How Not to Get Laid

(Some names of people and places have been changed)

We were at the Peppermint Boar gentleman’s club in Las Vegas for my friend’s bachelor party. As the night progressed, it became obvious that my friend Brad had disappeared for a good three hours. This is his story …

Upon entering the strip club, Brad decided to make a bee line for the VIP Room on the second floor (without telling any of us). Here in the VIP Champagne Room, he bought an expensive bottle of champagne and a Russian stripper. He proceeded to pour the champagne on the naked stripper’s body in increments and drink it off her. Steadily as the night went on, drink after drink and lap dance after lap dance, he became totally and utterly loaded. The stripper started hinting at the fact that she would also be a prostitute for him that night and that she wanted to feel his manliness inside her. Wasted Brad gets very excited and in his state decides that this would be a fantastic idea.

The stripper tells Brad that they will consummate the act in the Bellagio, but first he has to pay here at the strip club (the club gets a cut for any of these “extra” activities initiated at the club). Brad happily obliges and hands over his card, which is swiped. The stripper then tells Brad to go the Bellagio and she’ll meet him there.

Brad drunkenly leaves the VIP room and the club, and grabs a cab to the Bellagio. He arrives there and stands in the lobby. It’s now about 5:00am. He stands there in the Bellagio lobby, very wasted, very horny, half falling asleep, swaying drunkenly, head lolling from sleepiness. He starts to sober up slightly and realizes that the stripper didn’t tell him a time … didn’t tell him a room number … didn’t tell him WHERE in the ENORMOUS Bellagio hotel to meet her. He waits another hour and then accepts defeat. He heads back to the Hard Rock Hotel and Casino, where we were all staying.

The next morning, Brad tries to withdraw money from an ATM and realizes his bank has cut him off. The astronomical charges that accompany the VIP room (lap dances, champagne) along with the charges to his card for the “special service” (the club charged him twice for this), made the bank think someone had stolen his card.

He had to spend his last day in Vegas penniless.

Submitted by Enrique, Age 27, Los Angeles, CA

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