Living the Las Vegas dream…

image (5)

As to Alan’s historical conundrum “Did Caesar actually live here?” The search for truth continues.

This is my account of my Best man experience number three for my legend of a cousin. Viva Las Vegas, you are a monumental slice of incredible.

Ta-ta Wales, hola U, S of A. Every one of my senses were titillated to the max by Planet Vegas. We landed around 9pm Nevada time, dropped our luggage off at the ‘Vdara’ and ‘The Wynne’ respectively and within half an hour I was attacking a ‘Half a yard’ of beer at Planet Hollywood like a new-born to a breast.

image (3)

Everywhere I looked, everything I heard, tasted and touched was a little slice of “Wa-wa-weewa”. Just incredibly barmy and magnificent. I hit the ground scampering like a toddler at a Petting Zoo. Everything is so absurdly over the top that my little brain couldn’t keep up. Just to add an extra banana skin to the weak minded and easily influenced gentleman there are no clocks anywhere. Everything is bright 24/7 and I swear they must pump oxygen in as alertness levels were Meerkat-esque. The Cocktail Waitresses were hotter than a leather convertible car seat on a mid-summer’s afternoon. You are plied with free drinks as long as you are gambling. The question “Would you like a drink Sir?” to which I replied “You bet.” Grew thin on several Cocktail waitresses throughout my week. Oh well, when in Rome.

I spent three days livin la vida loca until the Wednesday lunch time when I crashed ‘Mr Magoo’ style half way through my Club Sandwich. My body’s internal switch was turned off faster than a male lover being called their father’s name during the throes of passion. After an extended trip to the ‘Land of Nod’ in my King Sized bed in my bedroom which had a glass wall overlooking part of The Strip, I was ready to attach the wheels back on to the wagon and have another bite at the Vegas cherry, just in time for the Wedding preparation.

The Stag Do consisted of a cheeky visit to Mandalay Bay to watch an Ultimate Fighting Championship (UFC) event. Not too shabby I might add. An electric atmosphere, gifted sports people and pints of Rum made for a ruddy ace experience. The ladies ventured to a Cirque De Soleil tumbling spectacular for their Hen Do which they loved too.

IMG_1449-1

The wedding took place on the Friday in the Wynne’s wedding chapel. The atmosphere and environment were opulent and classy. The hotel wedding crew were so professional, stress free and tailored the day to the couple’s requests. The morning of the wedding was arguably the most chilled out wedding day preparation I’ve ever experienced. It was Makeover o’clock for the ladies while the Groom and I had a few steady tipples and played a little Roulette. The wedding was uploaded live on the tinternet so that the family could all watch it back home in the UK. My duties consisted of the basic formalities of looking after the wedding rings and making a congratulatory toast post wedding breakfast. Simples.

image (2)

The only negative experience I had was that I got hit on a number of times each and every night by women who am not ashamed to say were solid 9’s compared to my ‘6 on a good hair day’. “Poor old you.” I hear you say. The conversations usually took the path of “I love your British accent” “Wow you must look after yourself” “Are you going to buy me a drink” to “So, I’m $300 for the first hour then $250 dollars for each additional hour”. They were ‘Ladies of the Night’ (or Ladies of the day, it was hard to know without a clock) If you don’t weigh in, you don’t Wrestle. I had no intentions of weighing in and my self-esteem was lowered no end. On numerous occasions I was nearly caught in a trap and by the end of the week I couldn’t tell if I was coming or going when talking to women. Were they ‘Painted Ladies’ or just tipsy hot women who were lowering their standards a tad? Eenie meenie miney ‘Pro’… One thing’s for sure, I had a suspicious mind with each and every conversation.

image (4)

“You’re only supposed to blow the bloody wedding shoot.” Mr Caine offered his congratulation during the Wedding photos, no big deal. Top bloke.

