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Pub crawling with the Kids in the Hall

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Dave Foley and Deanna Rilling mid pub crawl.

Dave Foley is a great drinking buddy. I realized this around 6 a.m. Saturday morning inside a strip club. But perhaps I should start at the beginning—a time before my head was pounding from one too many drinks, as it is right now as I write this.

Friday night, the Canadian sketch comedy troupe The Kids in the Hall performed their first-ever Vegas gig at the TBS Comedy Festival. It was everything a die-hard fan could hope for – resurrections of old characters mixed with new material to keep the comedic momentum going. A hefty dose of raunchiness was also thrown in for good measure. I laughed so hard, I thought I may have peed a little (fortunately, I didn’t).

But the unexpected entertainment portion of my evening took place after the show. My Canadian friend Robin (who now lives in L.A.) works with KITH and drove in for the show. He’s responsible for my presence at the after party with The Kids at the Pompeii Club. Actually, Scott Thompson is technically responsible for Robin, his friend Forrest, and I getting in to the party, as security was over-wielding their power and obsessively checking credentials. Scott borrowed a few laminated passes from revelers already inside and gave them to us. I felt like an underage comedy junkie using a fake ID to meet my idol.

Kevin McDonald and Deanna Rilling.

Essentially just a converted ballroom with some furniture, a bar, and mood lighting, the Pompeii Club itself was a bit of a disappointment, but the free drinks made up for it. Robin introduced me to the guys, and the imbibing began. Kevin McDonald and I nursed drinks waiting for a thoroughly inebriated chick to fall off her bar stool. (She ended up spilling her red wine on me, instead.) Probably one of the nicest people I’ve met in a long time, Kevin was pacing himself, as he had to get back to California the next day to take care of his ailing 15-year-old cat, one that Dave Foley insisted Kevin should just let die. Bruce McCullough chilled in the corner and Mark McKinney made a short appearance.

Caesars security turned on the ugly-lights surprisingly early for Las Vegas (2 a.m.) and comedians and guests were shuffled out of the room. Robin tried to coordinate our next stop, which was difficult because we had a group of about ten people from the festival hanging out at this point. Dave and I were on the same page and decided if we just started walking, we’d sit at the first casino bar we found and everyone else would eventually follow. Sure enough, folks tagged along as soon as we broke away from the group.

Settling at a random Caesars bar, a very drunk blonde proceeded to desperately hit on Dave and attempt to crawl into his lap. From an earlier conversation with said blonde, I learned she was trying to pursue a career in comedy. So far, she had the rest of us laughing, but sadly, it was more at her impropriety and perceived casting couch opportunity. She passed out a little while later with her head on Bruce’s shoulder.

Mr. Insomniac himself, Dave Attell, stopped by the bar, too, but for this weekend at least it’s Foley who should steal the insomniac title. Around 3:30 a.m., we abandoned Scott and Bruce and migrated via two taxis to the Grand Opening of Afterhours Obsession at the Penthouse Club (didn’t they already have a grand opening?). Taking over a table in the back corner of Penthouse’s Key Lounge, the afterhours party was in full swing. A fan of Kids in the Hall, Vegas Club Scene’s Brett Pojunis hooked us up with free drinks and Dave and I proceeded to get snockered and jabber away like two monkeys in a tree. In his mid-forties, Dave was a trooper and successfully out-partied our twenty-something crew like a true professional. It was all an exhausted Robin and I could do to talk him out of heading over to Seamless at 7 a.m.

On the cab ride back to Caesars, Robin drunk-dialed our friend Mike in Canada and Dave proceeded to give him a rather hilarious wake-up call (poor Mike is probably still mad at us). After practically swimming in vodka all night, the exact jokes from the evening are lost on me now, but I know my sides hurt from laughing and my head hurts from drinking, sure signs of a good night with the Kids in the Hall. Back at the casino, I bid farewell to Dave, Robin, and Forrest, and hiked the mile to my car in the parking garage, cursing myself the entire way for leaving my sunglasses at home.

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