“Books, like friends, should be few and well chosen.” — Samuel Paterson

The only thing more humbling than being unemployed – is being reminded you’re unemployed. With my current stint going on ten months my outlook on life became dismal when my high school friend, Chance, invited me to Las Vegas for a complimentary three-weekday vacation. Chance and I met sophomore year in Miss Fong’s geometry class. We got along pretty well despite his being an extrovert and my being an introvert.

After graduation, I went to Northern California to pursue my journalism degree. Meanwhile, Chance signed up for a four-year vacation with the Army. He finished his vacation and moved to Tampa Bay, Florida, after burning out on the L.A. party scene.

My instinct was to decline his kind offer, as I’d likely have a hard time enjoying myself, knowing I should be job hunting. Chance proceeded to “hard sell”, citing that he could easily afford this weekday Vegas vacation. In the end, I relented and went against instinct. My senses were tingling and I ignored them.

Chance flew to visit his parentals in the boon dock town of Little Rock, California – people population 300? Horse population – 1? Thankfully, my 2000 Mitsubishi with nearly bald tires and I arrived safely at the one and only McDonald’s. We issued customary hellos and we were on our way.

While catching up, we talked about my car’s V6 engine and Chance proceeded to examine my owner’s manual to PROVE to me that my car didn’t require 91 octane gasoline. Reading from it, Chance said “It says if 91 octane isn’t available one can use 89 or 87”. I think he conveniently overlooked “if unavailable”? Since he was paying, I reluctantly filled the car with 89. This negative incident heightened my awareness so that I noticed other indicators that I was about to endure.

As we pulled into Vegas at 2pm, I asked where we’re staying. Chance replied “Circus Circus”. I cringed at the echo of his answer. I said, “When I told you I was willing to go, I said I’ll stay at any of the hundred-plus hotels, except for Circus Pukus and you said ‘no problem’.” Chance’s reply, “what do you care, you’re not paying?”

Apparently the “wear and tear” on the car and “chauffeur factor” are worth nothing in “Chance’s World”. Two seconds after parking at Circus Pukus, Chance fired up the first cigarette of three packs to be consumed over the three-day trip. He proceeded to check-in and smoked away like a California brush fire. Reservationist Jeffrey politely asked him to extinguish the cigarette. Chance naturally handed me his cancer stick…like I’m a “man servant”. I held the “dirty fire stick” at arms-length and extinguished it nearby.

Entering our hotel room, we were immediately puzzled — one king bed. I said, (with a sly grin) “Is there something I should know about you?” Chance wasn’t amused. We drove back to the main hotel and Chance dealt with the error while I waited in the car.

Chance returned minutes later with an ear-to-ear grin. Apparently, Jeffrey thought we were gay (not that there is anything wrong with that). Surely a gay couple would have better taste than to stay at Circus Pukus? Immediately I broke down our check-in scene. We approached the front desk together. I’m sporting some flat-front khaki’s and a thin Banana Republic sweater and a trendy hairstyle. Chance sported jeans and a Gap sweatshirt with a military buzz cut. Add to that, my allowing Chance to handle the money matters while I extinguished his smelly “stick of death”. Thus, the obvious conclusion is that I am “fem” and he is “butch”. How could we have been so blind???

A few minutes later, we were back at the room and I experienced what I refer to as “The Crush Bar”. Apparently Chance’s body-builder diet lent itself to some serious anal evacuations. “Good times”. We ventured to Chance’s favorite casino — “Slots-A-Fun”. Chance is a card-holding member here. His favorite spot…the one-dollar craps table. Whoa…big spender! I watched for a while and then he had me gamble a chip at a time so I can earn free drinks. After an hour, he was up on the house. With a smug grin on his face, he said, “We’re working off your dinner here.” Was he kidding?

Next, I learned that my car was to be our taxi for the trip. You would think I hadn’t just driven six hours and had another six hours to look forward to for the voyage home. My protest did little. Chance had me taxiing him from hotel to hotel picking up souvenirs for college cheerleaders he coaches. Yes, cheer coach is a pretty “fem” side job for a “butch”.

So, we’re at the Hard Rock Hotel and he asked the concierge for a seafood buffet and a cool club. The concierge decided that House of Blues is the club and The Rio is the buffet. Instead of a tip or thank you, Chance uttered, “Hot young chicks, cool” and a “Dumb and Dumberer” style high-five bounces off my hand. Woof! Were we filming the sequel to “Old School” and nobody told me?

As we drove to dinner Chance informed me that the Rio Seafood Buffet doesn’t run weekdays. My guess was that he learned the cost and found it high. He may be “selling”, but I’m not “buying”.

So, our next stop was the Flamingo Hilton. What I soon discovered was that if you like the taste of “ass”, you would surely enjoy the cuisine served at the Flamingo’s buffet. I found two items that I could tolerate — pathetic. My sixth sense was intoxicated from the ladles of lard I consumed at the buffet.

