I was working at a popular casino one night in October and was headed down to the break room when I saw Paris Hilton come out of the bathroom completely wasted. I heard she was there for her sister’s 21st birthday party. She is walking back to the party with her entourage of security guards when she tripped and fell flat on her face, skirt went over her head, she had no underwear on and she was so drunk she couldn’t pick herself back up. So I’m looking at the security guards, expecting one of them to help her up… but nothing happens. They just stand there and watch. And Paris Hilton is on the ground whining and screaming and throwing her arms every which way, when a cocktail waitress finally comes over and helps her up. “Don’t touch me, you bitch! You just want to touch a celebrity! Don't touch me!” Paris shouted as she ripped her arm away from this girl’s helping hands. Then she stumbled away. I looked over to one of the body guards who was standing right next to me and asked, “What just happened?” The security guard smirked and replied, “Let me put it this way; the last time one of us helped her up he got fired. We are not allowed to touch her, look at her, or speak to her; we are only hired to make sure nobody hurts her.” Oh… I can see why, I thought, I am so happy I don’t have his job.