Gluttony vs. Abstinence
Vegas was definitely designed to be the ultimate test of willpower. For gamblers, there are slot machines in the airport the moment you get off the plane, and tables and casinos galore that you have to walk through just to get to your room. Luckily, considering the number of times I got lost trying to find the elevator in a friend’s hotel,this isn’t one of my weaknesses.
I do, however, tend to indulge in the total prevalence of available alcohol. From the moment we woke up and stumbled down to the pool the first night and a cocktail waitress walked by offering Bloody Marys I knew I would be indulging. It wasn’t even wanting a drink, so much as the sheer fact that someone is offering this as acceptable behavior before noon, that convinced me to give in.
I also blame the groom for one particularly excessive night. He pulled all of his friends into a huddle the night before the wedding, arms laced over backs and heads ducked to encircle him (and no, this wasn’t his bachelor party- he’d already done that. Just our first night in town) and left us with one directive. “Okay, I convinced the venue to give us an open bar, and I don’t think they know what they got themselves into,” he began, speaking with the passion of any NCAA coach. “I want them to be regretting their decision by the end of the night, so don’t disappoint me.”
Who was I to disobey the groom on his wedding day? So, the moment the ceremony ended, we swarmed onto the patio for cocktail hour and vowed to give our best showing since college. By the time we got to speeches, it showed. The best man gave a heartfelt talk, and the maid of honor was touching, but then they opened the floor to everyone and speeches began to dribble out of people’s mouths like a sloppy drunk. One consisted of, “Woo hoo, PAC-10! You’re married! YEAH!” and my personal favorite, “I met the groom…when was it? Oh yeah, last Saturday at a poker table. Yeah, I’m that guy.” Only in Vegas…
The next day, I vowed to abstain from all food, alcohol, and movement in general as my aching body recovered. Luckily, I gave up that vow when a friend who manages a restaurant offered to take me out to dinner. We hit Social House at Treasure Island and, like any good conniseurs of food and drink, were treated to the chef’s selection of every course on the menu. Everything from appetizers to sashimi and everything in between accompanied my cocktails, beer, and sake. Vegas locals take care of their own, leaving me to chalk this one up to the books as a win for the sins.