Vegas 5

"You look like a crackhead."
-Crackhead to me.

Friday...Friday?Um....well, waking up and realizing that the room is 104 degrees, you ate a cheeseburger in a bathroom the night before, and you're down 150 after one night - you begin to shake a bit. Not only that, but you're hungover.
My first move, on my first morning in Vegas, was to go downstairs and find some java. Only political consultants and queers call coffee java, what the hell? I guess I'm out of my gord on cold medication again, oh well.
So, I navigated the long halls of the Flamingo looking for elevators. In my hungover state of annoyance, I became upset after fifty feet of walking. Panic set in as I realized I could not recall where the elevators were and how long it would be before I started to tremble like a wee bairn.
There, before me were elevators. But, these elevators were odd. No, they were not the shining rectangles of gold that I had last used. Not only that, they were standing in a bank that was not there the night before. What could these special elevators mean?
The fastest neurons in my brain take approximately three minutes to make it from one place to another and it wasn't until I was speeding down to the parking garage that I realized I was on the service elevators.
BING!
I exited the elevator only to find an army of white-clad service personel folding blankets and preparing room service carts.I was now in their domain and had better exit immediatly before I'm fingered as some sort of terrorist looking to spike the all temperature Tide with Anthrax.
So, I fumbled to the first door out and ended up in the parking garage of the adjacent hotel.I found my way outside, eventually.
Downstairs, I spent the better portion of an hour looking for a coffee stand. There was no way I was going back to Lyndies - Nazi bastards.
Soon I discovered a latte stand and ordered an Americano, with light ice. Light ice is key if you want to drink the beverage within the first hour of purchasing it. Otherwise, you're drinking boiling water.
When the terrorists come to take down our great cities, I have a feeling we'll be pouring steaming hot Americanos from tall buildings on them, like the Trojans before.
The Trojans are a misunderstood race of people. Many of us think that they ran around like homos in body armor, wrestling each other and playing grab ass. This is not true and you must write a letter to Brad Pitt, post haste, informing him that Trojans were not fags, but good, hard working Americans who held up the fort while the Indians attacked from all sides only to take the Alamo so Ozzy Osbourne could piss on it five years later.
Man, the 1980s were rough.
I have to stop watching the History channel stoned.
Now then. I found myself in a similiar position as the night before: I didn't feel like enjoying my Americano in the prescence of Scott and Shanna. A coffee is a private thing that must be drank while playing such games as Battleship, Monopoly, or Wheel of Fortune and Scott and Shanna are sick people.
Again, like many a drunken night, I cursed Keith for not having a phone. For, it was this machine, this Wheel of Fortune, that Keith delivered 1000 dollars unto.But, I was smart and played like a champ, robbing the beast of 20 bucks, before I got bored and was back upstairs wondering where the couple had gone.No matter - there was a TV and I had a hankering for some news. I certainly didn't want to miss the death of a President or something.
With that I turned on the TV, only to hear:"Roomservice!"This was followed by a loud banging and an attempt to break open the door. It was latched and there was no way she could bust the lock.So, I sat and waited for her to leave. All the while "ROOMSERVICE! LET ME IN!" kept pelting my eardrums. After five minutes, I finally said "FUCK YOU!" And got up off the bed to answer the door, only to spill my coffee all over the floor.
I yelled "ARE YOU HAPPY!" as I opened the door.
But, there was no one outside.
Rod Serling then walked in front of me, like I wasn't there, and began explaining that I was a man, a man with everything he could want - besides a woman, some money, and half my sanity - who was robbed of his coffee by a mysterious service woman who wouldn't take no for an -But, it's late and I need a drink.