In a nutshell

Planet Las Vegas is amazing. It comes at a pretty penny and if you’re not a drinker, gambler or appreciator of beautiful people then shy away from the idea. It’s a Stag haven. There is nothing you can’t do. The rule-book has been thrown out. In fact I would go a step further and say the rule-book has been buried in an unmarked shallow grave in the Mojave Desert somewhere. The Wedding Day experience was finely tuned, stress free and stunning. ‘Viva Las Vegas’.

As always if you’re a Best man, Groom, Father of the Bride, a Bride or Bridesmaid this year see ‘our services’ for speech writing services.  Have a look at some of our previous speech writing blogs

Advertisements

The Vicar is HMS Wedding’s compass through iceberg country.

My experience of weddings as Best man, Usher and guest have made me realise the importance of the ‘forgotten person of the cloth’ who can rock a wedding like a star or can be a fun sucking abyss of blandness. Here come some tales of the good, the bad and the fugly..

One vicar was as worn out as a seasoned Pendine Sands donkey at the twilight of summer. He looked like a feral version of Mr Noel Edmonds. His breath hung in the wind after every syllable like a slap of a new-born’s nappy to the face. His jowly neck and liver spotted paws told a tale of time ravaged by the stresses of endless Sabbath responsibilities, judging village fete chutney competitions and he would clearly welcome the reaper’s bony hand putting him out of his Ground Hog Day misery. He was robotically efficient in fairness. No frills yet we knew where we all stood. This category of vicar are to be appreciated as stress will be minimal. Just lay back, close your eyes and think of the green, green, grass of home.

The stereotypical jolly Vicar is still alive and preaching like a good’un. I once saw him getting stuck in an arm chair, no word of a lie. He resembled an over-sized garden snail with a reupholstered withered shell. He’s a total ‘all-star of the cloth’. On one outing I was an Usher/bouncer outside the church door pre-wedding and the vicar and I were chatting to the Bridal troop as they arrived and his concluding words to them as he opened the door to the eagerly waiting guests and Groom were “Okay ladies. Tits and teeth. Tits and teeth.” He’s the Michael Jordan of vicars. He put us all at ease and swaggered off down the aisle like a gigantic, sassy cherub. Back of the net…

On another occasion the vicar was flat out grumpy. His sense of humour was as dry as a nun’s nasty. The wedding rehearsal for me is a great time to put the Bride and Groom to-be at ease, to establish a positive environment and reinforce a tree of trust. When the vicar tells everyone to hush up and hurry up as he wants to get back home to watch the Ospreys rugby match on telly you know you’re treading water with your dad’s wellies on. I don’t think he was cuddled much as a bambino. In fact I don’t think Jesus even loved him at all. I would go as far as to say that the bearded illusionist probably thinks he is a bit of a plonker.

My favourite vicar experience came when I was a Best man. He was a ‘Fonzy’ of a guy. Reasonably young, he liked to sink a few bevies on occasion and he was not preachy in any way shape or form out of God’s man-cave. On the eve of the wedding I ran a few potential dodgy jokes past him as I knew he was attending the wedding day in its entirety. (See Best man speech example) One of which involved a hidden tattoo the bride had of a seashell on the inside of her upper thigh. Rumour has it if you put your ear against it and listen extremely carefully you could smell the sea. The vicar laughed and high-fived me. He was a scholar and a gent from the wedding rehearsal all the way through to the ‘Chicken Dancing’ wedding night finale.

In a nut-shell

If you land an easy going, all-star of a Vicar then savour every minute and count your lucky stars. I guess it’s kind of like learning to kiss when you’re young. Sometimes you’re going to bang teeth or chafe your lips with a brace and then you get a good kisser, post Cherry Drop and it’s plain sailing/smooching. Perhaps you need to experience an angry or crusty clergyman before you can truly appreciate a cracker. My only Yoda like advice would be “Patient and open you must be and a good chance of success you will have.”

As always if you’re a Best man, Groom, Father of the Bride, a Bride or Bridesmaid this year see ‘our services’ for speech writing.

Coming up

’24 Hours’ – 1 full turn of the earth on it’s axis. Most days blur into the other 364. Other days will be remembered until you gasp your last breath. The Wedding day through the eyes of the guys.