After weathering four hours of rainy desert highway, I finally pulled into the Bellagio self-parking structure. I had made only one stop along the way, to eat lunch at Mad Greek, a place appropriately named because if an actual Greek person ate there, they’d be really pissed off. It was dirty as hell, and the food all tasted like it had been stowed away in a fallout shelter for fifty years. I ate my lamb kabob and the rice pilaf, but only picked at the smelly Greek salad, sour-tasting stuffed grape leaves, and stale pita.
Once I got to Bellagio, I got out of the car to stretch my legs, and texted Fly (proprietor of Fly, Fresh, and Young) to tell him my wheresabout. He said his crew was at Bellagio too, playing blackjack. I tracked them down and introduced myself to Fly in person for the first time. We both had the same haircut: a close buzz. He was pretty much as I expected him to be from the tidbits I’d gleaned from his blog over time… A tall Midwestern dude. I knew he considered himself an exceptionally good-looking guy from his writing, but that didn’t strike me right away. Later on, once I had seen multiple girls approach him and shamelessly flirt, I realized that his height, his large head/bone structure, plus his jawline were all things that girls’ brains were more attuned to pick up on than mine. I definitely saw what he’d been writing about.
Fly and I took a walk to an ATM and started chatting. It was his first trip to Vegas, and I started explaining my philosophies of how to have a good time in the city.
“Vegas is a strange beast. You can’t try to experience the whole city; it’s exhausting. You have to just find your niche and enjoy that. Don’t try to shoot too high, it will destroy you.”
By this I meant, don’t try to live up to some image of what “fun” and glamour is in Las Vegas. That will only sap you of your money and energy.
I also explained my strategy for when I’m in Vegas for only one night: I talk to every possible chick and get as many numbers and leads as possible, and then see who pans out later. Throw it all against the wall and see what sticks.
Fly got some cash and sat down to play blackjack, and I took another walk around with one of his friends, Short Guy. He was short and blond, and had one of those chubby faces and deep raspy voices that sometimes annoy me.
We waited at a bar for him to grab a drink. It was St. Patrick’s Day, and I was pretty much the only person not drinking yet. I saw two cute chicks at the end of the bar with what looked like their mom.
They started walking away just as SG got his drink, so I told him to follow me. We walked next to the girls, and I went to work.
“Did it take you guys forever to get a drink at that bar? Because we just waited about 15 minutes.”
They all smile warmly and laugh. “No we got served right away! Because we’re girls!”
“You’re probably right. Oh my God, that bar is sexist! I’m going to sue. Will you guys sign my petition?”
They laugh again, and I prepare to take it down a notch and get to know them with normal conversation.
But then SG interjects–
“Muh.. m-maybe you guys got served drinks first….. because your mother is so beautiful.”
Everyone freezes. All of our faces go blank, and we just…. stand there.
Then, after a beat…
“Well nice meeting you boys, we’ve gotta go.”
I don’t even try to stop them.
I look at SG like…
An hour later I was back at the same bar by myself. Fly and his crew were betting on sports at Caesar’s next door. I kept locking eyes with a Latina cutie who was a little bit older than me at the end of the bar.
Finally I got up to “leave,” but I paused by her to ask for “directions.” She was smiley and helpful, and I just transitioned into asking personal questions and making jokes as a followup, planting my feet and plowing forward. We had a good conversation.
Just as things were wrapping up and I was ready to take the number and run, Fly swooped in like Robin to play wingman, giving me some social value and carrying it home. I got Vegas Latina’s number, and Fly saw her wide eyes undressing me in her mind.
It turned out she lives in my city anyway, so I wasn’t worried about seeing her again that night.
That night, Fly and I got suited down and went off on our own, with the intention of finding some girls to bring into the club, using my hookup.
We had dinner with Jay DeVoy, the consigliere of the Manosphere, who I found to be an exceedingly interesting guy. Then the evening’s work began.
