|
|||||||||||||||
BigCheese is one of the many members of the LasVegasTalk discussion board. You can re-read this trip report, and all its associated banter here (18 and older please.) BigCheese Fabulous Las Vegas Trip Report VI'll be the first to admit that I am infatuated with Las Vegas. I have now made eight trips there. I check out all of the Vegas forums on the Internet. If I ever do get married, it will be by Elvis in the Little Chapel Of Love. When I retire from teaching, I want a job as a blackjack dealer at the swim-up table in the Tropicana pool. So it was no surprise that as winter dragged on in northern Michigan, and the little bastards in school were driving me nuts, my thoughts turned to Las Vegas. A Spring break in our schedule had me investigating the possibility of a quick trip. Through the miracle the Internet, I was able to find a $237 flight. I booked it and then made a call to the Las Vegas Club, where my good friends there gave me a free room. My only other concerns were booze and food, most of which I assumed would also be free, but would work on upon my arrival. This was to be my shortest Vegas trip ever, only 47 hours. Some of my regular rituals would need to be eliminated or cut short. But I figured that I could cut my sleep down from two hours a night to one quite easily, and if I had to, may not sleep at all. After being extremely well-behaved on my last trip, and not having anyone with me to slow me down, I cautiously wondered if I was capable of sustaining a 2-day drunk. I decided to find out. I actually left Gaylord on Thursday afternoon and made my way down to Beaverton to visit with the parents. While there, I picked up several extremely valuable items that would ensure a successful Vegas trip. First, Mom gave me 4 rolls of pennies to use at the Gold Spike. Then Dad finally broke down and let me take his "Diamond Jim" ring, so I could serenade the chicks in style with my version of the Ink Spots' "If I Didn't Care", ring on my pinky just like Fred Sanford used to do. As I was discussing my plans for the weekend with the old folks, I noticed a fly buzzing around. Mom announced that a live fly in the middle of winter in Beaverton is an extremely rare occurrence, and must be a sure sign of good luck. Mom insisted that I capture the fly and take it with me. So armed with a dead fly in my wallet, 4 rolls of pennies, a "Diamond Jim" pinky ring, and a kiss for luck from Mom, I finally worked my way down to Detroit in the wee hours of Friday morning. As a result of my state-wide travels, I got no sleep Thursday night. I boarded my 7:30 flight at Metro, and fully expected to catch a few winks on the plane. Unfortunately, I did not plan for the three sisters from Detroit sitting next to me. They swore worse than sailors, and were loud enough for the entire plane to hear. A fight almost broke out between them as a fierce and heated argument developed over whether the three of them would go see the Hoover Dam or catch Busta Rhymes at the Hard Rock. My sound wisdom of Las Vegas events must have showed, as I was asked to settle their dispute. I opted for Busta, since he was the safe bet, and I didn't want them pissed off at me when we boarded the return flight Sunday morning. The only other excitement on the plane came when an alarm went off, signifying that someone was smoking in the restroom. A lady sheepishly came out of the can and was immediately detained by the flight crew, while several of us applauded. We also learned of the $10,000 fine and possible jail time that accompanied the charge. I don't think that the lady liked the fact that I kept yelling "Book her, Dan-o!!" to the crew. With all the excitement going on, the time flew by and we soon landed at McCarran airport, 8:30 Vegas time. Side note: I have been asked by several readers why I spend so much time drinking, gambling, swearing, carousing, and causing general mischief while in Las Vegas. My standard reply is that it's my nickel, and I can do whatever the hell I want. But to appease some of my wimpier readers, I agreed to do some touristy crap on the first part of this trip, mixed within my normal activities. I also wanted to monitor my drinking, as some of the same weenie readers seemed to think that I exaggerate my alcoholic intake. So you will notice a running list in parentheses of my drink count and time. ("BM" is for Bloody Mary, and "Bud" doesn't require explanation.) I hopped a cab to the MGM Grand, the quickest spot on the Strip from the airport. I decided to wander the south Strip area first, as I rarely get down there on most trips. I entered and immediately checked out the Lion Habitat, which consisted of a bunch of fur balls doing nothing. Enough of that. I found a bar and played some video poker (#1, 8:53, BM). A quick jump across the street to New York, New York, where I checked my bag at the Bell Desk. (#2, 9:18, BM) The ESPNZone was cool for a sports nut like me, but the midway had too many damn kids running