Vegas Flash Review, Part II

On Thursday, we headed to the Luxor’s burlesque show, ‘Midnight Fantasy.’ Burlesque of course being the French euphemism for ‘dancing Italian b00bies.’ However, much to my dismay the usher informed us that there would be no drinks served in the theater itself, and this caused me no small amount of panic, having come in just two short days to rely entirely on alcohol for my sustenance and good humor.

So I ran to the bar and ordered a red bull, double vodka. This is the ideal drink for watching dancing Italian b00bies. And it only cost $14.50. I gave the bartender a $10 and a $5 and told him to keep the change. He rolled his eyes, which in Vegas must be a compliment, because I got it all the time, and I’m extremely charming when intoxicated.

The walkway to the theater was something close to a ¼ mile, and I was happy to have so much to drink.

From here on, however, the story takes a painful turn. Because no sooner had we sat down that some mysterious announcer said, ‘Please note that there are no restrooms in the theater, and it’s a long walk back to the lobby.’

Oh, good lord! I thought. I looked down at my drink, now nearly completely empty. I squeezed the muscles in my lower abdomen. There was a slight bit of tickly resistance to my famously small bladder. I tried to gauge how much time I had left before bursting. Maybe 30-40 minutes tops. I took a sip of my red bull, double vodka from nervousness, dropping the total to 25-35 minutes, tops.

For the next 15 minutes we listened to the entire Maroon 5 CD waiting for the appearance of the burlesque performers, who were apparently determined to torment me.

Finally, a sultry, unseen female voice asked the audience, ‘What’s your fantasy?’ as the red velvet curtains parted to reveal 6 topless women frolicking across the stage. My first instinct was to stand up and shout, ‘OH MY GOD! I CAN SEE THEIR B00BIES!’ Fortunately, I had been hardened from years of seeing this sort of thing in quality adult literature. I swigged the last of my red bull, double vodka and wiped my brow, and prepared to fall in love, as I so easily do with members of the opposite sex (and sometimes very attractive members of the same).

The problem, I was beginning to realize, was that there were too many b00bies. To be exact, there were 12 of them, of all shapes and sizes. Well, all big shapes and sizes, anyway. I tried desperately to focus on just two of them, but every time my eyes locked in on a pair, another pair would dash in front of those, winning my attention and blurring my eyes. It was maddening. I felt like an eagle trying to focus in on a flock of pigeons, a shark trying to single out the wounded in a school of salmon, a lion trying to pick out a single gazelle. But mostly, I felt like a drunk trying to concentrate on not wetting myself.

So when the sultry narrator again asked the audience, ‘What’s your fantasy?’, it took all my strength not to shout back, ‘TO PEE!!!’.

By the second act, I had to urinate so badly that I barely even noticed I was surrounded by b00bies, and rocked pathetically back and forth on my seat clutching my abdomen like an asylum patient.

90 excruciating minutes later, the nightmare was over, and I ran the quarter mile back to the lobby, where several of the dancing girls were waiting for the audience to pose for photos. And if I wasn’t in such a desperate situation, I might have stopped and said, ‘What you’re doing is wrong!’, but I don’t think they would have understood.

So all in all, if you’re ever in Vegas, be sure and catch Midnight Fantasy. But for god’s sake make sure you avoid any liquid intake for at least 12 hours beforehand.