Wednesday June 3, 1998 7:37pm, a United DC-10 wide-body taxis to runway 15R in preparation for take off. Three minutes later the rubber from flight 711's (no joke) wheels lift off the pavement and the odyssey begins. All wrist watches are rolled back two hours to Las Vegas time and our heroes, Jimmy, Johnny, Gregg, and Mike snuggle in for what promises to be the longest stretch of rest they will have until Sunday.

As the aging DC-10 approaches Clark County, Nevada airspace after an uneventful flight, the boys raise their seats and their moods to an upright position. After a glimpse of glowing glitter gulch at night, the plane lands as smoothly as a Stoli Martini straight-up with a lime (more about that later). Deplaning, the boys meet their host for their first ninety minutes in Vegas, Cornell the Friendly Limo Driver. Apparently, Van Keise arranged for them to be met properly at the airport and whisked away, champagne in hand, to arrive safely and in style at Caesar's front door. As luck would have it, there was another friendly face to greet them after rolling out of the mighty Almond-colored stretch Cadillac. Johnny's cousin Debbie happened to be waiting in the Taxi queue when the livery pulled up with four men destined to set this desert town on it's ear. Well, sort of.

This motley crew sets themselves apart from the masses that haunt The Strip. They wear suits at night, tip the Matre'd, and swing into the wee hours. The days are gone when these actions were the norm in Las Vegas. Amidst the Pirate ships that sink every fifteen minutes, the Carnivale parade every half-hour, and the hourly volcano eruptions that Ma & Pa Vacationer have come to expect, few thirtysomethings are swaggering down Las Vegas Boulevard in suit and tie after dusk. This is the way The Slugs do Vegas.