We had to be at the K-Drag International at 5AM for the damn 7AM flight,
 so we ran out of steam soon after the Friday night bus ride and crashed early.
 Crashing early is a sin in Vegas, but they forgive sins there, ...so what the hell...

 But crashing early means waking up early. We woke up at 4:30 and couldn't
 get back to sleep so we did what any couple approaching 50 would do.
 Since we'd just left a tequilafest, and had another, bigger one to attend in 15 hours,
 We decided to party like teenagers - after all, this is the nastiest, greediest, gaudiest,
 hedonistic, most self-indulgent city of crass wantonism and perversion in the world,
 ...or so I was told by the people who refused to consider attending this Fest.

 We woke a second time around 1:30 in the afternoon. Perkel called from the lobby,
 asking where the pre-party was so I told him we were about to raid a snack bar
 and we'd be right down.  Walking thru the casino, I see a familiar face - The Brew!
 Intelligently, I said, "Hey, I know that Dude!"  We invited The Brew to join us for lunch.

 So we met up with Perkel and the four of us went to The Rio sports bar, whatever it's called.
 I had a cheeseburger and a beer, (to cleanse the palate) Perkel had a Philly steak, I think.
 Mrs. Bart ordered a Turkey Club that could've fed an entire Catholic family and The Brew
 declined to eat so he was the point man on the conversation while we chewed.
 We talked about the usual, will Gore run, when will President HappyCrack invade Iraq, etc.
 I picked up Perkel's tab, figuring that would make us even for the five years he's been
 spending real money to host the most useless political site on the web.

 As it got close to 3, we wanted to get back to the room for some rest, but there was
 no time because the Visa-busting Masquerade Suite was open at 3 for our edification.
 We went to room 6028 and liked what we saw. We had the end room on the East side
 of the Rio which faced The Strip. The room was the shape of half a pie, giving us a
 180-degree view of the most colorful city in the world. So we moved some furniture
 around, set up the CD player that would be playing the BartFest soundtrack, etc.

 I took a quick shower, then I decided to join The Rio's Boot Camp program.
 Realizing we hadn't yet located our cache of the South's Finest Chocolate, I wrestled
 with The Rio staff for an hour until they located our luxury chocolate. It was in their cooler,
 which was in the banquet section of the Faraway Pavilion which was 3.5 miles away.
 They asked me if I needed any help getting the chocolate upstairs and I said, "Nah,"
 but, ...counting the anti-melting agents inside the box, it weighed 35 pounds.

 So I threw the 35 pound box on my shoulder and started my 3.5 mile trek back to the
 Masquerade Suite. After about 20 steps, the box got heavy so I switched to the other shoulder.
 Of course, I have the strength of Hercules, but the box was big and square, (you've probably
 seen a similar shaped box) and handleless, so it wasn't the easiest kitty to corral. So every few
 hundred steps had me hurling the box to the other shoulder - and there was only 3 more miles to go.

 An hour later I made it back and we opened the box to see a sign that said,
 "After opening box, allow chocolate to warm to room temp before eating.
   Allow up to twelve hours."

 Yikes!
 The Party of the Year was starting in just over two hours, so I used my head
 and held each box under my arms until it warmed up enough to eat (just kidding).
 Time was running short, and I had to take another shower, but The Rio was
 having water pressure problems, so I began to pray:

"Dear Lord, I know I've denied you for so many decades, but I'm about to create
 a really bad first impression on a hundred new friends, so could you please arrange
 for The Rio to have some water pressure between now and 6 PM?"

 He came thru, like I knew He would.

 So I scurried back to the Masquerade Suite and met with PatriciaLV, my Koresh-sent buddy.
 Some people were already there, anticipating the Party of the Year, so we asked them to
 come back closer to 7 while we blew up the balloons and hung the Donkey's ass on the wall.
 We did this, we did that while PatLV was making signs and organizing stuff - thank you, Pat!

 The only thing left for me to do was get back to our room and grab the bags of political pins
 that were originally provided for the First Fest by adamclymerfanclub.com

.....

 Like the Smirk administration, I was detremined to correct alllll previous mistakes.
 I also grabbed a few hundred  bartcop.com  stickers for distribution.
 Last thing, I turned a bottle of Jack upside down for three second - something to
 calm my nerves so I could better schmooze with the smartest liberals in America.

