The wedding was beautiful and the trip exciting for both Squeaky and I. There is another side of the story though. It is the story of my addictive side. Please note that I did not drink alcohol for 5 years from 1999 to 2004. As an addict we switch drugs, control amounts and fool ourselves into thinking we don't really have a problem. I knew I was an alcoholic and wasn't drinking. That equals no problem. Anyone who has been to Vegas knows you can find any drug or experience you fancy. You can enjoy the "sinniest" of sins, if you find the right people. As an addict I can pick these "go to guys" out in a room of a thousand faces.
Before we left Chicago I finished up the rest of my weed. When I felt like there wasn't enough I would crawl around the carpet looking for a bud that had fallen to the floor during a previous party session. Smoking dog hair, bugs, food and dust bits was just collateral damage in finding that wonder bud under the bed and reaching the high I craved.
We woke from our late night nuptials about 1:00 pm. We made love and showered, ready for a night on the town as Mr. Tom and Mrs. Kris Connolly. I was jonesing. Whoever said you can't get addicted to weed didn't interview me. I was hooked, but since I wasn't drinking, I was cool with it. I thought it didn't count. My wife wasn't supportive but was happy I wasn't drinking. She didn't understand addiction and the addict then, and had seen a lot of alcohol damage in past relationships. She accepted what I was doing, but secretly hated it and knew she was enabling me.
Below our hotel was a strip mall with souvenir shops and liquor stores. I only had to walk a hundred yards from the front door before the street rats and hustlers surrounded me. Ice, Tic, Smack and Blow was hawked under muffled breath. The dealer also has an eye for the user and they were locked in on me. I said I was looking for weed and 3 entrepreneurs jumped to attention like valets excited to park my BMW. I made arrangements for a small amount with the guy who could score the quickest. There was no consideration for leaving my wife uncomfortable or the risk that I was talking to a cop. I was trained to look at shoes and haircuts, eyes and sunglasses. I could pick a cop out like a hippo in a chicken coop.
30 minutes went by and my connection returned. The nonchalant brutha handshake dope pass was followed by an equally unassuming cash pass hand slap. I had my weed and was dying to get flying. For me the excitement of the deal and risk mixed with the relief of the score and anxious waiting was intoxicating. I bought some papers from the liquor store and headed back up to our room, dragging my wife behind me like a frustrated parent tugging their unruly toddler through the supermarket.
In the room the next ritual was initiated. The smelling, cleaning, breaking and de-seeding was vital to the roll. I twisted a J and opened the window to vent the smoke. A pothead also rolls up a towel and places it along the crack at the bottom of the door for extra odor prevention. It really is a lot of work to get high. All the while my new bride sat impatiently prodding me to hurry up. She didn't want me high but knew I would be irritable and no fun if I didn't get my way. She was as much at mercy to my habit as I was.
I finished the doob and was now ready to go. We headed down the strip and she was excited that we were husband and wife. I kissed her and was trying to determine the quality of my high while she shattered her sweet nothings. I told her I needed to see where Tupac was killed. That was the extent of my sightseeing. We reached the spot and I screamed at the ridiculous notion that no one saw anyone shoot him that night. If I made a sudden reach for my wallet four people would look at me. How could there be no witnesses on hand the night of a Tyson fight in Vegas? We were there in May and the street was packed. I ranted on and my wife dragged me on pleading for our honeymoon dinner.
Food was near the top in my botanically induced euphoria and a buffet at Treasure Island was just what the doctor ordered. We ate a lot. I ate a lot more than I should have. We lost a few bucks gambling and I wanted to return to the room. I told her I was tired but just wanted to return for another hit or two or 10. She wanted to see more of the strip and I acted like a spoiled child being martyred every step of the way. After my drama and whining became too much, Squeaky relented.
Our walking pace back to the hotel was double what it was when we left earlier in the evening. I was tired, remember, and I needed to get back quick and relax. I bought my wife a Starbucks, her favorite, as a token apology for cutting the evening short. I said all the right things to let her know how much I loved her. I meant every word. I loved her with every fiber of my being, but I love getting high one fiber more. Once the scale tipped toward getting high I was on auto pilot.
