Thrillist and JetBlue's JetVegas, in the air/Bare Lounge/Jet, Las Vegas
June 13-14, 2008

When I received the invitation to Thrillist's JetVegas launch party of debauchery, I thought it was the perfect opportunity to give Vegas another chance. Low/no cost can convince even the most stubborn hater to revisit a less than fond first impression location. Upon arrival to JFK, I flip flopped into Gate 6 to the sound of Frank Sinatra's doppelganger and two sparkly showgirls. Ok, this was going to be good.

My rowmates were Scott Indrisek from Anthem, Joe from Complex, Perry of Conde Nast, Brian Kantor of Blackbook, and Brian Morrissey of Adweek. We ripped into our goodie bags: Lip balm, headphones, DVDs of "Weeds" and "Californication," Skyy Vodka and slick glossy Zunes were plucked from the adorable blue flight sacks.

This party plane was right out of a Spring Break horror flick. Sauced-up sponsors, partners, contest winners, and press lined the aisle, trading business cards like uber nerds at a Magic the Gathering convention. Titles were bandied about in a blackjack shuffle - whose would be the one on top? Plans were hatched, pool dips scheduled, and strip visits intended. I planned on being Queen Cheapskate of skinflint castle, taking advantage of the DELICIOUS healthy food provided by The Pump while in flight - and then mawing down on the "substantial amounts of passed food" at the launch party at Bare.

Some of us deplaned with already sprouting mid level hangovers, others with free trips. And by others, I mean a bunch of people that weren't me. But really, aren't we all winners on this flight? We landed, piled into buses and checked into The Mirage, center stage in a town covered in replicas of greatness.

A blood-sugar-coma-hungry me arrived at Bare. I couldn't wait to stuff my face full of "substantial amounts of passed food" while taking pictures of everyone spiffed up by the outdoor purple-lit pool. During the day, it's a naked place. At night, it's moist chaise lounges and an odd smelling reminder of the skin soup from earlier. I saw someone chewing -- I was gripped with jealousy.

I chased down a woman carrying a tray of Cajun chicken wraps. I nabbed one, took its shiny foil outfit off and bit into it -- forcing the contents out the back and onto the ground. I tackled the pizza lady and, while keeping my foot on her neck lest she get up and disappear again, I teetered the floppy slice into my mouth. Other than that, the only substantial amount of food I found was at a ...salsa and guacamole bar?! I know, shut up, it's free, but hunger can make a girl crazy. The party at Bare was pretty mellow except for my hero, the man in the white linen suit, who leapt into the pool in his pants and swam around tadpole style until he was ejected.

I was excited to change venue, head to the after party at Jet, and hop around the dance floor. Oh, just kidding. According to Captain Clipboard, we had to "check in" by the aquarium (where all I saw were more lines). There was nothing in the itinerary that mentioned fiery hoops to leap through, so I kept hammering away at Captain Clipboard. I'm not a VIP (some people who will remain nameless on this trip feel VIP entitlement every day) I'm just me. So when I actually have VIP status I assume easy entry. It's not my scene in real life to lower myself to clamor at a roped off line, begging the clipboard crumb bag to evaluate my assets and let me in. After some petty condescension, Captain Clipboard lets us in and that's where this story ends.

Jetting home was by far my favorite part of the trip. I switched to a window seat next to two scruffy, gruff, and hilarious reps from Dos Equis. We laughed our faces off until we were forced to land, due to stomach spoiling turbulence blasted out of the severe weather all around us, in Rochester. And that, my friends, is where I filled 4 barf bags.

Because of the turbulence, duh.

Want to exhaust your supply of barf bags and have it covered on Just An Online Minute? Send invitations to kelly@mediapost.com

What happened did not stay there. See the pics on Flickr.