny character.  Wild Bill alerts me that it is just his real first name, but Wild Bill is not to be trusted.

Me  “Ok, so we are all confirmed on the noon flight?”
Anti-Christ  “Yes sir.”
Me  “Well thank you, but as for sleeping and eating, do you guys offer vouchers or anything to that effect?”
Anti-Christ  “Sir for that you will have to speak to a United Representative.”
Me (confused) “Well who the fuck is this?  Excuse me, I’m sorry, but I thought you were a United Rep?”
Anti-Christ  “I am an agent sir, for customer service issues, you must speak to someone at the airport that is tending to the customer service station.”
Me (as I hang up) “Ok, thank you.”

The literal translation of what she had just said was, “Yeah, nice try cutting that line douche bag, now go and hop back in it.”  We still have Benny waiting in line just in case Anti-Christ tried to fuck us over.  Just as I hang up, some genius in a United blazer walks out from a back room, Wild Bill flags him down…

Wild Bill  “Excuse me, we rebooked our flight, what do we do for hotels, food, you know, all that stuff?”
Genius  “Well sir, where are you trying to fly?”
Wild Bill  “Las Vegas, like most of these people waiting.”
Genius  “Sir, when the delay is weather-related, we are not responsible for providing any compensation.”
Wild Bill  “So what, we just have to pay out of our pockets?  We are college kids (lie, kinda) for God sakes!”
Useful Genius  “I’m sorry sir, all we can do is help you find a discounted room.”
Wild Bill  “Well can you at least do that?”

As Useful Genius tries to hurry passed us, he finally turns around and heads back behind the counter to grab a voucher, most likely just to get us to go away.

Useful Genius (to Wild Bill) “Here you go sir.”
Wild Bill (not satisfied) “That’s only one, there are three of us.”
Useful Genius (grabbing two more vouchers) “Here.”

Day 1 5:00pm (Mountain Time)

We wave Benny to the front of the line and fill him in on the situation.  We are all disgruntled and are beginning to sober up.  We decide to make the best of an interesting (shitty) situation.  I call the number on the voucher, and discover that a $49 stay at the local Comfort Inn is our cheapest choice.  I reserve the room and we head downstairs to try and find access to our baggage (we have already been told that we will not be allowed to get to our luggage).

United… I’d rather “Ape” (shit in one’s own hand and throw it at something/someone) myself.

We head to the United desk near baggage claim downstairs, finally speaking to a lady who does not feast on the souls of newborn babies…

Decent Lady  “Yes?”
Wild Bill (after being informed the only way you can get to your luggage is if you claim there are meds enclosed that are necessary for survival) “Yes, I need to get to my bag, it has medication I need to take.”
Decent Lady  “What flight were you on?”

Wild Bill gives her the information, and she is unable to locate our bags.  I explain to her the real situation as I lift my foot onto her counter…

Me  “We are stuck in Denver, ew, for the night.  I only have these sandals (as I point to my foot) and this windbreaker.  I need clothes from my bag.”
Evil Whore  “I’m sorry sir, I can’t help you.  Might I suggest you purchase some socks in Denver?”

Before suggesting that Evil Whore remove my foot from her ass, we leave and head towards the shuttle pick-up for Comfort Inn.  On the way there, I notice that a Southwest flight is boarding to Las Vegas.  What the fuck?  Southwest 1, United -9.  We walk over to a random regional airline (because it had no line) and ask questions…

Me  “Excuse me, I know this concern has nothing to do with your airline, but our flight got canceled on our way to Vegas, and now it is showing another airline boarding to go there?”
Another Decent Lady  “Well that’s odd, let me see.”

