So, as promised, I’m slowly getting into the habit of updating this blog a little bit more frequently. If I can do two more posts (with at least one in my erotica blog) then I’m permitted to use this
For now, I’ll stick to updating this blog somewhat regularly. If I do at least 4 posts this month, then I can technically say I dropped something once a week for y’all.
Well, today’s story could easily be split into 3 different stories in one, but since I haven’t been on here for so long, I decided to treat you to a special story. So I’d advise you to read this story when you’re snuggled in bed, popcorn/snacks beside you, ready to join me on an adventure I never really knew I’d have. An adventure, that happened in an infamous place we all know as Las Vegas.
My Vegas Experience
So the story begins with an email from Omo.
Followed by “You just turned 21, so let’s celebrate it properly.”
I turned 21 in November.
It didn’t really feel too different from turning 18 honestly. Only difference (that mattered to me) was that it was now gonna be a tad bit weird when talking to my 18 year Tinder matches. It was easier telling them I was 20, cus I was still just fresh from the teens, but at 21, that “1” meant that I had crossed the threshold from “old teen” to “adult”. Now, I was of “marry”age.
That was my most bothersome thought.
The ability to now purchase alcohol legally or go clubbing anywhere I wanted didn’t faze me. I’m too broke to care about my new powers.
Nah, what bothered me was the realization that I’m now old as shit and will soon die.
The Vegas trip, you see, wasn’t just a trip for gambling with my brothers and close friends. It was more of an “Oise is now a man and can hang with the big boys” trip. For that’s who I was rolling with. The big boys.
Anyways, tickets were booked and the issue of what to wear came up. Now, as a kid, I’d been to Vegas, but never as an adult. All I had in my wardrobe were just graphic tee shirts and more graphic tees. I really wanted to call my brothers to ask them what to wear since I was sure there’d be a dress code, but I held myself back.
“You’re 21 years old now.”
“You’re a grown man and you’re too old to have people keep telling you what to do.”
“GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER!”
Since I wasn’t too sure about them, I picked only one graphic tee, and packed three corporate shirts.
When in doubt, take the corporate route!
Anyways, fast forward to Thursday night and voila, we’re in Vegas. Due to (usual) delays in SFO, my flight arrived roughly the same time with my brother’s flight and we checked in at The Venetian. Even though I was quite sleepy from the day’s activity, I still had to appreciate the hotel for all it’s worth. It was quite a nice place.
As we checked in and headed to the elevator to our room, I noticed that there was the thingy they use to make barriers at airports, right in front of an elevator that had graffiti of a club on it. I didn’t think much of it and went to press the button to call an elevator on the opposing side. While waiting for the elevator to land, a guy with a hat, roughly my brother’s height, walks past us, past the barrier, and then goes into the elevator. Subsequently, we entered our elevator and it was directly opposite from the one the guy just entered. As our elevator doors closed, I took a good look at the guy’s face and discovered that
“That was Neyo.” Omo said (as he rudely butt into my thoughts)
But yeah, apparently, celebrity appearances aren’t rare in Vegas.
We dropped our stuff, and just when I thought we were gonna rest and call it a night, Omo said we should shower and get ready to go out, as the night was young.
At 1:15am the night was young.
Me that I didn’t understand Vegas life, who was I to interject? I just dressed up and got ready to go clubbing.
Since he was pretty tired from traveling (and he could sense my fatigue as well), he suggested we go to just one club. I waited for him to dress up so I could see what he was gonna wear and base my outfit off of his. He went on to wear black jeans, a corporate shirt, and a blazer.
The combo of blazer, corporate shirt (without buttoning all the way to the top) and jeans was what I coined to be “The Vegas Look”.
For that was what every guy seemed to be wearing at every club, gambling table, and even (although somewhat rare) at slot machines.
I wasted no time in wearing the same combo (in different colors obviously)
We went to a club called TAO and I could immediately tell that this wasn’t like my first clubbing experience. The line had a lot of older folk who were mostly sporting The Vegas Look, while very few were seen wearing sneakers, bright colored jeans and oversized shirts. It looked like it was gonna be live. The only little problem I had with this crowd of people was the age demographic
Not to sound like a weirdo, but I don’t like older ladies. I blame my experiences in Nigeria where ladies who were barely a year or two older than me, lauded it over me daily, constantly demanding that I treat them with the respect I’d bestow a “senior” such as themselves.
Not like I disrespected any of them anyways, but it was more like I couldn’t freely converse with them and crack certain jokes without being seen as “disrespectful” since “We are not age mates.”
