Saturday night I went to a superhero costume party at The G&L Center, here in Vegas. After the invite to the event, I was unsure of what to wear. Finally, the day before, I decided: The Rawhide Kid. It sounds like a gay cowboy à la Brokeback Mtn-- and that's because he is. The character has been around since the 1950's, but in 2003 it was revealed that he likes butt sex. With men.

Below are photos of me in my costume; the 2003 incarnation of The Rawhide Kid; and a caricature I had drawn at the party. Further down, you'll find details of the drunken revelry after the party.

Once the festivities ended, I went out to the Jeep and changed into jeans and pseudo-Western button-up, keeping my hat and boots. I hadn't even begun to drink, but the fact that I got naked in the parking lot (completely) should have tipped me off to the wild events that followed. In hindsight, I was acting a bit overly-happy at the party, before the drinking began. I attribute this to some new meds the doctor prescribed to me, which I already knew left me with a happy feeling-- though that was a side effect, not their intended purpose. Apparently mixing those drugs with alcohol and jealousy is a bad idea. Of course, if you like remembering only bits and pieces of your evenings, and don't mind vomit on your shoes, then you wouldn't mind that unpleasant combination.

After changing, the friends and I walked a few hundred feet up the sidewalk to Badlands, a country-western homo bar in Commercial Center. Here I had two gin & tonics, which normally wouldn't not have such an immediate effect on my mood, but in this case it greatly enhanced my tendency to smile and be jovial. Here is a photo after the second drink. (What's with the yellow smiley?, you ask. That's the jealousy part of the equation which I overvalued, which I explain no further.) I already a bit tipsy. One of the shotguys, tired of carrying around his tray of jello shots, offered to sell me the whole lot, about 15, for $2.00. At first the group and I, minus Rei and smiley face who were at a table to themselves at the other end of the bar, declined. Then I decided to buy them and have them delivered to Rei. Another friend suggested we have the shotguy tell Rei they were from a giant drag queen across the room. Shortly after, we joined them at their table to find the shotguy offering the jelloshots to everyone around compliments of Rei, who insisted he could not take them all. It was quite funny, as everyone was cheering and thanking him. One of the happy recipients offered to take the group photo below.

Shortly after the photo, I drove over to Buffalo to meet up with Ivan. I had another gin & tonic soon after arriving, and after that my memory is very spotty. I'm not sure how long I was at Buffalo, but I do remember chatting briefly with Ivan and his ex, Jason. Presently, the rest of the friends arrived and guided me with them across the street to Piranha.

From that point on, I remember nearly nothing. I do recall having at least one other drink, and wanting to order it from Kevin, the only bartender there who knows my name. I have a vague memory of dancing... I haven't danced in 6 years or so, ever since my attempt to dance at a club in El Paso. It was pointed out to me then that I really should give up my attempts at rhythmic movement.

I then recall noticing that Rei left, and I was inquiring as to his whereabouts. Sometime afterwards-- I'm not sure how much time passed-- I wandered alone to my Jeep. I usually try parking near the pissing tree, which is a lone shrub-like tree at the edge of the dirt parking lot, so named for the most obvious reason. This night, however, it would be more appropriate to refer to it as the puking tree, as that is what I used it for. And my boots. And my shirt sleeve. And the side of my Jeep's driver's seat.

My text messages indicate that this occurred at approximately 2:50am, at which time I texted Rei, Ivthrewbuo a lot.

The three hours between that text and when I was awaked by a knock on my Jeep window are gone. I assume I was passed out. At the knock, I rolled down the window. A gentleman in coat and gloves asked me if I had been partying the night before. I said yes and asked if I was the only one left. He informed me that there were a couple of other cars in the lot, as well. (I found out later that another friend of mine was also passed out in his car just a hundred or so feet away.) The stranger asked me if I was cold. Realizing that I was, indeed, quite chilled, I cranked the engine and turned up the heat. Mr. No-name mentioned that he, too, was cold. Being a nice guy, I offered to let him sit inside the Jeep. (I think I offered, I really don't remember. It could be that he just let himself in.) He asked where I lived, and I answered, Green Valley. He mentioned that he lived near the club and needed to go to Wal-Mart to buy something for installing carpet. I asked which Wal-Mart he was going to, and he informed me that he could go to the one on the way to Green Valley.

I'm not sure how much time passed, as my next memory is of me driving on Russel Rd, approaching the Wal-Mart. The stranger in the passenger seat was fiddling with my camera and phone, which I had placed in the cupholders between the seats. He saw the photos from the party before and asked about my costume. I mentioned they were from the superhero costume party. He then picked up phone and kept asking how to view the photos on it. I said I didn't know. Eventually he found the photos, including one of my engorged nakedness. My face was not visible in the photo. He showed me the photo and asked who it was. I said I didn't know. We then arrived at Wal-Mart and I stopped in front of the door. He got out and I wished him good luck with his carpet.

After that, I recall being at home, again vomiting. Then the headache. Oh God! The headache! For three days my brain pulsed in pain, as if it was bruised behind my eyes.

I've learned my lesson-- the same one I learn after every (but infrequent) hangover.