The Vegas Escort
Las Vegas was my post-fake-college-graduation trip with fellow classmates Kelly K and Ben. While I do have many stories from Vegas, some will only be funny to us. We stayed up so late the first night that when we drunk dialed people, they were already awake and starting their day. And we almost got thrown out of a magic show because of our post-marijuana laughter fits. And because I couldn’t convince birds to come inside and share our hotel room, I trashed the place in my frustration.
So I am going to break this writing up into two parts: general Vegas advice and one sexy story.
We learned quickly that alcohol is free in casinos. Staying on any table after five minutes usually yields a free drink. This was especially useful after paying $16 for a Long Island Iced Tea in Caesars Palace. You can walk anywhere with alcohol too and came ever buy booze in the shopping mall.
If it sound too good to be true, it is. Right before we discovered ‘free alcohol’, we hunted down bargains. I think it is impossible to get drunk on 50 cent margaritas. I think they are just frozen sour mix. And if a sign says “$20 in free casino play”, without boring you, it’s pretty much a lie.
There are a lot of authentic-looking hobos in Vegas too, just like the ones you see on the internet.
And also on many corners are groups full of silent Mexicans handing out Porno Cards. These are basically nudie advertisements for escorts, hookers, strippers, and other erotic services. And the short Mexicans who hand these things out do not talk. They simply ‘click’ the cards to get your attention.
At first they seemed ridiculous. “No thank you, Mr. Mexican,” and would politely refuse these handouts.
This turned into, “No please get out of my way.”
The next day, this turned into, “Well, I’ll take a few, it’ll be a free and awesome souvenir…”
This turned into, “I have to collect as many of these porno cards as possible.”
On our last night in Vegas, we finally convinced Kelly K to go to the strip club with myself and Ben. It was in downtown Vegas off of the strip. Since I had been ducking paying for drinks all night, I agreed to pay for the first round inside.
The large black bouncer checks our IDs and informs us that entry is free with a two drink minimum. The cocktail waitress asks us for our beer preference; Bud Light, Miller Light, Miller Light.
She comes back; “that’ll be $52.50.” FOR SIX DOMESTIC BEERS????
I realize we have to leave immediately. Ben comes back from a short session from a stripper and realizes the same thing. We have to leave immediately. We escape, with the sticker-shock in our minds far outlasting the extremely brief sexual thrill.
And this is Vegas. Sin City. We have to do something else sexy to replace his botched episode.
That’s when I remember I have a pocket full of porno cards.
We leaf through them and find the cheapest one. It says $35. Ben calls from the hotel room phone. Also, after being the last man standing on the 1st and 2nd night, I’m on the brink of passing out on the third. I am barely conscious for this.
Ben is talking to operator of the escort service. The transaction seems to be going smoothly until I hear Ben say, “But the card says $35. I’m not paying $85. No, I don’t want it anymore, don’t send anyone. What? Wh—Did you just call me a faggot?? I’m not a faggot. No, don’t send anyone to the room. I’m not a faggot, fuck you. No don’t send anyone.” Ben hangs up.
Seconds later the hotel phone rings. It’s the escort service. “No, don’t send anyone, and I’m not a faggot.” Ben hangs up. The hotel phone rings again. This repeats several times. The operator starts winding him down a little. At some point, Ben unsmoothly asks, “So she’ll have sex with us for $85?”
The operator responses that prostitution is illegal in the state of Nevada, but other services can be negotiated in the room. “Sounds expensive,” replies Ben who hangs up yet again. And thankfully, despite her threats, no one came to the room.
So if it sounds too good to be true…
