Henry Marken
I will be taking a break from blogging and stroking computer keys for a couple days because I will be going on a weekend trip to Las Vegas tomorrow. To say that I’m ‘excited’ would be a severe understatement. I am so stoked for this trip, practically nothing could steer me away. Even a cold hard shot to my cheekbone from Mike Tyson couldn’t keep me away, which would leave me concussed, near brain trauma, or perhaps dead.
While it’s not my first time in Vegas, I’ve never really been to Vegas, if you can catch my drift. Yes, I have been to the location of Las Vegas where I walked through the strip, into casinos, and saw various shit. But I was only a child then. I didn’t get to experience Sin City in full. I was drinking milkshakes, not mojitos. This is a whole new animal.
While practically nothing could steer me away from going on this trip, I do have a few requests upon my return home. Just a few prayers, if you will, from the Vegas Gods that I’m requesting to be heard. I’m not asking for much, just a couple of small favors.
I want to keep all of my teeth:
I mean come on, I didn’t brush my teeth three times a day for the last 20 or so years so that I could lose or get some of them knocked out. Not to mention, my parents spent a gazillion dollars on orthodontics during my high school years. With all the metal I had in my mouth, you’d think I’d have my own magnetic field (Yep, I’m gonna get popped in the fucking mouth for that one) I don’t care if I get the hell beaten out of me this trip, I just want to fly home on Sunday with all of my teeth.
My parents still have a house by the time I return:
Look, just because I might go down bad at the gambling tables, doesn’t mean that my lovely and innocent parents have to as well. I’d like to keep all potential financial debt within the barriers of what I can personally afford. If I ask for a loan from my friends while I’m there, I probably won’t lose too much sleep over it, considering my friend group has a pretty solid “You scratch my back, I scratch yours” policy. But I don’t need to get my parents involved in the gambling underworld.
I’d prefer not to be anybody’s biological father in 9 months:
I feel like this is a simple ask. Right? I got enough on my plate as is, just taking care of the self. It’s a simple ask. It also comes with simple preventative measures. I’m not going to go into the X’s and O’s of how a baby is made, so I’m just gonna leave it at that.
Survive:
Yeah. I would say that physically surviving the trip is a pretty vital pillar. The phrase “I’m asking for much” fits in real nicely here. I just want to live.
Now, just like a Christmas list, not all of my wishes can be answered. Sometimes Santa has to bargain. With that being said, I don’t want any possible situation I listed above to be compromised. So if the Vegas Gods do exist, leave those alone at the expense of one of the situations below.
Lose a finger:
I’d really prefer not to lose a finger…. BUT if losing my finger results in my parents keeping their house or me keeping a full mouth of teeth… they can have the finger. Once you start losing teeth, I feel like you enter this rabbit hole of ‘filling in the gaps” and that can be expensive and exhausting. If I lose the finger, it’s gone. Not coming back. Goodbye. If I lose a finger to save my parent’s house, I’ll learn and adapt. I’ll figure it out. Hell, they might even make an ESPN 30 for 30 about it.
Get a face tattoo:
Again, I’d really prefer not to, but if I get caught in some scenario where it’s unavoidable and it could compromise something on the untouchables list above, I’m getting the fucking face tat. Mike Tyson’s been in a lot of movies, more movies than I have, so don’t tell me that Hollywood is off the table.
Get tossed in jail:
I feel like this happens to the best of us. Hopefully I’m not in there for too long or for anything too serious.
Have any real fate similar to the characters in the Hangover films, especially Stu:
I feel like that’s where most of my fears and wishes regarding the possible outcomes of this trip are coming from. It’s only funny until you’re Stu in real life. In the world of classic literature, Stu is what we would define as a tragic hero. I have no intention of willingly recreating his tale or anything remotely close to it.
