I’ve celebrated five different birthdays in Vegas, and every year has been better than the last. This year, I had friends in from Los Angeles, Fresno, Seattle, Minneapolis and New York City to celebrate.
My group of 50 headed to Haze Nightclub where we were guided to our three tables left of the DJ booth. Once the party shifted from the sipping-on-cocktails-and-quietly-chatting phase, people started dancing on the booths with glow sticks in hand, whacking guests that walked by. One of my friends jumped on another friend’s shoulder until security made her get down – and she promptly slipped on her rear. She wasn’t the only slipping that night. When a Haze employee in a cow costume went on stage to spray the crowd, his hooves fell out from underneath him, landing him straight on his back.
When I get a little liquid courage in me, I like to make my presence known. I thought about getting up on stage, but stopped myself when a tourist beat me to it. She was told to get down. When she refused, the music stopped and the DJ yelled at her as the crowd turned to stare. Lesson learned. Haze presented with me an amazing cake decorated with my Agent 21 picture. The entire staff walked through the club with the laser lights while the DJ announced my birthday. We partied until the wee hours, going through a mere 20 bottles.
The party kept going Saturday at Liquid Pool Lounge. Our cabana fit 35 survivors from the night before quite nicely. It was over 100 degrees, and we kept cool with rounds of pitchers and bottles as we took over the private pool in front in our cabana. I experienced my first champagne shower when the staff surrounded the pool, shaking up then bottles of bubbly to spray and shouting “Champagne Fire Drill.” A group of guys must have bummed they didn’t get in the action, because they purchased three magnums of Dom Perignon to spray each other with. Total alcohol abuse.
Toward the end of the day, the pool’s director of marketing came over with my birthday poster that had been at the entrance. My guests signed it so I could add it to my collection. One of my girls came running up to sign, and I noticed she was wearing a tutu that she didn’t have before. I asked her where she got it. She looked at me sheepishly, “Um, I found it.” As I was walking out I heard security tell the doorman no tutus were allowed to leave the pool. Busted. The doorman stopped me to ask how I got the poster, saying I couldn’t leave with it. I said, “I’m Agent 21.” “Oh! I’m so sorry miss.” I laughed and told him it was OK. It’s hard to recognize me without a face.