Loco in Las Vegas

If you are a people-watcher, like myself, then Vegas is the perfect place to go. There are so many weird, crazy people wandering around that place. Just flat out weird--the kind that make you giggle and shake your head while you walk away.

If you want real entertainment, stay up late on the strip. Drunk people, I mean really drunk people zig zagging all over the strip. I am not knocking drinking by any means, I can put it down with the best of them, but geez people, know your limits!

So lets discuss some of the craziness I experienced.

Charle the 21 dealer
He was an ornamental (aka oriental) dealer at a 21 table. Real name Charles, but he blacked out the s to be Charlie. He wore his coke bottle glasses at the end of his nose. When he dealt the cards he would cock his head down and to the side, looking at you with his squinty right eye, over his glasses and fling the cards at you. I don't know what his left eye was doing-totally on its own independant schedule.

His hands would do their own little dance, as is they were a marionette. He would slap the table at any random time, flutter the cards all weird; I don't know how the hell he passed the Nevada Gaming Commission.

Half the time, I was so busy trying to figure out if he was high on some alternate form of ornamental peyote or a very graceful cerebral palsy victim.

He would talk, I never understood. I felt like an illegal immigrant from Mexico --no speaka english. Just sat there nodded and smiled.

He eventually weasled about $20 from me.

Homeless Crew
So there we are, minding our own business--walking down the strip. And a group of 3 homeless looking 20 somethings are there. The girl with pink hair asks me for a smoke.

Ummm no.

So now they are walking by us down the sidewalk.

Smokey has pink hair in informal dreds. By that I mean, I don't think that she was planning on dreds. Its looks as if the 'dred-effect' was caused by several weeks of non-washing and a small flock of birds nesting there. And she was dirty.

Smokeys friend, we will call her Pierce, was in the same sort of shape. Other than not pink hair, brown. Not quite so dreddy- but nonetheless, for sure hadn't seen the better side of a shower in quite some time. And yes, several piercings--in odd places on her face. Filthy girl.

Their guy friend, I like to call him Spike, had a sad excuse for mohawk hair. Can't even call it a faux hawk--just a jet black mess of dirty spikes. His pants were covered in metal spikes, and they were a cross between floods and capris on him. He thought he was way cool with all his chains on his jacket, and his two hot biotches with him.

There is me -- trying to be invisible.

I think it worked, cause just then Pierce says that her butt itches, and Smokey says, "Get it girl, stratch that ass. Let me smell it when you are done." By this time, Pierces fingers are so far in her dirty, crusty crack that she can't walk straight and I am trying to hold back a giant cackle/oh-my-hell-are-you-kidding-me guffaw.

Seriously, do people have no cooth these days.

Then again, when you are wandering around the strip looking for your next cardboard box to sleep in, you probably don't care if you scratch your skanky ass in front of people.

Free Willy
We had walked our way up to Margaritaville and decided to stop and let our calves/shin splints have a rest. We ordered our super expensive tequila drinks and went out on the smoking balcony that is over the strip. Not way high, maybe 4 to 5 feet above the passerbys heads.

There are lots of drunk 21 year old blonde girls up there with us in their teeny weeny small hot "Vegas" outfits. You know the ones. Their little tiny booblets barely covered, the hem of their dress barely covers their bumcheeks, and shoes on that could make you shake like a dog shittin razor blades after walking 3 blocks in them. Top that off with too much tequila for the light weights and you have every 22year old singles guys best wet dream.

Case in point.

Enter drunk 22 year old male. He spots all the drunk girls on the balcony. "Oh baby", he thinks, "maybe they will show me their boobies."

So he starts egging the girls on to see their ta-tas. The girls decided that they needed something first, so they ask to see his junk. Maybe they are not so ditzy after all.

The girls finally win, and the dumbass unzips his pants and gives a preview of his junk. The girls tell him that was not enough, they need more before he gets to see anything.

So what does he do?

He drops trow right there in front of us, the Margaritaville crowd, and God. He kinda stumbled around, waiting for the titties (that he never got), and then pulled his pants back up.

It was like a train wreck.

I couldn't help but look.

And it wasn't good.

Do you think that he remembered that the next day? Sadly, the image in engraved in my brain.

I just love people watching--dont you?