In the hotel elevator we met, "Frog" and his girlfriend - Toad? Frog rocked the godfather of all mullets. It added an extra 4 inches to his 5 foot tall frame.
On our ride with Frog and Toad, the elevator stopped on another floor and what seemed to be a hundred or maybe only five kids tried to get on. Frog hit the close button and told them there wasn't any room. The doors shut and his gal pal said, "Hey, Frog . . . for all you know those kids could be yours." Frog croaked, "I only have two." My husband added, "That you know of." Frog's girlfriend laughed and agreed with my husband, the comedian. Toad puffed up and adjusted his black nylon dress shirt with bright red flames shooting up the front and back, shook his "business in the front, party in the back" mullet out, and strode off the elevator when the doors opened with his gal pal running after him. For reasons unknown, she had glitter covering her back and neck only, like she rolled in the stuff. Whatever Frog's appeal was, it should be bottled and sold
In the hotel casino I was walking behind a group of guys on the prowl. One of them was complaining loudly, "How come he gets sucked on and I don't?"
My thoughts were as follows: "Well, with an attitude like that, it's no wonder . . ."
At 3 in the morning, as I was walking back to my hotel, I saw Elvis taking a picture of two ladies on the bridge between Caesar's Palace and Bellagio. Elvis is so "not" dead.
While standing in line waiting for a taxi I heard another group of guys behind us talking. They had big plans for the night. One guy in the group was complaining that he wasn't getting any action and he had a feeling that it wasn't going to get any better so he didn't even know why he was going with them. I wanted to ask him if he knew the guy from the casino who wasn't getting any either.
In the elevator as we were leaving the hotel . . . a big burly macho guy stood holding a little kid's raft with a grumpy look on his face. My husband, the friendliest man on earth, greeted him and asked him how he was doing. Burly macho guy held onto his Sponge Bob raft and said that he hated Las Vegas and avoids it like the plague, but his best friend was getting married, and he was the best man, so he had to be there. He said he was going down to float in the river rapids pool until he had to get ready for the wedding. He actually had the hours counted until he could leave Sin City and go home. He said he was, absolutely and without a doubt, the most miserable person in all of Las Vegas. I told him he was wrong. Mr. No Suck and Mr. No Action were.
It's a small world. . . turns out those were his brothers.