I thought I’d gotten over it when I came here, but there was a time I was at a party, making out with a baby faced chick when she randomly told me to guess her age, and the minute I discovered she was 25, I excused myself from her and kept my lips to myself for the remainder of the party.
I hated that age gap shit with a passion, and by default, I couldn’t (and wouldn’t) find anyone attractive based off of their age. If I was kept under the illusion that you’re older than me, then we’d be cool.
Now I was about to go clubbing in a room full of folk where I couldn’t find anyone to deceive me that they were my age.
Nevertheless, I decided to have a good time and make sure Omo’s money didn’t go to waste.
Everything in this trip pertaining to me, from hotel, to food, to clubbing, was all taken care of by Omo.
The club’s atmosphere was LIT and I was having lots of fun, until they switched the music to EDM and suddenly, I found myself in a sea of white people flailing arms offbeat, looking like the inflatable thing at car sellers. This was me everytime the DJ went from Hip Hop
I danced until Omo texted me that he was ready to head out. Irrespective of the annoying transitions the DJ did, it was still a good night.
We slept, had a light breakfast. During our breakfast. Omo decided to quiz me on my knowledge of gambling and if I knew how to play ANY game at all, to which I shook my head. He decided to teach me how to play Blackjack, and I in turn, decided to let our picture get taken.
I was clearly the loser in this situation. Look at the difference in our trims. Look at my glasses looking like a metaphor for my life in general, slanted. Look at how skinny my wrists look.
The whole picture looked like Omo picked up a somewhat okay dressed homeless guy and fed him.
Anyways, after breakfast, we went to a blackjack table that had a $10 minimum bet, and Omo gave me $50 and used $50 for himself.
At this point, knowing how unfortunate I tend to be, you’d imagine I lost money and ended up losing more money than I’d touched (not earned, cus this was “gift” money, not “I worked for this” money)
If you thought so, you’re a dick.
You’re partially right, but you’re still a dick.
We gambled for quite a while and (because we placed rather low-ish bets) we ended up with $197, and tipped the lady $27 for making it possible for us to end with that.
Tip everyone in Vegas. From the people giving you free drinks while you gamble, to the dealers. It’s a sign of courtesy.
We stopped gambling because Airende and the rest of the gang had arrived from LA. Omo couldn’t help but boast to them about how I was his lucky charm in Blackjack and questions came up in the form of,
“So if I give you $200 to go to a table right now you’re bringing back my money with interest right?”
“Do you know how to play craps? Let’s go win some money.”
About time I got some recognition around here.
Omo and I checked out of The Venetian and went to The Cosmopolitan so we could be closer to Airende and co (since they were in Planet Hollywood). Cosmo so fancy they gave us keycards with our last name and initials
We lazed around for the rest of the day, checking out a few sideshows that took place in the day time. Some of Airende’s friends in Vegas came over with their friends, so it was a full hotel room before I even knew it. We pre-gamed until nighttime.
When night fell upon us, we were dressed and apparently, going to about 3 different clubs.
Let me spare you the details. I don’t remember the names of the first two clubs we went to, but they were pretty much like TAO to me, which wasn’t all that bad, but I wasn’t so crazy about em. But I do remember the last club we went to, and that was for one reason and one reason only…
So the final club we ended up going to was called Marquee. It had that posh ass, “Oise you’re way too young and way too broke to be here” vibe to it, but since it was all paid for anyways, I ignored the vibe and went in to have fun.
However, Marquee had a lot more older folk, and I wasn’t so interested in dancing, so I stuck with the gang longer than I would like to admit. At some point, Omo gave me money to go get a drink at the bar and use it to start a conversation with whoever’s at the bar.
I thought it a good idea and went to the bar, but there were only dudes there, so I just bought a drink, and went back to them only to find out that they’d ALL dispersed. The whole crew had vanished to do their own thing.
At that point in time, I dunno why, but I started looking for them. I was basically like
After searching and searching, I gave up hope and just involuntarily danced to EDM until I was tired, so I just dipped and left the club to go back to the room.
As I was walking back to the room, I considered going to play a bit of Blackjack with some of the money I had with me. It seemed like God was sending me a message (I probably should’ve heeded, but I’ll address that in due time) as all the tables were $25 minimum bets, and all I had was $25.
Frustrated, I started walking back to the hotel room when I spotted a really attractive lady in a purple fur coat with a nice outfit underneath, holding a Louis Vuitton bag and rocking heels to match the coat, who looked slightly distraught. So I decided to ask her if she was okay, and she said that she was looking for her car and couldn’t figure out where the car park was. She slowly moved as she talked, and cus I was replying her, I slowly followed her and decided to try to help her look for the hotel garage (since I’d recently been there).
