Thursday morning, we got up bright and early late and went to Paris for breakfast. There’s a little cafe I’d stopped at on previous visits, and knew it to be good. Which is to say they’d have pastries and coffee.  I think Matt died of awesome over his bacon and cheese roll.

We took our ghetto iced coffees with us, and headed out the north side of Bally’s. I don’t know exactly how hot it was, but it was definitely mid-90s. And, you know, we were in the desert. The coffee only helped a little.

this is apparently one of klein’s favorite spots in vegas. they have $1 hot dogs.

We headed east, toward the National Atomic Testing Museum. I knew it was ‘just past’ Terrible’s Casino, so we were very excited to see that in the distance. It couldn’t have been more than a mile from the strip, but, holy crap, walking any distance like that in Vegas hurts.

The museum was fantastic. I’d been to the National Atomic Museum in Albuquerque, and was even more impressed with this one. My favorite part was the little theatre with the nuclear explosion simulation that ran every 10 minutes. The loud blast didn’t scare us that much, but the giant rush of air did.

Having gotten our culture in Vegas, we headed to Terrible’s and played some video blackjack.

We watched the end of a division series game with the people at the sports book there, then decided to get our wander on back toward the strip. Matt talked to both Pete and Klein to determine everyone else’s whereabouts, and we figured we’d meet up with them later. Since Hard Rock was sort of in the general direction we were headed, we stopped there to check it out.

As we walked in the door, sweating our asses off, the first thing I heard was Def Leppard’s Rock of Ages. I knew that place was going to be awesome. And THEN:

We stopped at the Hard Rock gift shop, obtained the required souvenir shotglasses, and then decided there was no point in waiting for dinnertime to go to the Pink Taco. We went in and had us a margarita. Then we had us another margarita. Then we went back outside, and headed back toward the strip. You know how usually if you’re drinking, you don’t mind that it’s either freezing or the middle of the desert? Not so much. I was pretty sure I was going to end up laying on the side of the road.

We ducked into the mall attached to Planet Hollywood right as Colleen texted that their plane had landed. I figured we had half an hour, so we did some shopping at ABC Stores (because I’m nostalgic about Hawaii) and a shoe store where I found the awesomest Ed Hardy shoes on earth.

We got back to the hotel just as they were arriving. We went to our room, grabbed the other bottle of champagne, and went to celebrate their arrival. They’d never been to Vegas before!! We were very excited to show them around.

We went back to Planet Hollywood, and stopped at Yolo for drinks, as one should not wander the strip sober. We then headed down toward New York New York, to have dinner at one of my favorite restaurants in Vegas. It’s not that it’s great, but it’s a tradition. I’ve gone there every time I’ve been in town. Also, they have margaritas in yards. You can’t go wrong.

note steve’s statue of liberty yard!

Full of Mexican food, we went to play video poker for a while. Colleen and I smartly hid our yards on the floor next to the machines, so that the drink lady would come around and give us free cocktails. Win.

Once we blew our $20 on poker, we went upstairs to Coyote Ugly. The place wasn’t too busy yet, but the ladies were already dancing on the bar. One of the bartenders marched right up to us and demanded a dollar for the jukebox. I went to give her one, but she insisted that it come from one of the boys. They refused.

A few drinks and some awesome music later, we watched a girl take a nose-dive on the bar, then be hauled back up by her fellow dancing-ladies. We decided it was time to go. We headed across the bridge to MGM, to another of our favorite bars.

steve’s yard: for AMERICA. (he used it as a drinkholder all night.)

steve took this with his VERY LONG ARMS.

This is where it all becomes kind of blurry, but we remember Steve being really excited about the lion habitat at MGM, and then going to have a drink at Rouge. We left shortly after that, and headed over to Excalibur, because Matt’s friends were going that way to go to a club.

We met Andy and Christina on the monorail to Mandalay Bay, and introduced them to Colleen and Steve. We then headed downstairs to what seemed like the furthest basement corner of Mandalay, to the Forty Deuce. Which, you know, is an awesome name for a club, particularly one that features burlesque dancers. There was no cover at that point, so we went inside.

There were only a few tables, though, and they were already full. The drinks were approximately $400 apiece (I’m only exaggerating slightly!). And apparently the dancers weren’t even starting til midnight. We milled around, disgruntled, and finally decided to take off for cheaper drinkin’ spots, even ones without half-naked ladies.

We took the monorail back to Excalibur, then walked up the strip toward our hotel. Steve and Matt dubbed the massive construction project south of the Bellagio ‘Australia: the Casino’, then talked about it so much I was convinced it was real the next day. Steve collected hooker trading cards, and within a few blocks had a substantial collection.

We decided to head for Bill’s Gamblin’ Hall again, as it was the crappiest nearby strip casino we could think of. The outside advertised $1 margaritas all day long, but we’d already searched for them to no avail. However, at one point I wandered off, and found them at a bar in the back. There was a frozen drink machine with the mix, and then the bartender would pour a shot of god-knows-what-brand tequila on top. Cringing, I watched a group of dudes ordering two apiece, and asked them if they were any good. They told me they were terrible… what you’re supposed to do is suck the tequila off the top, and throw the rest away. That’s so awesome. (And: GAG.)

Steve and Colleen were sleepy, so they went back to the hotel while Matt and I continued onward. We wandered through the Flamingo, then O’Shea’s, just for the fact that we’d heard there was a midget bartender there. My image of O’Shea’s is sort of like a warehouse full of table games, with fluorescent lighting and not a single midget. I went to the bathroom (it was a life-threatening experience), and we kept walking.

Somewhere in the vicinity of the Imperial Palace, we found the Rockhouse. Between the crappy hiphop blasting out onto the strip and the $5 cover, we knew we had to go in. And dance, for what seemed like 10 minutes, but was apparently more like three hours. According to Twitter, we were still going strong at 3am. Round about the time the bartenders were standing on the bar pouring Jagermeister into people’s mouths, we knew it was time to go.

I walked back to Bally’s at an angle. I wish I could explain this, but Matt will just have to demonstrate for you. All I knew is that the next morning, one side of my back was hella sore.