A few caveats: 1.) This booze session took place in Vegas; 2.) It took place at Tryst, which for those of you fortunate enough to never have been intoxicated therein, can inflict permanent damage to the wallet. That said, this is still an impressive receipt, a full version of which you can view here.
There aren't too many people without an oil well who would dare start the night off with four 15-liter bottles of $25,000 Veuve Clicquot Yellow Label. At least that's what I think the bottles are, assuming the "Vueve" on the receipt has been misspelled. A magnum of champagne, by the bye, is 1.5 liters. When you hit 15 liters, you're into Biblical territory. That size is called a Nebuchadnezzar. (Nobody, but nobody, orders a Melchizedek.)
But the Veuve wasn't enough for our drunken friends, and they must have grabbed the waiter and roared at him until he fetched 16 bottles of Dom Perignon from the back. Down they went, all 16 bottles, the sweet liquid spilling down fat chins and dripping on calfskin boots. More! More! Bring the fucking Red Bull SPLT at $50 a quaff!....Oooh....My god....oooh...shit...We feel horrible. Water. Please. We must have eight Fiji waters. Just bring them at once, you maggot! There. Aaaah. Much better.
And now our drinkers, hydrated and invincible, arrive at a point when reason absconds and a terrible lust for action takes over. This is a feeling known to anyone who has stood atop a lounge table in Vegas gripping an empty Nebuchadnezzar and howling at strangers. There is no turning back now. Full speed toward the brink. An order is placed for 55 Grey Goose vodkas.
The rest of the night takes on a depressing pall. Senseless dancing. Epithets. Lost cell phones. The 55 vodkas are quickly followed by 23 more waters. A few more Dom P's. More vodka — this time a bottle (no one is immune to a deal). A small, sad bottle of Pellegrino. Tequila. $10 beers. Barfing. Everywhere. And then, what's this?, a lone soldier, carrying on into the desert night with a courageous Red Bull. Bravo.
Tab via SI's Ben Reiter.
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UPDATE: You lot apparently like looking at bar bills. So we encourage you to send in photos of any epic, outrageous, miserly, pathetic, debauched, glorious or other adjectivally compelling receipts to luke@deadspin.com. Analysis will be free of charge.
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