Vegas was amazing. As usual. I keep thinking that one of these days I’m going to have a bad experience there but it still keeps batting 1.000.
We left Moravia after breakfast around 9am. Lee and I would joke afterward that we “were lulled into a false sense of confidence” by the cool weather we had experienced in LA over the last 36 hours. After crossing over the mountains on I-15, the temperature began to slowly climb by about a degree every 5 minutes or so. By the time we were in the Mojave Desert, it was 115 degrees.
I wish I had the picture of me literally standing in the beer cooler at the Nevada border trying to cool off…
We rolled into the hotel at 1pm. Loa had flown out to meet us to celebrate her birthday with an epic Vegas weekend, but we were so sun-sapped that all we could do was shower and collapse for a few hours.
After a solid nap and a few hours in the pool drinking Mai Thais, we linked up with my friend Eckelfest and hit the town for some dinner and a session with Steel Panther – Spencer’s favorite Vegas band. If you haven’t heard them, go to YouTube and prepare for some of the raunchiest funniest 80s tribute bands you’ve ever seen.
The next day Lee had hooked us up with tickets to the infamous “Rehab” party at the Hard Rock Cafe. Pictures will be up soon – there were thousands (and I don’t exaggerate at all) of morons in the pool there. They really should call that party “Mayhem” instead of “Rehab”. I’m pretty sure there was no one there that was going through rehab…
That night my friend Leslie Stein – an author and speaker who moved to Vegas a couple years ago – flew back into town and bounced around the strip with us. We had discovered a dollar shot bar the night before and we ended up the night there, sucking down $2 tequila, $3 Jager and $4 Fireballs. Quite a difference from the Rehab party we hit up that day.
Having learned our lesson from the Mojave on the ride INTO Vegas, we went to bed resolved to wake up at 6am and hit the road at 645a to head toward Albuquerque.