THE SCARY/HONEST TRUTH ABOUT ORDERING ROOM SERVICE IN LAS VEGAS!!

The concept behind ordering room service at a hotel is nothing short of amazing. You roll over in bed, grab a menu off of the nightstand, and make a phone call to the front desk. Before you know it someone’s knocking on your door with a mobile table on wheels, and everything you requested to eat or drink is right at your fingertips. It’s such an amazing idea, and I have to admit I’m somewhat of a self-proclaimed “room service addict.” I mean who doesn’t love having food delivered to you at any time of the day or night, and making a huge mess without having to clean up one bit of it? I’m Guilty! It feels like a dream come true. That is, until you get the bill.

A drunken night out in Vegas can cause some severe financial damage as far as breakfast in bed goes (or dinner, or whatever meal plan you happen to be on in your current state). I’ve pretty much come to the conclusion after 4 years of living here that room service was actually CREATED for the sole purpose of taking advantage of the drunk and hung-over tourist. I mean, why not? Come on. Give a large group of people way too much alcohol, keep them up all night, and throw in some jet lag. It’s almost a guarantee that half of this group won’t be able to function in a public place when the night ends. So a restaurant is out of the question. Everyone has to stick together so someone has the brilliant idea to order room service instead of dragging “Jeff” and “Matt” along to dine and commit to babysitting them any longer. Yay! Problem solved! It’s a logical conclusion in a drunken persons mind, and while it may seem so simple, it’s all part of a complex pattern that big hotels and casinos have seemingly perfected to a science.

They know people have to retreat back to their rooms after they’ve been partying all night. If there isn’t already a friend in your group that can no longer function, mark my words, there will be someone that loses function once back in the room, long before anyone can think of going anywhere to eat. It’s a mathematical certainty. The best chance anyone has against the temptation of "in-room dining" is the mere hope that everyone present passes out before anyone starts to think of food. One person can destroy this hope. If one individual in the room even starts talking about food, or picks up the room service menu and yells out asking if anyone else wants food, it’s a wrap. You’ll never see so many “comatose” people come back to life. The guy you thought was dead in the bathtub will suddenly reemerge and somehow be filled with energy, and eager to get something to eat. It never fails. Say everyone does fall asleep without eating? The result could be just as bad, or worse. The next morning opens up a new kind of room service gateway. BREAKFAST. Everyone is starving cuz no one ate anything before they fell asleep drunk, and if “Jeff” couldn’t walk last night he probably can’t walk this morning to go eat. Solution? Room- service! A maze of different situations with one singular outcome, and it’s no coincidence. It’s just one more example of the mind control that defines Vegas. Starting from the second we step off of the plane to the minute we board that plane to leave. The tourist area in this city is a money making machine, and the chance of stopping it isn’t realistic.

I get caught up too. Sometimes you just don’t care how much something costs if you want to eat it! I don’t. Being drunk and/or hung-over always adds to that carelessness. Room Service is insanely overpriced, but it’s the human nature this city counts on, and I respect it. Just be aware. If you’re vacationing and planning on getting hammered…eat BEFORE you go out drinking and shove the leftovers in your room fridge! Buy some snacks or something?! Drunks are usually satisfied with any type of food as long as it can be eaten, and they will be thankful the next day when they don’t get a bill that no one can pay…or let Vegas get the best of you? Just don’t be surprised when everyone wakes up $645 later wearing bathrobes in a swamp of cold uneaten food, and shit gets real.