It took us a while to find the right set. I accumulated a bunch of numbers through the day and night, but in Vegas people have their carefully-laid plans until around 1 AM. After that, it’s anybody’s game.
Around midnight we crossed paths with two girls that had ditched their bachelorette party because, “all those girls are boring, ugly, and married, and we want to have fun.”
Ding-Ding-Ding, we have a winner.
After chatting for 10 minutes, we brought them into the club. However, my girl, a cute California blonde, made us promise that she could sit down and rest her tired feet right after we got inside. We promised.
My hookup once again proved flawless and we cut right through the line and the velvet rope. The girls were aroused by this. My girl grabbed tightly onto my hand and started squeezing it, as if to say, “Imagine this is your dick.”
But once we were inside, the night took a dramatic turn for the worse…….
It felt like the club was filled to 110% capacity. There was nowhere to even stop walking, let alone sit down. We kept getting funneled by security from one end to the other; the dance floor was full, and roped off.
We got to the bar and ordered some drinks. My girl was able to sit on the edge of a dancing platform for a few seconds. Then we all hit the restrooms.
Afterwards, we made one more push to find a place to sit. I saw a raised section up some stairs with some open couch space. I told the girls to go take it.
Fly and his girl walked in first, taking the seats and leaving me and my girl boxed out. I don’t think Fly knew the situation, but it would’ve been better to let the two girls sit and rest.
There was a middle-aged, pudgy, balding guy who had backed into my way. I tapped him on the shoulder and said, “Excuse me!”
He turned around and had that “look of douche” in his eyes, which really complemented his douchey beard.
“What are you doing here.”
“We’re just trying to get through so she can sit down for a minute.”
“No, what the FUCK are you doing in my section??”
“Uh, I didn’t know this was your section.”
“Why are you in this club.”
“We were invited guests. If you don’t want us over here we’ll go to another section.”
“I paid 20 fucking thousand dollars for this section. You think I want you here?! Why the FUCK are you here???”
I found it hilarious that his section consisted of 10 dudes standing around drinking and looking lonely. Great use of $20,000, you fucking moron.
At this point my girl freaked out, yelling “I can’t do this anymore!” She grabbed her friend’s hand, pulled her away and ran. I looked at Fly like…
A few minutes earlier my girl had been ready to fuck, and now… god damn it.
We followed them out of the club, kind of chasing them, but playing it off like we just wanted to get out of there with them too. We caught up and rejoined them, and they took off their shoes, walking down the grimey-ass stairs barefoot.
We finally got back into the casino and took the escalator down. I held my blondie’s hand, comforting her, and we made out for a minute. Then they bounced back to their room to crash for the night. Blondie told me she’d really like to hang when we got back to Cali. I was still pushing for her to come back downstairs and hang after she dropped her friend off in their room.
Fly and I decided to regroup in our room for a few. We got in the elevator and prepared for a normal, 30-second ride upstairs. Except when Fly tried to swipe his room key on the control pad, it didn’t work. So he kept doing it, and ended up short-circuiting the elevator, causing it to lose power and suddenly stop.
The elevator just stopped short. We were somewhere between the lobby and the 30th floor. It was an express elevator.
To make matters worse, the elevator began jumping up and down violently and at random, making us feel like we were on the tower of terror ride. It was nauseating. Plus the air conditioning died, and it was getting really hot in there.
I pulled off my tie and opened my shirt. There were about six other people in there with us; only one (unattractive) girl. I think if there had been some hot girls I would’ve held it together, but instead I started freaking out.
We kept hitting the emergency button. The security desk came on and asked us what was going on, and we all started talking at the same time. Finally I screamed “WE’RE FUCKING TRAPPED, GET US THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!!!!!!!” I was about to puke, and thought the situation was a few levels more desperate than anyone else, apparently.
We remained trapped in there about another 20 minutes. It was hellish. They finally got us out, and promised they would make it up to us. We never heard back from them again. The next day I called the front desk and they assured us they were “looking into it.” Assholes.
