I’ve never had a one night stand– as I joke on stage, “I’m not just gonna give this away.” It’s not that I’m so virtuous, however, I just always considered intimacy, well, rather intimate and would prefer to know someone before getting naked in front of them.
Well this week I’m performing in Las Vegas, home of the one night stand, which always reminds me of the night here 9 years ago when I decided to throw caution to the wind and live a little. It hardly went smooth yet remains one of my favorite stories.
It was the first time I’d ever performed in Vegas and the experience amazed me– my name in lights on the Strip and a packed theater every night, each audience better than the last.
The two other comedians on the show had worked Vegas before and, as the week progressed, I noticed they looked rougher every night. By the third evening I had to ask what they’d be doing.
“We went out with some women who were at the show last night.” one shared.
A bit naive and genuinely confused, I asked how they met women from the show? We had our own entrance to the theater which led right to the green room and we left the same way. When would you interact with the audience?
“When you get off stage go hang in the lobby.” the other comedian advised. “Women go to the bathroom or out for a smoke and they’ll see you.”
I didn’t understand. “You just stand there?” I asked.
“You just got off stage, they’ll be excited to talk to you.”
The whole thing sounded odd– these people just paid money to see you perform and now you’re trying to pick them up? They must have read my dubious look because they assured me,
“They’re in Vegas, they want to have fun. And what’s more fun than hanging out with the guy that just made them laugh?”
While hardly my style, I couldn’t help but feel like they were having a better week than me. I spent my days practicing jokes in my hotel room, telling them that night, then going back to my room to fix the ones that didn’t work. And if I had a really good show I rewarded myself with chocolate cake.
That night I lied in bed and started to feel envious— am I too conservative and missing out? Those guys were out living while I planned ways to fund my 401K. That’s it, I would try their little game.
The next night, I was the second comedian on the show so while the last guy performed I walked out and stood awkwardly in the lobby. I felt like an idiot. After a few minutes, an older man passed by and said “good show”. I thanked him. Then, a striking woman emerged, locked eyes and started marching right towards me. Holy cow, I thought, it’s on!
“Excuse me” she purred (at least in my mind it was a purr).
“Yes?” I answered in a ‘who me?”’ sort of way.
“Where is the bathroom?” she asked.
My world crumbled. I pointed her in the right direction and promptly retreated to my hotel room– but not before grabbing a consolation chocolate cake.
By the next night, however, I felt reinforced. Almost challenged. If those knuckleheads could meet a woman, so could I. After my performance, I planted myself in the lobby and within 5 minutes a young blonde woman emerged. I didn’t get my hopes too high.
“You were great.” She said.
“Hi!” I shouted, completely unsmooth and unable to contain my excitement.
We started chatting. Her parents were divorced and her father brought her to Vegas for her birthday and, while she appreciated his effort, she’d become a little bored hanging out with her dad and suggested we get a drink in the lounge after the show.
“Of course!” I shouted.
Well that was easy…
After the show, I arrived in the lounge to find her sitting… with her father? Apparently she meant the three of us should get a drink. Leave it to me, the only guy in the world who could pick up a woman in Vegas and wind up meeting her dad on the first date.
Even worse, her dad looked mean– a blue collar guy with a steel worker moustache and rough hands. Despite being 6 inches shorter than me I felt tiny when he shook my hand. He looked like he could eat me.
Thankfully, he was pleasant– even flattered that “the guy from the stage” took time to join them. We ordered a drink and made polite conversation when suddenly I felt a toe running up my leg. I froze. After confirming it was the daughter and not the dad (whew), I still thought ‘what is she doing? Your dad is right there!’ (Not to mention, who does the foot up the leg thing in real life? I’ve only seen that on sitcoms.)
Instinctively, I pretended my phone was buzzing– a move I pull to get out of uncomfortable situations.
“Oops, I have a call!” I announced.
Only when I reached for it wasn’t there. Now I had a legitimate mission.
“Um, I mean I left my phone in the theater.”
I excused myself and Ms. Footsie followed, saying she needed to use the restroom. Only she trailed me right onto the elevator.
“You’re adorable.” She announced before launching her lips at mine.
I half-heartedly kissed back, more confused than anything by the turn of events.
“It’s my birthday.” she reminded me. “And I want to have sex on the roof.”
I laughed for about 15 seconds, another go-to nervous reaction, while she hit the top button on the elevator. Holy crap, she’s serious.
A thousand thoughts raced through my head— is this normal? What about your dad? Can we even get on the roof? I decided to go along with the moment in the name of 401K’s.
When the elevator doors opened my suspicions were confirmed— we were simply on the top floor of the hotel. There were no “This Way For Sex On the Roof ==> ” signs. She started checking the unmarked doors– housekeeping closet, ice machine… then she found an external fire escape enclosed by a rusty cage. It wasn’t the roof but was technically outside and if you pressed your face against the grating you could see part of the strip (and probably catch hepatitis). It was hardly romantic which made her next sentence that much more surprising:
“This is perfect.”
