I'm Telling the True Story of What Happened in Vegas, Baby...

I've been holding off on recording the true story of one weekend in Las Vegas because it would come to change the course of my life and those that know it. This tale involves the Vegas strip, world reknown psychics, good looking men, and fast talking broads. The darkness of Vegas after midnight attempted to descend on all its visitors that first weekend of May but instead it brought an unusual cast of characters serendipitously together. In the end, the grime and the gritty faded to sunlit beaches on the Pacific. But this is the beginning of the story and so I must start.



In Orange County, my sister walked in on me Friday May 5, 2006 at ten in the evening. She had an idea. She walked out of my bedroom, where I had been working my way into an evening of sleep, and she made a few phone calls.

SISTER
We're booked. Get up.

MISS BRUNETTE
You got a room?

SISTER
We're booked.

MISS BRUNETTE
We got a room in Vegas for tonight?

SISTER
Yeah. Get up. I'm driving. We're leaving in less than 5 minutes.

We made the drive from Orange County in under four hours. We had to cross a desert, one state border, and travel with lonely trucks.

So........We get to the Vegas Motel 6 that has our reservation. We are told how lucky we are to have a reservation because they are sold out due to not just one big event but three big weekend events: Kentucky Derby, De La Hoya Boxing Fight, and a big Motorcross weekend that includes a motorcross rider jumpin the Caesar Palace Fountain! We were totally lucky to have a reservation and we need sleep because we are exhausted from the drive.

MOTEL 6 AGENT
Girls..Are you certain you've got a room here?

SISTER
Yeah. I booked it tonight.

MISS BRUNETTE
(starting to panic)
You know, I heard her talking to the agent . I know we have a room.

MOTEL 6 AGENT
(typing away on computer at 2:30am)
Nothing. I'm so sorry but we've got nothing.

Miss Brunette looks at her sister and just starts to laugh. Sister isn't smiling and whips her cell phone out. The Motel 6 Agent, Miss Brunette listen to Sister make a phone call.

SISTER
(while on cell phone)
Right. Oh. I see.
(she hangs her cell phone up and looks down)

MISS BRUNETTE
What happen? Did you find our reservation?

SISTER
Yeah.

MOTEL 6 AGENT
Well...What did they say?

SISTER
Our reservation is in Reno.

MISS BRUNETTE
What??!

MOTEL 6 AGENT
I'm so sorry girls but we are completely sold out.

My sister booked our hotel room in Reno instead of Las Vegas. I'm not lying. The motel 6 crew was so nice and sorry for us because they said we weren't going to find a room. All rooms on the strip were sold out. We got in the car and drove around from 2:30am to 5:00am-over two hours of joy riding Vegas, on the strip and off the strip, just driving around looking for just about any sort of room to rent. Well, almost any sort of hotel room...

We ended up at the Happi Inn across from the Luxor hotel. It was the only place to rent a room. Behind us in line was a happy white male that held the hand of a prostitute, and boy, they were excited about getting a room too! That is until the woman gave us the key to our room and we went to check it out. OMG! It was a crime scene. Bates Motel style. Stains on the comforter. Cinder Block walls. Dead roach in the bathroom. We only had one option left. I looked at my watch. We couldn't check into our hotel until 3pm. It was 4am. I didn't hit my sister across the chops. Nope. We only laughed. We were screwed.

Saturday

Mandalay Bay was directly across from the Happi Inn. We took our car to self-park and got awesome parking at 5:15 in the morning. We bounced in the tram to New York New York where we had breakfast. For the first time in my entire life, I ordered a bloody mary and loved it. I can't guess for sure how a girl that hates ketchup could love a bloody mary but that the sort of mood I was in Saturday morning. We had the longest day of our life ahead of us until the hotel allowed us to check in. I hadn't slept all night. Yet, I got to thinking at breakfast. Hmm...we could crash a spa at one of the hotels on the strip and be set. My sister was freaked about looking at perfect bodies poolside-but what would we care if we were there just to sleep? It was our plan of attack. We take the tram back to Mandalay. But, on the way we meet this guy.



