It’s March 13, 2007. I’m 23 years old. I remember the date because it was the night the legendary Stardust casino was imploded.
A group of friends and I have a table at the VooDoo Lounge on the rooftop of the Rio casino. We literally have the best view of the implosion in all of Las Vegas. We think we’re real big shots. We definitely are not. Around 3 AM and after a few hundred drinks, it’s time to leave the club, but there’s a bottle of Grey Goose left on the table. I ask the host, who had to have been drunker than me, what I should do with it. “Take it with you” he replies. So I do. I sit down at a blackjack table with a fifth of vodka in hand and evidently no one in the Rio thinks this is a bad idea. The cocktail waitress asks if we need anything, to which of course I respond, “two cans of Red Bull please.” So picture me, already hammered drunk, drinking vodka straight from the bottle and chasing it with Red Bull. This is when things get a bit hazy.
Drifting in and out of consciousness, I manage to lose about $3000 in what I assume is about an hour. When I come to, I’m still at the blackjack table and my pockets are empty. I stand up from the table in a panic and start shouting, “Security! Security! Go to the tapes! I’ve been robbed!” A very amused pit boss walks over to see what the commotion is and then informs me that I have bought in nine times for $300 a pop. I slump back into my chair. My friends take me back to my room and put me to bed. But my night is far from over. No way I’m going out like that.
I get out of bed and head to the safe. I’m obviously out of cash, but my girlfriend isn’t. I take all of her money (roughly $1k) out of the safe and head back to battle. After a few more hours of very early morning blackjack I manage to run her money up about a grand. I was thrilled about this, as were my friends. My girlfriend didn’t think it was so funny. She never did have a great sense of humor.