Friday, January 28, 2011

The Fremont Street Experience and Deep Fried Oreos

We escaped the glamour of the main strip and chose to kick it old school in downtown Las Vegas on Fremont Street




Instead of a youthful crowd in the casinos I would normally see at, for example, the Bellagio, I was running into grandmas with canes, middle aged people who were revisiting the Vegas they knew from when they were in their early twenty's.  On Fremont there was live bands that attracted groups of strangers, and although they may have been rusty, these folks showed that they still knew how to party.  


Being the youngest crowd there we demonstrated that we were keeping the classy party scene alive.  Sauer, Smirnoff Iced Exline.  (If you are unaware of how the game works you can click here to learn the rules)  Here he is on one knee taking down the white sugar drink like a champ.  



On Fremont street we were in our natural element.  Behaving the way that we did on the main strip would not have been the same as it was in Downtown.  It was hard to be seen as weird in a crowd full of weirdos.  We behaved as we would at any blade session.  Instead of bottle flipping we were cone flipping.  Here's the session...








After the session, Kruise and Nick found phone books and did what most would think was impossible.  They ripped them in half. 







What happened next... well some things in Vegas need to stay in Vegas. 


After the phone book ripping, we got to enjoy the big screen t.v. on the ceiling, as it played classic rock with music videos that were psychedelic, a hippies dream that came a bit later than they had hoped for.  




After walking up an down the street, I saw a sign as intriguing as a pretty girl, that I had to meet.   


We waited in line at the hot dog place, with a sassy black woman taking orders.  When it was my turn, I was carded, "you have that young face" she said, as I ordered my deep fried Oreo.  Behind me inline was a man with white hair and another middle aged man, drunk, and advised that I appreciate the compliment.  I was more irritated that I was carded for ordering something non-alcoholic, but, I guess it makes sense, a deep fried Oreo shouldn't be just for anyone.  There should be a precautionary sign for how amazing and addictive this bite-sized snack is. 

 

After she realized my age, she took more orders.  I then proceeded forward through the line and when it was my turn at the cashier's to pay, I rushed her, expecting to have my food by the time I made it to this point in line.   "Where's my Oreo?"  She whipped me the "i'm busy" eye and I responded with a smile and a wink.  I saw her hard exterior, like glass, crack away, as her black cheeks began to glow red, more purple.  My order came and nothing was more worth than going through all of the sass.   


Now I wasn't sure if it was pancake or funnel cake batter that encased the crisp chocolate cookie.  Whatever it was, it was euphoric, along with the vanilla cream filling.  The sweet batter that hid the chocolatey treasure through the powdered sugar that dumped on the pastry with chocolate chip sprinkles.  This dessert was the perfect sin in Sin City.

The rest of the night as we caused debauchery up and down the street, my neck began to itch.  It was hard to concentrate on trying to eat anything else.  It was like making a quick interaction with that pretty girl that I did not get a chance to know, and all I was left with, was a name, Deep Fried Oreo.  

A.J. had separated at one point in the night.  After several text messages we re-united and to our surprise he gave the group something that was better than Vibralux Jeans to Rollerblading, a deep fried Oreo cookie with each person's name on it. 



Here is Emily and Exline enjoying it. 

After a great night of ruckus the group said our goodbyes 



and we headed back to cali.  


We drove into the sunset as we winded down from the Oreo buzz, through the purple skies.


Peace out Sin City.  Until we meet again...