We made it to our room, my rituals were repeated. The towel was neatly rolled sealing the outside world out of my private party and I smoked until I fell passed out. My wife watched TV, feared a bust and wondered what the rest of the honeymoon and our life had in store for her.
Showing posts with label Vegas. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Vegas. Show all posts
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Wedding Plans, Walter Payton and Vegas! (A LOOK BACK)
We had 2 more nights left in Ireland before we would have to return to the frenetically paced, "gimme gimme," reality that is America. My racing mind allows for about 5 days of enjoyment in a distant land, and then I want to go home. I sat on the patio of the B&B outside Sneem and was on top of the world. My proposal was unexpected. The words seemed to fly out of me. As I marveled at the placid lake bogs and ocean beyond, I gave a thumbs up to the big guy upstairs and headed in to attempt some sleep.
At a B&B there is one queen bed, and I guess Irish guys are short over there, because my feet dangled over the end and I am only 6'0" tall. My elation at the thought of marrying Squeaky, combined with my father's operatic snoring, made for a long night in Sneem. Flip, flop, turn to the cold side of the pillow. Slip to the edge of unconsciousness and........"Oooahrrr!" another bellowing snore from my dad started the whole process over again.
The next morning we prepared for our return to Dublin. We were shooting straight across the center of the wee island back to the point of our original departure. That is an over simplified explanation of our return trip. There are very few straight roads and lines in Ireland, beyond the painstakingly built rock fences and hedge rows that divide the farmers' plots. From coast to coast it is only about 240 miles wide, but don't quote me on that. We drove that whole last day but made some stops in a few of the villages that dotted our course. We stopped at a hotel just outside of Dublin and rested up for the long flight back home. It was Andrea's birthday and Daddy had some cool swag to bring back for her special day.
Arriving back home was both welcoming and saddening. I didn't know when I would return to Eire but I was certain another trip was in order at a future date. Squeaky had a new look in her eye as I hugged her like my fiancee, not just a girlfriend anymore. The kids loved their souvenirs, especially Andrea. I went all out for her and she beamed at the treasures I presented to her from the Isle of Green. Next step - wedding plans.
Since we had both been married before and were on a limited budget we had to plan a wedding that was economical but special. Travel was still cheap and hotels were discounting deeply to attract visitors still hurting from the events of September. Squeaky is the most amazing trip planner when it comes to vacations. This trip would be no exception. We had settled on Las Vegas, not exactly a wedding original, but I knew we would make the trip to Sin City exciting and memorable.
We booked our flight and hotel at the Stratosphere at the end of the Vegas strip. It was brand new and central to the sites we wanted to see on our honeymoon. We went dress shopping for her and a new suit for me. The colors were complimentary and the shopping day long. I was a good soldier and kept my whining internalized as I knew every detail was important to her. We picked out our first wedding bands from Sam's Club and we both adored them. Holding our hands out in front of each other we gushed at how absolutely brilliant each band looked on the others hand.
We booked a chapel, ordered flowers, prearranged a photographer and videographer. All of this could be done with a point and a click on the computer. One stop wedding shopping, brilliant! We decided that Van Morrison's "Have I Told You Lately," would be OUR song and I was thrilled. I am a huge Van Morrison fan. He is the Belfast Cowboy and Bobby Dylan of Ireland, as far as I'm concerned. Squeaky had every detail covered. We packed and were set to leave for our dream trip and begin our life officially as Mr. and Mrs. Connolly.
As we sat in the airport waiting for our flight we met a lovely choir group on their way to Vegas for a performance. They serenaded us with their version of The Dixie Cups, "Going To The Chapel," a wedding classic. We gave them the ceremony details and they promised to make it a part of their day. They continued to sing in full spirit and the terminal visitors all stared our way. It was magical. The flight was smooth and we landed at 10:00 pm Vegas time.
