Waiting is the Hardest Part

Posted: August 18, 2015 in Electronic Napkin


My date and I waited vigil in the crowded lobby of the Vegas hotel. Swells of people were going in and out of the front door like the tide at Hermosa Beach. Taxis and Limo buses were posted outside the curb in a make shirt caravan, as throngs of people waited for rides into the Sin City night.

I drank a light beer to calm my nerves plus a whole day at the spas also had me in a meditative state. I had already been introduced to the whole wedding party posses, which my date was the leader. She commented about her distain for my new Handlebar mustache one more time and was off with the well-dressed estrogen gang for a night of whatever semi attached women do while in Vegas

. It was one of those odd situations that happened when both wedding partied decided to be at the same place at the same time. I was part of the Men’s team – a group of people I had only met at a dark, casino bowling alley less than twenty-four hours ago. They were a rough looking mob, but once we spoke, I found them friendly and harmless.

After much confusion and poor planning, I was stationed outside of a Margarita bar that rested between the casino floor and the main entrance to the Hotel waiting for the gathering. I noticed some familiar faces coming, but held up on a forced, corny reintroduction. I saw a small circle forming to the right, walked over coolly and was greeted with smiles and handshakes.

The groom and the best man soon joined the circle agitated. It seemed as if some sort of disagreement flamed into a full-fledged argument and was smoldering. A neutral peacemaker pulled the best man away as the groom to be pleaded for understanding. A few stragglers approached and we made our way outside like a small platoon of kept men. It was agreed upon during the midnight hour to patronize a North Vegas strip club.

A black Limo bus pulled up to the curb. The driver – a stout, tall mocha man with a ponytail stepped to our team. The self proclaimed leader of out group – a tall, chubby dark skinned man wearing long dreads and large bulging eyes pulled the man to the side for parking lot negotiations. With a handshake and a last minute whisper we were escorted onto the bus.

While boarding the bus I discovered most of the seat occupied by nervous SE Asian men traveling to a different strip club. There was a tension in the interior of the darken Limo bus, thick as yellow curry. We weaved through the fearful faces then made our way to the back finding several open spaces. Being a stranger, I accepted fly on the wall status, listening to the life long friends volley back and forth stories from past Vegas Strip adventures. Some stayed quiet – exhibiting white-toothed smiles that glowed with peaceful giggles, which trickling from drunken lips.

One of the newer guys to the group caught a spell of braggadocios, which forced thick words to run like syrup from his nervous flesh trap. He was a short, average build paper bag skinned man tiptoeing on the shallow end of thirty. He told everyone who would listen about his crew running the city, like a neo LA Rat Pack. I had been around his type before – puffing out his chest with stories of half-truths and things be heard about but never done nor seen.

I turned from the conversation to the outside of my window, enjoying the brightly lit urban landscape as it escaped behind us. We were entering the outskirts of Sin City. It turned to nothing but dark streets illuminated by the florescent light from the many strip clubs, which flanked us on both sides of the road. We passed an older white man that looked as if he could have been someone’s uncle. The creepy one – who never married. The one at family functions the children were forbidden to sit on his lap.

He was talking to a young, short fresh-faced ebony girl who appeared to have just gotten off the stage. It looked as if it could have been someone’s college aged daughter trying to add some extra money to the college fund through dollar tips flung at her form all directions. After a few minutes the odd couple walked around the corner. I guessed the deal was solidified. Capitalism at the basic root level was executed. The boys in the bus hooted and hollered, giving the skinny, gray man confirmation it was going to be worth his funds.

The Limo pulled around back and dropped us off. We stood in a circle as the best man approached us. He asked us all for fifty dollars each: twenty for the bus and thirty for the strip club. There were two entrances. The one in front had Caucasian men huddled in front wearing Dockers, button down shirts and wide, loving-life smiles. Toward the rear, off to the side and next to the alley was the entrance to our club. “Come on. I’ll take you around back.” Said the driver. We lined us and slowly marched through the dark, glass double doors into naked mystery…..

  1. vivalaViv says:

    I’ve never been to Vegas.., not sure if I’d love it or hate it??
    It’s Saturday night and a new club seems just open few doors away, music is playing out loud, a perfect soundtrack for me while reading this story… 😉

  2. Jude Hammer says:

    Thanks for the read. You have to try Vegas once, just to say you have been

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