I was 16 and at a wedding in vegas. Actually, it was the day after the wedding. I was helping my mom and aunts finish off the left over champagne. At some point they all left to go gambling, but I was too young for that so I kept drinking. Eventually I wanted to get a pastrami sandwich from the hotels deli, so I headed down to find it but ah… that didn’t work out. I made it as far as the casino floor before things started spinning around… I tried to get back to my room, but the elevator proved too daunting so I had to ride up one floor at a time, stopping at every floor to get off and take a break for a few minutes. It felt like it took about an hour to make it back to my room, where I promptly passed the fuck out.
I have interesting stories from weddings in vegas… the next one I attended, I tripped balls on shrooms, ran around the top of the stratosphere tower like a maniac, and somehow found myself into the emergency refuge just below the top. That’s where I learned that security in vegas don’t give a fuck as long as you have a room key.