My husband (boyfriend at the time) purchased tickets for us to go see Ron White at Horseshoe Casino. For those of you who don’t know who he is (shame on you):
Now that we have that out of the way, let’s proceed. When we got to the casino a couple of hours early, we did what any red-blooded American would do: We started drinking, and gambling. Well, the Red Bull and Vodka was going down smooth, was cheap, and I’m pretty sure I was well on my way to getting those wings they talk about in the commercials.
We were pretty well plastered when we got into the show. And that is where it gets fuzzy, because I cannot remember anything about the show. All I remember was Nick getting up to get in line to get us more drinks, and me yelling, “I LOVE YOU RON WHITE!” and the people next to us getting pissed. So, at this point of the story, I’m not real sure what happened.. Did we get kicked out? Did we finish the show? Who in the hell knows? Probably got kicked out. And this is where the story gets pretty funny. If you know me well, you know I get into all kinds of shenanigans, especially when I am drunk.
Anyway, I remember rambling the hallways with Nick, still drinking and smoking cigarettes, until I realized that he was no longer next to me. So, I guess I had been talking to myself, for how long? Not real sure. I am looking for Nick, kind of panicking, kind of not giving a shit, when I thought to myself, “CALL HIM!” Well, that posed to be a problem because I remembered then that I left my phone at his place on the charger… Yay.
I couldn’t find Nick, so my next drunken idea was to go sit next to the exit and wait for him there, because surely I would see him that way… Then I fall… As soon as I got of the escalator… Here comes security; and those asshats put me in a wheelchair.
So, I’m sitting here in this wheelchair with two security guard ladies sitting on either side. They were nice enough to roll me up to the ashtray so I could smoke. They also took my drink from me (of course I didn’t spill it, that’s alcohol abuse). Bitches… I sat and talked with them for a long time until I realized I needed to go pee. The ladies rolled me into the bathroom, into the stall, and wouldn’t let me shut the door. Like I was gonna fucking escape or something if I did… So, I had to piss with my stall wide open. Gay. I felt like a criminal.
We get back out into the lobby, and I start crying because I realize I’m stranded, and worse, I don’t know anyone’s phone number off my head. Then my worst fear: the male security guard came up to me and said, “Ma’am, if we don’t call someone for you, you’re going to jail.” Holy shit. I have never been to jail, I was scared to death. So, I got my thinking cap on, and from somewhere deep inside my drunk brain I was able to remember Nick’s phone number. After a couple of times of him not answering, he finally picked up, and they told him to come retrieve me. The funny thing was: he had previously been kicked out too, and had hailed a cab to go downtown to party somewhere else. I know this because when we got home the next day, I had a voice mail from him saying that he had been kicked out and was headed downtown to party.
My retard in tin foil came back to rescue me, and we rode off happily into the sunset… To a hotel to sleep that shit off.
There are a lot of questions that need to be answered and things that need to be clarified… Gaps in memory that need to be filled. But, none of that will never happen… And I am so PISSED that I don’t even remember the Ron White show!