In the 2009 film The Hangover, three pals wake up in Las Vegas after a monumental night of partying. The problem is the groom, whose pending nuptials they were celebrating, has gone missing, and they have no memory of what happened the night before. Even when they discover a tiger in their hotel suite’s bathroom, the frantic friends are at a loss to explain how the previous night’s events had unfolded.
Doubtless when Harry woke the morning after the night before in his exclusive suite in the Encore hotel, his thoughts would have gone back to what was, until that point, one of his favourite films. While he may have been relieved there was no tiger in his bathroom, sadly for Harry he was not a character in the Hollywood comedy. This was real life, and as he contemplated the scale of his partying of the previous day his hangover was unlikely to be helped by what he could recall.
‘Did I really take all my clothes off?’ he must have thought. ‘And who were those girls that came back to the room?’ As memories of the night before began to come back to him, Harry’s thumping head would have surely paled into insignificance as it began to dawn on him what had happened.
In order to understand what happened in Las Vegas, you have to go back to a night in the officers’ mess at Middle Wallop, the home of the Army Air Corps. Harry and his chums were letting their hair down after a gruelling few days learning to fly. Everyone was in good spirits and it was the first evening for some time the trainees had been able to enjoy a drink. In the air corps, trainee pilots are banned from drinking for up to twenty-four hours before taking the controls. The so-called ‘bottle to throttle’ rule is rigorously obeyed and anyone caught drinking before a flight is immediately thrown off the course.
Despite his image, Harry isn’t the biggest boozer. Sure, he likes a drink, but he is often more reserved than others, especially when he is surrounded by people he barely knows. Only when he is drinking with his closest and most trusted pals, many of whom he has known since childhood, does he risk letting down his guard.
‘Naked bar!’ went the cry, as the young pilots filled their glasses in the officers’ mess. At that point one of Harry’s comrades proceeded to strip down to his birthday suit, followed by a handful of others. After a few seconds several of the men were standing at the bar in the nude as they downed their drinks and laughed.
Sources refuse to say whether Harry actually took part in this ritual, but he was there and saw how the prank was greeted as a bit of light-hearted fun. There were no women present, and it was by no means the first time a military bar, safely tucked away inside a base, would have played host to a well-known Army tradition.
As one former member of the regiment put it: ‘The mess at Middle Wallop is just like any other. When the guys are there without guests the drinking can get a bit comical. There was one time we played mess rugby after an evening drinking. We used a cabbage as the ball and the officers split into two teams. Whichever team managed to touch the wall with the cabbage won. On that occasion most of us stripped off our uniforms, mainly because we didn’t want to get blood on them.
‘The naked bar is not so much an Army tradition as something that happens from time to time. It is nothing more than high jinks but it only happens when the commanding officer is off the base. There are other stories about people having to streak round a base naked as a forfeit, but all these kinds of banter are just a way of people letting their hair down. If you have been training hard, and you are stuck on a base with just one bar to keep you entertained, it’s not surprising that from time to time things can get a little lively.’
Even the Army Rumour Service, an on-line forum for troops, describes the ‘naked bar’ as ‘a popular and enjoyable pastime in the officers’ mess, particularly when female officers can be persuaded to take part’.
Since his first day at Sandhurst, being in the Army had undoubtedly had a hugely positive influence on Prince Harry, turning him from a naive and slightly angry young man into a proud soldier who had served his country with distinction. But the day he checked into Room 2401 of the vast Encore Wynn Hotel in Las Vegas he was determined to let his hair down and enjoy a long weekend with three of his closest and most trusted pals. Little did he know that, a few hours later, one of the perhaps less positive influences the Army had exposed him to over the years would rear its head.
The trip promised to be the proverbial adventure of a lifetime. Harry, his old school chum Thomas ‘Skippy’ Inskip, rugby player Adam Bidwell, and boyhood friend Arthur Landon had agreed to visit Sin City to let their hair down.
