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Guest Column: Nick the Ex-Cabbie – “Downtown Detective Story”

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Posted February 18th, 2010 by Nick the Cabbie - 9 comments

I can hear John Waters on the television in the next room and it seems like a really interesting show…something I’d really like to watch. Unfortunately, right now I’m crouched on the floor of the restroom with my new porcelain friend. How did I end up in this situation? Perhaps I should reexamine my evening and use my detective skills to figure it out.

We start out with a drink at the Griffin. The bartendress pours me an entire shot when I ask to sample “just a tiny bit” of the unusual vodka that I’ve never seen before. This becomes my second drink and we have one more round before leaving. I don’t know if the shot ended up on the tab, but I know it puts me one drink ahead of everyone else in the group. Extra shot, ftw!

Downtown Bar (pic found on my phone the next day.)

We’ve walked around the corner to the Downtown Bar and I’m desperately trying to avoid spilling my very full martini drink as I talk to the artist doing the “Girl with Redbull” portrait. I’m not very successful with this task. I am, however, interested in airbrush art. It seems fun. I send a drunk text to a girl I barely know. This also seems fun. Then I trash-talk another girl I know even less by instant message. Both of these actions seem perfectly reasonable. Only two drinks at the Downtown Cocktail Lounge… I guess I’ll only have one at the next stop.

We’ve now wandered near an oxygen cart in the middle of Fremont. Extra oxygen seems like a good idea so we strap on the dorky nose apparatus and breathe in the flavored air. This must be the place where I only get one drink. It is. Next I guess I have to go back up to two drinks. Because zero drinks is definitely not on the agenda. And what is on the agenda? I’m not entirely sure.

Someone suggests going to the strip club and I’m so in favor of the idea that it may have originally been mine. In all of Las Vegas, the Glitter Gulch is a perfect place for me to be… I’m sure of it. Cover at the door comes with two “free” drinks each, and even though the number works out correctly, I probably don’t need any more drinks right now. This does not even begin to cross my mind, though, and I take them as if they were truly free. Then I quickly decide that I should finish one of the drinks so that I don’t have to keep up with multiple cups.

I get a couple lap dances at this point, but unfortunately, this part of the evening remains vague and fuzzy. The sirens of the Glitter Gulch apparently use their mental powers to confound and befuddle the men that they lure into their den of obfuscation. Or maybe I just have some kind of mental block regarding nude girls that I’m not allowed to touch.

One of the strippers sits on my lap in order to talk to my friends and I casually begin to caress her back. Then my hand decides, “Fuck this casual shit. I need some fondle action.” A little time goes by before I suddenly realize that I’m groping a stripper and make a conscious effort to stop. The stripper stops mid-sentence and turns to look at me. Then she grabs my hand, returns it to her back and continues talking like nothing ever happened. Where exactly is my other drink? Oh yeah… I guess I finished that one too. Perhaps now I should go be sick. Yes, that seems like an excellent plan. I will be sick now.

Five minutes later I realize that, in all of Las Vegas, the Glitter Gulch is a terrible place for me to be. Somehow I make it outside to Fremont and immediately throw up in the street. Then I have to convince the security guard on the bike that I’m not going to die on his watch. He believes me but only because he doesn’t know me. I know me just fine and I don’t believe me one bit. I have no trouble finding my car and I drive back home without incident.

Not really. I would never drive drunk… that’s just not cool. My friends get me safely home and then all of us (including you) arrive at the point where this story began. So the beginning is the end and hopefully this was an entertaining descent into my madness filled with beneficial life lessons and tips on how to be a better detective.

[Editor's note:  This is all true.  I had to hold his hair like he was a little girl.  Okay, if he had long hair, I would have been holding it.]

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9 Comments

  1. dd on March 4, 2010 :

    Most boring drunk story I ever read. Point?

  2. Nick the Cabbie on March 4, 2010 :

    Point?
    Um…drink responsibly?

  3. Christopher on March 4, 2010 :

    Since when do we have to have a point around here? hahaha

  4. Nick the Critic on March 5, 2010 :

    Now, let’s not get crazy…
    I think we should be able to pointlessly drink responsibly anywhere in the world.
    And then eventually: space, the moon, mars…

  5. La Femme on March 22, 2010 :

    And so DD, what Nick just said….THAT was the point. :-)

    Isn’t that ALWAYS the point? LoL

  6. Rachel on March 30, 2010 :

    Awesome Vegas Giveaway!

    http://bit.ly/d3P6XL

  7. Waiting on April 7, 2010 :

    Are Nick the Cabbie and Nick the Critic the same person or do you only hang out with people named Nick?

  8. Nick the Ex-Cabbie on April 7, 2010 :

    all of these Nicks are the same me.

  9. Stephen on August 22, 2010 :

    I think you got lucky drinking and driving just do not mix, next time take a cab.

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