Most visit Las Vegas with the intent to drop some cash.  This wasn't an option for Matt or I.  Our mutual friend Nate Krause had challenged us to a cheap contest.  I'm cheap by nature and Matt doesn't like to lose, so it promised to be a good battle.  We were still keeping our receipts, but it was obvious that lavish expenditures weren't going to be commonplace.  True enough, in the previous two weeks our only extravagant purchases had been a $4 bottle of rum and three showers.

We hadn't even spent money for lodging yet and Vegas wasn't about to be an exception.  My brilliant idea was to camp in the MGM parking garage.  I knew they had video cameras, but had confidence in our stealth. 

Our Vegas night was doomed from the start.  For starters we donned the most hideous outfits $3 could buy at a Joshua Tree thrift store.  Matt sported M.C. Hammer-style, burnt sienna pants, size 13 wing tips and a shirt that was even worse.  My outfit matched, but the pants were six inches too big around the waste and six inches too short on the inseam.  A cold 40 oz. in our right hands and we were ready. 

Gambling wasn't an option and Matt wasn't satisfied to simply walk around and gawk at the casinos.  Another competition was in the works.  Instead of seeing how many ladies we could score with he challenged me to see who could be rejected by the most girls.  Matt scored a landslide victory, but it was harder than one might imagine.  At one point two girls engaged him in conversation.  Exasperated, Matt tried everything to turn them off, including showing them his many bloody scabs and broken toe.  The night didn't get any better.

All stealth was forgotten when we returned to the Nissan.  Too tired to care, the camping gear was literally thrown onto the parking garage floor to make room in the back of the Nissan.  Matt passed out before reaching his sleeping bag leaving his feet hanging out the back of the Nissan.  Matt remained in this position for the next two hours while I battled the parking garage cops.  It seemed that they didn't approve of our idea to camp in their parking garage.  Finally one of the cops threatened to arrest us if we didn't get a room.  The parking garage cop didn't scare me, but the thought of having to pay $$ for being arrested did.

Fear and loathing in the Las Vegas parking garage led to another irrational decision.  We drove to Denny's and paid for our first (and only) meal of the trip.  When the waitress woke us to take our order Matt had blood smeared across his face from sleeping on his scarred hands.  Matt's battered appearance was evidence of the debauchery our night had become.

Even though he had only three showers in the previous two weeks Matt felt that it was necessary to freshen up with mouthwash provided in the Belagio bathroom.

These girls seemed to really like us until Matt showed them his scabs.