Some Stories About Vegas Trips
“I tried to convince her that just because my bachelor party was in Vegas didn’t mean it was going to be some orgy. I’m not sure she bought it.”–Kevin, 31; Portland, OR.
There’s no getting past it: Vegas’ reputation precedes it and it’s unlikely that any bachelorette is going to take kindly to a caravan of males dropping into the desert – unless she’s planning a bachelorette party of her own there. But, with the right guys on your side, a trip to Vegas can be just that: a nice vacation to commemorate the passage of singlehood.
“I wasn’t sure what to expect, but since my best man was my fiance’s brother Brett, I figured it wouldn’t be too crazy. All I asked was that we stay away from anything too hardcore. I’d been to a couple parties where things got out of control and I wasn’t into that.” Kevin’s best man took him at his word, and planned a bachelor party even a mother-in-law would love. The first night included a casual dinner at the House of Blues and a mellow night of gambling and low-level alcohol consumption. The single guys in the crew headed out to case the strip joints for Saturday night, but otherwise things stayed very tame. Plus, I came away with a few hundred bucks from the craps table. Something told me I was going to need it.”
Saturday morning our group of eight hit the links at Bali Hai, a pristine Strip-side course with a Polynesian theme and high-dollar green fees. Brett figured it was worth it, even though a few members of the group weren’t the best golfers. “I wanted everything about the weekend to be something special, something you could only do in Vegas. This course was an absolute experience. Plus, Kevin shot an 85. Later, the guys soothed their muscle aches and golfing egos poolside on the white sand beaches and lazy river at the Mandalay Bay. That evening, limos transported them to Smith & Wollensky for a healthy steak dinner and then to a gentleman’s club. I’m not a prude, not by a long shot, but I’d never really been to a strip club, but this place is huge! Women everywhere doing things I’d only seen on Showtime. The guys sent me to the VIP room with a great looking girl who could tell I was a little uncomfortable, and treated me gently. We drank a lot and by the end of the night, I was buying lap dances for the more desperate guys in the group and really enjoying myself. The night ended at the tables with Kevin losing his last few dollars on his way back to the room. Everybody flew home the next day and Kevin returned to his fiance in one piece and a very clear conscience.
“When my best man told me the bachelor party was in Vegas, I was worried. Very worried.”–Frank, 29 Los Angeles, CA.
As Chris ran up a huge pile at Blackjack, the other guys got busy at the circle bar, chatting up the wide variety of honeys. Frank was too drunk to do much of anything. All I remember about that first night is sitting in Baby’s at 2AM, bass thumping way too loud, waiting for someone to take me to my room.
Day two started late in a poolside cabana with Bloody Marys, TV and hamburgers. It was hard to leave the room and get back on the horse that afternoon, but as much as I struggled, I couldn’t let the boys down”. More cards were played poolside, and the crew regained their sea legs for another night underneath the cabana’s misters. The day seemed way too tame, and I could tell by his grin that Chris had something up his sleeve. When the girls arrived in the suite that night after dinner, I realized what I was in for. A pair of local escorts that Chris had befriended on one of his many trips to Sin City treated the boys to a live show, Vegas style. They were on the bed, in the bath – all over each other. Hands, toys, oils, just about everything you could imagine. And these girls were ridiculously hot, and obviously very into what they were doing. Then they grabbed me, broke out the whipped cream and started fulfilling the guy’s requests. I’d honestly never thought to squirt whipped cream into some of the places they did, let alone have me lick it out. I’m glad the girls’ bouncer was around to keep things relatively tame. Otherwise I would have feared for my life. After they left, amped from the women, the guys went clubbing all over town – first Baby’s, then Light, and finally Drai’s. The room the next morning was littered with party left overs and a few stray girls that followed the boys home. The RV ride back to LA was deathly quiet, except for the snores.
“My wife never asked me what happened that weekend – and I never bring it up. I think a happy marriage might depend on that code of silence.”
“I think I might have asked a girl to marry me just so I could have a bachelor party in Vegas. It was always a dream of mine. I wanted things to be extreme, to kind of test my boundaries before making this huge commitment.”–Francis, Dallas, TX.
The first step was finding the right hotel. When I read about the rides atop the Stratosphere tower he booked his rooms immediately. I know it isn’t nice, or fancy. But how much time are you actually going to spend in your room?
I planned to be out 24-7. And I wanted good access to those rides. His motley crew of friends got themselves good and loaded and tested their guts on every thrill ride down the Strip. Only one of us puked, which was a miracle considering how many beers we had. Unfortunately, the puker was me. The boys spent the rest of the night watching the bartenders’ live show at Coyote Ugly and the ESPN Zone. By the end of the night, they had attracted some attention from a group of ladies, who escorted them back to their rooms at the tower. I was so wasted that I could have sworn one of the girls was my fiance. I’m not exactly sure what we did, but my wallet was a little lighter come morning, so I guess they weren’t THAT into us.
One of my bachelor party buddies gathered some evidence for him with a digital camera. When I saw the photos the next day, I couldn’t believe what I had done. She was absolutely butt-ugly. I felt like I wasted my get out of jail pass with a dog. I was so sick to my stomach I couldn’t even get out of bed except to evacuate to the bathroom. However, we managed to recoup for the Chicken Ranch that evening. Sixty miles into the desert and the guys took their pick from among the storied Vegas-area whorehouse’s women. I’d always wanted to go to a whorehouse, but it’s not like one is in every neighborhood. Considering what I’d done the night before, I figured I might as well finish off the weekend with a bang. And at least this time I was sure she was cute. I picked her myself – and I was sober. When the pictures from the night before made their way back to my fiance, however, the wedding was off in a hurry.
“Do I regret it? A little bit – But that weekend was everything I wanted. I wouldn’t trade it for a thing.”
So, there you have it: Three ways, among many possible options, to spend a bachelor party weekend in Vegas. The potential for fun and for trouble is limitless as are the stories. Make sure yours is a good one. If you want to start planning your own Vegas story, click here to get started.