We’re in Vegas…Can I Buy You a Drink?

August 27, 2014

skbtravels

domesticNorth Americaquarter life crisisvegas

alcohol bottle service domestic encore beach club first time las vegas pool party sin city travel vacation

A good looking guy at a bar locks eyes with a woman in a slinky black dress. He wants her, but it’s wrong. Of course his inner devil points GO FOR IT. But surprise, surprise! His inner angel gives the double nod of approval. What Happens Here, Stays Here. Oh, Vegas.

The Vegas Skyline from the Cosmopolitan balcony.
The Vegas Skyline from the Cosmopolitan balcony.

During my religious 7PM Simpsons hour, I would be interrupted by ads trying their hardest to build up the reputation of Sin City. Combined with Hollywood’s constant no holds barred story lines in Vegas, I was left with the impression that my first trip there was going to be wild, raunchy, and so memorable that it would be unforgettable. Skb was going to go to Vegas and become Bks! Or Kbs..? Maybe SK? As long as I didn’t live out the crazy Hollywood story line as me.

Our first pool party ever at Encore Beach Club in the Wynn was hotly anticipated. Stripping down once we were inside was not. Being a tall, lanky Asian girl, I was beyond uncomfortable baring my lack of assets down to a bikini. Fake boobs the size of my head were EVERYWHERE. But standing around in a tank and shorts was drawing weird looks. Our group found a small corner beside the locker room and quickly undressed. With clothes off, we descended into the pool of filth.

Whatever was in that pool at Encore Beach Club, I beg that it stays there.
Encore Beach Club at its prime time.

Not five minutes in, a young male in his 20s and his companion flopped their way over. “Hey, do you guys want to come over to our table? We have bottle service.” We all looked around at each other, waiting for the other to accept. “Sure, let’s go”. As we splashed our way out, onlookers in the pool had coy smiles. They took the bait. 

We were led us to his group of over 15 guys. Awkward formalities of “Hi, I’m Skb! What’s your name,” were conducted in our bikinis and swim trunks. And almost as soon as the handshakes had ended, the drinks began flowing. Suddenly everyone was relaxed, laughing, and living. “Do you need another drink? Feel free to take from the bottle.”

I won’t pretend that I constantly buy my own drinks, and don’t take advantage of my sexuality. I will gladly accept a drink from a guy or girl. But Vegas was its own beast. After a few round of shots, the very one that brought us over was unable to contain his composure. As we discussed meeting up at Light later that night, he blurted aloud, “Oh, we will just find new ones.” …Dude, I get it. You’re in Vegas to live out your wildest fantasy of an epic orgy. But it’s certainly not going to happen with an attitude like that. Bottle service was the ultimate empowerment. The status symbol of I came to Vegas, dropped over $5K in a matter of hours, and can now buy you. In Vegas, it wasn’t “hey, what’s your name,” as the attention grabbing line. It was always, “I have a table.”

Later that night, we did encounter the same group. They didn’t find new ones. We did find their bottle though.

Disclaimer, those three guys were not the ones in my post.
Disclaimer: those three guys were not the bottle service guys. Just photobombers.

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