One of the
most exciting things about being a part of the entertainment industry
is being able to hear about all of the off-the-wall things that
happen to people while they are working, playing, or spectating
their way around Las Vegas nightlife scene. The below stories
are (mainly) submitted by those who work and play in the Las Vegas
scene regularly, but feel free to submit
your own if you have one that will entertain the masses!
Now
hejust "might" know she didn't call
it an early night. Submitted by Stephanie Bookhammer of Las Vegas, NV.
I
was at the airport on a Friday looking for groups of arriving
girls to bring to JET.
I see a group of about 6 ladies wearing home-made "What happens
in Vegas stays in Vegas" t-shirts. These look like the type
of girls who would want to come to JET
so I approach them, give them my pitch and I get a name and phone
number so I can call later to confirm. So around ten o'clock I
start making calls to my girls to make sure they are still coming
out and here is the transcript from one conversation that night:
Guy: (In a sleepy voice, like he just woke up) Hello
Me: Hi, is Lisa there? Guy: What? no, who is this?
Me: This is Stephanie from JET Night Club
at The Mirage I was just calling to confirm that Lisa and her
party are still coming out to JET tonight. Guy: What? Lisa is going to a night club?
Me: Sorry to wake you up sir. (hangs up)
It turns out that Lisa gave me her home phone number in Atlanta,
Georgia and I called her husband at 1am to let him know that his
wife was going to a night club in Las Vegas. Ooops!
The
one in a million chance. Submitted by Stephen Patronick of Las Vegas, NV.
I had just
moved to Vegas from Boston and was 4 months into my new job checking
I.D.'s at JET
Nightclub. And if you have ever been to JET,
you know that we check your I.D.'s in somewhat of a dimly lit
hallway - so we do not see your face at first. This one night
I was handed a Massachusetts I.D, and thought, hey i'm from there,
maybe I will know this person. So I looked at the I.D. and low
and behold it was a friend of mine, a bartender at The
Foggy Goggle, Nicole, so I look at her to say hi and
to my suprise this girl was not Nicole. So I said to the girl
"You must have no luck", she looked at me puzzled and
said "Is there a problem with my I.D." And I said to
her, "Of all the clubs and doormen in the entire city of
Las Vegas, and you give me this I.D."
That's when
her attitude kicked in and she said, "That's me", I
shot back, "Well I have known Nicole since she was a cocktail
waitress at The Rack and I know she bartends
now." The blood draining from this girl's face was clear
in any light and as white as Tigers they keep at The Mirage, so
after 10 seconds she starts to plead "please don't get me
arrested its my first time in Vegas." I gave her back the
I.D. and the fake nicole was escorted out the door. Three days
later, I was surprised to hear from Nicole thanking me for not
taking her I.D. I guess we won't be seeing the 'Fake Nicole' for
another year as she is now only 20.
The
Bachelorette has really got to go. Submitted by Kiki Kuzmerik of Las Vegas, NV.
I'll never be the same! I was gathering my group to walk into
Tao last night around 10:00 pm. A group of Bachelorettes came
to meet me at the bottom of the escalators. They all looked very
cute (dressed in sexy red -- no cheesy penis garb). The problem
was - they were completely shit canned. In fact, they all brought
their own styrofoam cups full of booze to sip while waiting to
get in the club. How very thrifty of them.
Next, one
of the girls came over and gave me a hug. That's cool. Another
one came over and kissed me on my cheek. Alright, that was a little
too in "my personal space". And then it happened...
One of the
girls came over to ask me if she had time to go to the bathroom.
She was holding the bottom of her dress and kind of doing a little
dance. As I was pointing and trying to explain where the restroom
is in the Venetian, I began to feel a little splash on my foot.
I looked and I saw that her styrofoam cup was tipping and spilling
a little. Ok - I keep explaining, “follow the food court
around through the casino, the bathroom is on the right.”
I felt more splashing. It wasn’t from her cup. In fact,
I don’t think it ever was.
The girl ran
off. Her friends, one by one, followed to the bathroom. I was
left completely shocked and standing next to a giant puddle. The
drunk bachelorette had pissed herself. And while I explained to
the cool California girls that I was also with, I thought, what
had just happened to me when a man suddenly walked by and slipped
in the piss puddle! WHAT!??
So after I
catch him just before he falls completely down into the puddle
of doom, I dispatch some of the California girls to watch the
puddle and keep people from slipping while I went to get hotel
security or a custodian. I eventually found a custodian who was
holding 2 perfectly good towels that he could have put on the
piss puddle. Instead, he left to go find a wet floor sign. Excellent!
People continued to slip. There was a long trail of piss. We couldn't
block the whole thing.
When the custodian
guy came back, I told the Cali girls we should move away from
the puddle -- it was no longer our responsibility. The drunken
bachelorette girl’s friends finally returned with one man
down, the actual bachelorette, and seemed to not at all be bothered
by this event. Apparently they put their friend in a cab and were
ready to go to Tao. Bridesmaids from hell.
I came home
shortly after to shower. It's the next morning and I'm still not
right. Where did I go wrong in my life? I graduated college with
a 3.9. I pay back my student loans monthly. And for what -- to
be PISSED on??? WOW... 2 words ladies... bladder control!
Strippers
could learn a lot from ants and birds. Submitted by Jack Colton of Las Vegas, NV.
It doesn't
bother me that I was drug out of the house against my will, taken
to a movie (Transformers, pretty good by the way), forced to down
pitchers of beer in a bowling alley with good friends, taken to
one strip club, a second strip club, and then walked out of third
strip club the next morning as the 115 degree heat and sun were
scorching down upon my pale little head. I have no problem with
that in the slightest. That actually seems perfectly normal for
a Tuesday night.
But what really
tassles my feathers is that every freaking stripper in
every freaking club would always come to freaking me first! Every
single one of them. And here's the thing, I hate strip clubs!
I'm the last person in the world to fork over $20 at 5AM to anyone,
unless theres a solid chance it's going to get me a chicken sandwich
and a Long Island Iced tea.
But completely
unaware that I'm a cheap bastard and don't care about lap dances,
Stripper after Stripper would plop their scantily clad ass on
my rolling captain's chair and hit me up before anyone else. The
other guys didn't stand a chance.
------------------------------
Stripper
1: "Hey Sweetie (rubs back of my head), where
you guys from?"
Colton:
"We're local."
Stripper
1: "Oh, I see. Should I come back later?"
Colton:
"If you want."
(2.3
minutes later)
Stripper
2: "Hey Sweetie (rubs back of my head), where you
guys from?"
Colton:
"We're local."
Stripper
2: "Oh, I see. Should I come back later?"
Colton:
"If you want."
(45
seconds and counting)
Stripper
3: "Hey Sweetie (rubs back of my head), where you
guys from?"
Colton:
"We're local."
Stripper
3: "Oh, I see. Should I come back later?"
Colton:
"If you want."
Ants communicate
with each others via their little antennae. "ZZZZZZ. BZZZZ.
There is a bread crumb over there. BBZZZBZZ. Get your bitch ass
over there and take it to the queen."
Anytime a
member of a flock of birds sense danger, they all flap around
and chirp to tell their fellow bird friends that someone is fully
planning on eating at least one of them.
Shouldn't
Strippers go back into the dressing room and at least share the
information that there is a cheap ass at table 52, and not to
waste their time? I'm just saying.
