Have you heard about this story:
Man sues casino for getting him drunk
I laughed. I shouldn’t have. But I did. I thought “only in America would someone try to avoid responsibility and sue for their mistake.”
Yes, the casino should not have served someone who was visibly drunk. I always wonder what is “visibly drunk”. I have had blackouts that shocked friends because I “seemed fine”. They have let me drive because I was walking and talking okay. They tell me they did not know how drunk I was until I started swerving the car. I guess I was good at faking sobriety.
This guy lost money because the casino kept serving him alcohol. I want to yell “IT IS VEGAS! It is riskier than a minefield”. He has a $250,000 Mercedes-Benz. He was a regular in Vegas. He lost the money and then went to another casino, but that place was warned not to do business with him. (Was he going to try to win back the money there?) Plus, he admits he is on prescriptions that increases intoxication but the casino host is liable because he knew about the medication. To me, it sounds like a case of a sore loser who needs to get help instead of a lawsuit. If he wins this, I hope the judge will force him into rehab for alcoholism and gambling. I think this guy needs to take responsibility that his addictions are not the casino’s fault.
I have used “I was drunk” as my excuse to avoid responsiblity so much. That drunk sex did not count. I spent a lot of money but I will just work extra to make up for it. I did not mean what I said. Sorry I lost my camera with my sister’s 30th birthday photos. I was drunk and whoever found it is an asshole for not posting it on Craigslist Lost and Found. Only jerks take advantage of drunk people.
Now I have to take responsibility for my sobriety. Am I finally an adult now?
So many mistakes from trips to Vegas. Here are a few:
Mistakes #54, 55, 56, 57, 58, &59- I booked a trip to Vegas for a friend’s birthday. I invited a female friend from California to meet us there. I booked a room at the Flamingo because that was where Birthday Boy would be staying. A week before the trip, he told me his boyfriend dumped him and he couldn’t afford Vegas now. He canceled his trip. Then a few days before, my friend in California got sick and did not think she could join. Screw it. I was still going. I would enjoy Vegas alone.
I remember it was December. My first night, I spent time at the bar playing Blackjack on a machine. I played too much because the bartender kept flirting. Before bed, I decided to get photos of the Christmas tree across the street at Caesar’s palace. A cute guy was walking by as I was taking photos. I pointed at him and said “YOU are not American.” He was startled. He stopped, apologized for not being American, and introduced himself. He was French. I tried to explain I did not know why I said that but I guess his fashion sense or hair or something suggested my observation. Maybe it was drunk powers. I asked if he wanted to join me for a drink. He was on his way back to his hotel but accepted my offer. It was about 2am.
We drank in the casino and chatted. I must have been telling him things I liked about Vegas because we walked to the Venetian. He said he was impressed with the beauty. Then said some line about the beauty of the casino and me. He kissed me. We ended up at his hotel. I think he was staying at the Stratosphere. I remember going on the Speed Ride at the Sahara Hotel on my way back to my hotel the next morning. I remember still being drunk when I went on the ride.
I booked tickets for a few shows for the weekend. First, I thought “what would be a very Vegas thing to do?” Tom Jones was in town. I thought it would not be unusual to see him. I booked a seat for his show on Friday night. Then I reserved a ticket for Thunder Down Under on Saturday. It would have been more fun with gay guys but I would enjoy watching the Aussie male dancers by myself.
The Tom Jones concert was fun It was at the MGM Casino. The audience were at tables with four seats around each. I found myself seated with to three, young Canadians. They were in their twenties. Two girls and one guy. The four of us got along and had a great time. The one girl had a pair of underwear in her purse that she ran down to the front to throw on stage. We all went to a bar after the concert. We had a lot of drinks there. The Canadians eventually said goodnight and went back to their hotel. I tried to encourage them to stay out later. I asked about meeting up again the next day. They left without giving me contact information. Maybe I was an annoying drunk to them?
I went back to the Flamingo and slept all day. I woke up for dinner and another night of drinking. The next night was horrible.
I do not remember where I ate. But I must have drunk a lot with dinner. I remember planning to take the monorail drunk but I was getting frustrated because it was not arriving fast enough. I had to get down to Excalibur for the Thunder Down Under show. I gave up waiting for the tram and went back through the casino to get a taxi. Then I bitched at the taxi driver for not going fast enough.
I was a little late for the show. I had a good seat at a table in front. I do not remember any of the show. I was trashed. And I kept ordering more drinks. I have a photo of me with the dancers after the show. I think you can get one for $15. I look so sloshed in this photo. I am squatting in front of them with my arms spread wide in front of me like I am saying “TA-DA!”
After that show, I decided going to the nightclub Pure in Caesars Palace would be fun. Get some dancing in before going back to my room. I remember waiting in line and chatting with everyone else waiting. I kept running across to the closest bar for more rum and Diet Cokes while waiting. I think we waited an hour. (It could have been 15 minutes.) I can not believe I was still functioning and standing. I was so drunk at the male revue show. They still let me in the club. I do not remember anything inside except I met a very tall, Latino guy. He was a local.
Most of the rest of the night is a complete blur but I recollect bits of it. I ended up back at his apartment. But I decided I did not want to have sex. I do not know what happened but I started to get upset. I screamed and yelled at him “DON’T TOUCH ME!” He kicked me out.
