Drinking In Your Under Wear
By Royal Hopper
People stopped to look at the man quietly sitting on the parched, sun baked bricks of a Las Vegas Landmark sipping on a cold brewed ale. Perhaps they stopped to listen to the jaunty tune he was reportedly humming to himself. Lets call this man Mickie the drunk mellow naked guy.
Perhaps they were stopping to listen to the tales of woe and adventure Mickie was relating to no one in particular or perhaps they were watching as the desert breeze gently wafted through his unkempt hair.. .. ..
Or perhaps and more likely they were caught off guard by the sight of a man quietly sitting on a planter on Las Vegas Boulevard with a brew in his hand wearing nothing but his tightie whities.. Yes this denizen of the neon jungle was drinking beer n his underwear six feet from the busiest street in Las Vegas.NV.
There is an old saying in Vegas that goes something like anything that is worth doing is better done in your underwear._ ( okay I made it up sue me )
I am sure that is what another man, lets call him Speedy the naked running guy, running down Las Vegas Boulevard in a set of dark blue skivies he was thinking as he ran with all the barefoot might he could muster about 100 feet ahead of his girlfriend who was much more modestly clad in a short skirted pajamas.
Speedy and his clothing optional cohorts jetted down the boulevard on some time sensitive mission weaving in and out of the throngs of tourists pausing occasionally to tuck in a stray body part that had flopped out of its resting place.
They dashed down the sidewalk like extras in some kind of romantic comedy run of shame back from a recent rendezvous.
The pair then continued to run up the escalator near Planet Hollywood with the guy, the younger more athletic of the two who was also less weighed down by clothing bounding up the escalator his bare feet apparently immune to the sun heated pavement and metal.
“Wait, wait,” the woman seemed to say, “we’re married you don’t have to run.” The man kept on running his long legged skivies flapping in the wind. As he ran up the escalator like a gazelle who had drunk a fifth of JD and followed it with a whole quart of Red Bull and a mouth full of prescription medication.
Maybe they just liked running half dressed down a busy Las Vegas street in the middle of the day. Who knows?
Later in the week another tattooed genius (lets call him tattooed genius guy or TGG) strode down the middle of a Sin City roadway wearing nothing but swim trunks and his late period Elvis Homage body art with a bag full of bottles of water. Strangely enough no one was buying water from the almost naked guy with the Elvis portrait on his chest At lest I think it was Elvis. At least I think it was Elvis.
It could have been Mickie Mouse or Brett Favre ..but I think it was Elvis.
Perhaps feeling that it was too hot even for swim gear _ TGG ripped the swim trunks off and continued his trek down the medians and crosswalks of the City of Sin wearing just his underwear and his tattoos.
Lastly as the week was ending I saw the underwear phenomenon arrive on intoxicated fashion deprived wings to my own little Sin City suburban subdivision. One night unable to sleep because of a combination of night shift circadian issues and reoccurring insomnia I took one of our family pets for a late night walk. As I turned the corner around on of the gated communities many theme named streets I spotted a man wearing only long legged underpants and a pair flip flops the shoes made popular in the 70s by beach combing stoners and old people.
He wasn’t walking his dog or running a quick errand sans clothing he was just out for a walk in our cozy little gated family friendly complex in the relative cool of the desert night and decoded putting on a pair of pants was just to much of a hassle..
“Who the hell needs clothes anyway.”
For whatever reason people who come to this town seemed determined to take their clothes off in impropriate moments..
Why you got me .
That’s life in the City of Sin
Rock on Sinners