Rubber Ducky Escape From Palms Vegas

After our early scrimmage on the Tuesday of Summer League, Joel Bosh (Chris Bosh’s brother), CJ Giles, Elram, and I were looking for something to do for the night since we had a day off the next day. At around 5pm, CJ hit me up and let me know that was going on. He mentioned to me that there was “Rubber Ducky” pool party going on that night and that we should go check out how much a cabana would cost us.

We all went down there to check it out at about 6. There were people all over who were setting up the cabana’s and filling to pool with the signature rubber duckies. We first went over to the pool and grabbed all the rubber duckies we could that were marked “free drink.” We must have left with about 25 free drink duckies, but before we did, our cabana host showed us which cabana would be ours. he set us up with one at the very back of the pool where we would be right next to a bar. Boom. He told us that each bottle would run about $400, but that he could kick us another one under the table for half off. Basically, we would be set. I was excited.

We headed back down to the pool around 9pm and it was already crackin. We went back to our cabana and got the party started. The problem with the situation was that somebody invited these girls into our cabana (nothin wrong with that, usually) who proceeded to destroy our entire $400 bottle and half our ducky supply. Coddamit. 

I began to worry about our drink supply when all of a sudden, the guy who had promised us an under-the-table bottle of Grey Goose, showed up with what looked like a water carafe, but was actually filled with the promised Goose. Nobody knew what was in there except us guys who had reserved the cabana. We all enjoyed the disguised alcohol without the outside consumption and had a great time at the party. 

The party was designed to really be an early-night party, ending at midnight so that people could shower and head out to the real club for the night, so while I was lolligagging, the rest of the gang paid for the alcohol, asked if I was cool to catch up, and left. Of course I was cool to catch up. They left and I stayed back a few minutes onger.

Right before I was ready to leave, they guy who hooked us up walked over to me and asked if I was planning on paying for the alcohol. I told him that it had already been paid, that I had watched the other guys sign the credit card receipt. 

He told me that they had paid for the official bill, but they had failed to give him the cash required for the under-the-table liquor that he cant ring up in the computer. I, being the brokest one of my whole crew, was not about to fork over $200 cash (clearly I didnt even have that much cash on me). I told the guy that I would call everyone else and work it out. 

I picked up the Blackberry and called up the guys. 

“Yo, put me on speaker,” I told CJ, “Man what the hell? Did you guys leave me here with this bill?”

Their answer seemed to be collective.

“We told you to come on! It was under-the-table, why would we pay for it?”

I panicked and hung up the phone. It now became clear that I had to plan my escape. I looked up and around and could not see the guy anywhere. I decided I would just get up and do my best to be inconspicuous (a tall order for a tall guy). I scope the exit, and slowly started to walk towards it. Each step I took seemed to be so calculated. Was I walking too slow? Too fast? Was I looking like I had something to hide? Did I look too nonchelant? 

All these thoughts were swirling through my head even though I had only taken about 5 of the 150 steps it would take to escape. You must understand that the pool was huge and the exit was clear on the opposite side of my cabana. 

I took a couple more steps when I realized that the guy was walking 4 steps in front of me, the same pace as me, with his back to me. 

I saw him look over his left shoulder. I ducked right. He then looked over his right shoulder. I ducked left. All of this happened as we continued to walk. I just needed time to think and I was starting to believe that that time would not come. 

As we finally hooked the left to go to the home stretch, I had an idea. I figured I would enter the restaurant because there was a direct entrance to the restaurant from the pool. The restaurant must have another exit to the lobby of the Palms Place hotel and thus an exit to the parking lot and back to the Palms. 

The guy kept it moving right past the path to the restaurant while I took a left, keeping the same pace, heading to what appeared to be the promised land. But, right when I hooked that left, as if he had been in this situation many times before, the guy took off running toward the exit. Right then I realized that he was going to go cut me off at the resturant exit, which must also be in position to see the regular Palms Place exit. 

I turned right back around, this time not looking back or worried about pace and walked right back in the direction I had come from.

The guy must’ve still been indoors as I turned the right, nearly tripping over people and duckies on my way all the way back past our cabana. I remembered that there was an emergency exit on the side of the building that I accidentally discovered earlier while searching for the bathroom. I hightailed it over there.

I barrelled through the “alarm will sound” labeled doors and didnt look back. They led out to the street, but in the middle of a ton of bushes. I stayed low, hunching over and wading through the bushes down Flamingo Street, all the way back to the Palms.

When I finally got back I celebrated, met up with the guys and went into Moon. It couldnt have turned out better. Boom.

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