Monday, March 02, 2015

Monday Morning Stories With Mookie - Episode 142

The Time Mookie Almost Vomited On The Front Sidewalk At The Sahara

Since it is now March, that usually means one thing for the kids out there: Spring Break Vacation. To celebrate Spring Break, all of the Monday Morning Stories with Mookie episodes in March will be about something that happened during one of my visits to my favorite vacation destination: LAS VEGAS. Enjoy.




In the previous Monday Morning Stories I have told about Las Vegas, several of them have included events that happened on the trip I took with my friend James.*  Today's story comes from that crazy weekend.

James had never been to Vegas before prior to this, so needless to say we had to hit the town HARD that first night. After all the hassle of getting to the casino and getting checked in, we were more than ready to have some fun. We took off walking, seeing the sights, gambling, and of course downing beer after beer in every casino we ended up in.  I don't think we won much that first night, but it didn't matter because we were in Vegas on a Friday night and we were getting downright WRECKED with beer.

As we were both active runners at the time - we both mutually agreed that we would have to go for a run some morning.  I was already training for a marathon, and being the delusional type you need to be to train for a marathon - I had pretty much decided in my head that the first morning (Saturday) we were there I HAD to go for a 7 MILE run.  Well that run was not of my concern at 10pm Friday night, because James and I were knee-deep in Bud Light, Coors Light, and anything other adult beverage that got into our hands.

However when 7AM rolled around Saturday morning, I wondered how I could have let myself get into this predicament.  Not wanting to be defeated that easily, I somehow peeled myself out of bed and quickly surmised that I definitely felt like the bottom of a shoe in a landfill. My head ached, my stomach was destroyed, and I felt like I could puke at any second.  So what did my stupid brain say?  Go back to bed? Nope.  "Mookie get up. You have to go run."  I somehow got up, got dressed, used the bathroom and headed out into the hallway towards the elevator. James was still lying in his bed and I knew that I felt this wrecked, he would have to be equally wrecked too.  So I did him a favor and didn't even bother to wake him up to see if he wanted to come with me.  He later told me I was 100% correct in my assumption.

Don't mind me. I'm just going to vomit all over hell.

I walked out into the early morning sun right in front of the Sahara marquee and immediately wretched. It was RIGHT THERE in the back of my throat but somehow I held it back and kept from coating the sidewalk.  It was like Jim Carrey in Dumb and Dumber when he does that dry heave thing.  Here I was in Las Vegas, hungover as shit (and probably still a little drunk), and about to go for a RUN of all things.  Could I be ANY stupider?  After yet another dry convulsing stomach wretch, I somehow started my GPS timer and slowly started up Las Vegas Boulevard.  As I got into a steady running cadence I noticed I didn't feel like as much hell as I did standing under the Sahara sign, so that was something.  I continued up past the Stratosphere on my pre-planned route, turned a corner and then ran down a road that runs parallel to The Strip.  Needless to say I encountered zero foot traffic at 7:30 AM. If you are out at 7:30 in the morning in Las Vegas, you better be going back to the room after an epic night and not just starting your day.

I continued on down the street a ways and then turned a corner when I got down by some of the convention centers behind The Venetian.  This brought me back towards The Strip where people had started to come out of their hotels - probably in search of quality breakfast.  I trudged along - weaving in and out of people where necessary and dodging the occasional cab pulling out of the hotel driveways.  By this time I was sweating pretty good, but odds are good it was pure hops, barley, and traces of alcohol leaving my pores.  I wasn't running terribly fast, but it wasn't something I was ashamed of. I tried to tell myself that it was probably the change in altitude between my hometown and Vegas that was slowing me down, but I knew it was the 50 gallons of beer that I drank and God-knows-what I ate still lying in my digestive tract.

Finally I made it back to the Sahara property and I decided that I was very proud of myself.  Not only did I run the whole 7 miles, but I did it at a more elevated altitude than normal, and I did it extremely hungover.  I thought if I could do this, I could sure as hell do another marathon.  With that thought I ended my run right where I started - right under the big Sahara marquee sign.
Oh honey look at the guy barfing next to the marquee!

After stopping for 5 seconds to catch my breath, the pride I felt over my 7 mile accomplishment suddenly subsided as I wretched and almost threw up again.

Somehow I held it together again and traipsed back through the casino and up to the room - probably looking worse than I did when I left.

When I got back to the room, I found James waking up, but still in pretty much the same place he was when I left. He couldn't believe I had went for a run, and almost threw up at the thought of it himself.

I don't think either of us drank at all that day.

(*) - Names changed to protect the guilty/innocent

Miss a previous story?  Click HERE to see the library.

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