Monday, October 23, 2006
Tales From Margaritaville
The Jello Shot Express
You can get a hangover just saying that.
Seven hours on a bus to Vegas, sampling Jello shots, downing adult beverages, listening to good music with good friends, with lots of short stories and long laughs. Hell, we even had a conga line going for a while somewhere around Wickieup. The Fetching Mrs. Crime Dog's Red Hot Jello Shots (they tasted just like "Red Hot" candies) won some kind of award, which I got credit for because I had the aisle seat and served up the shots. For some reason, I don't remember the award....I think it was "People's Choice." Good thing I voted twelve times.
The Hooters Hotel was pretty much the ideal place for a thousand Parrotheads to hang out. It's done up in a "beach" motif, with boardwalks, surfboards, and even fire pits and beach sand out by the pool. Throw in Stars On The Water poolside, and you have the makings of one helluva shindig. Coral Reefer harpist Greg "Fingers" Taylor even put in an appearance.
I know, I know: Hey, Crime Dog. You said you would never set foot in another Hooters! But that was the restaurant. And I didn't, other than to take a shortcut to the shitter, which seemed appropriate.
OK, I admit it. TFMCD and I did not attend the concert. We've seen Jimmy's show dozens of times, and are not real wild about his ticket prices these days, so elected to find something else to do: We took in Lance Burton's show at the Monte Carlo. That dude is a witch. He either has a direct line to a Supreme Being who can make his narrow ass appear and disappear right in front of your eyes, or he has an identical twin brother he's kept hidden for the past 46 years or so.
I also happen to know we weren't the only concert boycotters. There was at least a dozen of us that rode the bus up and stayed away from the Buffett show. The Pirate Captain and His Wench took in a nekkid people show over at New York New York. They shoulda saved their hunnerd clams, because there was a show for free about 2:00AM out on the patio. Two folks were doing the horizontal bop, making the monster with two backs, playing hide the pickle, just pick your favorite euphemism, in a second floor room, silhouetted perfectly through the sheer curtains on the balcony door. Needless to say, that activity drew a few cheers, along with an attempt to climb the pool fence to reach said balcony, for some reason, by a heavy-set drunk who dragged himself onto the top of the fence, only to find a gravity storm up there that pulled him right off the other side.
Needless to say, the ride back was significantly more quiet on Sunday.......
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You can get a hangover just saying that.
Seven hours on a bus to Vegas, sampling Jello shots, downing adult beverages, listening to good music with good friends, with lots of short stories and long laughs. Hell, we even had a conga line going for a while somewhere around Wickieup. The Fetching Mrs. Crime Dog's Red Hot Jello Shots (they tasted just like "Red Hot" candies) won some kind of award, which I got credit for because I had the aisle seat and served up the shots. For some reason, I don't remember the award....I think it was "People's Choice." Good thing I voted twelve times.
The Hooters Hotel was pretty much the ideal place for a thousand Parrotheads to hang out. It's done up in a "beach" motif, with boardwalks, surfboards, and even fire pits and beach sand out by the pool. Throw in Stars On The Water poolside, and you have the makings of one helluva shindig. Coral Reefer harpist Greg "Fingers" Taylor even put in an appearance.
I know, I know: Hey, Crime Dog. You said you would never set foot in another Hooters! But that was the restaurant. And I didn't, other than to take a shortcut to the shitter, which seemed appropriate.
OK, I admit it. TFMCD and I did not attend the concert. We've seen Jimmy's show dozens of times, and are not real wild about his ticket prices these days, so elected to find something else to do: We took in Lance Burton's show at the Monte Carlo. That dude is a witch. He either has a direct line to a Supreme Being who can make his narrow ass appear and disappear right in front of your eyes, or he has an identical twin brother he's kept hidden for the past 46 years or so.
I also happen to know we weren't the only concert boycotters. There was at least a dozen of us that rode the bus up and stayed away from the Buffett show. The Pirate Captain and His Wench took in a nekkid people show over at New York New York. They shoulda saved their hunnerd clams, because there was a show for free about 2:00AM out on the patio. Two folks were doing the horizontal bop, making the monster with two backs, playing hide the pickle, just pick your favorite euphemism, in a second floor room, silhouetted perfectly through the sheer curtains on the balcony door. Needless to say, that activity drew a few cheers, along with an attempt to climb the pool fence to reach said balcony, for some reason, by a heavy-set drunk who dragged himself onto the top of the fence, only to find a gravity storm up there that pulled him right off the other side.
Needless to say, the ride back was significantly more quiet on Sunday.......
