Beer and clothing (or lack of) in Las Vegas
Friday 4th of July
There is little point in trying to describe the events of this night, in no small part due to the horrific levels of anti-freeze that were probably consumed in the strongest punches this side of Bruce Lee. MT spent a good time drinking, getting shoved in pools, fighting each other with girls on their shoulders, and generally wishing everyone a very happy ‘re-colonisation day’ (Nick was pushed in the pool on at least 2 separate occasions for this by a pugnacious door manager, Dave).
The night continued much the same across the whole of Las Vegas, as did the party atmosphere for the next couple of days and, by Monday, the boys were tired and worn out from hanging around high-stakes gamblers, semi-naked ladies and free alcohol.
Nick gambled a bit and had lost about $80 (though he made $28 on the last night playing black-jack, only to spend it all on a celebratory round of beer), whereas Pete had only bet a little, but lost it all the same in about 24 seconds. Nothing compared to one of their aquaintances, Andy, an ex-radio presenter for Wyvern FM of Essex, who made $1500 betting all his money on black, only to lose everything and possibly more the next night.
With the presence of He, a Korean dorm companion of MT, trying ever so hard to latch on to the duo’s last leg to the Pacific coast, the decision was taken to get the hell out of there and make for San Francisco. Vegas had certainly lived up to MT’s expectations, but the most enduring and notorious moment was to come but a couple of hours later as the boys made west for the Californian coast…