It was the summer of 2012 and Harry was in need of a change of scene. From the start of that year he had been working flat out, mixing Royal duties with preparation for his second deployment to Afghanistan. In fact he was only weeks away from heading back to the war zone, where this time he would be at the controls of the fearsome Apache attack helicopter. For months he had worked hard, preparing for what would be a dangerous and very demanding stint back in the front line.
It was an important year for the Royal family because of the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee. After making his successful first solo overseas tour in the spring, Harry – like all the Royals – had been busy marking Her Majesty’s sixty years on the throne. In June he had taken part in the national jubilee celebrations, including the huge concert outside Buckingham Palace, having also played a central role in the build-up and hosting of the London Olympics earlier that month. In the first half of 2012 Harry’s feet had barely touched the ground.
So it was hardly surprising that when his friends agreed they would join him on a holiday, Harry was filled with excitement. At last he would be able to relax and enjoy himself before facing the challenge of a second tour of duty.
The friends flew first to Necker Island, the opulent Caribbean island owned by British tycoon Richard Branson. There, they were able to relax, in the knowledge that when that part of the trip was over they were heading to a city famed throughout the world for its nightlife. What a contrast it must have been, flying from the beautiful and tranquil seclusion of the Caribbean island to the bright lights and bustle of Las Vegas.
It was Harry’s idea to take his friends to Vegas. A year earlier the Royal had visited the city while undergoing advanced training at the Gila Bend air base in Imperial Valley, Arizona. At the end of his eight-week course, he had taken a break in the city and, after enjoying a day renting a Harley-Davidson motorbike, he sampled the Vegas nightlife. The presence of the third in line to the throne in a city famed for its partying had not gone unnoticed. When Harry visited the Tryst club in the Wynn casino he was spotted drinking Grey Goose vodka before hitting the dance floor with a mystery blonde.
One reveller who claimed to have been in the club that night told reporters: ‘Harry looked very close to one girl who looked to be in her early twenties. He was dancing with her and they had their arms around each other. They were hugging and at one point he had his hands around her waist as they danced. They all left together at about 3 a.m., Harry still looking very close to the girl.’
Clearly the young prince had enjoyed his brief time in Vegas and flew home determined to persuade his friends to make a return visit as soon as possible. It was during that first visit that Harry had been introduced to Steve Wynn, the Encore hotel’s millionaire owner, who was more than happy to issue the Royal with an open invitation, should he ever return to Vegas.
As invitations go, this was one Harry could hardly turn down. For a prince used to the dusty old corridors of ageing palaces and threadbare Royal apartments, the prospect of spending a couple of nights in the sumptuous surrounds of the best suite the Encore had to offer was simply too good to miss.
Room 2401 is not so much a hotel suite as a bachelor pad equipped with the kind of luxuries that were enough to make even a Royal guest’s jaw hit the floor. Perched high above the bright lights of Vegas and looking down from the sixty-third floor onto the city’s famous strip, the 5,829 square foot, two-storey suite is the biggest and most luxurious of the hotel’s sixtee
n duplexes.
It boasts three master bedrooms, its own private lift, butler service, a room with a massage table, a gym – and, of course, a pool table. The ceilings are inlaid with mother-of-pearl, there are hand-blown glass chandeliers, and guests can enjoy jumping into their own whirlpool hot tub while they sit back and watch a vast 72-inch TV screen. And for guests willing to shell out the £5,300 a night, there is no need to worry about getting noise complaints – the walls are made of padded brown mohair, stuffed to absorb sound.
After checking in through a private lobby in the late afternoon, Harry and his friends went to the SW Steakhouse to line their stomachs ahead of what promised to be a long night of drinking. They then moved on to the brightly lit Parasol bar, less than twenty yards from the restaurant and adjacent to the casino. Sources say this was around 11.45 p.m. and Harry was already ‘half wasted’, leading to claims that he was targeted in a ‘honey trap’.