It was May 24, 2002. We deplaned and shuttled to our honeymoon nest to drop off our bags. Then we hopped a cab for the Clark County courthouse for a wedding certificate. We giggled and cooed as we filled out the paper, exhausted and giddy, with anticipation. It was now 1:00 am. In those days the courthouse stayed open all night to service those needing nuptial documentation. The certificate was the last item needed for our grand ceremony set for 2:00 pm that same day. We would head back to the hotel, get some rest abd then don our wedding duds and fly to the chapel. It was so simple until we walked out of the courthouse.
As we waited to hail a cab clutching our marital contract, a man approached us. He was disheveled but not threatening. He introduced himself and said he was from the House of Hope chapel just around the corner. All wedding donations went to shelter the homeless, treat the addicted and protect women in abusive relationships. I was not drinking but was smoking pot. The stranger seemed to us to be a messenger from God. We thought about the new dress and suit, the money spent for the chapel that afternoon and came to the same conclusion. Let's do this!
Our less fortunate guide led us to a store front chapel with a "House of Hope" sign hanging above the door. We were both worn out and felt dirty from the flight and endless running around. A tiny Filipino man came from behind a wall and we were awe struck. He had the most amazing blue eyes either of us had ever seen. It was like he could see right into your soul and his gentle voice was hypnotic in its' delivery. He explained the church's mission and we needed no more convincing.
We picked out a version of the "Wedding March" and Squeaky grabbed a tattered bouquet from a pile on a shelf in the corner. I was dressed in jean shorts and a tattered Walter Payton jersey, she in a jean skirt and a plain blouse. We were dressed for traveling, not marrying. We had each other. Fashion and glamour were tossed out the window with all the money we spent on the formal service set for later that day.
The little man with the radiant eyes cued a helper and we began down the aisle. We gazed at each other adoringly and laughed at our spontaneous decision. We stopped at the alter and the preacher began to read. We repeated our vows and was prayed over by the little man of God. We cried the whole time as we stood there. We reviewed our past in each others stares and clung tightly to each others hands in anticipation of a happy future. I can honestly say that I remember very little of what was said but I will never forget the grace of our tiny chaplain and the smile on my new wife's face.
By the time the ceremony was finished and we made it back to our hotel it was 4:00am. We were down for the count physically, emotionally and spiritually. We held hands and admired our Sam's Club rings. Starving, we stopped into a 50's style diner and ate cheeseburgers, fries and milkshakes for our wedding feast. The burgers were our prime rib. The fries were our double baked potatoes. The milkshakes were our baked Alaska. Our fancy clothes would remain unpacked. Our prepaid monies were lost. It was perfect and really quite special. I love taking the road less traveled, especially with my best friend Squeaky.
At a B&B there is one queen bed, and I guess Irish guys are short over there, because my feet dangled over the end and I am only 6'0" tall. My elation at the thought of marrying Squeaky, combined with my father's operatic snoring, made for a long night in Sneem. Flip, flop, turn to the cold side of the pillow. Slip to the edge of unconsciousness and........"Oooahrrr!" another bellowing snore from my dad started the whole process over again.
The next morning we prepared for our return to Dublin. We were shooting straight across the center of the wee island back to the point of our original departure. That is an over simplified explanation of our return trip. There are very few straight roads and lines in Ireland, beyond the painstakingly built rock fences and hedge rows that divide the farmers' plots. From coast to coast it is only about 240 miles wide, but don't quote me on that. We drove that whole last day but made some stops in a few of the villages that dotted our course. We stopped at a hotel just outside of Dublin and rested up for the long flight back home. It was Andrea's birthday and Daddy had some cool swag to bring back for her special day.
Arriving back home was both welcoming and saddening. I didn't know when I would return to Eire but I was certain another trip was in order at a future date. Squeaky had a new look in her eye as I hugged her like my fiancee, not just a girlfriend anymore. The kids loved their souvenirs, especially Andrea. I went all out for her and she beamed at the treasures I presented to her from the Isle of Green. Next step - wedding plans.
Since we had both been married before and were on a limited budget we had to plan a wedding that was economical but special. Travel was still cheap and hotels were discounting deeply to attract visitors still hurting from the events of September. Squeaky is the most amazing trip planner when it comes to vacations. This trip would be no exception. We had settled on Las Vegas, not exactly a wedding original, but I knew we would make the trip to Sin City exciting and memorable.
