2...
	It all started on a Wednesday night, at the Belmont Inn. Myself and 2 cohorts were slinging back incomprehensible amounts of liquor. By the time we reached the Bloody Mary's, it swelled up like an uncontrollable spasm or involuntary twitch. The premonitions curled up our spines and we had to get the fuck out of Portland. The alcohol was merely a catalyst to propel us out of that horrible rut. Vegas was her name, and even though it was so cliché and surreal, it had to be done and done right. The rest of the evening was spent restlessly as my cohorts were fast asleep. I propelled myself through some state of lucidity, similar to sleep but not quite as regenerating. 8am rolled around and Eric was off with the hazy recollection that we had decided to jaunt off to Vegas. He spent the rest of the next few hours mustering up a deep green, four door, American, gas guzzling beauty of a land shark. As this took place, we threw the essentials together, gathered up a plethora of herbal and not so herbal stimulants, armed ourselves with a multitude of supplies, and collected our final druthers as we awaited the land shark and its bounty. By 11am Laura, Eric, and I hurled ourselves into the shark and were delayed on route by some nourishing bits and a few blinks of the eyes. What was to fill the next umpteen hours could be anyone’s guess, but we were ready to take it as it unfolded.