July 30
Here was your hotel lineup for last night. Henry is the radio designation for officers working the hotel:
Henry 1 – Old Man Pilcher
Henry 2 – moi
Henry 2.5 – X-Ray
Henry 3 – Jose
The great part about this job is that you simply never know when you’re going to run into incredibly gorgeous, scantily clad, more or less naked women. Tonight it happened twice.
And all this on X-Ray’s first night in the hotel! His training officer, Bi-Bob, is on vacation (his radio designation for the night was X-Ray-1) and he was treated to hot, young babes in bikinis making too much noise in a spa suite and the more or less naked girl was found in, of all places, a stairwell.
We were busting hump from the get-go, too. I had barely started giving X-Ray the nickel tour when we’re sent to a 417 (domestic dispute) on the third floor. Jose gets there first. It takes X-Ray and I a while to arrive because we’re in the 300 wing on the 21st floor or someplace equally inconvenient, and there are no elevators in the 300 wing, so we are obliged to take the guest elevators down to the second floor, then cross over the low rise bank that goes from floors 3-12.
We turn the corner of the 300 wing and see Jose standing at the door making motions indicating he would appreciate it if we would hurry the fuck up, because evidently people are smacking each other around in there.
We get there and the door is cracked open. We knock and enter and are met by two kids, a guy, 21, and a pretty foxy blonde who turned out to be 18. There’s some stuff thrown around the room but no one appears to be hurt, and no one wants to press charges, so all we need to decide is if we’re going to let them stay or kick them out.
Then Junior gets on the horn from dispatch; he sounds like a hyena.
– Are we code four? Are we code four?
Code four means all right, OK, conditions normal. Well, no, we’re not code four. They haven’t kissed and made up yet. On the other hand, we’re not exactly in the midst of an international incident either; everything’s going to be all right.
– Henry 2, we’re under control. Not code four yet, but we’re getting there.
– Copy. We got’em separated?
It would be nice if Junior left us alone, but there isn’t much video coverage in the hotel and dispatchers are used to having video coverage in the casino, so they sometimes get antsy when they can’t see what’s going on.
– Yeah, we got them in their corners. Stand by.
Then the shift manager (radio designation eight-eight), 88TonyB and the assistant shift manager (radio designation seven-seven), 77Rick arrive, which is good. Nevada Revised Statutes are very clear on spousal abuse and kidnapping and whatnot and they know Nevada Revised Statutes better than I do.
77Rick and I take the guy out in the hall. He and his girl, who is pregnant with his kid as he would frequently point out, said the problems started when they were out on The Strip and seemed to stem from other guys looking at her and when they got back to the room she said she needs some air and he wouldn’t let her leave, which, under Nevada Revised Statutes, is kidnapping.
Since nobody needs medical attention and nobody is pressing charges and we are going to let them stay, the only thing to do, really, is to lay the hammer down. 88TonyB informs them that if there are any more problems they will be evicted, and maybe even sent to hell.
A little while later X-Ray and I move on a noise complaint at 22-202. We arrive and find the door to 22-202 lined with yellow police tape reading:
Bachelorette Party! Wild Women Inside.
X-Ray and I look at each other. I point out to him the 202 rooms are hot tub suites. We both smile.
“Yeah,” I said, nodding my head vigorously. “Cue the cheesy porn music.”
X-Ray laughed.
We knock and the door is answered by this really foxy, young brunette in a nice, skimpy bikini. Foxy in a girl-next-door-way, too. In no way fat, but it’s plain she appreciates a square meal. Her legs go all the way to the ground, and X-Ray and I are pleased to note she’s also stacked from here to Reno. I also note, professionally, of course, that there are no less than six really foxy young ladies in the room, all thoughtfully wearing skimpy bikinis. They were in town to celebrate someone’s impending nuptials. We are still not sure whose, though.
X-Ray and I walk in authoritatively. In a raw display of my authority, I hitch my pants up.
The pretty brunette asks if they were making too much noise and I purse my lips and nod solemnly to signify the heinous nature of their crime; X-Ray stands by pretending to look stern, which he’s pretty good at.
“Are these the strippers?!” a girl in the hot tub asks.
I really would like to be able to report we said, yeah, we’re the strippers, cued the cheesy porn music, and got busy, but you can’t really do that. Life doesn’t work out that well, for Pete’s sake.
I hitched up my pants again and pretended to scold them.
“You girls are pretty noisy in here.”
“But it’s Vegas bay-bee!” announced one of the girls in the hot tub.
The pretty brunette looked at me accusingly, as if that announcement solved everything. It was pretty funny.
“Yeah, what about that?” she demanded. “It is Vegas.”
I nodded.
“Good point. But as hard as it is to believe, your neighbors are trying to sleep.”
The girls pretended to be shocked. You could see it in their eyes: who the hell sleeps in Vegas? I raised my hands plaintively, showing our full support of their plight.
“I know, I know. I’m as shocked as you are. Still, though, you gotta keep it down.”
Later, towards the end of the shift, X-Ray and I are on patrol on the 16th floor and we open the door to the 300 wing stairwell and there is – and I am not making this up – a pretty young lady wearing only a short t-shirt and carrying a Monte Carlo hand towel. She’s facing away from us and she turns around when the door opens and while it is plain she is not entirely sure where she is, she does nothing to cover up.
Stupid question of the year follows:
“Uh, ma’am, are you all right?”
Of course she’s doing great, she’s standing naked in the stairwell of the Monte Carlo in the middle of the night. Who wouldn’t be doing great? Not only that, she looks rather out of it, too, as if she’s on something. In a few seconds though, she magically gets her bearings back.
I asked her if she was a guest of the hotel. She said yes. Under normal circumstances, you’d ask if they had an ID but since she was naked it was unlikely she did – at least any ID that the Monte Carlo Security Department (MCSD) accepted – so we asked what room she was in and she said 515. Monte Carlo doesn’t have a room 515 though. We have 115, 215 and 315’s on each floor, but not 515. I offer various alternatives, but she’s insistent she’s in room 515. Then it hits her:
“Oh my god, this is the Monte Carlo! I’m staying at the Boardwalk!”
The Boardwalk is next door – at least until it’s imploded – and home to the absolute worst buffet on The Strip. This is mitigated somewhat by the fact it is open 24 hours.
We can’t stay in the stairwell forever, so I give her my shirt, and X-Ray and I escort her to the hotel security office, which happens to be in the 100 wing of the 16th floor. There’s a degree of privacy there and a chair for her to sit in. Eventually, we get a hold of the girlfriend she’s staying with. She’s in room 515 at the Boardwalk with one of the guys they had hooked up with at Coyote Ugly next door at New York New York. The guys were staying at the Monte Carlo and she had ended up here after they had paired off for a night of sexual intercourse. Exactly how she had ended up naked in the stairwell wasn’t entirely clear, though finding naked people in the hall is not unprecedented, usually because they mistook the bathroom door for the front door (they’re at right angles to each other) and don’t have their key on them. She had no idea of the name of the guy who picked her up, so we couldn’t retrieve her clothes and eventually, her friend came by with some clothes for her.
X-Ray really enjoyed his night in the hotel. Poor guy probably thinks this kind of stuff goes on every night, though.
“Boy, Gaylon, that was fun,” he said as we’re heading back to the briefing room. “I hope I’m up here again tonight.”
Tomorrow’s Entry
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