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Santa Maria Sun / Humor

The following article was posted on July 6th, 2010, in the Santa Maria Sun - Volume 11, Issue 17 [ Submit a Story ]
The following articles were printed from Santa Maria Sun [santamariasun.com] - Volume 11, Issue 17

Digital disaster

If you pass out, make sure your camera doesn't fall into Krider's hands

To get away from the 90-degree summer heat, my wife and I escaped to Las Vegas, only to find 108-degree extreme heat. We still haven’t figured out that thing, what do they call it? Climate?

But what can I say, even though it’s in the desert, we still love The Vegas. Where else can you lose weight just from sweating, buy beers from sidewalk vendors, drink all day long in public, eat at an all-you-can eat shrimp buffet, and get a lap dance? Well, in all honesty, I’ve never heard of such a place with all of those things myself, since I’m married. My wife, whom I love, hates shrimp.

While we were in Vegas, my wife enjoyed her usual routine of sitting by the pool and getting tan while I endured my usual routine of wandering around the casino, breathing in secondhand smoke, and losing all of my money. This year, I was able to break a new personal record by losing most of my money within the first hour I was at the casino. I couldn’t find a way to get money out of any of the machines in Vegas, including the ATM. It wasn’t just slots; I lost money on a plethora of games: blackjack, craps, roulette, and even paigow. I don’t even know how to play paigow, but still found a way to lose money on the game. Rumor has it the English translation of the word paigow is “stupid tourist, leave money on the table now!”

Eventually, I took a break from the casino and headed out to the pool to hang out with my baby. I did this because I love my wife, but mostly because I was broke and the pool is the only thing you can do in Vegas without money. Well, that or stand on the sidewalk with a piece of cardboard that says, “Need Gas Money to Leave Town.” I didn’t even have enough money to buy a Sharpie to make a witty little sign (ironically, homeless people always seem to have an endless supply of black Magic Markers to make signs).

My wife and I hung out at the pool at the Flamingo Hotel, where we were surrounded by hundreds of Vegas revelers. We all stood in the waist-high water, drinking 20-ounce beers in the summer sun. I watched these hundreds of people stand and drink all day, but I never saw anyone make a bathroom run. I started doing the math, and I calculated that I was probably wading in gallons of strangers’ urine. Before I could get upset about it … I went pee and got over it.

While I was going pee in the pool, I met my new bestest friend in the whole wide world. He strolled up to my wife and me and my pee, carefully holding his camera out of the water. He asked me to “get a picture of me and this dude over here with a lame back tattoo,” and passed me his camera. Just before I grabbed it, it fell into the water. He exclaimed, “Dude! You broke my camera!”

Without thinking, I dove into the pee-infused water for the stranger’s camera. As I brought it up, I noticed my new friend was cracking up. “Don’t worry—it’s totally waterproof!” The prankster introduced himself: “My name is Justin, but you can call me Miller.”

“Do people call you Miller?”

“No, but it would be cool if they did.”

“OK … Miller. What brings you to Vegas?”

“A buddy of mine is getting married. We had the bachelor party last night, but it was weak! We didn’t do anything. No hookers or strippers or nuthin’!”

“Bummer,” I said, trying to be a cool, regular guy, not a married man.  My wife instantly shot me a dirty look.

“My girlfriend doesn’t fly in until this afternoon, so I figured I would just hang out in the pool till it’s time to pick her up.”

Miller was a crack up. He was funny, he was outgoing, and he loved to make fun of other people. We drank, we made fun of strangers, and we took pictures of everybody. Then Miller passed out on a chaise lounge. I still had his camera with me, so I thought I would help him out by taking a few more vacation shots for him. What are friends for?

   CLICK. Here is a picture of Miller passed out with three girls sitting on his chest. His girlfriend is going to love this one, especially after her unexpected taxi ride from the airport after Miller drank too much, fell asleep, and forgot to pick her up.

    CLICK. Here is a picture of a guy’s genitals. Not mine. I passed the camera around the pool, and these dudes thought it would be funny to take a picture of their family jewels. It wasn’t funny, it was hilarious. Miller probably won’t think so when he wakes up.

CLICK. Here is a picture of a guy in a Speedo rubbing suntan lotion on Miller’s belly. I didn’t want my new BFF to burn under the hot Vegas sun.

Because Miller was comatose, I decided to keep his expensive waterproof camera safe so that nobody stole it from him. I figured when he woke up, I’d see him and then give him his camera back, loaded up with his new vacation photos. After a while, I looked over to check on my new passed-out friend, and he was gone. I felt terrible. Now he would never get to see the funny pictures I took with his camera.

About an hour later, I saw Miller stumbling around the pool deck looking for his camera. I yelled out his name a bunch of times: “Miller! Miller!”  He didn’t respond, since his real name was Justin. Eventually, I got his attention by waving his camera around and screaming, “Dude! Your camera!”

He stumbled over to me and my wife, “Oh my God! Thank you so much! I was walking around thinking, ‘Those really nice people robbed me blind!’ I’m so glad to see you.”

“We wouldn’t take your camera. We were holding it for safe keeping.”

“Thanks so much. Do you know what time it is?  My girlfriend comes in at 4 o’clock.”

“It’s 5 now. It was great knowing you, Miller. You’re a dead man.”

Remember, friends don’t let friends drink and take pictures, and what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas unless someone takes a bunch of digital photos of it.




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