Ah, Las Vegas; a city full of mystery, opulence and booze-filled decisions.
This past weekend, three of my girlfriends and I decided to turn the Vegas Strip into our stiletto-clad stomping grounds. For me, it would be my first experience in Sin City sans alcohol, which I knew wasn't going to be easy. Unfortunately, it turned out to be more uncomfortable then showing up to a baby shower with a box full of wire hangers.
In Milwaukee, I usually have at least one companion with me who has also joined my "SOB MKE" bandwagon. (Sober Milwaukee; Get Into It.) A thousand miles away at Jet nightclub, the only sober companion I seem to have found amongst the sea of bare skin and Jersey Shore hopefuls is my trusty iPhone. So, there I sat with him, chatting away about current events via Twitter, Facebook, Text, etc. while still intermittently talking and dancing with my friends. It is obvious to me that it irritates them to see me on an intimate date with my Smartphone, but they really have no idea of how difficult it is for me to be in a nightclub and not be on an alcohol buzz. Its kind of like being the new kid at school who barely knows English; you try your best, but you are unsure of how to communicate in unfamiliar territory, and everyone around you assumes you're either arrogant or mildly retarded. In addition to this slight social awkwardness, a side-effect of Topomax I have been fighting with is it's negative effects on my personality. When once I was extremely outgoing, I am now more subdued, and getting progressively more withdrawn and even bitchy. I hate it, and I keep telling myself its all in my head and to fight it, but this mental battle is getting so very exhausting.
Anyways, while I was in the midst of a very important tweet-sesh at Jet, a very inoxicated young man leaned in close to me and said, "Hey, when are you going to stop being such a fucking bitch and talk to my friends?" Slightly taken aback, but still composed, I told him I was talking to his friends, and if he would have taken a second to stop dry-humping my friend, he would have noticed. He proceeded analyze my appearance, and give me his opinion on what kind of person I am, which ultimately ended with him calling me a, "gold digging cunt who had better at least dance, if not fuck one of his friends." Now, I am a rational girl, and it takes a lot to get to me. Want to call me names? Go for it! Feel like questioning my work ethic? Better check yourself, buddy. I work hard for what I have, and I let him know he more than crossed the line by delivering what was the ultimate slap/karate-chop right to his kisser. His eyes instantly welled up, and his lip started quivering as he tried to form some kind of statement. I wasn't even going to wait to hear what genius he had to say next, and stormed off to find my friends.
About twenty minutes later, I was still at Jet nightclub, at the same table with the same group of ahhh-mazing gentlemen (sarcasm) and I started to actually feel bad for cracking Captain Dirtbag in the face. I mean, he obviously said some ridiculous stuff, but he is still a human being like me; he has blood in his veins and well, feelings. As I sat back and surveyed the club, I just thought of everyone as an individual. We are so quick to dismiss everyone as a douche-bag, drunk, trash, slut, etc. Maybe this jerk-off really just wanted to say hi to me, and somehow just stumbled over his words until they turned into a giant insult snowball that he couldn't keep from rolling off of his tongue. So, I went over and I apologized to him. Guess what? I was right. I mean, this guy was far from Prince Charming, but I did end up talking to him for a little while, and he gave me one of the better drunk compliments I have received:
"You know, I would rather sit and talk to you, then hook up with that girl who was grinding on me all night."
I laughed, and said, "This is Las Vegas; chances are you're not going to find your soul mate, so you're better off charming the panties off of Miss Leg Humper. Just remember that she has the same blood in her veins."
He high-fived me, grabbed the Patron and his broad, and probably got laid.
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