As we moved, we talked for a bit and at moments in between our conversation, I could’ve honestly sworn that she was flirting with me. The compliments she threw came a bit quick, and they were odd cus here was this really pretty lady, hinting at finding me attractive. It happened twice, and in less than 5 minutes.
After the second time, I decided to play her game and our conversation went like this
“This might sound random, but you seem like the type of person who loved playing hide and seek when she was younger.”
“Ha…what makes you say that?” She asked somewhat incredulously amidst her amusement.
“Well, you’re hiding an amazing figure underneath your fur coat, and whoever gets the privilege of finding that body is lucky as fuck.”
I promise, I’m not this wack in person. I just said the first thing that jumped into my head. I know it’s a stupid line to utter, but
She laughed, walked in front of me, and stood right in front of me, staring me dead in the eyes as she said
“Well you’ve found me, haven’t you? The privilege could be all yours.”
Fam. I was just looking at her like
She wasn’t drunk or anything.
She literally just said that.
She wasn’t here to play games.
I began to wonder if all the girls in Vegas were like this, when I noticed she was taking a few peeks here and there, so I decided to follow her gaze and found her looking at the security guys in the building. I asked her if there was a problem and then she said
“We’ll need to go to your room quick. They don’t like me doing business here.”
When she said the word business, it finally clicked and my expression went from
She noticed and I guess she immediately realized all that had happened in my head and she apologized.
Then I started apologizing for not realizing that she was a sex worker. I then told her that I recently turned 21 and I’m still kinda new to all of this (referring to Vegas life) so I didn’t know that she wasn’t actually lost. She laughed and told me not to apologize and she said I was cute.
My reaction was still like
Not because she called me cute, or cus she was a sex worker. I was just ashamed of how gullible I was. We bid each other goodnight and as we parted, I blurted out
“I’m sure you’ll get someone.”
To which she grinned from ear to ear and blew me a kiss, making me feel even more ashamed and red in the cheeks for saying such. At this point, I practically ran to the room and went to bed before I’d pass out from embarrassment.
The next and final day in Vegas went by like any other day, except that I was given $100 from Airende as “Go and have fun” money in the morning after breakfast.
Eagerly, I split from the rest of the group and began looking for tables, but on finding no $10 and being impatient, I settled for the $25 table and walked over to the nearest one, which sat two somewhat dejected looking people, and an old lady dealer.
As a rule of thumb
Never sit on tables where spirits are low and people aren’t chatty and screaming. There’s a reason why that table isn’t happy, can you guess why?
Hint: It’s not cus the people playing aren’t as skilled/lucky as you are.
To cut the story short, I was back with the gang, quiet and sullen. It wasn’t until Airende asked how my gambling went, that I looked him with a straight face (I promised myself not to cry) and said
They all burst out laughing and I just buried myself in the room until nighttime when everyone decided to go out.
I still wasn’t in the highest of spirits, but it was a free outing, so I put on my best face and went to this club I knew nothing about.
The outcome was still the same, but it was the end of the night that was quite peculiar.
So when we were all tired, we decided to go home. Omo and Airende left early cus they still wanted to party at another club, but the rest of us were too tired to keep on partying.
The rest of us was basically myself, a family friend, one of Omo’s friends (that’s 3 guys now, all Nigerian) and then there were 2 of Airende’s friends (2 girls, both African-American).
Let’s call one of the girls Keke (cus I really don’t remember her name)
Now Keke, was quite the talkative (in my opinion as a fellow talkative). She also had a car, and since Omo and Airende left with one car, the rest of us decided to squeeze ourselves into her car.
All of us guys were at the back, talking about Nigeria and stuff, while the girls in the front were chatting about other stuff as we walked back to the car. As we were walking, there was this chick that caught the eye of Omo’s friend, and when he tried hollering at her, asking her if she had any plans for the night, all she said was
“I just came to drop off something for a friend in the club and I’m going back home.”
So he left her alone and we kept walking. On seeing this, Keke asks him if he wants this babe. We’re all laughing at her question, but she’s dead serious, and he’s nods his head that he does.
This part of the story, I find hard to describe.
Not because I don’t know what happened, but I just didn’t understand how and why it happened.
Initially, I thought it was because Keke, being bisexual, knew what kinda game to drop to get the girl. However, because I was watching Keke as she talked to this lady, it looked like less of game and more of slight coercion.
And by slight coercion, I mean, Keke was strongly giving off the notion of
“Nah, you’re following us to our place.”