I had no idea where I was. I could see the hotels and casinos on the strip but I could not figure out how to get there. I was crying and walking towards the lights. I lost my phone. Before I did, I called and left a very depressing message on my sister’s voicemail. It scared her. I remember seeing a shuttle van for a casino that must have been off duty but there was a driver in it with his window down. I ran over, howling, asking if this guy could give me a ride to my hotel. He started to roll up his window to avoid the hysterical, wasted woman. I grabbed money out of my wallet and started wailing “I have money! I can pay you! PLEASE!!!!” He drove away.
I must have dropped a lot of that money. I remember having a stash of hundreds in my hands I was trying to shove through that van’s window. I did not have it the next day. I think I lost $600-$800. Lost it. Not gambled it.
I walked back to the strip most of the way. I cried and screamed into the air the whole time. I can remember screaming “I WANT TO DIE!” I decided to start walking in the middle of the road hoping a car would hit me. I don’t remember if there was a median or just lines in between the different directions. I remember the road I was walking on went over I-15. Maybe I was on Flamingo Road? I remember cars honking their horns and people yelling “get out of the road!” I am sure there were a lot of insults shouted too.
One car pulled over in the middle. I now think maybe there is a flat, median in the middle of the road? I think he parked his car there. He got out and tried to help me. I screamed at him. I kept accusing him, this total stranger trying to help me, of trying to rape me. He somehow calmed me down and got me into his car. He stayed outside to prove to me he wasn’t trying to drive me anywhere. He called the cops.
A female cop arrived. She gave me a ride the rest of the way to my hotel. She told me she has seen a lot of horrible things in Vegas. I kept saying I hated men. She told me not to trust men in Vegas.
I slept the whole next day. My flight was very late at night. I kept extending my check out time and paying extra. I told the front desk I was ill and I needed more rest.
A few days later, I got a phone call from that man who saved me. I think his name was Alex. To whoever he was, thanks.
And thank gods I did not walk to the edge of that road and jump over onto I-15.
Drunk sex with a stranger. Drunk and annoying strangers. Drunk show I don’t remember. Drunk and dangerous situation in an apartment. Drunk dropping money. And drunk deathwalk. 6 regretful drunk mistakes all in three days.
7 thoughts on “Responsibility”
Ouch, man. That’s a rough one, that’s a lot of ouch. I don’t know where to begin commenting. Sigh. All the unsafe stuff we did when drinking. It’s a wonder AA has any living members. My terribly unsafe days of youthful alcoholism* are further in the distance than yours I think, but your stories bring back some bad memories of my own. Not Vegas, though, really. For whatever random bit of luck’s reason, Vegas never got me like it should of, given my nature and the nature of the place. Mexico though? Bad, bad memories.
The thing that struck me most in the present, however, is the “you’re not American,” part. It’s funny how you can tell, right? I’ll be riding on the subway here in Shanghai, and watch some white people get on the train a little ways down from me. And I’ll think, “European.” Then I’ll hear them start talking in French or German. Seriously, the only ones I get wrong sometimes are the Brits. I sometimes mistake them for Americans before I hear them talk.
But usually, Americans are easy to tell. I think we have a kind of… non-jadedness + entitlement about us that’s easy to read in our body language. It’s like: “Wow! There are other parts of the world, how cool! I’ll just walk right over here and say hi and do my thing and not really ever worry about offending anybody or question myself at all!” Even damaged folk like me still have that quality, I think. It’s like I never learned to be… “careful” is the wrong word, because ain’t no way I’m getting scammed, and I do keep an eye out for shady looking folk, but “careful” is close to the right word.
*My middle-aged alcoholism was safer than, but at least as miserable as, the alcoholism of my youth.
Wow. As erics1000paces says, that’s a lot of ouch. It must have been hard to write, and I admire you for it. Your honestly and ability to really lay yourself bare will stand to you in the days and months and years to come, I think 🙂
I cried a lot while writing it. I really think these bad memories help keep me strong and sober.
Wow, I’ve been there. And I don mean vegas! Lol. But I would have gone by myself too, for sure. Your story has brought up many memories. I went out by myself all the time. Hang out with strangers. Drink all I could drink. I used to go get a hotel room in a touristy town near by and pretend that I was a tourist. Lol. Funny but not, ha? On man. Sobriety is much easier for sure!!!
When I think of my binges of drinking when I woke up til I passed out, it is a lot of wasted days and minutes and life. It is hard to bring back these memories but I really feel this is therapeutic for me.
Sad that I was realizing one happy thought from that Vegas weekend: I had photos. I did not lose my camera!!!!
Oh 365 … that’s rough stuff. It totally reminds me of some of the shit I have done. How are we still here? Something or someone must be looking out for you. You are sure meant to be here. You are so worth being sober. Thanks so much for sharing.
Thanks. I am not religious but I am spiritual. I feel karma saved me.
I know I have suffered depression but I am able to examine it better while sober. I used to be suicidal and would stare at my veins too long and wonder if I had the “courage” to slash them. When hearing about deadly accidents, I would wish I was in them.
Last January, my car spun out on ice and I did a few circles before almost slamming into a median. My car got stuck in the middle of a major highway in the mountains of North Carolina and I was so sure I was gonna have a car slam into me and die. I starting screaming “I don’t want to die! I don’t want to die!” This was a few days of sobriety. It was also a wake up call that I really do want to live so I better start making my life worth living and sober.
(A nice man in a truck stopped and helped me get my car back on the road. I got off the very first exit I could and checked into a hotel. I started this blog two days later.)