Nope. He didn't look like that when we met him. He was completely trashed and had walked the length of the strip back to his room at the Mandalay bay. He even bragged about having walked further home the night before. My sister and him immediately had a great time talking like caged birds. Since, my sister and I had absolutely nothing better to do for twelve hours...Well, why don't we have a drink with him at the bar? For the record, even though he smelled like a bottle of JD, he was charming. Yet, I thought that maybe he was dealing with some issues until he mentioned that he was in Vegas for a bachelor party. Ah...



so that's why he was carrying an inflatable sheep. Okay, I'm lying but wouldn't that have been funny? He mentions that he has to run to his hotel room for cash and he'd be back. Off he went. Meantime, I had three guys at a different bachelor party buy my sister and I drinks for just being at the bar. I smiled at my sister and tipped an invisible hat to her. These were funny guys and they helped to liven up the bar. The bar scene was complete with yelling young men, somber old guys, and scanty-clad cocktail waitresses. I must have had four bloody mary's at this bar alone.

Surprising as it was, Mr. Drunk Boots, jaunts back into the bar. Everybody in the bar knows about my sister f--king up our reservation. It even gets us another round from one of the celebrating bachelor's. It must have been about four hours later when Mr. Drunk Boots insists that we return back to his hotel room in order to make sure his buddy is okay. He told us that his buddy works as a Toronto police officer and somehow we still needed to make sure he was alright. The booze was mixing with our blood well.

The Hotel Room

Mind this, I had my hand around my keys and I was prepared to use all my kickbox moves in the case of an emergency. In all of my brunette instincts, I knew that Mr. Drunk Boots was cool. Every undercover brunette has tools and tricks for determining character. Yet, I think the drinks and complete exhaustion were the real reason I even allowed myself to stumble with my sister to Mr. Drunk Boots's hotel room. I kept my hands double fisted just in case. It is Vegas after all.

Under the pink flower bedspread, I could see the outline of a sleeping guy. Boy, was I really in the wrong place, so I thought. My face was pink from embarrassment because of how my Saturday morning was unfolding. I like to think of myself as a lady but following my sister's lead, as you might already have noticed, often just caused trouble.

No sooner had we walked into the hotel room when Mr. Drunk Boots grabs my sister and the ice bucket and they take off on an adventure. So get this, I'm sitting inside a hotel room with a sleeping stranger whose face I can't even see. All I know about him is the Toronto police badge that Mr. Drunk Boots flashes at me from off a table. I thought I could hear all the generations of women in my family telling me what an idiot I was.

Then a blonde hair and blue-eyed hung over cop lifted his head from his pillow. He was staring at me with one eye open.

MISS BRUNETTE
(uncomfortable cough)
Hello. I'm Miss Brunette. I hope that I didn't wake you.

MR. COP
(he clears his throat)
I'm completely naked.

MISS BRUNETTE
Ah. Okay. Hehe..I'm sorry about this
(she thinks to herself..I'm going to kick the living sh-- out of my sister)

MR. COP
I've only been asleep for an hour and a half.

I got real chatty and nervous so I started to talk about writing and good books which isn't exactly what most people want to hear in the morning. I spent my time looking out the window down to the Mandalay Bay pool wishing to all the stars in the heaven that I'd was there. I was kinda of pissed at Mr. Drunk Boots and my sister for thinking that I was just going to hook up with some guy sleeping in a room. Is that what they thought? Is that what Mr. Cop thought? I've got principle and taste. I excused myself to the restroom. After I came out and Mr. Cop had taken the moment to get dressed. By now it was a little before noon.

Mr. Cop was a big guy. He was a bit over 6'0 and athletic. His face was handsome and he even had retained some childish qualities about his smile. He was the alpha to the omega male. He was the sort of man that pick-up artists trembled and feared spotting in bars. The PUA has zero to little game against the alpha male. I even decided that I wouldn't like him because I had that gut instinct most girls would have just seized the opportunity. Not me, I couldn't get over being dumped in a hotel room by my own sister. I had enough time to check out Mr. Cop when the door opened and Mr. Drunk Boots and my sister returned. It was my turn to ditch my sister. Mr. Cop invited me to lunch and I bailed without turning a glance over my shoulder. I do have to mention that I knew that my sister was safe so don't think that I was trying to really dump her. My sister is family, enough said.