Shaken up but still horny and ambitious, Fly and I headed back out around 3 AM.
We discovered most bars were shutting down, but we met some girls who were leaving the club. I got another Cali girl’s number, but nothing really stuck.
We sat down at Bond Bar for a few, and had this discussion.
Then a tall, sluttily-dressed brunette sat down nearby. Her legs were ridiculous. I assumed she was a prostitute or just some high-class chick who knew the staff there. She relaxed and talked to all of them while I checked her out.
We ended up starting a conversation with her, and I convinced her to come walk around with us. We met up with the rest of Fly’s crew at the Chandelier Bar, and I broke off from the group with the chick. She was really into me, asking if I was “a celebrity or something,” due to my demeanor. She confessed she had a boyfriend, but I ignored it, getting more and more physical. She reciprocated my touch.
At the same time, though, Fly kept pulling me aside and joking around that she might be a tranny. She definitely had a masculine jaw, and almost no boobs. But she had other assets like her amazing legs and tall, skinny frame. I was 99% sure she was a chick, but we still started referring to her as The Tranny anyway.
The guys headed to another bar, and me and The Tranny sat at a bar near the elevators to my room. We started making out, and I was basically rubbing her pussy (which I was able to verify is penis-free).
Still, she refused to come up to my room. She said something that annoyed the hell out of me: “I have to start being good.”
“You’ve cheated on your boyfriend before?”
“Yeah, lots of times…”
Well lah-di-dah, princess. Go fuck yourself.
We kept making out, but eventually she insisted it was time to go meet her friends back at her hotel and crash.
I headed back to Chandelier Bar, where Fly and his buddy Mark were hanging again. Mark is a tall, goofy guy with a heavy Southern accent, who seems pretty beta and has random aggressive outbursts. Sort of a nerdy corporate type.
We all sat around reflecting on the night’s events. Fly and I joked around about “spotting our next set” sitting nearby, and looked over at two super fat chicks. We laughed.
It was around 5 AM, and Fly and I decided to turn in for the night. Mark said he was gonna chill downstairs a little longer, so we said goodnight.
Around noon the next day, Mark busted into our room, still wearing the same clothes. He gave a big cowboy holler, “Yeeeeeee hawwwwww!!!!!!!”
Fly and I woke up, wondering what the fuck was going on.
Fly: “Where the fuck you been, man?”
Mark: “I ended up bringing some girls back to our party suite and having a threeway!”
Dagonet: “Really? How’d you meet them?”
Mark: “I don’t even remember. All I remember is one of them sucking my cock while I made out with the other.”
Fly: “No shit, wow.”
Dagonet: “I don’t believe it.”
Mark: “I mean… they weren’t the best or anything, but they were fine with the lights out.”
Me and Fly cracked up a little.
Dagonet: “Seriously, where did you meet them?”
Mark: “At the Chandelier Bar.”
Fly: “Was it those two fat chicks?!?”
Mark: “Well I wouldn’t really say fat so much as–”
Fly & Dagonet: “HAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHA!!!”
Dagonet: “I mean, it’s awesome you had a threesome though, I’ve never had one, so I give you props for that.”
Mark laughed a little too.
Mark: “One of them threw up a bunch, so I gotta get back down there and make sure she leaves.”
Fly: “How drunk were they?”
Mark: “When we were leaving the bar, one of them passed out and fell face-first right smack on the floor.”
Mark: “So the manager told us to wait there, and he found her a wheelchair. So we propped her up in that to bring her upstairs.”
Fly: “So you brought an unconscious fat chick up to your room in a wheelchair to have a threesome???”
Fly & Dagonet: “HAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHA!!!”
Mark shook his head and walked out of the room.
The next day we had lunch with another super-cool denizen of the Manosphere, Jack Frost. After that, I split.
I ended up seeing Vegas Latina back in my city, and she became, appropriately, notch 21.
But that’s a story for another day…