"Viva Las Vegas" or "The Rum Bungle" I just got b…

“Viva Las Vegas” or “The Rum Bungle”

I just got back from my Vegas vacation with my mom. This was the first time I was able to go all out and totally splurge on my mommy. She didn’t have to spend a cent, except for her gambling (get your own bankroll woman!). Although I was incredibly happy to take her on a vacation (it was her birthday), it made me feel a little old to be at a point in life where I can do nice, semi-extravagant things for her.

The first two days were fun, but I was unable to unlax ™ because I still had work on the brain. The third day was much better–it’s amazing what two hours by the pool followed by two hours in the spa can do. In fact, I was feeling so good about life I decided to stop by The Rum Jungle at Mandalay Bay to visit Diane, a cocktail waitress and the most stunning woman I’ve ever seen. Click here, here, and here for background info on Diane (look for the meaningful subtext). Most people would find her cute and would totally dig her body, but her seductive lips, sexy birthmark, and those irresistibly cute ears entranced me.

First of all, I was amazed I was actually going to see her. I vowed never to go The Rum Jungle ever again after my last pathetic attempt(s) at getting her attention. I was feeling bold though! The sun was shining. Birds were singing. Why shouldn’t I go see the most captivatingly beautiful woman I’ve ever met? So I get to the club and basically�I became me again. The nerves were totally racked and I had problems walking straight�without the benefit of being drunk.

Two laps around the club and I finally plant myself in the section she’s covering. She doesn’t notice me, which just magnifies my anxieties. So I try to light a cigarette and pretend it’s a task of monumental importance, but I keep dropping and fumbling with the matches. All of the sudden there’s a flame in my face and there’s Diane lighting my smoke. She gives me the “where have I seen this clown before?” look before walking away. My initial reaction was, “this can’t be a good sign.”

She finally gets to take my order and I ask for two sangrias. She drops off the incredibly effeminate looking things (heck, they’re wine glasses with lots of fruit) and I say, “Hey, do you remember me? I wrote you a card last November and all that?” Her face lights up and she says, “Oh my God! I do remember you sweetie!” And further conversation ensues.

As she goes off to get my change she congregates with three other waitresses. Two of them look at me and giggle while the third gave me a sad puppy-dog-look, which confused me a little. Every couple of minutes Diane and I would chat and whenever she caught me staring at her while she was working–which was quite often–she’d flash me a heart-piercing smile. The night was taking a turn for the better�or so I thought.

One of the gossiping waitresses comes up to me and says, “I read the card you gave Diane! It was the sweetest thing.” I’m thinking, “My God, did the entire staff read it?”

Several minutes later another waitress stops by and says, “You made Diane so happy that day! I wish some guy would do something that sweet for me.” This made me think, “Why yes, the entire staff did read the card.”

My legs were starting to get sleepy so I went to the bar for my next drink. The bartender serves me up another femme cocktail saying, “This ones on the house Casanova.” Ach.

Finally, the last of the waitresses–the one who gave me the sad look–tells me, “Hey, you’re a really sweet guy, but you should really talk with Diane about some stuff.” This gets me intrigued as to what form of rejection will soon follow.

Diane gets a short break, which she spends with me, and we’re having a fun conversation for about five minutes. Then I finally ask, “So, is there anything new or exciting in your life?” She gives me a look that totally foreshadowed my impending heartbreak and says those three magical words: “I’m married now.” Gah. I think I masked my shock quite well and chatted enough to fill a few more minutes until she went back to work.

Two more drinks later I hastily wished Diane farewell and ended up in a lounge�drowning in merlot�listening to a Rod Stewart cover band�musing about how all the pieces of my life are finally coming together.

One of the (increasingly) rare times I finally muster enough courage to talk to a girl I’m attracted to and she’s married. Go figure.

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