how we became VIPs

After Mike and his sister demanded satisfaction about Steve getting left outside due to a ridiculous ID discrepancy (and bribery attempt!), we all seated ourselves at what we knew was a VIP table. It was unattended, so we didn't care about its status and sat right down. We sat there for what seemed like an eternity waiting for a waitress to come take our order. Sensing that we were being ignored because of our magical attire, Dan decided to take matters into his own hands and went to the bar to order a round of Bud Lights.

What he came back with was most certainly not Bud Lights. They gave him 12 mixed drinks, none of which were the same thing. I was totally annoyed by this and went to find the nearest employee in a suit to demand satisfaction.



I talked to the guy that Mike and Christine talked to about the bribe and began making the "look, I know were dressed like assholes, but..." speech. Yes, it has a name, because I've made that speech before, and it resulted in 2 free drinks for everyone in our party. I told the guy that we were being treated poorly because we were dressed like magicians, and we had only come to this dive for the MJ tribute. I told him that the guy whose job it was to clear tables was totally rude to us and could have just asked us to leave the table instead of being all rude about it, and then told him about the ridiculous drink order. Those drinks they gave us were seriously undrinkable. I also told him that this event was advertised to include free sparkly gloves for the ladies, and everyone we had talked to seemed to have no idea that the MJ thing was even happening at all. I concluded by saying that they were obviously trying to get rid of us because our magician attire was cramping the style of their lame nightclub, and he assured me that he wanted us to stay. Despite this:



After about 5 minutes of painting ourselves as the victims of anti-magic discrimination, he offered us a VIP table free of charge, and a free bottle if we purchased bottle service (one bottle of Captain, please!). I told him I'd have to check with the troops, and I'd get back to him. Needless to say, the prospect of VIP status and two bottles of Captain were acceptable to the rest of the group, so we accepted.



When we were seated, we were told that we would be in the front row for all the MJ action, and some bikini-clad waitresses began mixing drinks for us. Now that's VIP service.

As the night went on, we all kept asking each other and whatever employee we could flag down when MJ would be performing. It was getting later and later and there was never any sign of Jacko! I made the mistake of asking the jerk who clears tables when it started and he replied, "you're asking the wrong person." What exactly is his job if he knows nothing about anything? I finally flagged down suit guy who told me, "the show's starting late because of the MMA thing," which made no sense because the MMA fight ended before 10:30, and it was now getting close to midnight.

There was a photographer sitting next to us, and I asked him if he knew what the deal was. He said the MJ impersonator was at some other hotel and was making their way to the rathole we were now obliged to stay in due to our VIP status. He looked really annoyed, as he had arrived before we did.

I flagged down suit guy again who said, "midnight, MJ will be on at midnight." Finally. Well, midnight came and went and there was no MJ, and suddenly, the photographer was gone. It wasn't looking good.

Randomly, some MJ music started playing, and the Jacko impersonator walked out and waved to the crowd from the walkway perched in front of the multi-screen TVs. I don't know what you call those things where a bunch of TVs form one huge TV. Anyhoo, as Jacko was waving at the crowd, the DJ was all, "just 40 more minutes!" What the deuce???

We were annoyed, but were willing to wait since we had taken the trouble to go all the way down there and argue our way into the VIP section. Mike, however, wasn't having it. And he was drunk. Right before MJ came on, Mike slurred, "I'm over it! I don't even care about Michael Jackson anymore! This is never gonna happen, I'm leaving."

The second he left, like seriously, literally the second he left, Jacko hit the little catwalk thing and began dancing and lip syncing and we all danced along wildly, waving our wands around and gettin' down. Oh, remember those "front row" seats? Jacko was performing mainly on the other side of the bar, which was where the photographer went. The Hawaiian Tropic Zone is full of liars! We got no gloves, and no VIP front row access! But we did at least get to finally see some Jacko impersonator action.

Amber said Jacko was a lady, and I argued that it was a dude who looked like a lady. This continued on our Deuce ride home, which totally deserves its own post.

Again, Shoot, Gabe, Mike, or Binh, please feel free to fill in the blanks!