Trainee dental hygienist Kim Garcia, twenty-two, from California, said: ‘He made eye contact with a brunette in a group and immediately invited them all to join him and his buddies. We recognized him instantly, just like the other girls who were sitting a couple of tables away and getting noisier the more they drank.’ Miss Garcia, who was with hair salon receptionist Gloria Bryant, twenty-four, also from California, added: ‘Gloria and I clearly heard one of them say, “That’s Prince Harry! Let’s see if we can get him to take us upstairs with him.”’
As the drinks flowed, Harry seemed increasingly less bothered about being recognized, which is more than a little out of character. When he has been known to party in London, the prince hates being spotted. In these celebrity-obsessed days, he can barely go anywhere without people staring, shouting his name and even coming over with offers of drinks.
Harry has grown well versed to this part of the baggage that comes with being such a high-profile member of his family. But he has little choice. The alternative is for him to stay indoors, to live a life cut off from the rest of reality. Anyone who has ever bumped into him on a night out will know the drill. His friends, aided if necessary by his protection officers, act as gatekeepers to stop strangers from getting too close. It is only on Harry’s say-so that people are ever allowed to join him at the table.
It is something he has just had to learn to cope with, and even when someone has inadvertently outstayed their welcome, Harry’s trusted protection officers are on hand to politely usher them away. If that fails, then the nuclear option is to discreetly ask the manager to have them removed from the premises. But things seemed to be different that night in Vegas.
According to the accounts of other revellers who spotted him in the club, Harry seemed to be far more accommodating than usual to the attention that engulfed him. Perhaps this was because he was thinking of his friends. He has often played ‘wing man’ to his chums, allowing girls to strike up conversations in the hope that his mates will have a good time.
But it is more likely that his seemingly carefree behaviour was rooted in a deeper desire to let his hair down. He was in Vegas to have a good time and that was that. A night when he could forget about being Royal, when he could simply enjoy drinking with his good friends and just let the evening go where it went.
This desire is understandable given that Harry was soon to return to Afghanistan. It is not uncommon for servicemen and women who know they will soon be out in a war zone to adopt a ‘devil may care’ attitude. Many soldiers talk about how an impending deployment makes them drink more, smoke more and party even harder. It’s a natural side effect of coming to terms with the fact you will soon be in harm’s way, unable to drink, focused on the job in hand.
By 4 a.m., when the group finally decided to return to their suite, there was a sense that the night was still young. The friends were in high spirits and determined to make the most of the incredible accommodation. Their number had now swollen to twenty-five, including fifteen attractive girls they had been drinking with earlier that night. No one will ever know what possessed Harry to let down his guard and take the extremely out-of-character decision to allow strangers back to his room, but it would have been his decision. In the wake of the stories about what happened that night, there was criticism of his protection officers for not stepping in and – if you like – trying to protect him from himself.
This is a common misunderstanding of the relationship Harry has with his protection detail. They are full-time police officers and part of Scotland Yard’s elite SO14 diplomatic protection team. Their job description is simply to ensure the safety of their ‘principal’. There is nothing in their remit that says they have the job of preventing people from taking pictures, or from speaking to their principal, and it is certainly not their job to act as though they are highly paid babysitters.
I have often seen Harry’s protection officers looking frustrated at the way the young Royal is behaving. Frustrated because when he is under the influence of alcohol, surrounded by strangers, often in the early hours of the morning, their job becomes that bit harder. They have to be on high alert for anyone who may pose a physical threat to the prince. In many ways it is similar to the frustration felt when you are with a group but not drinking because you are going to be driving. While your friends drink more and more, you notice the volume going up, the disapproving stares of other people, and can’t help but feel embarrassed as the behaviour deteriorates.
But a protection officer’s role has one clear difference from that performed by a designated driver. They would rarely risk the wrath of the prince by challenging him about his behaviour. Some of Harry’s protection officers have been with him since he was a child, and they do play a kind of mentoring, at times fatherly role. But there is a fine line between protecting the prince and being seen telling him what to do. Harry, and Harry alone, is accountable for his actions and his decisions. The protection officers are accountable only for his safety and security.