 By now it was near 7, and the good people were starting to file in.
 Here's where I made the second-biggest mistake of the night.
 The way things were set up, people would come in the door and say,
 "Hi, I'm Steve, Number 21 on the list," and so I'd find Steve on the long list and
 then I'd shoot back with, "You owe me money!!!"   I could've handled that better.

 Of course, I blame others for my behavior.
 Without Christian, Mrs. Bart or PatLV's constant supervision, I was left with no
 overriding female voice to tell me to knock it the hell off - sorry about that!

 The good news was - once the money was out of the way people gravitated to
 the bar that had free liquor - but more on that later.

 So here comes the gang!

 This isn't everybody who attended, but the people I remember by sight
 are the ones who I spilled a drink on, or had to apologize to, etc.

 First I remember Jerry and Mickey from Carson City.  Mickey had said the funniest
 thing last night at the Hard Rock's Pink Taco. We were speaking, and someone
 leaned in and, seeing her silver necklace, said, "Oh, how lovely your necklace is!"
 and Mickey shot back with "...ten dollars at Wal-Mart!"
 Her timing was Letterman-esque.  I still laugh when I think about that.

 Next was Bana and Nick the Brit of BartCop Books!
 (Nick is currently in the states and unable to update his page). Nick's gal pal Bana is
 an Okie, so we exchanged the secret Okie handshake that nobody knows about.

 Then I re-met the lovely Carol in her black lycra miniskirt and snakeskin trimmed stretch top.
 Woo Hoo!
 We're in Vegas, baby!
 Carol was turning heads all night.

 Ray, the Colemeister, offered to help, and Koresh knows I always need help.

 Next in was Regan from LA, close personal friend to President Bartlet (you've seen the pictures.)

 Kevin politicalstrikes.com Cunningham was there with Mrs. politicalstrikes.com!
 People were asking for Kevin's autograph, plus he donated a box full of CDs featuring
 his most excellent toons which raised about $80 towards expenses - thanks Kevin!

 Did you know Kevin has penciled for Superman comic books?
 That's why his lettering looks so damn professional - because he's a damn professional letterer.

 Then I met Steve, the official BartFest photograher and his video-handling wife!
 First look at the BarFest Vegas slideshow!
 http://www.thecapturedimage.com/LV-site/index.htm      Thanks to Steve!

 Next up was famed cartoonist The Wolf, from northwest Arkansas.
 We exchanged the secret Arkansas handshake that nobody knows about.
 The Wolf drew a toon right before our eyes in just minutes.

 Rude^Boyee from MIRC chat was there - we cabbed to The Taco the night before.
 Rude!!     He's from Minnesota, I don't know their handshake. I should ask Isaac.

 I met John from annslanders.com (cough) but I might be missing something in that URL.
 I also met awolbush.com  - ha ha, I got that URL right!

 Sidebar:
 You've heard others say it, and it's true - the whole room was jam-packed with  people who know
 the current administration is an illegal fraud. We had a great time kicking President Moron around all evening.
 All Bush jokes were funny that night.  It's hard to describe the commaraderie (check my spelling!) of knowing
 everyone you see agrees with a great majority of your political ideas. You should attend a fest, sometime.

 Jim Higdon - I got a real kick out of meeting him.  Jim had that sly smile on his face the whole weekend,
 like he knew something I didn't (as is the usual case). But then, he was hanging with Agent 007 Isaac
 a lot that weekend, so there's no telling what kinds of mischief those two were getting into.

 By this time, RJ and Perkel had each set up laptops, and were live chatting with the gang of couldn't-comes
 in what seemed to be a record-breaking crowd. I forget now, but I seem to remember 40 or more people
 in the chat room, asking how the party was going and who was drunkest and who was putting hands on who, etc.
 If anyone (MasterBen?) kept a copy of that chat, could you send it to me?

 I met Norma, the lady who distributes Gene Lyon's column. She'd driven from San Francisco in her RV with her
 dogs, Smirk and Snarl.  She dropped by on her way to Albuquerque to visit an old neighbor that she's very fond of.

