So there we were...we decided to go through Salt Lake and get to Nevada
because there was a storm that was supposed to hit Salt Lake.
But who knew that our journey would land us square the fuck in a crazy
little town called West Wendover, NV. West Wendover is about a 100 pounds
of crazy stuffed in a 80 pound bag. Seriously. West Wendover "do what it do"
like no where I've seen. We thought we'd check in, grab a cheesburger,
maybe hit a Black Jack table and get a good night sleep before another day on
the road.
Now I'm not saying we blend in by any stretch, but we hadn't
even made it 10 feet in to that casino before Mike was approached and hair-lested
by a drunk fella in a Denver Broncos hat named Guy. Yep. His name is Guy.
I know because he showed me his ID to prove it to me a little later inside his cozy
1 bedroom RV, but we'll get to that. So Guy wants to talk to Mike because he is
loving every secondof Mike's mowhawk. He says we're not going to have any fun at the
Peppermill Casino, we need to follow him to a place with music, pool, candy cane
rainbowsand whatever else we can imagine. You see Guy works in this town so he's got VIP's all over the place and knows it backwards. How can we turn down an adventure right?
So we go back to the room and grab our coats because Guy wants us to ride with him and
his two ladies to his place first and then we're off to the races.His ladies
are not pleased with the situation and one stays behind.
He wants us to all pile in to his 4 door cavalier (him, his girlfriend, and 6 guys).
Thankfully Ed drives us and we follow him. Jeff is sketched out at this point and
in no way wants to go, but reluctantly piles in. We follow behind Guy and
get a pretty strong feeling things are on the wrong track when we turn away from the
bright lights into a dark road. Yep. Intuition still works outside of
Colorado. We make another turn into a trailer park. No biggie. Wait. Well it's not
a trailer per se...it's an RV at the front of the trailer park. Jeff
Dew's freak out meter hits an all time high. So Manny and Jeff stay in the truck.
The rest of us take a deep breath and go for it. Fuck it. Inside the cozy
fixer upper, Guy makes it rain Natty Ice and disappears into the bathroom. Here comes
the Apex. What the fuck is Guy doing? Does he have a gun? Nope.
Just what I imagine to be a fairly large bladder. As it turns out, Guy is actually a
really nice...er..guy? So once the pre-party is done, he said we're
off to the Nugget for the red carpet treatment. Free food, free drinks, free room
(although we already had a room down the street, but who's counting?).
First stop though, game of pool. We're still on the look out for any kind of food
as we haven't eaten since some gas station in Utah earlier in the day and
all this "ragin" in West Wendo can really exaust a person. First thing though, Guy
says all you have to do is order a drink and throw down a dollar. Beers.
Shots. You name it. Tip a buck and the world is your oyster. The bartender tells
me otherwise. That's a five dollar lesson after tip. Oh well. Still got
that free food and lodging happening right? Off to the Main Casino to bask in our
VIP glory. Guy let's us know the owner is his buddy (Guy knows a guy(rimshot))
and that he's going to tell them we're on tour and that he can get us to come back
and play there in a couple of weeks. A couple of us head off to the bathroom to
which Drew calls it like $20 palm reader. He says "I bet you anything that the owner
isn't working tonight". Best bet any of us made all night. We come back
and sure the fuck enough, Guy let's us know he can't believe the manager isn't there
tonight! He even tried his cell phone. Nice try Guy. as we're heading back down to
the bar totally bummed that we didnt get to meet the owner of the nugget in west wendover,
nevada, guy proceeds to assure us that in about 1 hour the bar was going to flood with
brazillian college students. We say our goodbyes;leave poor in cheesburgers, but rich in stories...
QUick sub story. We leave the Peppermill this morning to load up and a strange little
older guy with the tiniest shoes asks us how our night was. We say ok, and
he tells us he won $3,900 on the craps table last night. We consider consequences of
beating him down for his cash. Nah. Too early and we're already behind schedule.
Good decision too because we find out he's also a local and a liar. There seems to be a
pattern here. How can we be so sure he's a liar? Oh i'll tell you.
Because he says "Do you know Wayne? He's a soundguy in town". Nope. "Well Wayne and I
are buddies and he plays in a band. I play bass and he asked me the other
day to sit in with his band at his house. I says to him I'm not that good, but I'll sit
with ya. So I sit and he says to me that he's goonna just record it
and took my phone with him into the back control room. So we play and he gives back my
phone and says I'll hear it when I look through my music. Here. I'll
play you sample." So he finds us the songs on his phone and hits play. Manny hears about
10 seconds and says "Isn't this level 42?" (p.S. it most definitely
is Level 42 but that's not gonna slow down Oldy McLiarson. He quickly respnds "That's the
crazy part. Wayne sounds just like him and we play their set!".
Holy fuck. Goodbye West Wendover. Thanks for the good times!
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