We booked our flight and hotel at the Stratosphere at the end of the Vegas strip. It was brand new and central to the sites we wanted to see on our honeymoon. We went dress shopping for her and a new suit for me. The colors were complimentary and the shopping day long. I was a good soldier and kept my whining internalized as I knew every detail was important to her. We picked out our first wedding bands from Sam's Club and we both adored them. Holding our hands out in front of each other we gushed at how absolutely brilliant each band looked on the others hand.
We booked a chapel, ordered flowers, prearranged a photographer and videographer. All of this could be done with a point and a click on the computer. One stop wedding shopping, brilliant! We decided that Van Morrison's "Have I Told You Lately," would be OUR song and I was thrilled. I am a huge Van Morrison fan. He is the Belfast Cowboy and Bobby Dylan of Ireland, as far as I'm concerned. Squeaky had every detail covered. We packed and were set to leave for our dream trip and begin our life officially as Mr. and Mrs. Connolly.
As we sat in the airport waiting for our flight we met a lovely choir group on their way to Vegas for a performance. They serenaded us with their version of The Dixie Cups, "Going To The Chapel," a wedding classic. We gave them the ceremony details and they promised to make it a part of their day. They continued to sing in full spirit and the terminal visitors all stared our way. It was magical. The flight was smooth and we landed at 10:00 pm Vegas time.
It was May 24, 2002. We deplaned and shuttled to our honeymoon nest to drop off our bags. Then we hopped a cab for the Clark County courthouse for a wedding certificate. We giggled and cooed as we filled out the paper, exhausted and giddy, with anticipation. It was now 1:00 am. In those days the courthouse stayed open all night to service those needing nuptial documentation. The certificate was the last item needed for our grand ceremony set for 2:00 pm that same day. We would head back to the hotel, get some rest abd then don our wedding duds and fly to the chapel. It was so simple until we walked out of the courthouse.
As we waited to hail a cab clutching our marital contract, a man approached us. He was disheveled but not threatening. He introduced himself and said he was from the House of Hope chapel just around the corner. All wedding donations went to shelter the homeless, treat the addicted and protect women in abusive relationships. I was not drinking but was smoking pot. The stranger seemed to us to be a messenger from God. We thought about the new dress and suit, the money spent for the chapel that afternoon and came to the same conclusion. Let's do this!
Our less fortunate guide led us to a store front chapel with a "House of Hope" sign hanging above the door. We were both worn out and felt dirty from the flight and endless running around. A tiny Filipino man came from behind a wall and we were awe struck. He had the most amazing blue eyes either of us had ever seen. It was like he could see right into your soul and his gentle voice was hypnotic in its' delivery. He explained the church's mission and we needed no more convincing.
We picked out a version of the "Wedding March" and Squeaky grabbed a tattered bouquet from a pile on a shelf in the corner. I was dressed in jean shorts and a tattered Walter Payton jersey, she in a jean skirt and a plain blouse. We were dressed for traveling, not marrying. We had each other. Fashion and glamour were tossed out the window with all the money we spent on the formal service set for later that day.
The little man with the radiant eyes cued a helper and we began down the aisle. We gazed at each other adoringly and laughed at our spontaneous decision. We stopped at the alter and the preacher began to read. We repeated our vows and was prayed over by the little man of God. We cried the whole time as we stood there. We reviewed our past in each others stares and clung tightly to each others hands in anticipation of a happy future. I can honestly say that I remember very little of what was said but I will never forget the grace of our tiny chaplain and the smile on my new wife's face.
By the time the ceremony was finished and we made it back to our hotel it was 4:00am. We were down for the count physically, emotionally and spiritually. We held hands and admired our Sam's Club rings. Starving, we stopped into a 50's style diner and ate cheeseburgers, fries and milkshakes for our wedding feast. The burgers were our prime rib. The fries were our double baked potatoes. The milkshakes were our baked Alaska. Our fancy clothes would remain unpacked. Our prepaid monies were lost. It was perfect and really quite special. I love taking the road less traveled, especially with my best friend Squeaky.
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