 I also got to meet the lovely Lynn Lyons ( no relation, probably).
 Lynn can light up the whole room with her smile - look for her in the slideshow.
 She's the one smiling.

 Then Mr. Voltai News, himself - Jim from Texas and Mrs. Volt!
 I wish we'd had more time, I would've enjoyed doing a shot of whiskey with Jim.

 Al and Holly were there!

 ...and then there was Tommy Mack!
 Tommy's in the LA music/radio scene, and he didn't look like he was from Oklahoma...
 We were hoping to have some time to talk radio business with Tommy, who once saved
 a Garbage gig when they blew a transistor or something playing one night in Dallas.
 Woo Hoo!

 The show must go on!
 Tommy, we'll talk radio business real soon!
 We must make BartCop Radio a reality, because America's future may depend on it!!!

 I also got to meet the entire Matthews family, there were four of them at least!
 Vixen and her husband (sorry I didn't get many spouse names - I tried to memorize
 the names on the guest list, but many said, for instance, "Vixen & husband")

 Palmer from chat!

 What can I say about Palmer from chat? Friday night during the Magic Bus ride, he was all
"Bart, have some more Gran Centanario Anejo from my bottomless flask!"
 We became fast friends.  Then Saturday at the Party of the Year, he had this
 semi-maniacal look on his face as he presented me with a heavy, white bag.
 And I'm all, "Dude, you can't give me that, not here!" but it wasn't what I thought.
 It was more tequila!
 Palmer gave me a childproof bottle of Gran Cent to take home!
 Woo Hoo!

 I say it was childproof because just try to get some tequila out of that bottle. After each shot,
 you have to put the penile cap back on the bottle and re-break the bottle's hymen - it's a strange process.
 Good tequila, but tough to retrieve after 15-20 shots.

 We also met The Novaks (no relation, probably).

 Then I turned around and there she was - Marty from E!!!
 Like Palmer, Marty was bearing frankencense and myrr, but you'll have to wait
 until after the election before I can discuss any kind of details about that.

 Thank you, Marty!
 Marty's a real trooper!

 Like a lot of people suffering thru the Bush depression, she didn't have a lot of extra cash
 to be throwing away on some bonehead website party hundreds of miles from home,
 but she has history with Las Vegas and couldn't pass up a chance to see the old gang.

 Houston was there, but I can't remember if he drove or took the skateboard.
 Bob, my good friend from atwitsend.org was there with a big smile.

 I also met No-Dak from the chat room.
 No-Dak!!

 There were so many others ...where are my notes?

 I know it's wrong, wrong, wrong to play favorites, but I gotta say good things about one of my
 favorite people - Bob R from Oklahoma. He drove from Oklahoma to the First Fest, asking if anybody
 needed a ride, etc.   He also volunteered to pick up people from the National Airport or BWI and drive
 them to Carville's or their hotel.  That was a damn nice thing to do and I haven't forgotten about it.
 He also contributed mightily to the cause.  Those of you with the tape remember Bob as the
 plain-spoken, Will Rogers-type of guy that you just have to like right away. Us Okies is cool.

 This time around, he drove his satellite-radio-equipt minivan to Las Vegas and contributed
 double-mightily to the cause.   He's my main man, and a pillar of  bartcop.com

 Another pillar, (and much cuter) is Debra the pilot!
 Woo Hoo!
 I got a hug from a pillar pilot!

 I didn't get to speak to Debra long enough to clarify, but someone said she was the ONLY
 woman in America qualified to fly some kind of plane. Debra was one of the lucky winners
 of the three fabulous folding box door prizes sent by http://www.harmonycedar.com
 Debra promised to fly everyone to the next BartFest for free!

 She also said there was a chance she could get hold of a 747 so we might have the
 next fest at 35,000 feet, but she wants to drink at that party, ...so I don't know...

 Joe Santos, who came all the way from Maine was a party animal!
 He told the bartender he wanted "shots."  When the bartender said, "of what?"
 Joe said "One of each."  I like Joe, he was another star of the First Tape, just like Regan and Larry
 and too many others to try to mention.  Joe suggested we hold the next fest in "Amsterdamn."

 Then there was Vegas Dave, and Mrs. Vegas Dave!
 They also were generous to offer their help, but once we started drinking, we were helpfree.

