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Nightlife

Games pink elephants play

Or: How I ended up here in my skivvies

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The lady in her skivvies is NOT Xania.
Photo: Allison Duck

Saturday, August 1, 8:30 p.m.

So I’m at Cathouse. It’s a busy Saturday night, I’m surrounded by all these attractive singles, and they’re dancing the night away. The drinks are flowing, and so is the conversation. But then I look down and notice I’m wearing only my pajamas! Aaaaack! And then I wake up! What does it mean, doctor?

It means that the seriousness of the last few weeks is driving me to seek some lighter fare. Luckily, my desires are right in line with the moment’s hottest party trend: pajama parties, treasure hunts, games, contests … (The page opposite offers a whole list of them.) And why not? It’s summer, and we’re just a bunch of kids at play!

My girlfriend Heidi Keller-Rosen has branched off from Get Out! Las Vegas, her popular, members-only social club for singles, and is tonight launching her much larger non-membership Pink Elephant Games group, which is open to singles, couples and groups. “Unique and wacky events for fun party people,” she says, sitting in the VIP section of Blue Martini checking people in and collecting the payments. This is the point of embarkation for tonight’s inaugural pajama party bus, so it looks like my dreams are about to come true!

Just before 9 p.m., event coordinator Bobby Wiggins gives a mighty yell: “Let’s gooooooo!” We “wacky” pajama-clad party people make our way through the crowd, out the door and onto a sprawling unmarked chartered bus. Boarding the bus amid discussion of who is “going commando,” it occurs to me I’m at adult summer camp. And we’re going on a field trip!

“Stella?” “No, Xania,” I laugh, accepting the proffered beer and declining the tiny shots of Aha Toro Tequila, though I do let the promo girls apply a temporary tattoo to my bicep.

With the gang all aboard and already up to mischief, we take off south toward the M Resort. Prior to taking this job as Get Out! master of ceremonies in March, “Fun Time” Bobby, a handsome young man in flowy lounge duds, designed and manufactured a line of organic apparel, Moral Fabric, of which I am now a huge fan. Four to five times a week, Bobby leads Get Out!’s expeditions, from hikes to bowling to club outings. Even I’m jealous of his gig. Heidi’s assistant Sarah used to be a nanny. So not entirely dissimilar. “The funnest part is to watch it come to life after so many months of planning,” says Bobby.

Whereas Get Out! provides more hand-holding, Pink Elephant Games, by virtue of its more-the-merrier ’tude, offers a chance to mingle with new people each time. Though tonight we number about 50, Heidi says her goal stands firmly in the hundreds. In October, Pink Elephant Games will throw a contest in the style of The Amazing Race, as well as more themed party buses. So why this reversion back to childhood? Heidi blames stress and the economy. “We want to take people back to when there was less stress in their life. Like in college … It’s good old-fashioned fun.”

So long, gloom and doom! There’s a pink elephant in the room, and he needs a drink!

We pull up to M Resort around 15 minutes later and move en masse to a roped-off section of the center bar, where I chat up Zowie Bowie’s apparent biggest fan, “Dancing Machine Ed,” while Michael King—in triceratops slippers, a Hef robe and purple satin Hammer pants—playfully hazes me for liking cover band Dr. Zhivegas. Men in plush character slippers shouldn’t throw stones …

We enjoy half-priced drinks and a brief respite before it’s back on the bus and off to … Cathouse! The tiny club’s regulars clearly weren’t notified that 50 now-drunk locals were going to descend upon their party and take over the dance floor. But in our PJ bottoms and negligees we look right at home among the lingerie-clad staff and Coquette dancers.

Taking stock of the night over nachos at the final stop, Town Square’s Bar Louie, it appears the only things lost were four cell phones and one couple in coordinating pajamas, who bolted at the Luxor, presumably to have sex. I’m reminded of the Kon Tiki-style Club Med parties of the ’80s. And of the movie Cocktail. Damn. Where’s Tom Cruise when you need him?!

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