“Who was that?” Yuri asks. Before I could answer my cell phone beeped of an incoming text message, Meet us in room 2318. “That was Vitaly. We need to get dressed.” I explain. The three of us, Aziz, Yuri, and I, dress as quickly as we can. We bolt out the door leaving the room smelling like aftershave and cologne. The 23rd floor, room 18. We’re here. The door is already open and we walk inside. Vitaly and six of his friends sat around the room watching ESPN. Mike shouts, “Holy crap! Did you guys take a bath in cologne or something?!” Yuri and I glance over at heavily-cologned Aziz.
“What are we wai-“ before I could finish my sentence a room service attendent comes with a bottle of champagne and several wine glasses. We open the bottle and fill our glasses with the bubbly libation. We all cheer, “To Vitaly!!!” The bachelor party has officially begun.
‘Mini skirts and long legs’ seems to be the theme for the night. We stand in line in front of the Tangerine, a new night club inside the Treasure Island Hotel-Casino. The line quickly extends down across the casino floor. We have a great view of the eye-candy that swarm through between the slot machines that seems to be place randomly on the dark psychedelic casino carpet.
Inside, the club is small and cramped. It’s difficult pressing through the crowd of elbows and shoulders to get to the bar. “Redbull and vodka!” I shout to the bartender. Before I even got my drink one of the guys had ordered a round of tequila shots. Already buzzed from three glasses of champagne I shot down the tequila and chase it with my Redbull/vodka. As I turn around I was quickly grabbed by a random girl, and we began to dance. I hold the drink in my left hand in the air, so it wouldn’t spill as we dance. I place my right hand on the small of her back to pull her closer. The dance floor is dark, but I can see she is attractive. Her forehead glowed with sweat, and her breath smells heavily from an unknown combination of liquor. She seemed to have plenty of alcohol this evening as the lack of inhibition is prevalent. She began kissing my neck, and I feel her sweaty face against mine. With her tongue, she plays with my ear. I feel a slight euphoria and my skin is covered in goose bumps. She grabs my other ear with her hand and tilts my head to the side. Before she could kiss my lips I lean back, and with my free hand I push her away feeling her moist belly. She is standing in front of me confused. I didn’t know what to say to her, so I thought of the next best thing. I lie. “I’m sorry, I have a girlfriend.” The mysterious girl turns around and disappears into the crowd.
“I’m an idiot.” I thought to myself. I walk to the bar sipping my drink regretting my mistake. I run into the guys, and, again, we go for another round of shots. My veins are filled with alcohol. I can feel myself getting drunk. I can’t make out any of the words in any of the songs. I walk through the dance floor, and every girl looks amazing. I feel like a pinball bouncing off people as I move about. It was difficult to keep count of how many girls I danced with that night, but I somehow manage to find my way back to my hotel room. Too lethargic to take off my shoes or undress I plop onto my bed and instantly fell into comatose-like state. Later that night, I awoke from a pungent smell of stale potpourri mixed with herbs and spices. My vision was blurry but when it came to I realize Aziz has just entered the room.
[to be continued…]
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