 Gens was there too, and, shockingly, he wasn't with anybody.  I can't swear that was true all night,
 but I never saw him with anyone. Gens came the entire 3500 miles from the northeast.
 Matter of fact, I wrote a poem abour him.

 There once was a Gens from Nantucket....nevermind.

 Larry the Pillar was Ringmaster of the Third Room.  (Not sure what that means, but he deserves a title.)
 Larry has helped  bartcop.com  in many, many, many, many ways.  He also has a bitchin' Mercedes,
 the kind of car you'd want to be in if, say, a drunk driver in a speeding Mustang a foot away hits a wall
 on The Strip and blows a tire, almost costing Isaac the use of his right arm.  Larry's calm stewardship
 let us get thru that crisis without having to speak with any uniforms.

 Woo Hoo!
 No jail for us!

 Who else?

 Oh, yeah, early in the night, someone asked me if smoking was allowed.
 I looked around for some cops, but then I realized that's not what he meant.
 Tobacco?  Hell no, you can't smoke tobacco at the Party of the Year!
 So they took the tobacco out into the hall, right under the smoke alarm.

Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding, ding
ding, ding, ding, ding, ding, ding...

 Officer Friendly showed up with an ax.
 He said "No more smoking in the halls," so the smokers moved to the Ladies' Room.
 The Ladies' Room was bigger than BartCop manor. It had three doors, a hot tub in the window,
 a bank of mirrors and a private room for the outhouse, so the smokers took over part of that room

 There were so many people there. And like the First Fest, much of the night was a blur even tho
 I was relatively sober.  My good friend Santoast asked why I'm always so "low key" at these events.
 Truth is, I have to stay semi-in-control at these events or people might talk!
 When we used to party with the rock band after the gigs, I'd get a little rowdy and then the next night
 all these pretty girls I didn''t remember would ask, "How do you feel today," suggesting that they
 thought I might be hung over, but the cast-iron has always been able to handle a good time.

 Sidebar:
 During the evening, partly as a way to mingle and talk to everyone, I carried around a PatLV-supplied
 posterboard with 38 squares on it, the numbers 1-36 plus 0 and 00.  It was for the group roullette spin.
 For ten dollars, you got to put your name in a square. We ended up with 50 bets on 38 squares.
 Then, right after the party broke up, we all headed down to the nearest roullette wheel for the BIG SPIN.

 Sidebar in a Sidebar:
 (These are very rare)
 In the last 30 minutes, I confess to drinking some fast shots.

 So, the party was closing down, we gathered what we didn't want to leave for The Rio.
 I told some people to take the remaining chocolate with them.
 Lynn did just that!

 Ok, so we're all meeting at the roullette wheel in 10 minutes.
 Then the mob-looking Rio Rep asked if he could speak to me for a minute.
 He said, if I didn't mind, he had orders to insert a splinterry telephone pole in my rectum.
 I said, "What the fuck!?!"

 This is where they dropped the big bomb on me.
 The Rio used shady and unethical business dealings on me, and I wasn't expecting an f-ing.
 After months of talks and negotiations about "minimums," and "plateaus" and "deposits,"
 and "gratuities" and every other damn fancy word they could think of, they f-ed me.

 These bastards knew they were screwing me weeks and weeks in advance, they just didn't
 want to drop the bomb on me until the end of the party when I wasn't my usual debating self.
 Bottom line, they charged me food and drinks for everyone.

 If you didn't eat, they charged me for your food.
 If you didn't drink, they charged me for three hours of your luxury liquor.
 If you drank bottled water or cokes, they charged me full price.
 If you weren't able to attend, they charged me for food & liquor.

 The worst part?
 There were people who couldn't afford to eat the fajitas and/or couldn't afford to drink all
 the luxury tequila you could handle, but we found out too late it was already all paid for.
 Everyone could've but the bag on The Rio for Crown, Pinch, Chinaco, Jack Black etc,
 but noooooooooooo. The Rio Casino had to screw me to get a few dollars richer.

 They could've told me WEEKS ago what the final bill would be, but they didn't want to scare me off,
 so they waited until AFTER the party was over and everyone was downstairs before they dropped the big bomb.

