Stop Right There

After a two-hour delay in Phoenix, also known as hell, I finally got into Las Vegas. Mike met me at the gate. I recognized him right away due to his non-fratty Hawaiian shirt. Since I was running so late we just trammed it over to Allison and Anna Beth’s gate.

I was in a fit of giggles not even 30 seconds after they walked off the plane. I’m sure Mike was wondering what he’d gotten himself into when we couldn’t even breathe long enough between bouts of laughter in the back of the cab. Mike and the driver just talked about traffic patterns and the girls gossiped. Viciously. The only way to gossip, really.

We changed and ate dinner in La Patisserie and kept an eye out for Fred, (who was also staying in Paris), and joked that every other guy was in fact, him. I think by the time we were done with our champagne in plastic cups and $80 sandwiches, Fred actually worked in La Patisserie and only pretended to be from MI to throw off his scent.

We wandered the casino and I kept an eye out for celebs (I didn’t see one. Not one.), simply killing time until the pinnacle event, karaoke, was to begin.

The cab driver had never even heard of Fong’s Garden, but Al’s photographic memory assured us all that FG was on Elmhurst or Greenlawn, or something, so off we went. I couldn’t understand why we got on the freeway because I knew pamie said it was by the Stratosphere.

As it turns out there’s a Fong’s and a Tong’s, and they both have karaoke. Vegas odds, I tell ya.

After Allison got our Squishy hostess on the phone and we figured out we needed to go to Tong’s Palace, not Fong’s Garden, I finally met pamie. MATH gave her the present (that we almost left in the casino) and she died. The Pretty Pretty Princess game that included rings, bracelets and a pretty pretty crown for the pretty pretty Head P.

Little Miss Bossy and her bossy helper, Al, frantically called all the other jags on the list, since we’d told everyone it was Fong’s - complete with address. We only got in touch with part of the group, so Allison called Fong’s to track down the rest of them.

I have to say, everyone was very cool, and very gracious, even though we’d sent them to the ghetto.

Pamie broke the ice with "Sweet Child of Mine." I’ve always heard how some people just turn on when they hit a stage, but I’d never really witnessed it before. I have now. It was incredible.

There was so much singing, screaming and smoking that I’m surprised we all weren’t completely mute the rest of the weekend.

AB and I rocked out with "Hangin’ Tough" and everyone fell at our feet in adoration.

The Meat of Cheese and Eric P did the best "500 miles" I’ve ever heard and Allison would just like me to tell y’all she really can sing. (She can too, I heard her, but she’ll deny that and say she sucked. She didn’t.)

When we’d finally sang (and drank) enough we ran over to the Strat to get a cab and made it back to Paris around 4 a.m. Saturday. I wanted to gamble more but instead ended up eating half a giant omelet.

On Saturday morning AB and I sat down at the nickel slots and played to our hearts’ content. And then I hit some combo and the little credit thing started racking up. It kept going and AB squealed, "You won 900!" "900 dollars?!" "No! 900 coins!" After much concentration we figured out that 900 nickels equals $45 dollars, baby. Mamma hit the jackpot.

It was pretty exciting, even if I did manage to lose $20 of it at the $5 blackjack table in about 3.3 seconds.

(Somehow, Anna Beth and I kept getting carded in the Paris casino. By bartenders, the half-naked cocktail girls, even by one of the casino bosses. She kept saying, I have a child! By about the 8th time, we let the poor midnight to 5 a.m. bartender have it. He said it was a compliment. I’m sure. When the Boss carded us we were just watching roulette. Just standing there trying to figure the thing out. Y’all. You only have to be 18 to be in the casino.)

Around 1 p.m., we met pamie and gang in NY,NY for lunch before riding the Manhattan Express. It’s a pretty good coaster and AB and I got the back seat, which always rules. Too bad it cost $10.

The gang wanted to go play video games at Gameworks, but on the walk over, Allison, Anna Beth and I were sucked into Sephora. Since Ohio isn’t cool enough for the store of all stores, I’d never been in one before. I thought I’d die. Visa and I ended up spending way too much money, and I’ll be shiny and sparkly for years.

After shopping we met up with everyone else at the arcade. Luckily we got there soon enough to see Pam playing some fighting game where you actually have to kick and punch. AB and I then ruled on Mike and Lis at pool. Well, not really. The only reason we won is because Mike called the wrong pocket for the 8 ball. But still. We won. They lost. Ha ha ha.

In a hungover state of "I don’t care!" we stood around trying to figure out what to do next. The Gameworks Nazi lady asked if we were planning on playing any games and Pam shot her down with just a princess glare. First of all, if we weren’t, so what? Are we breathing their air for free, or something? "No, we’re just here for the noise."

By the way, I still don’t understand the concept of a Gameworks in Vegas. I mean, aren’t those kinds of places for non-gambling towns?

Mike, AB and I decided to just go back to the hotel so we could relax a little, slot a little and change clothes before dinner.

We were to meet at 8 o’clock in front of the seafood buffet at the Rio. Well. They have more than one buffet. Mike led us astray and until I saw the huge green sign saying "Seafood Buffet This Way," I thought we were screwed.

You have to wait forever for these buffets, but the Rio is the casino of all tacky casinos, so there was plenty of distraction. (As the MOC said, Rio is an Assino.) Go Go dancers wearing fluorescent boots, stilt dancers and a giant head with cameras for eyes. It looked down my shirt, not that it was very hard to do, but still. The giant head got a peak, which meant the entire free world got one too.

We gorged on fried shrimp and crab legs and peel-and-eat shrimpies and Allison and I slutted out with about 5 different kinds of cake. Mmm, meat of cheesecake.

The plan to go dancing got nixed. Too tired. Too full. Pam and some other brave souls went to ride the Big Shot. I would’ve, but I also would’ve puked.

But y’all know Hannah’s never too tired or too full for karaoke, right? Accidentally, we ended up back at Tong’s. (No, seriously, by accident. Y’all will just have to take my word for it.) The KJ, my beloved Joel Feng Chen, was ecstatic to see us. The bartender, was not. Mind you, I drank her out of Absolut and Stoli orange the night before.

I killed my throat doing more NKOTB with AB and then we told Mike we were "Lost in [His] Eyes" and pleaded with Fred, assisted by Al in the corner, to "Release [Us]." Then Anna Beth and I did "Killing Me Softly" and a whole mess of other stuff.

Oh, I sang "Hopeless Devoted to You" and exchanged pretty pretty princess rings with the Joel Feng. The wedding is set for June 2. A Chinese Elvis is ready to perform the ceremony.

Y’all, I could barely speak on Sunday.

We stumbled back over to the Strat and said our good-byes and I made Pam laugh, (which is always a good thing), over my blondeness and I said goodbye to Al and I was sad, and then I yelled my love to the Meat of Cheese from the cab window.

Determined to gamble more and not give up on the night, AB, Mike and I hit le casino again. I quit around 4:30 and quickly crashed. But not before I arranged to have my wake-up ring at 7:45 a.m.

The flight home was uneventful. I just don’t understand why they have directs back, but not there. Whatever. As much as leaving early sucked, it let me get home before dark and unpack and settle back into my non-rockstar Ohio life.

I’m excited to plan the next gathering, and suffice it to say all we need is karaoke and cheap drinks.

Oh, and Joel Feng Chen.