My Day with Mr. Cop

I don't want to get to laborious in all the detail. Hell, I've already done that! Suffice it to say, I spent an entire day, which when drunk at 5 in the morning combined with sleep exhaustion, means that the day felt like a week in Rio. Mr. Cop not only was a hottie, he had style, humor, and sensitivity to boot. He was more than generous. My sister f--ked up again by booking our hotel at a place so ghetto that there were tweaker-like people standing in front of roaring BBQ's grilling hot dogs. Mr. Cop had come along with us and I watched his alert police skills jump up like a dog on alert. I knew this place was bad. Never let my sister plan a trip for you-ever! Mr. Cop invited my sister and I to stay at Mandalay. He helped take our luggage inside the hotel. Mr. Drunk Boots didn't seem to have a real problem with our stay but I'd like to remind you that my sister and I had crashed a bachelor party. How does the rescue of two girls play into a Bachelor party? It didn't. Not really. My sister and I didn't have to lap dance or shake our money makers. We just had an awesome time hanging with the boys. No sexy stuff involved at all!



Mr. Cop even took me to the pool at Mandalay Bay. I was still playing disinterested because he didn't fit my typical guy profile type of dark hair, dark eyes, lives in the same country as me, enjoys trips to the museum, walks on the beach and et cetra.

Holla! Despite all the guys this brunette has dated, Mr. Cop was the first guy that wanted to know about her dating background. Most of the time, when I meet someone, it might take weeks or months to get into that conversation about past relationships. He was all over wanting to really know me. It was a different approach than most playas. It caught my attention. Well, that and his swim trunks, which were looking so good on him. I kept to my guns and didn't drop any typical girl signs. I wasn't going to like him. I knew it was just one day in Vegas and I'd probably never see him again in my life.

Back at to the hotel room and we all got ready to go out for the night. Mr. Cop set all of us up with drinks that were the hardest pours on the West Side. He made drinks so tight that you could feel the air rushing through your nose after taking a sip. Nobody made a single remark. It was evening and time to renew the buzz.

I guess I should mention what happen to my sister during the day. Mr. Drunk Boots went to the pool while my sister wanted to watch the Mandalay Bay Shark Cam on channel 32. Okay, she was watching TV but the shark cam is worth a watch. She slept and recovered unlike her sister, Miss Brunette, that was having an amazing time with a guy she had met naked in bed. Oh, Vegas stories!

Jumping back to drinks at the hotel room, Mr. Cop called up the bachelor party and made arrangements for us to meet up with the crew. From the time we left the hotel and made it to the MGM, I was trashed to even say the least. I was so trashed that in front of a MGM security officer I was trying to get Mr. Cop to hop the tram turn-style (oh, how her Chi-town roots were showing). I never got it to happen but I was having such a good time that I didn't care.

Next up, Mr. Cop and I were the at the hottest club in Vegas at the moment Pure. Pamela Anderson was slated to make an appearance. Hundreds of people were waiting in line. Mr. Cop and I run up to the VIP entrance and I thought that my drunk smile got us in through the red velvet ropes. As it turns out Mr. Cop flipped a bill to the security bouncers that hollered at all the waiting people that nobody else would be let in.



What does a drunk brunette do? She kisses the boy and told him to not be shy that any girl would have him. Now that you've read this far, I'm keeping quiet on what Mr. Cop replied when I gave him the pep talk on meeting girls. If I hadn't been drunk all day, I'd have known that the being shy thing was only a line and part of technique on the pick-up.

Some things will stay in Vegas. I will however tell you what a sweet night we had and once we got back to the room...Mr. Cop fell so soundly asleep on the bed that he never noticed me leaning over him watching him sleep. I probably won't ever forget the way he looked sleeping. Oh...He looked so damn angelic.

Sunday

On Sunday, I wasn't so smooth. I thought I had traveled to Las Vegas to attend a psychic convention with my sister. Now, I think I came to Vegas to meet Mr. Cop.

Mr. Cop had sent several txt messages to my phone. He had taken a cab from Mandalay Bay to the Venetian in order to see me before his return flight home. I was sitting inside a convention room listening to a medium tell strangers about their recently deceased and I was so involved that I ignored his txt messages until the lecture/performance was over. At 1:30pm, I returned a call to Mr. Cop.

MISS BRUNETTE
(happy to talk to Mr. Cop)
Okay, where are you? I want to meet up with you.

MR. COP
(cool and collective)
I'm at the airport.

MISS BRUNETTE
What? Why?