They left my eavesdropping range and it was until a few minutes later when Keke returned back proudly stating that the girl will be following us as we drove back to the hotel.
I was wide eyed as shit, as were the rest of us guys, but Omo’s friend quickly said with a thick Naija accent,
“Ashana sabi ashana.” A hoe knows a hoe.
I didn’t know what to believe honestly, but when we got back the car and started driving back home, sure enough, there was this girl, following us from behind. I couldn’t hold it in and so I asked Keke how she did it and she said that she that the lady is a stripper, and she knew she was a stripper.
“She didn’t have nobody to see. Talmbout I came to drop something. Bitch! You know why you came here.”
I just sat in awe as we drove back home and ended up in the hotel with a stripper, who, having expected Keke to disclose her occupation, seemed a whole lot lax and started suggesting we liven up the room by playing some music, before she twerked a bit.
Since you’re already tired of this story but want to see it to the end, I’ll speed through the details.
Omo and Airende joined us, found the stripper, Omo made me get in a chair, told her to give me a lap dance, then threw some cash at me. She danced, and I sat there giggling and dropping money on her body (cus it was all too funny) Then cheers of “Don’t just put the money on her body. Smack her yansh!” echoed across the room and for everytime I listened and smacker her ass, there was a chorus of “Confam” ringing across the room.
Almost everyone got a lap dance, and that’s how that night ended honestly.
You might think that this was the end of my Vegas trip, and it actually was. The next morning, this was my flight return ticket.
I’ll need you to please pay strict attention to the time of departure for each ticket. Highkey important. I say so, because, long story short, the shit show we know to be American Airlines delayed my flight 3 times in a row.
I really want to end the story here, but I feel like I’d be doing you a disservice if I don’t fully explain what happened, as this was still part of my trip/stay in Vegas anyways, so just bear the next few paragraphs with me, and my trip is over.
So Omo and I got to the airport together and bid each other farewell, as he left for New York and I left for Los Angeles (with my final destination being San Francisco).
Strangely enough, when it was my boarding time, the plane was nowhere to be found. Roughly 20 minutes into boarding time, the plane finally arrived and my initial worries of whether or not I’d make my connecting flight was dispelled.
Then out of nowhere, an announcer says
“We’re sorry for the delay, but we’ll have to wait a few minutes longer because we’ll need to get a new plane as the engineers have deemed the plane unsafe for flying. We’ll notify you as soon as they’re done.”
A few minutes turned into an hour, and at that point, I went to meet with one of the people at the customer service desk, explaining my fear of missing my connecting flight, and she then proceeded to print me two new tickets. One to leave Vegas airport, and the second to leave LA
Delayed the flight a little bit longer until they made a new announcement around 2pm (keep in mind I’ve been in the airport since like 8:30am to catch a flight I thought would be leaving by 10). Their announcement went something like this
“Thank you for being patient and waiting for us. We ask for some more of your patience as we change the tires of this new plane. Once that is done, we’ll be ready to fly.”
Again, I patiently waited (on a hungry empty stomach) while these American Airlines assholes changed the plane’s tires.
Can someone tell me why it took them more than an hour and a half to change the plane’s tires?
Can someone tell me why please?
Then, after changing the plane’s tires, the announcer makes a new announcement that totally sets me off. He says,
“Thank you valued customers for your patience. We would be set to fly soon, however, it just came to our notice that the pilots who are currently here cannot fly you all, as they have worked for the maximum number of hours they can do in a day, and if they were to fly you all, they would exceed their limit. A replacement flight crew is on their way here.”
At this point, I lost my cool.
I, like many other people, walked over to the customer service table and vented there. Some people who were smart and had the money, booked themselves on another airline entirely. Me being broke, I just boiled as I kept looking at the customer service assistant. I know it wasn’t her fault this was happening, but someone had to definitely pay for this trash ass waste of my precious time. I just kept quiet while she printed me two new tickets.
As I walked away, she called me back and gave me a meal voucher, “courtesy of American Airlines”
When she said that, I had to stop every inch of me from not spitting in her face. I didn’t fucking care about a voucher there and then, and certainly not one from American Airlines.
I’d internally sworn to myself that if they delayed my flight one more time, I was going to climb on top of the customer service desk, pull down my pants, and shit on it. As a statement, and a symbol of their overall service that night.
The new flight crew came in, flew us to LA, and the flight from there to SF was on time, and thankfully, I was back to my place in SF in less than 2 hours.
The airport drama might have ruined what was a great trip, but all these things happen for a reason I guess. Hopefully you had fun reading this super story.
Follow @TheOiz & @AboutUseful and have a wonderful day!