Viva Las Vegas. What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas. Vegas, baby, Vegas. And so forth. It wasn't easy mustering up the energy needed to do Vegas right on the last night of our tour. Steve resorted to smoking Red Bull right out of the can.
Along the way we stopped off to visit the Calico ghost town.
We made a bunch of new friends, but you can't see them.
Eventually we made it to Vegas, the Disneyland for delinquents.
We set up at Zia Records and played our final show of the tour. I couldn't bear the thought of donning the Elvis suit again, as it was most likely toxic and a public safety hazard at that point. It was all very anti-climactic. At first, Steve's red-bull-induced sugar rush gave the band lots of energy and had us all rocking pretty hard.
At one point, Steven even stood up and busted out a ten minute drum solo...
...but he crashed soon after.
A 14 year old girl bought our cd, and that made me happy.
Then the show was over, and our tour had come to an end, rock-wise. We all punched the sky and took a bow.
But the tour hadn't come to an end party-wise. We hit the strip and decided to put all the money we had made on tour (roughly $35,000) on black.
Naturally, we lost. I was pretty upset. Beams of light shot out of my head.
I gambled some more, and lost. At everything. Slots. Blackjack. Roulette. Craps. You name it, I lost at it. I lost so much, I didn't even have enough money left to chip in for the hookers and blow, so I went back to our hotel room and fell asleep.