Many years ago, my family (myself, my two brothers, my sister, my sister-in-law, and my parents) went on vacation to Las Vegas. Everyone was very hyped up for it, except for me, as the youngest of the group; the story about being twenty in a city where you had to be twenty-one to do most anything, like be present in casinos, is a can of worms that need not be opened.
This is the story of how the trip ended.
We’d been in Vegas for about a week. I was bored: there’s only so much to do when you can’t gamble, and I’d done what I had wanted to do. We went to the Stratosphere and up the bar there (I studiously stayed in the shadows and didn’t get carded, but also didn’t drink).
After we’d had our fun, we went downstairs, and my father and my two brothers decided to stay and gamble for a bit. No worries, we had to check out of our hotel by 11 AM and our flight home wasn’t until 3 PM. They said they’d be back at the hotel later and settled in at a blackjack table. This was at about 9:30 PM.
When I woke up the following morning, my mother, my sister, and my sister-in-law were P***ED. My brothers and father were nowhere to be seen. I got the full story later.
Apparently, when they settled in at the blackjack table, they REALLY “settled in”. They ordered drinks, they played low-stakes blackjack, they made friends with the dealer (and the second dealer when the first dealer’s shift ended, and the THIRD dealer when the second’s ended). The table wasn’t hot or anything, but it was consistent, and they were getting pretty drunk. Drinks were free as long as you were gambling, after all.
Around 4 AM, another player joined their table. When the waitress came around for drink orders, one of my brothers, who was three sheets to the wind after four rum and Cokes in the last six hours, asked for another rum and Coke. The new arrival asked for coffee.
Brother: “You can get coffee?! I’ll have a coffee!”
Waitress: “Sure.”
Brother: “And another rum and Coke!”
And so the night continued. They stayed at the blackjack table for TWELVE… HOURS!
When I woke up the following morning, they were still there. My mother and sister, and sister-in-law were upset because, as far as they knew, the rest of the family was missing.
And when they did show up at 10:30 AM in the morning, still absolutely drunk and also exhausted from being up all night? Oh boy…
My father tried to calm my mother and explain that he had a headache and was sorry, and he really needed to pack because we had to check out in thirty minutes. This did nothing to placate her: it was HIS FAULT that he had a headache and had to rush, and besides, she had already packed all his stuff, and he had no choice but to sit there and take it.
My oldest brother and his wife didn’t talk to each other. For hours.
My other brother came back to his hotel room, threw everything into his suitcase haphazardly, and promptly passed out. He passed out again on the trip to the airport. And at the airport. And on the plane. And on the trip from the airport back home. And for most of the next day.
Me? I was content to watch, once I was assured that everyone was okay.
The crowning jewel of the foolishness of the men in my family? While we were waiting in the hotel lobby for the shuttle to take us to the airport, my father and my brothers walked over to the lounge, ordered cocktails, and wandered over to the slot machines.
The dope slaps were righteously furious.