Without any special request or anything, Another Decent Lady picks up the phone and calls the Las Vegas Airport.  Apparently they have reopened.  We are shocked, and have now decided to devise a new plan.  Operation Get the Fuck to Vegas has just commenced.  We all thank Another Decent Lady and head back to the main terminal.  After stumbling around the airport with no sense of direction, we’re finally pointed towards the United check-in station inside the airport.  Oh goody, the opportunity to speak to another well-educated, jovial individual.  At this point we are dead sober, and quickly losing our patients.  A lady calls us up as next in line, all three of us approach…

Me  “Hello, how are–”
Chloe  “One at a time please.”
Me  “But we all have the same issue?”

Chloe rolls her eyes, we remain cool.

Chloe  “Fine, what can I do for you?”

The term “BJ” comes to mind, but I refrain…

Me  “Yeah, we are trying to get to Vegas, and our flight has been canceled.”
Chloe  “Yes sir, the airport has shut down.”
Me  “Well we have caught wind that it has opened back up?”
Chloe  “I don’t think so sir.”
Me (losing patients) “Well mam, we just had another airline representative call the airport, and Vegas told her they are now open.”
Wild Bill (butting in) “Yeah, a Southwest flight is boarding right now!”
Me (calming Wild Bill) “How can we get there?  What can you switch us onto?”
Cunty  “Well, I’m sorry sir but we do not conduct business with Southwest.”
Me  “Well, what sister companies do you have?  Frontier?  Something shitty like that?”
Cunty (not appreciating the language) “Let me check sir.”

I am doing my very best to keep my foul vocabulary to a minimum.  This is a daunting task considering it is pretty much a way of life for me.

Cunty (sucking as usual) “I’m sorry sir, all of the other flights are canceled as well.”
Me  “So the airport is open, but you just aren’t going there?”
Cunty (being smug) “I’m sorry sir, but I don’t control the weather.”
Me  “Ok, well can you at least verify that we are in fact on the noon flight tomorrow?”
Cunty (after taking our names) “Ok, I have all three of you confirmed.”
Me  “Can you print our boarding passes?”
Cunty  “I can probably take care of that.”
Me  “Any chance you can bump us up to first class or something?  You know, for having to deal with all this nonsense?”
Cunty  “I’m sorry sir, but Ted (subsidiary of United that we are flying) only has 1 class.”
Wild Bill (no longer able to keep quite) “Yeah, No Fuckin’ Class!”
Cunty (not amused) “I cannot control the weather sir.”

Day 1 5:30pm

Still laughing at Wild Bill’s idea of rage, we grab our boarding passes and head towards the hotel shuttles.  No longer willing to spend our vacation sober, we decide to cut our loses and see what Denver has to offer (nothing).  Just then, I finally receive a call from Cola (well Murph actually)…

Me  “Hey man, where are you?”
Murph  “We are stuck in Phoenix.  Never made it.”
Me  “No shit?”

Cola grabs the phone…

Cola  “Yeah, we circled the airport for over an hour and then they flew us to Phoenix.”
Me  “That sucks, so what now?”
Cola “Well Air Tran (United’s fat, herpe-carrying cousin) does not fly to Vegas from Phoenix.”
Me  “So wait, they will drop you off in Phoenix, but not take you to Vegas?”
Cola  “Exactly, they said they would fly us back to Atlanta if we want.”
Me  “Well that’s awfully nice of them.”
Cola  “Yeah, real cool.  We decided to say fuck it, and just rent a car.”
Me  “Wait, you are going to drive to Vegas?”
Cola  “Yeah, apparently it’s only 4 hours.”
Me  “Right on brother, good luck.  I’ll let you know when we make it.”
Cola  “Godspeed.”

As I hang up, I realize I still have not heard from half of the team.  6 out of 12 are accounted for.  The 3 of us in Denver, Cola and Murph in Phoenix, and Wild Bill and Benny’s friend Dave is stuck in Atlanta.  Ok, it is time to get out of this fucking airport.  We find the shuttle stop, and step out into the wild.  Fuck it’s cold!  Denver, it’s gonna take a lot more than scrotum-crinkling cold to keep us away from a good time, you’re going to have to try harder than that!  And Denver does try.  Much harder.

CONTINUE ON TO PART 2 (FINALE)