Macau: Part 3

Woke up. Sunday morning. Well, actually, it was 4pm on Sunday and I had checked into my hotel on Sunday morning, 5am. I even got upgraded to a suite because in the room next door two people were either having a fake screaming contest or really bad sex. I think it was both. The whole hallway smelled like curry, BO and bad perfume, like Chanel Nos 1-4 before Coco perfected the formula.

“No gambling today!” I told myself, looking at my bloodshot eyes and a hole in my wallet where $5,000 used to be. I don’t know why but I’m fine giving people thousands of dollars for cards with pictures on them but if someone bet me a few K on a basketball game, I would fold faster than the XFL. That’s an American sports joke. If you don’t get it because you only love soccer (oh, sorry, football) just pretend I said, “Cristiano Ronaldo looks like a dick and Wayne Rooney may actually be an oversized penis masquerading as a player.” Seriously. Just look at this picture: ➞

Anyway, talking about penises reminded me of the previous night, where a friend and I went to a bar with a pole, girls dancing in faux-sexy clothes, some hookers in the corner, and—here is the penis part—about 40 guys in a sausage fest of increasing levels of sketchiness ranging from guy-who-got-lost to guy-who-has-impregnated-half-the-staff. Awesomely, there was also a large group of high-school kids at a table nursing a handle of Absolut. Can you say Baller? No, neither can I.

After a while, a few of the high-school girls got really drunk and started grinding on the pole while the dancers looked at them like “why are you choosing to do this?” And then Team Creepy turns and starts watching the high-school girls. Then the hookers in the corner start talking and get upset because their customers are enthralled by terrible dancing. Uh oh.

For a second there’s a real moment and I think something awesome was going to happen involving smashed beer bottles, pulled hair, and the loss of innocence forever. But, unfortunately, it was resolved rather civilly when about 10 more dudes walked into the bar creating a classic supply/demand imbalance, and we all went back to lots of fake laughing and flirting. I ordered a beer, upset that no fight happened. This was worse than the HK Muay Thai Championship Finals where a huge dude nicknamed “The Beast” didn’t fight but just walked around like a dumb-ass thinking, “wow, it’s really great people are paying to watch me walk around like a dumb-ass.”

Recap: Down $2,500 for the weekend. Best: up $500. Worst: Down $10,000. DO: gamble, eat Portuguese food, go the Wynn/Venetian to gamble or the Sands to feel suicidal and die of lung cancer; DON’T: Sleep, stay sober, hang out with bad luck zombies, or expect prossies and high-school girls to get into an awesome fight. Macau.