After a long planning process, some cancellations, a few quick adjustments, and a whole lotta b/s, Brew Swet finally made its way to the best desert mirage in the country, Las Vegas. Of course, as far as lodging is concerned, only the best would do, so we scrounged up some money and booked that two bedroom room in the highly regarded motel 6 on the south end of the strip. With the gas paid for, and the hotel room squared away, we hit the road and blasted our way to Nevada.
As far as the saying goes, what happens in Vegas, does stay in Vegas...
But the pictures follow.
Our first stop was Skate Warehouse to pick up the necessary supplies.
Along with Shane's Creature came this garter... a perfect tool for a trip to Vegas.
Shane asked about 25 minutes into the drive how much longer we had. Then again another hour later.
Good old Carls left its mark on us, but not before we left our mark on them.
Once we reached our Motel 6 resort, we picked up some ice, and got to doin what we do best.
The homie Jordan met up with us, and the crew got Swetty.
Pissin' me off.
Diablo found his Cantina.
Nick, the self-proclaimed "never gambler" Put a dollar in, bet a nickel, and quickly cashed out with this winner.
At this point in the trip, I split from the crew. My parents were in Vegas and it had been a while since I'd seen them, so I peaced out, left the homies with the automobile, and went to chill with my folks. They took the car and went with tour-guide Nick to some local spots.
Claimy found the finer things Vegas has to offer.
Blair apologized to the big guy afterwards.
This park was full of weird tranny. Our first night, about 20 minutes after arriving, Nick and I 5-0'd into one another, and Nick split his finger. Can't believe I won that one.
Blair- Smithing through one of the many smooth ditches Vegas has to offer.
Shane was on the hunt for some rails, and found a front board here.
Shane got gnarly here to with this big ollie, unfortunately a cracked board and some surely sore feet caused him to leave empty handed.
Well... not too empty-handed
This might be my favorite photo of the whole trip. This dude looks bummed.
Shane puttin' that garter to use on the homie's three mile walk to Treasure Island.
Where they found me, shmoozing the drink lady, who was tryin to hook me up with her daughter.
Made a quick booty call, and headed to the Double-Down for some music and some drink.
Shut up and drink.
The next morning found everyone pretty haggard. Example number one...
We decided a good meal would do us right, so we figured we couldn't go wrong at Denny's. THIS WAS NOT THE CASE. Our meal took 45 minutes to get there, and when it came it was all half-cooked and my meal was completely missing. I'm not one to complain about service ever, but this was by far the worst service I have ever had in my entire life. We wound up paying half our bill and leaving.
These dudes were tight though.
This guy was publicly fucking his tire.
Nick knew of a wallride over a cement tube, so we checked it out.
No comply wallride...
Claimy getting bummed on filming.
Nick came super close to this kickflip wallride... but left with a grudge.
Ollie into the Wall
This massive bank was our last spot. Blair mustered up the courage to get down, putting his face and his body on the line if he didn't make it. But he diiiiiiid.
So our last leg of our trip found us with the 166 flooded, and the 58 closed for snow. Luckily we waited for TWO HOURS and the road was cleared. One of the gnarliest drives I've made, half asleep, icy roads, and semis boxing you in the whole time. Rad.
Needless to say, we made it home alright. Nick had work an hour after we got in, and the rest of the guys had drives home to make, the following day. I slept til 5:45 the next day. The trip was insane, ridiculous, and absurd. The crew was rad, and times were good, and the brew was cold. Until next time Vegas...