What happens in Vegas, gets blogged about

Many have shared, but for posterity's sake, a few more anecdotes from Vegas...

First off, it was a GREAT bachelor's party. In fact, it was perfect. In talking with the Best Woman about how the weekend should go, while I didn't want strippers or lap dancers, I did want beautiful women to flirt with me. I just knew I would enjoy it more. Now, I had no idea how one would PLAN to have beautiful women flirt with one, but I figured I'd just put it out there. It couldn't hurt.

Turns out they have them for hire.

They're called hostesses. (Get your mind out of the gutter!)

You know, the folks who manage clubs and take care of the big spenders. Hostesses. And we had a fantastic one named Nicole.

It's the ultimate way to do Vegas.

What happened was on Saturday we got dressed up and went downstairs where, get this, not a limo, but a party BUS was waiting. Not full size, but still. A party bus. This thing wasn't a converted airport shuttle like most party buses (according to the driver), but a from-the-ground-up design. Ferrari leather seats, ice chests, stripper pole (sans stripper), $20K sound system; the whole 9 yards. AMAZING. This isn't the one I had, but it gives you a sense.

One of the highlights of the party bus part of the adventure was when, while at a stoplight, the driver yelled, "Bachelor, come!" I came to the front and he told me that, for some reason, he had a bra his daughter needed (At home he has a wife, 4 daughters and 2 dogs, both female; I figured, sure, it's possible he's got a bra for his daughter here with him on the Party Bus.) He told me I was to give it to her. Using my mouth. I automatically reached for it with my hand and he yelled "With your mouth!" in the style of every movie drill seargeant you've ever seen. So, I grabbed said bra in said mouth, got out, mumbled a greeting to the ladies in the car the next lane over (yep, in the middle of traffic), where I handed (OK, mouthed) the bra to a lovely blonde in the passenger's seat. Mouth to mouth, with bra between. My kind of CPR.

So I got back in the bus and remarked to the driver that he seemed quite, um, laid back for a father, to which he replied. "Nah, that wasn't my daughter. That was the stripper who danced in the bus last night. That was her bra she left on the floor."

Apparently the Eagle will believe anything.

I even believed our lovely waitress who claimed it was her birthday, was saving up for a video camera and promised to meet us after her shift so we could buy her drinks. (I thought it fit in perfectly with the "have cute girls flirt with me" plan) Of course, she didn't show up. However, while she was working, she did bring us shots, to the blackjack table, for free. Which is something I've NEVER seen before in Vegas. Which is cool.

I do have a few more Vegas bits, but I'll spread them out over the next few days...