There are some serious perks about being a writer.
Besides the obvious one of giving my opinion on sports, girls and entertainment—and actually getting paid for it—every once in awhile I get picked to go to some dope events.
As you can probably imagine from the name itself, it was quite the atmosphere which included VIP access to pretty much everything, a handful of smokin' hot American Honey cheerleaders and, best of all, teams from all over the country to compete for the grand prize of $10,000 for playing kickball.
If winning cash while participating in a game we all played in middle school gym class doesn't sound tight, here are some other things that might grab your attention—assuming you didn't keep up with me via my Twitter account during the ruckus.
After arriving in Vegas and finding our driver with one of those personalized name cards—boujis—I arrived at the Hard Rock Hotel to a sea of American honey ballers hoping to become a few thousand bucks richer before the weekend was over.
The night got started with an exclusive party by the pool deck of the hotel, complete with music, dancing, tons of American Honey and, wouldn't you know it, a surprise from celebrity host, Scott Eastwood—son of legendary actor, Clint Eastwood—who was busy serving his signature American Honey cocktail, the Honey Gobbler.
After taking on some of the participants in a little dance-off, ping pong, cornhole and pool, I made my way to the casino to try my hand at a little gambling.
Thankfully, I didn't come out too bad—losing just a few hands of black jack and roulette before getting the text that it'd be time to hit the club.
Like I said earlier, we all strolled in as if we knew somebody, making our way towards a few reserved booths that had alcohol pouring down like rain in the Amazon.
Toss in an impromptu appearance by Flavor Flav, more hot girls than my eyes knew where to look and a little booty shaking, it's no wonder my night didn't end till four in the morning.
Day Two, Morning:
With an early wake-up call—considering the three hours of sleep I got—I made my way down for the cream of the kickball nation crop—the American Honey tournament itself.
Of course, before I actually got settled in to see some of the intense action, I was reminded that us media members were to participate in a bubble soccer game first.
Now I'm not sure if you've ever heard of or played bubble soccer before, but I must tell you, it's a damn riot—even when you're hungover and can barely breathe inside of a plastic dome.
As one of my fellow media members told me afterwards, "I seriously had to stop because I thought I was having a heart attack."
I couldn't have put it better myself.
In essence, the game is made up of players trying to bull rush each other, knocking them off their feet and trying to play soccer. This made for an entertaining display of unathletic ability, yet was as fun as it sounds when we all got out there—especially when considering the pint-sized American Honey girls were playing too.
My team unfortunately lost, but sweating out the toxins from the night before at least helped my hangover a bit more than I could have imagined.
Day Two, Afternoon/Night:
After showing what I had while wrapped-up in a plastic bubble, it was time to relax and see the real athletes give it their all and get a front row view of the kickball tourney.
As you'd imagine with people competing for cold, hard cash, there was a ton of intensity.
One dude from the Tampa Bay team actually looked as if he was going to shoot someone over some of the blown opportunities his team weren't able to convert—and I wouldn't be surprised if he got tested for steroids mid-match anyway.
With some close games and heartbreaking moments—one team lost by two runs after trailing 16-1 at one point—we had our title game—Team Chicago against Team Louisville for all the marbles.
It was a back-and-forth battle, with both teams showing the heart that got them to the championship game in the first place.
When all was said and done, Team Chicago and their Erin Andrews look-alike catcher hoisted both the trophy and the novelty check, celebrating midfield as the lyrics from "We Are the Champions," blared through the stadium speakers.
After seeing pictures of the team celebrating that night on Twitter, it turned out the party had just begun.
Day Two, Night:
With way too many free cocktails in me, it was time for dinner at Sinatra's, which, if you've ever been to a 5-star restaurant before, know that too much boozing and a classy establishment don't mix well.
A few shenanigans ensued—including the waitstaff making their way around our table for the singing of "Happy Birthday" which was, of course, not real.
I literally stumbled my way into Surrender nightclub for some more VIP treatment, actually talking about a 12-hour Vegas wedding with one of the American Honey models in the process, all for the story. Yes, I planned on marrying this girl, getting it annulled and never talking to her again—except for a few Twitter tags here and there. My parents would be proud of me.
My only saving grace was Zeds Dead, the EDM DJ's who filled the club with some serious hits which, thankfully got my ass out on the dance floor to distract me from the marriage proposal that was unfolding at the moment.
The rest of the night was pretty much a blur from there, with me running around casinos talking to strangers, hanging out with said strangers and getting less than two hours of sleep before having to leave for the airport.
So what did I take away from my American Honey trip?
Well besides a couple of years being knocked off of my life from the binge partying, everyone reminded me that it's not whether you win or lose in sports, it's how you party that determines who the real champion is.
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