She then pulled a move I’d never seen before but would experience twice that night. Pinning her back against the cage (um, ouch?) she climbed up my legs with hers, wrapped them around me like koala bear and started kissing me. She was wearing a skirt so things got pretty heated in a hurry. Morals be damned, I’m about to have a one night stand.
But before anything happened, she stopped.
“How long have we been gone?”
10 minutes, I guessed.
“I have to check on my dad…” she said with a look of concern.
I assured her we weren’t gone that long but she seemed suddenly intent on getting back down. Confused, I followed her to the elevator.
We found him at a nearby blackjack table, very drunk.
“Hey…” he acknowledged us with little interest. He looked like a man who wanted to drink and gamble. We watched a few hands.
“We’re gonna wander around.” my beau finally informed him.
He turned and shook my hand, “Make sure she gets home safely?”
Are you kidding me? Did he just leave his daughter with a stranger in Vegas? I mean, I’m as respectful as they come and I just almost had sex with her on a fire escape.
“Looks like he’s doing fine.” I assured her as we left, hoping she had another fantasy in mind.
Her mood had changed. “He’s not supposed to be drinking.”
My heart sank. From rooftop rendezvous to babysitting dad? Vintage Somerville. But I instantly shifted to gentleman mode— a far more comfortable role.
“How do you want to handle it?” I asked.
“He knows he’s not supposed to drink, there’s nothing I can do.” she said and walked away listlessly.
We wandered outside. She talked about her family and I did my best to just listen. I seem to have a knack for ending up in these kinds of conversations and knew she simply wanted company. We roamed the Strip for a while, watching the crowds thin as it got late. Finally, the cocktails and desert air started to hit me and I was ready for bed. Without announcing it, I began walking towards her hotel, deciding that getting her there safely fulfilled my moral obligation.
When we got to the lobby I was relieved to finally be done with the night.
“Well, I should get some sleep.” I told her.
She looked surprised by the news and unwilling to let things end. She even turned apologetic, admitting the night had been strange but she wanted to make it up to me.
“I never got my birthday present.” she smiled in an unsuccessful attempt to recapture our earlier glow.
I tried to put a button on the evening. “Look, this was quite a night but…”
That’s when she leaned in and did some sort of kiss/tongue/bite thing to my neck I will never forget. It sent chills down my back all the way to my toes and I swear one of my knees partially buckled. Like that, I went from exhausted to fully attentive and ready to follow this woman anywhere.
She smiled and took my hand. “The elevator.”
We marched to the elevator and she hit the top floor, assuring me it’s a slow ride. Immediately, it was a porn scene. She pulled that same koala move, pinning her back to the wall and climbing up my body– this time simultaneously unbuttoning her shirt. In the upper corner of the elevator I noticed a security camera and, in a move I still wonder if I’ll someday see on TMZ, I smiled and gave it a thumbs up.
Within 10 seconds her skirt was pushed up around her waist and her bra fell to the floor. She started to unbutton my pants… when I heard the “ding” of the elevator. Whoa, what happened to our long ride? The doors opened and in a panic we retreated to opposite corners of the elevator and tried to cover up.
I looked out and realized we hadn’t gone anywhere– you need to insert a room key for the elevator to move. We were still in the hotel lobby and someone was walking towards our car.
As the lone figure boarded, my jaw almost hit the ground. It was her dad.
He stumbled onto the elevator containing his half-naked daughter and the guy he asked to watch her. Completely drunk, he took a few seconds to even register who we were.
“Wha… what’s going on?” he mumbled.
It was dead quiet and I wondered if my life was about to end.
“There you are!” I shouted in a panicked fury. “We’ve been looking all over for you!” I continued.
“Wha…” he appeared confused so I kept talking as fast as I could. “We couldn’t find you, so went looking around the strip, then we thought you went back to the room…”
The faster I talked the more flustered he looked.
“What happen yer face?” he said, looking at his daughter.
I looked over and realized my beard stubble had left her face all red and irritated. Worse, her shirt was not even buttoned. She was just holding it closed.
“I think she had an allergic reaction.” I said, “Weird fish. We were looking for some medicine… and you. But here you are and there she is and thank God we’re all ok!”
At this point I was shouting, anything to prevent him from deciphering the evidence.
He inserted his key and the doors closed. Crap, now I’m trapped.
The elevator ride felt like an eternity. Nobody spoke and I began looking at the security camera apologetically in hopes someone was watching in case I needed help. He looked at me, then her. He started to say something then stopped. Fortunately, I think he was most concerned with getting to bed. At long last, I heard the glorious ding of their floor. She got off first, then he turned to me.
“Thanks for getting her home.” he said.
“Of course…” I responded as the doors closed.
And I was gone.
With my ‘never had a one night stand’ record still in tact, I walked back to my hotel as the sun rose on the Strip. I had one more night of shows and wondered if she’d stop by. She didn’t. And I never hung out in that lobby again.