Oompa Loomprechaun

I recently spent four days in Las Vegas with two of my high school friends, Ben and Bob. Day 1 was a typical night on Fremont Street, nothing too exciting. Day 2 is an interesting story, but permission must be gained from appropriate parties to talk about that night. Day 4 was recovery and damage control. Day 3 was New Year's Eve. The events of that night are presented here...

The story of Day 3 really begins on Day 2. For dinner, we decide to try an Irish pub in the Rio called McFadden's. At this point, we're planning on heading to Fremont Street for New Year's Eve. It's a $20 cover charge, but they have a bunch of tribute bands playing, and let's face it, it's Fremont Street. As we walk into McFadden's, though, I see they're having a New Year's Eve party. $75 gets you unlimited top-shelf drinks for four hours as well as a dinner buffet.

Now, for those of you who don't know Ben and Bob, rest assured that we can get our money's worth at an open bar. Ben is my height and much "fluffier" than me. Bob is at least two inches taller and even "fluffier" than Ben. They can hold their liquor. $75 for unlimited top-shelf drinks in Vegas may well put this bar out of business. At the least, we know it will be a good time. Our waitress convinces us to pre-order our tickets. Looking around the table, we start talking about how epic this New Years will be:

Ben "I'll bet I end up sitting in the back of a cop car saying the words 'But ossifer...'"
Bob "I'm probably going to vomit all over the bar and get escorted out."
Brillo "I want to do something crazy, like body shots off a drunk midget."

The prophecy hath been fortold. Two of those predictions came true. Any guesses which ones? Let's move on...

The following morning at 1 pm, each of us nursing a raging hangover and my throat sore from vomiting (Day 2 was epic as well), we decided to walk over to the Gold Coast for lunch. As we're walking out the door, we pass by a midget.

Bob "Hey Brillo, go ask him if you can do a body shot off him."
Ben "Maintain, guys, maintain..."

I notice that the midget is carrying some dry-cleaning. He has his arm stretched over his head, but it's still dragging on the floor. I catch a glimpse of it and see what looks like a green suit. Could it be a leprechaun costume? I try not to get my hopes up...

We eat lunch at a Chinese restaurant at the Gold Coast. We spend most of the meal trying to understand our waiters. Ben decides to do the Dim Sum special. Due to a lapse in communication with our waitress, he ends up getting only one piece of beef and a plate of rice. I order a bowl of hot and sour soup, but our waiter thinks I'm ordering for the table, so he brings me a giant bowl. I look down and see that it looks eerily similar to the vomit-filled toilet(s) from the previous night. But then all hot and sour soup looks like that. It actually turned out to be very good.

The way we're sitting, me and Ben can see into the casino, but Bob has his back to it. The soup was extremely spicy, to the point that my vision is blurry. Wiping the tears from my eyes, I look out into the casino, and I swear for a split second I see a midget dressed like a leprechaun.

Brillo (pointing) "BEN! BEN! IS THAT..."
Ben "Oh my God... it's a midget dressed like a leprechaun!"
Bob "You guys are full of shit."

Not even halfway done with our meal, we throw money on the table and run out trying to catch him. Alas, he's gone. Probably rode away on a rainbow and disappeared.

Brillo "I swear to Christ it was a midget dressed like a leprechaun. Dude, maybe he'll be at McFadden's tonight!"
Bob "Even if there was a midget, and I still think you guys are fucking with me, why would he be advertising for McFadden's at the Gold Coast? The two casinos aren't even owned by the same company."

Fucking Bob, smashing my dreams. He's probably right though. Still, I maintain a glimmer of hope. Maybe... just maybe...

We head back to the Rio and take a nap (when you travel with two big fat guys, you take a lot of naps). When we wake up, despite still being hungover at 7 pm, we start to pre-party in the hotel room. We had started the trip with a handel of Kettle One, a fifth of Jameson, and a 350 of Beefeater. We each have two or three full glasses of vodka on the rocks. At 8:30, a guy is going to try to do a back flip in a truck, and from our room on the 12th floor, we have a good view of the landing site. We're watching the ESPN broadcast of the truck flip with the Rio lit up in the background. Bob is calling all his friends and telling them to look on the 12th floor for him pressing his balls up against the window. This, my friends, is sober Bob.

