Zapp Brannigan
Captain of the Nimbus
So my knucklehead friends and I were getting really trashed in Pacific Beach one night and bouncing from dive bar, to lounge, to a club, back to my spot after. It's a good party spot for people in their early to mid-20s because it's right on sail bay and it's low rent and low paperwork to qualify for living there, so the place is full of European and Brazilian exchange students that party all night. This is the reason that we were able to come back to my place at 2am and keep wildin' out like a bunch of crazy people.
Anyway, we got back to my spot around 2am, and were still going pretty tough. I was the most sober out of all of us and I declared out of nowhere, around 2:30 in the morning:
"Hey, you guys! Let's go to fukkin' VEGAS!!"
Everyone thought it was the best idea that had ever been concocted by anyone, ever in the history of mankind. All of us except for my boy Flip, who was passed out cold because he had been drinking so much hard liquor for so long that evening. We all drunk packed some shyt like a change of clothes and club wear that we were going to be wearing the following night and they fed me 30mg of Adderall XR so I could make the drive up in my '99 Chrysler 300.
We grabbed my buddy, threw his ass in the backseat of my car, and all 5 of us started flying up the I-15 at around 130 MPH. Not even kidding. We departed at around 3:30 in the morning at this point after drunk packing and getting out shyt together and ended up in Las Vegas around 7am. I was wired as fukk the whole time and focused like a laser on the road.
On a side note, watching the sunrise in the Mojave desert driving up the I-15 during the Fall season is really, really beautiful. If you ever get a chance to make it out to see it, I highly recommend it.
Anyway, we wound up in front of "Treasure Island" at 7am. I was wired as fukk, still, and everyone else in the car was hung over as fukk and not even fully aware of what was going on. They all got out of my car and started looking around in shocked bewilderment. They didn't realize that they had actually decided to go to Vegas, I guess, and that it wasn't just something that they had been dreaming the night before.
My poor friend that had passed out before we made our decision to come out to Vegas was super pissed in a hilarious way. He kept saying some shyt like, "Y'all kidnapped me! I'm too handsome for this bullshyt. Why the fukk did you bring me here! I don't even have my glasses or a hat or anything!"
We checked into the hotel (I booked us a room while at a gas station on the way from my phone) and everyone went up to the room to pass out. I felt badly for my friend, so I went to the Walgreen's and bought him a toothbrush, some socks, mouthwash, a tourist shirt that said "Las Vegas" on it, a bro-ho snapback, and a fedora that he wound up wearing later that night. He didn't stay mad for long, though. We all met up with our buddies that flew in from San Diego when they found out about our drunken escapade and some super hot chicks later that night and partied our asses off. My buddy got laid and one of the girls ended up getting some air time clowning some dude from "The Real World."
It turned out the be one of the best memories we all had. My friend still has the fedora I bought him that weekend today.
Anyway, we got back to my spot around 2am, and were still going pretty tough. I was the most sober out of all of us and I declared out of nowhere, around 2:30 in the morning:
"Hey, you guys! Let's go to fukkin' VEGAS!!"
Everyone thought it was the best idea that had ever been concocted by anyone, ever in the history of mankind. All of us except for my boy Flip, who was passed out cold because he had been drinking so much hard liquor for so long that evening. We all drunk packed some shyt like a change of clothes and club wear that we were going to be wearing the following night and they fed me 30mg of Adderall XR so I could make the drive up in my '99 Chrysler 300.
We grabbed my buddy, threw his ass in the backseat of my car, and all 5 of us started flying up the I-15 at around 130 MPH. Not even kidding. We departed at around 3:30 in the morning at this point after drunk packing and getting out shyt together and ended up in Las Vegas around 7am. I was wired as fukk the whole time and focused like a laser on the road.
On a side note, watching the sunrise in the Mojave desert driving up the I-15 during the Fall season is really, really beautiful. If you ever get a chance to make it out to see it, I highly recommend it.
Anyway, we wound up in front of "Treasure Island" at 7am. I was wired as fukk, still, and everyone else in the car was hung over as fukk and not even fully aware of what was going on. They all got out of my car and started looking around in shocked bewilderment. They didn't realize that they had actually decided to go to Vegas, I guess, and that it wasn't just something that they had been dreaming the night before.
My poor friend that had passed out before we made our decision to come out to Vegas was super pissed in a hilarious way. He kept saying some shyt like, "Y'all kidnapped me! I'm too handsome for this bullshyt. Why the fukk did you bring me here! I don't even have my glasses or a hat or anything!"
We checked into the hotel (I booked us a room while at a gas station on the way from my phone) and everyone went up to the room to pass out. I felt badly for my friend, so I went to the Walgreen's and bought him a toothbrush, some socks, mouthwash, a tourist shirt that said "Las Vegas" on it, a bro-ho snapback, and a fedora that he wound up wearing later that night. He didn't stay mad for long, though. We all met up with our buddies that flew in from San Diego when they found out about our drunken escapade and some super hot chicks later that night and partied our asses off. My buddy got laid and one of the girls ended up getting some air time clowning some dude from "The Real World."
It turned out the be one of the best memories we all had. My friend still has the fedora I bought him that weekend today.