None of the group, least of all Harry, was in the mood to end the fun, and stepping into the lavish suite did little to dampen the spirits. ‘Wow, this place is amazing,’ whooped the girls, who must have been in a state of disbelief at being invited back. As if the lure of spending the evening with a real-life prince wasn’t enough, these lucky few women were now catching a glimpse of how the other half lives.
The drinks started to flow as the girls admired the surroundings, going from room to room in amazement and peering down at the bright lights of the Vegas strip below. Eventually the group gathered around the pool table as they sipped their vodkas and puffed on cigarettes. The protection officers – contrary to popular belief – were not now in the room. With Harry safely inside the suite, they kept their distance and sat on a sofa well away from where the party was gaining momentum.
According to one account of what happened next, someone suggested: ‘Let’s spice up a game of pool’ – a reference to the game of ‘strip pool’ where everyone takes it in turn to pot a ball. Miss, and you have to remove an item of clothing. And Harry, far from offering a word of caution, was actually more than enthusiastic about joining in. He was said to have shouted ‘Let’s ******* do it!
A source would later claim to The Sun: ‘That was what jump-started the party.’ Seconds later, Harry was really letting it all hang out. Harry pulled a petite blonde, who had been making eyes at him, up from her seat. He cued off, did not pot – and so, as he was only wearing swimming shorts, got naked straight away. The source added: ‘Everybody was watching when he took his clothes off. It was exciting for the girls. He was in great shape.’
Despite some ‘hands-on’ instruction from Harry on how to hold the cue, the blonde then missed enough shots to lose her dress and underwear. ‘She had her eyes on Harry so she was going to do anything,’ the source claimed.
The pool game over, they put their clothes back on, he offered her a beer and they sat on a couch talking. Later, they both ‘disappeared’, the source said, when the wild party finally came to an end at 5.30 a.m., by which time most
of the others had gone to bed. The source added: ‘He was very into her. She was giddy to be in the company of the prince and he was flirting with her. I don’t know where they went but they disappeared at the same time at the end of the night.’
That could have been that. A night of high jinks and a chance for the then 27-year-old to let his hair down. Clearly any fears the story could leak out were not at the forefront of Harry’s mind for the rest of the weekend. The following day he was pictured surrounded by a gaggle of girls at the city’s Encore Beach Club. They showed the prince without his top, splashing about in the pool without a care in the world.
Sadly for Harry, what must have felt like the mother of all weekends was about to morph into the mother of all headaches for his palace media advisers. With the prince safely back home, the now infamous pictures of the naked pool game, believed to have been taken on a mobile phone, were circulating. By the time they reached the desks of the US showbiz website TMZ, it was too late to stop the world from finding out what went on inside Room 2401 that night.
There was no denying what the grainy pictures showed. There was Harry, bare bottom to the fore, hunched over his pool opponent from behind and holding a pool cue. And another photo showed Army officer Harry, naked apart from a distinctive thong necklace and his Rolex watch, protecting his own modesty by cupping his hands over his privates while a naked girl – believed to be the same girl he played pool with – hides behind him.
The story was out, and the following day it filled the front pages of all the UK tabloids. At that stage the pictures were already circulating on the internet but so far the editors back in Britain were holding back. But what would be said if they agreed to a palace request not to publish photographs that were fast becoming the most talked about and searched on the internet?
It was a difficult dilemma. Readers of most of the British tabloids are predominantly pro-Royal and certainly pro-Harry. If they published the pictures there was a chance of a backlash, of readers siding with the prince and blaming the papers for hounding him. There was also the matter of where the snaps were taken. It was in a private suite in a hotel where, it would be said, Harry had a reasonable expectation of privacy. But how could the papers ‘self-censor’, make an editorial decision not to allow their readers to see pictures that were, after all, already splashed all over the internet?
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