At 9:00 we head down to the bar. We walk in and load up on hats, noisemakers, and beads. I'm a sucker for free crap. There are two rooms. The main room has a bar, a dance floor, and a buffet. The second room off to the side has a long bar with a bunch of hookers camped out at the end of it. We make a beeline to the bar and order drinks.

Brillo "Can I get a Bombay martini?"
Bartender "Sorry, no martinis."
Brillo "Okay...Grey Goose on the rocks."
Bartender "No shots, no martinis, no on the rocks."

I knew there'd be a catch to this "unlimited bar." The bartender explains that it's illegal in the state of Nevada to give away shots for free. Bullshit, this law will be broken more than once during the night. So I order a Goose and club. Then another. Then another. And I'm still three behind Ben and Bob.

We spend most of the next hour jumping into the background of people trying to take pictures. Yes, we are That Guy. One of the perks of drinking with two fat guys is that no one tries to pick a fight with you. With one swipe of his mighty paw, Bob can hospitalize anyone in the bar. The world is our playground.

At one point, Ben goes out to use the restroom, while Bob heads out into the casino to buy a corn dog (no buffet can contain him). I head to the bar to get another drink when I see him. Standing two feet away from me is a midget...dressed like a leprechaun. Not only is he in a leprechaun costume, but his face is painted orange and he's wearing a green wig. He is an Oompa Loomprechaun! He has a sign stapled to his hat that says "$3 For a Picture. Do Not Toss." This is excellent news...it means he can be bought and he has a sense of humor. I text Ben and Bob in capital letters telling them to get their asses back to the bar. Ben gets my text and comes sprinting across the casino. Bob doesn't get my text, but when he comes back he sees the midget on his way in.

Bob "Brillo! Did you see-"
Brillo "I saw!!! I saw!!!"

Bob walks up to the midget and plays the wingman. Bob used to sell barbeques for a living before moving to the warehouse, so he's an excellent negotiator. We give the midget $40 (money has no meaning when midgets are involved) and he agrees. I run to the bar and order a shot of tequila.

Bartender "No can do. No free shots."
Brillo "But you don't understand! I'M DOING BODY SHOTS OFF THE OOMPA LOOMPRECHAUN!"
The bartender has a disgusted look on his face.
Brillo "Don't you judge me. Just make it happen!"

The midget talks to the bartender, gives him $20, and convinces him to let me do the shot. Everyone in the bar is looking at me. Half them are cheering me on, while the other half just stares in disgust. Fuck that half. I do the shot, pose for pictures, and high five a few random people

The rest of the night was pretty typical of going to a bar with Ben and Bob. I'm telling everyone I meet that I did a body shot of the Oompa Loomprechaun, who has been dancing a merry jig on the bar throughout the night. Other highlights:

-The second room with the bar has windows that look out into the casino. We sneak up behind people who are leaning on the window and knock on the glass. This pisses off more than a few douchebags, but when they see Bob, they walk away.

-We reach the "drunk dancing" portion of the night, but they're playing shitty '80s music. So we just start singing the chorus to Europe's The Final Countdown instead. We start to mosh, but a bouncer tells us not to.

-In the front room, Bob and I are standing in front of the bar facing away from it. The Oompa Loomprechaun, who is trashed (and kind of a lightweight), jumps up onto the bar, runs over to us, and kisses each of us on the cheek. I now have orange face paint on me.

-At one point, I come back from the bathroom and see seven straws in Ben's drink and a pile of straws in front of Bob. Ben is doubled over in laughter while Bob yells at the bartender:

Bob "Fuck you, I want more straws."
Bartender "You already took all the straws we have."
Bob "I want more!"

Bob grabs all the straws in front of him and throws them at the bartender. Out of nowhere, a bouncer even bigger than Bob shows up from behind him and threatens to cut him off. Luckily, the bartender is struggling to breathe because he's laughing so hard, and he waves the bouncer away. Laughter is our greatest ally.

