Well, 3 weeks later, and here's my tale of the Modern Drunkard Convention. The road trip out was great (once we got out of 2pm LA traffic, which is ungodly.) and me & Alf pulled in to downtown Vegas around, what 9? I don't remember.
Now, I've never BEEN to downtown Vegas. In fact, I didn't even know that it was just past the end of the strip there. I imagined it was over a hill or something. And when I saw the little strip in downtown Vegas it suddenly clicked that I have seen a million movie scenes shot there, and it felt right.
Now, before we attend the convention, we need some libations to 'catch up' since clearly, the drunks that are already here are probably wasted by now, right? Plus we haven't eaten. SO! Off to some Bayou place for a yard of a mixed drink concoction that had Everclear in it. Alf of course made sure that we got 'extra' shots in it. Because the 9 liquors already in it weren't enough. After that it's off to the 99 cent hotdog stand! We down a few of those while drinking our yard of doom and then head over to the convention.
Now, here's where the 'convention' starts to become suspect. This is Vegas, right? So you can bring whatever drink you want into any place you want. And HERE, the damn security guard told us "NO OUTSIDE BEVERAGES". Soooo, we CAN'T bring booze to the "Modern Drunkard Convention". OK. Strike One.
At this point, this is the only real strike against the event. We head in (after finishing our yards while eating more 99 cent hotdogs) and check out the scene. It hasn't really started yet, so we mingle around a bit and meet some interesting characters like Danni and his giant glass (pictured above) and his friend (whose name I can't remember but he looked like David Spade only more 80s), who also had a giant glass. We met the editor of the Drunkard magazine who's idea the event was. There was some artists and a few liquor sampling tables where we were forced to drink weird concoction things.
It's about this time where, after a few samplings, some beers and that yard of doom we drank, things get a little hazy.
What I do remember: The bands sucked the biggest donkey balls you can imagine, I think I took a short nap in a bathroom stall, and there weren't a lot of people there.
Next thing I know it was Saturday morning, and neither of us know how we got back to the hotel. So, night one was a little weak, but night TWO, that's when the fun events start and the bands are better! OK then!
We still have a day to burn, so we head over the Mandalay Bay pool. On the way, we stop at some saloon where people from the convention are supposed to hang when not at the ballroom.
This place, the Double Down Saloon, was the most gloriously nasty dive bar of all dive bars. It was painted black, with crap everywhere. It was truly nasty, in the most awesome way. A place with ancient crusty signs hand-made by staff that say "Puke Insurance $20", because, see, if you throw up in the bar, they hand you a mop and bucket to clean it up. The couch in the bar seriously has springs stinking out of it, like they picked it up at the dump (they might have). Anyway, as the bartender regaled us with stories of vomit and nasty drinks, and a local chick, who was rather entertaining, mercilessly mocked me as a 'newbie' and more or less goaded me into drinking their 2nd specialty drink: a bacon martini. (now, their first drink is ass-juice, but no. no.) Well, I'll tell ya, it tasted like bacon. And the Vodka in it was surprisingly smooth. And yes, I did drink the whole thing. And promptly chased it with beer. I think I kept tasting it until I got to the Mandalay pool and had a margarita. (note: anyone can walk into the Mandalay pool area if they want to. And it was about 117 degrees, so we didn't hang out for long. And I lost my sunglasses. Dammit.)
Night two!
We went in with a few drinky-drinks in us already (since I guess we'd been drinking since noon) and bore witness to what was about to become an extreme disappointment on a massive scale. Since the post seems to be becoming a run on story, I'm going to break it down bullet-point-style:
#1 - We're surrounded by old dudes. Ugly dudes. Who dress badly. BADLY.
#2 - WE'RE the drunks. Everyone else is NURSING.
#3 - We realized that the 'sponsors' of the event are the same 2 booths serving those freaky liquors, and some bad artists.
#4 - The 'burlesque' dancing was god-awful. (note: having 'big boobs' isn't something to be boasting about when you weigh 450 pounds)
#5 - The 'drinking' contest. Here's where my faith in this event died a brutal, gruesome death in the vein of Final Destination or Saw. Four asswipes volunteer for a drinking game. The game? A waitress will put down a shot in front of each of them, they have to shoot it and identify it. First one to get it right wins. I'm not going to go into a lot of detail on this because it makes me angry, but here's how it goes: Waitress puts down the shot, they shoot it and here's the responses from the contests EACH TIME (and it was the same if the shot was clear OR brown)
"Tequila!"
"Vodka!"
"Gin!"
"Scotch!"
"Whiskey!"
THEY HAD NO IDEA WHAT IT WAS. HOW, I say, HOW do you confuse GIN with ANYTHING BUT GIN?! These people were assholes. And that's the crowd we were with.
We were pretty much done with the convention at this point. We did free shots with the liquor girl again and went back out to the strip. Again, the haziness interferes with exact details, but we ended up buying these giant inflatable hammers (I got Spider-Man, Alf got Superman) and proceeded to pound each other and innocent bystanders into oblivion up and down the downtown strip, a la the
Giant Chicken Vs. Peter fight in The Family Guy.
At some point we went back in to the convention to pummel the rest of the attendees for being asses and probably got kicked out, but neither of us remember. Plus, according to Alf, there were more 99 cent hotdogs and shrimp cocktails in there somewhere.
Oh, yeah! There was a dude with an ACTUAL PEG LEG. That was pretty sweet.
So, all in all, it was THE WORST convention I had ever been to in my entire life, but it was also probably the MOST fun I have had in Vegas. Go figure. Except I woke up Sunday morning with the most painful charlie-horse in my leg that I have EVER had and the screen on my cell phone was broken. So I have to get a new one. The price of glory, I guess.
(oddly enough, I can find NO mention whatsoever of the convention on the Modern Drunkard website now. I think we ruined it for them. In our defense, they ruined it for us, first.)