Next, I taxied us to the House of Blues. Here more hilarity would soon occur. Two teenagers were working a desk. We approached and began discussing the club when Chance blurted out to the chunky hostess “where do the hot UNLV chicks hang out?” Oh, the humanity! The thin hostess said “dude, aren’t you like thirty-five?” Ouch! Chance prides himself on looking young…even though he smokes and worships the sun. It got worse. A moment later, the thin hostess said to me “you look like the guy on Perfect Strangers”. What the $@*&? How does a teenager in 2003 know that this sitcom existed? Did that piece of crap end up on TV Land or some obscure cable channel? I can only assume this girl wanted to equally distribute some insults because I look nothing like Balky Bartakamouse (Bronson Pinchot). Please, tell me I look nothing like Balky! Also, please tell me you are not referring to the other guy.

The next morning opened with a DELICIOUS breakfast buffet at Circus Pukus. At $7.99 per person Chance made sure to get his money’s worth. I am sure I can look forward to him “crushin’ like a Russian” when he returns to our bathroom. Afterwards, it was time for more crappie gambling. “Snnnnoooorrrrreeee”. I can feel the cancerous air infiltrating my soon-to-be blackened lungs.

That afternoon we walked (for once not utilizing the Mitsubishi Taxi Service) up the Strip towards the Flamingo Hilton. There we attended the African penguin-feeding exhibit. This was the best part of the trip thus far.

Unbelievably Chance suggested we see a burlesque show that he saw a sign for…of course it was only $12.95. At the ticket counter, a seller asked if he had a coupon. She soon realized the error. Chance inquired more about said coupon. He referred to seeing it, but left it in our hotel room. Then, he stood there (wallet in pocket) until the irritated seller offered us the coupon price. Again, no thank you offered by Chance for her generosity.

I haven’t been this embarrassed since my mom made me return the stolen “caps” to my toy gun to the clerk at Woolworth’s. I lost it, saying “is there a reason why you never thank anyone who helps you?” Chance’s reply, “you mean for doing their job?” With tickets in hand, further excitement would be achieved when Chance noticed the free drink tickets attached.

Entering the theater, an old-timer usher led us to our seats. Stopping mid-way, the old-timer said, “Do you two want good seats?” By this point, I was well aware of Chance’s cost-cutter game so I replied, “it doesn’t matter to me”. Chance thumbed through some bills in what should be a Velcro wallet. He handed the old-timer a ten and said “just five back”. Old-timer shrugged it off and still gave us front section seats. How embarrassing. Chance didn’t seem to understand or care for the burlesque style of humor, but thoroughly enjoyed the “tittie” show.

We walked from the theater towards Battista’s. I was overjoyed that Chance had agreed to veto another disgusting buffet for this family-style Italian restaurant. Then, Chance said, “I don’t really eat Italian food.” I stopped dead in my tracks. “Are you kidding me with this ‘s.’ “Who doesn’t eat Italian food? Chance retorted, “It’s too spicy”. Spicy? We’re not talking Thai, Indian or Mexican. What is truly spicy in Italian cuisine other than Arrabiata sauce or Fra Diavolo sauce? After a couple minutes, he added, “I guess I can have a chicken breast”. I shrugged, in disbelief.

Battista’s interior was dark with red booths, framed photographs of famous people on walls and Chianti bottles spread decoratively about. After being seated, the waiter asked whether we would like the complimentary red or white table wine. We opted for the red. Not twenty seconds later, I heard “oh my God!” I realized Chance must have found the prices.

When I looked up, his eyes were so bugged out I was sure he was going to hit the floor in the throws of a full-on panic attack. Full dinners started at $19.99, but included entree, wine, garlic bread, salad and a cappuccino. I suggested we pay for what we had consumed and leave. He handed me money and said, “No, you enjoy your meal. You like this food. I saw a $7.99 buffet at the Riviera. I’ll meet you back at the casino.” He insisted and then departed. This became the second best thing about this trip. “Good eating”. And Chance’s companionship was not missed.

Back at Circus Pukus I tracked Chance down at his one-dollar craps table. He informed me that he was on a winning streak, but we’d go hit a club after the table had cooled off. I returned to our room to take a nap. I woke up three hours later when he sauntered in. Chance was more fired up than a “little person” whom just defeated Mike Tyson in the first round of a twelve round fight. In only six hours, he won three hundred dollars. Woo! Woo! So, I rolled over and went back to sleep as he headed back to lose his “monster winnings”.
On our final day in Vegas, Chance started the morning off right…with another ear-rattling anal evacuation. “Good times”. The cost-cutter generously offered to use some of his winnings at the MGM Grand Breakfast Buffet. I gave this buffet a “double thumbs up”. Good call Chance! Of course it cost me. With Chance, one must work everything off via slave labor. It was time to cruise the Strip for additional souvenirs for his cheerleaders.

At 1pm we finally hit the road for the McDonald’s in Little Rock. Of course, we hit some traffic, some construction work and I finally ended this five-star trip at 7pm. Burbank, California was a welcome sight compared with the rock hard bed at Circus Pukus, the second-hand smoke from Chance, the strip clubs we failed to visit and the bars/clubs we apparently couldn’t afford. So, the moral of the story is — trust your instincts. They are right so often it is a much safer bet than dropping a nickel into a Vegas slot machine. Trust me. I lived it.

“Friendship is to be purchased only by friendship. A man may have authority over others, but he can never have their hearts but by giving his own.” — Thomas Wilson

(Written in 2003)