At midnight, we do our champagne toast, then go to the side bar and ask to do shots. He refuses.

Bartender "It's illegal, I can't give out shots for free."
Brillo "That's bullshit, I just did a body shot off a midget dressed like a leprechaun."
Bartender (blank stare) "That's kinda gay..."
Brillo "Have you ever done a body shot off a midget dressed like a leprechaun?"
Bartender "I don't wa-"
Brillo "Yes or no! Have you ever done a body shot off a midget dressed like a leprechaun?!"
Bartender "No, bu-"
Brillo "Then I call the shots! Pour 'em!"

Bob starts throwing $1 bills at him. I reach into my pocket, but I'm out of $1's, so I take out a $5 bill. While Bob is distracting him, I back-palm the bill. I get the bartender's attention and make the bill appear out of thin air. The bartender is amazed.

Bartender (after a three-second pause) "Alright! You guys are doing shots! What do you want?"

Now, I'm literally a card-carrying member of the Jack Daniel's fan club. I can do shots of JD in my sleep. And I just won over the bartender, so it's my call. Jack it is. He pours four shots (and I use the word "shot" loosely; my cup was at least half-full) and sets them in front of us.

Bob "No man, not whiskey. If I do this shot, I'm going to throw up."
Brillo "Bullshit, you got this. Pound it!"

We do the shot, and the bartender immediately pours himself a Coke chaser (pussy). While he's drinking that, I look over at Bob, who has his forehead resting on the bar. I look under him and see the floor covered in vomit. Shāh Māt, the king is dead. The best part is, he did it totally covertly. No one else notices; not the bartender, not Ben, not the bouncer who has been standing behind us since the straw-throwing incident. Bob is a 6'7" motherfucking ninja.

Brillo "Come on Bob, we gotta go."
Bob "But we still have a half-hour left of open bar!"
Brillo "You're throwing up, we have to get up to our room."

Ben asks why we're running out, so I tell him to look under the bar and smooth things over with the bartender. I lead Bob through the hordes of people in the casino to the elevator, pausing along the way to inform everyone that I did a body-shot off a midget dressed like a leprechaun.

We take the elevators up to the 12th floor. From where the elevators are, there are three long hallways with rooms, and we're all the way at the end of one of them. We get about halfway down the hall when Bob says he wants to get a soda from the vending machines, which are down a different hall. Despite my pleading, he runs off to get a soda. Ben comes off one of the elevators.

Brillo "What happened at the bar?"
Ben "The bartender said it was fine and sent someone to clean it up."
Brillo "Good thing he's on our side."
Ben "Where's Bob?"

Where is Bob? We look over, and he's about halfway down the wrong hallway. He is no longer wearing his shirt. We get his attention, and instead of turning around and casually walking down the hall, he starts running towards us.

I'm going to pause and explain something about Bob. Sober, Bob is a jolly fat guy who would never hurt a fly. When he reaches a certain level of drunk, he turns into Bob Smash. Whatever gets in Bob's way, BOB SMASH! He doesn't get beligerent or violent, he just barrels over anything in his way. Tonight, there are people in his way. Strangers, who just got off the elevators. They look over and see a 400 pound half-naked guy running down the hall.

Ben "He's not going to stop! MOVE! MOVE! PLAY DEAD!"
Bob "ROAR!"
Brillo "I DID A BODY SHOT OFF A MIDGET!"

Luckily, no one is injured. We make it back to the room, and Bob decides he wants an omelete from room service. I start calling random people, not realizing it's1 am. Room service shows up, and a big black woman delivers Bob's omelete. Bob is naked. Ben is in his underwear. I mutter something about Aunt Jemimah (drunk Brillo has no filter). She now thinks we're homosexual racists.

For the third night in a row, I pass out facing the wrong way on my fold-out bed, fully clothed, with my contacts in and my slippers on.

My hangover lasts until 3 pm Friday.

In retrospect, I've thought about it, and I've decided to retire from drinking. I'll have my one drink a day with dinner, but I don't plan on getting drunk again for a long time. I'm going out on top. I can't imagine topping the Oompa Loomprechaun story. And I'm not sure I want to.