I am normally not the pub or bar crawl kinda gal, as I am pretty much as lightweight as they come. No joke, one screwdriver and I am giggling, dancing on everything not blocked off and snatch the odd fry of a kind strangers plate (seriously, I think I need to address this fried goods dependency when under the influence). However a very interesting proposition was thrown my way while out in Arizona….Santa rampage in las vegas. A friend I haven’t seen in quite a while, asked me join the oh so seasonal fun, as she was rather gutted that I could not make it out to the eastcoast this time out. She was in Vegas for a wedding that weekend and quickly threw together a small group of people, to become family Claus. And since I was visiting a friend in Pheonix, that also happens to be a relative of the friend setting it up and was already driving to Vegas to join the party, how could I not say yes.
Looking it up online, I gathered quite quickly what it was about. Everyone wishing to indulge in the festivities has to dress up like Santa (obviuosly), and as for being a girl, the sluttier the better. The crowd then goes from place to place on the list and notes online gave you a list of good old favouites to sing along to, with a naughty twist of course. I just got myself a dollar hat and made due with what else I have with me in red that could pass as santaesque and I have to say, I looked cute enough.
Once in the city of oh so many stories that should not be spoken about again, we have a quick meet and get settled in the El Cortez, which is interestingly the oldest still running casino in Vegas. Once owned by Benjamin “Bugsy” Siegel himself. He co owned a bunch of joints in this town, before he….well, he was the mob, you get the picture. It is on the old strip on Fremont, not the fancy around the world trip facades of the new generation of hotels. Nothing wrong with those, but I like a bit of history and mystery with my Vegas trips. If the walls could talk. You can smell the Rat Pack…or just rats, you can tell those streets have seen it all.
So, in the morning, we meet at the Plaza hotel for breakfast to meet up with Frank and Kristen who have done this before. “The answer to everything is Santa” am I told over, what could only described as three meals in one size of a breakfast. Guess in Vegas you don’t have much time to eat, so might as well get it all in in one go. Plus, if you do have a tat too much later on, it will be all gone and won’t greet you again on the wrong end. It kinda already sounds like a cult with bells and tinsel. We look up the map….5 stops and breakfast at 2am. I am just a bit worried, being a lightweight and all, that I won’t make it past stop 2.
During the day a I show a friend around the “new” vegas and take him to the Bellagio watershow, which is ever so beautiful, especially at dusk. He remembers the older days of the place, before it got a bit Disney.
Come 8pm, the 6 of us, we are all santad out and ready to roll. We even got a Hawaii print santa (sadly not as original as we thought, as we ran into quite a few… guess santa went tourist)
First stop is Atomic Liquors and the place is taken over by crimson and candy canes. There is a viking Santa, stripped zebra Santa, pijama Santa… and of couse there has to be s&m Elf. He has a bit of a clockwork orange quality to him.
As predicted, half a vodka and orange in, I start to walk like Bambi on its first day and my friends find my blabbering nonsense hillarious… oh my. Everyone else as well gets merry and phones come out, pictures get taken (too many people believe, if there is no picture, it never happened….where is the mystery in life left?) The most popular words in one sequence seem to be “F*** you Santa” which in retrospective is probably the major or at least mainly hoped for outcome for most of my fellow collegues. And even better, I survived stop one.
Second stop is a shopping complex area, which apart from the bars has one more ace up its sleeve….an still open toyshop. Dangerous… for me at least as the ever so present inner child has been let loose. My friends agree that I can have my pictures taken with the masks on, but no purchase…. needless to say, my power of a healthy judgement has gone out of the window. It does not help that I have been corrupted by my friends and went past my one drink limit. Bad me, bad santa.On the way out kind strangers offered me some of their fries. Well, that is the official version, in reality, I drunkly asked if they were done and luckily they understood my state…it helps being a girl that cleans up somewhat cute. Told you I got a problem. At that point my friends are pissing themselves laughing and enjoy my randomness. It does not happen very often, so they know to cherish it. Next stop dancefloor.
Stop number 3 finally gave the crowd an opportiunity to dance off all the alcohol consumed. Even sober, I am always up for a good night of busting my moves. All the shakers and movers take over the small area on the rooftop. Some things can not be unseen and I will never think of santa in the same way….lets just leave it at that. On the way to stop 4, we quickly stop at the hotel and loose santa number one calling it a night…. surprisingly its not me and even more surprising, I am stone cold sober now, with everyone else of the group starting to loose their inhibitions. Me being the one making sense of direction, I guide my friend, who is now very drunk Bambi to the toilet and stop number 4.
By this point, the crowd is either very tired or overly drunk. Most of the Santas have been taking over other establishments along Fremont, not really following the map anymore. One of my group drifted off into dreamland…only for a few seconds, but it is the sign that the night is coming to an end. We get told off for making airplanes out of menus by the manager….spoilsport. Frank and Kristen are now calling it a night as well. I have to admit, I was surprised that Kristen lasted that long. She wasn’t dressed too revealing, but it was definitely not a night for an outfit like that. It was way chillier than exspected. And after their departure very drunk Bambi wants to go home too….am I really the last one standing….Me?!
As the sentiment of Christmas has disappeared and Sodom and Gomorrah reared its ugly head (it is Vegas after all), I alone make my way to stop number 5. It looks quite empty…sad actually. People are making their last pleas to find a mate for the night. Glad my friends did not see that, the party spirit went home and hopefully never looked back. I have one more dance and then make my way back to the hotel. I might have left out a few things…. but as they say, what happens in vegas, stays in vegas… and my friends might kill me.
You just got to 