 Bottom line?
 I spent about $4,000 more than I expected, and they dropped this bomb between the party
 and the BIG roullette spin, so I didn't even have a chance to do battle with them.
 How expensive was it?
 Just the tax & gratuity on just the liquor was over $900, the bastards.
 I always wanted to get screwed in Vegas, but I was hoping for a pretty girl, not a mob guy.

 It wasn't a coincidence they sent him...

 NOTE:
 This is not a fund-raising plea.
 Don't send me anything because of these last few paragraphs.
 I'm just telling the story of the night, that's all.

 So, I had to sign their fraudulent telephone pole in my butt and proceeded to the roullette wheel.
 Since I'd had a few shots, I was nervous about placing this $500 bet. I was afraid I'd only
 put down $10 on a number where two people had given me $10, and then I'd owe the other
 bettor $350 out of my pocket, and my butt was already really, really sore.

 June 2003 Update
 The Rio refunded the overage and offered us "VIP Platinum" rooms for the weekend.

 But it all worked out great!
 The roullettier (I made that word up) gave the little white ball the BIG push and he gave
 the BIG roullette wheel a big-ass spin, and around and around that little fella went.
 It finally landed on 32 or 33, I think, and Allyson won $350!!

 Woo Hoo!
 Allyson loves Las Vegas!
 Someone suggested I autograph the poster of riches for her, so I did.
 I'm sure Allyson has it framed in gold and placed over her fireplace.

 At this point, the show was over, so we shook some final hands and sped away in Larry's Merc.
 It seemed to be a successful Fest, and even the $4K telephone pole didn't upset me too much.
 When you have a great memory that'll last until the Alzheimer's onsets, it's worth it, right?

 Thanks to everyone who came, and I know there were more dozens who wanted to come,
 but since we live in a country where the rulers are appointed, not elected, the economy is shit.
 If there's ever another Fest, it should be low-key, low expense, low priced and high times.

 I really enjoyed meeting everyone and funny, as with last time, EVEYBODY was totally positive
 and smiling all night. There were no obnoxious drunks, no fights, no negatives of any kind.
 It's the second time that's happened and that's cooler than the water at Gunnison.

 Thanks to everyone.

 In closing (applause) there's one other thing I want to tell you about - the highlight of the night for me.

 I met a man I really liked named Julio.
 Julio brought his lovely wife and another, non-English-speaking couple from Spain.
 (I think Western Europe was better represented than California.)

 Sidebar:
 It's a good thing I'm typing this, because I don't think I could tell you verbally.
 This is what I remember, and it's not a guarantee of what Julio actually said.

 Julio told me he was a New York City Police Commander.
 And hearing "New York City Police" kinda brings one thought to mind, you know?

 So I asked him if he played a part in the recovery effort, and he said yes.
 He told me a little about the bravery of those great men, and the grizzly job they had.
 I would imagine, (my words) next to the men who liberated the death camps in 1945,
 it was as somber and horrible duty as any group of people have had to go through.

 He said there were two giant refrigerated trucks, one at Ground Zero and one farther uptown.
 Each body part or piece, no matter how small, had to be bagged and tagged. The work was
 so grueling, they kept the shifts to two hours to make it a little easier on them.

 They had a bank of computers set up so the men could go online while on break, and Julio told me sometimes
 he'd dial up  bartcop.com  because the sillyness and goofyness (my words) he found there helped to lighten the
 mental load a little. I was very touched by that. To think that something posted on the Tequila Treehouse might
 have actually helped the heroes who were cleaning up that mess in some way was a little overwhelming for me.

 He said it was an honor to shake my hand and I almost lost it right there...

 Julio, that's probably the biggest compliment I've gotten in my six-plus years.
 Thanks for that, and a shot of Chinaco for you and every brave hero in New York.

 Still to come:

 This was only the second day of the week, and so much more happened,
 including my mini and maxi interviews with Mike Malloy.

 We also have what may be the last reports on the greatest National Parks
 before that oily bastard/thief opens them up for Halliburton to drill.

 It takes me longer to write these trip reports than the real-time events.
 Plus, there's the video that still hasn't been viewed by anybody.

 Thanks again to all who came, and especially to Julio.

 Got a Vegas trip report from September 27-28?
 Your story is important, so send it to me.
 And if it's really, really hot, like Carol's, you can be anonymous.