So I went to the hotel in Vegas that the attorney said I should. He said he'd made a reservation for me in the Aphrodite Suite under an alias and that he'd meet me in a few days to sort out my troubles.
What a fucking pain in the ass! When I went to the VIP check-in they asked for my platinum guest card. I told them I didn't have one but I was booked in one of their most extensive suites. I was going to tell them who I was but I remember Daddy telling me I could never use my name for special treatment. I also think he didn't want anyone to know who I was in case I did something embarrassing. They told me they couldn't check me in here without the platinum card.
So I got in the regular check-in line. After 20 minutes, I got to the desk and the girl asked me for my black guest card. Not again! When I told her I didn't have one she pointed to another line with over 50 people in it and shouted Next!
I wheeled my bag over to the other line and waited, growing more pissed by the minute. After an hour, I was finally second in line behind an old lady. She was arguing with the counter girl about how many comp dollars she should have which should be applied to her bill, She insisted she had $80 comp dollars and asked the girl to get a manager.
I lost it! "C'mon you old bag. Get out of the way. Get on your broomstick and ride away!"