That was a stupid question on my end. I knew that he was returning home on Sunday, I just had the wrong times. I started to panic. I couldn't play miss cool a moment longer. I understood that the most generous, loyal, sexy hot cop in the world had taken a cab to see me and I didn't walk out of my convention because I wanted to listen to a medium talk to dead people. Who is f--ked in the head? I was! I almost lost it on the phone when he told me that he was at Las Vegas International Airport.

MISS BRUNETTE
I'm coming to you.

MR. COP
(lightens up a bit)
Oh, that would be nice, eh...

MISS BRUNETTE
I'll be there and I'll give you a high five before you leave.

Miss Brunette flips her cell phone close.

SISTER
Don't be desperate. Forget it. You'll never see him again.

MISS BRUNETTE
Desperate? Look around and tell me who isn't desperate? Aren't all of these people desperate? Desperate to win money. Desperate to forget their lives at home. Desperate to meet the love of their life at some cheezy bar? I'm going to meet him and you can just stay here or shut up.

I started to walk away and then I started to cry right in the middle of the Venetian Hotel Convention Center. I was so mad at myself! As tears bounced on the floor, I kept hitting myself for not walking out to tell one of the most awesome guys I've met (a guy that made Vegas wonderful, beautiful, and safe) that I had the time of my life with him. I wasn't that kind of person to be so extremely nonchalant. I didn't want him thinking that I had taken advantage of him and I was going to prove it to him by driving straight to the airport within the next twenty minutes before his flight departed.

Two problems with my scenario:

1. I didn't know where the airport was located. I followed descending planes in the sky toward the airport.

2. Traffic, baby, Traffic. Sunday afternoon and everybody's trying to leave dodge. The redlights were too long and the traffic was too thick.

3. I forgot to mention the third problem. My sister didn't want me to leave the convention to chase Mr. Cop down at the airport. She thought the whole idea was absolutely absurd and desperate. She yelled at me, harassed me, humiliated me into attempting to stay at the convention. I didn't give a damn about anything she had said. I was going to the airport to see him and I sobbed the whole way there because I felt so crummy about the whole thing. My sister was sat in the car yelling at me the whole time. I'd like to her to remember that all of this was in part due to her very own actions. I'd never have met Mr. Cop otherwise.

This is how it played out: I drove beyond the speed limit while my sister was screaming at me like a sailor. I made guesses on where the airport was located from the Venetian and I had only one turn to make in order to make it my knight in shining armor....

Mr. Cop called my cell phone.

MR. COP
Where are you? I'm waiting outside.

Miss Brunette lets her sister whip her cell phone out of her hand.

SISTER
Hey, Cop?

MR. COP
Are you almost here? I can't wait any longer...

SISTER
She can't tell you this but she made a wrong turn which has put us on a highway to nowhere.

(LONG SILENT PAUSE)

Sister hands phone back to sister.

MISS BRUNETTE
(mustering up all the hung over strength she has)
I'm sorry. I should have walked out on that convention. I'm so sorry.

MR. COP
I have to go. My flight is leaving. I understand. You tried. I'll call you.

That was it. He got on a plane and I went and heard Sylvia Browne tell people about things that only a psychic could know. I was at a lost for emotion and words. I hadn't been prepared for any of it. Meeting Mr. Cop. Having such a beautiful time. Ditching him the next day when all I wanted to do was to do it all over again. Life had hit me in the face. I alternated between sleeping and feeling hung over while Sylvia Browne spoke. I had paid two hundred bucks to listen to her talk and all I wanted to do was redo my Sunday. After the convention was done, my sister and I went to a great Mexican restaurant inside Treasure Island. We didn't want any of our good times to end but Vegas wasn't the same without Mr. Cop. It wasn't fun or exciting like it had been with him. I ordered a bloody mary.

9:00PM SUNDAY NIGHT

My cell phone rings. The caller idea is 416. That's an international area code. Mr. Cop called but I don't think even he was expecting the sort of future that was waiting for us. We talked on phone for almost the hour hour drive back to Orange County.

In the few miles of desert road where the cell phone dropped connection, my sister and I drove in silence. So much had happened to us both in Vegas that it was more than a four hour ride could process. I looked off into vast shapes of midnight land and star lit skies. He had called back and all that I could think was...Now what?