around, giving me flashbacks to my most recent trip to Circus Circus. I went back downtstairs to play a couple of mathchplay coupons. (#3, 9:31, BM) I was impressed with the quality of both the waitresses and the Bloody Marys they served. Both get double thumbs-up. After turning a small profit on the matchplays, I moved again, this time to the Excalibur. I joined the slot club, cashed some coupons, watched a magic show on the Jester's Stage, and had a couple of lousy Bloody Marys (#4, 10:06, BM). I did have a nice talk with a slot attendant from Flint who found it more important to stand and talk to me for a half-hour than to do his job. That was OK with me, (#5, 10:28, BM) as my machine needed to be filled in the middle of a 150 quarter payout. Next stop on the tour was the Luxor. I was starting to feel the effects of my Bloody Mary binge, so I summoned Nefertiti to bring me a Budweiser (#6, 10:57, Bud). With a King of Beers from the Queen of the Nile in hand, I happily wandered through the guts of the pyramid. I thought about jumping in the Nile, as it was quickly warming up, but the security guard eying me didn't appear to be in a very good mood. I needed to keep moving anyway, so I hopped on the tram to Mandalay Bay. Now this was my kind of place. It was only a few years old and had a comfortable, exotic feel to it. I decided to hang around for a spell. I parked my butt in the section of the nicest looking waitress I could find. Meng was a hottie who proceeded to bring me (#7, 11:31, Bud) a fresh Bud every 15 minutes. She was a babe, brought me beer, and didn't object to my singing. I was in love once again (#8, 11:49, Bud). I eventually figured out that I needed to move, or I would soon be sleeping at that Munster's slot machine (#9, 12:13, Bud). So when Herman said, "I don't know what I'm doing, but I'm sure having fun!",I couldn't have agreed more. "Damn straight, Herman!", I yelled. Meng then suggested I take a break. "Damn straight, Meng!" I left Herman and Meng, and headed over to a craps table (#10, 12:34, Bud). Life at the Mandalay Bay craps table was good. The cool side of the table consisted of me, Ed, Heather, Heather's dork boyfriend and some obnoxious drunk (not me) that everyone hated. Heather was a cutie who was a dead ringer for a girl I know on NMU's basketball team. I told her she could have done better than the loser she was with. She told me that he paid for the trip, so I guess I couldn't blame her. I did get her e-mail address. Ed was a quiet, mid-thirties guy who I first cast a leery eye at since he was not drinking. I later felt bad as he explained that he had been clean for 8 years after spending $10,000 for placement in a substance abuse facility. He further explained that he no longer drinks, smokes, or does drugs. I told him that he was lucky that he still had gambling as a vice, or he'd be no fun at all. Ed also swore a lot, and had a good eye for scoping out babes that passed by, so we got along really well. (Things get fuzzy on the drink count after this, and I lost count. Sorry.) Now craps is a very social game. It think that it stems from the fact that most everyone at the table has a common enemy. Usually it is the casino. Today, it was the drunk idiot. In a scene that I've never before seen at a craps table, everyone began to bet the exact opposite of the drunk. The great part was that we kept winning and he kept losing. The louder we got, the madder he got, finally yelling "F--- all of you assholes!!". Seconds later, the Mandalay Bay security escorted him away to the cheers of the entire table. After the excitement subsided, I began to feel hungry. The pit boss gave me a meal comp to the seafood buffet, where I pigged out on crab legs and shrimp. What a feast! I decided to satisfy my sissy readers with softer constitutions by doing some more sight-seeing, with the added incentive that I would have a beer at each place. First stop, New York, New York to get my bag. Then next door to the Monte Carlo, one of my favorite places on the Strip. The hot waitresses are always a plus, and the brew pub is a great stop. It is a classy place in an understated way. Everything is very neat, clean, and fancy. So I was more than a little surprised when I noticed a couple of gift shop workers hide one of those remote-controlled machines that make the farting noises in one of the potted palms in the walkway. I hung around for a little while and have to admit that it was quite entertaining as they turned it on as people walked by. I will never think of the Monte Carlo as a high-classed place again, but it has gone up a few places in my heart. Continuing north, I nervously entered the $1.8 billion dollar Bellagio. This is the place where the rich and beautiful people stay. Since I am neither rich nor beautiful, I wasn't sure if I would be allowed in. I was, but I got plenty of odd looks, probably because of my Viva Las Vegas shirt. I figured that as long as I didn't touch anything, I would be OK. I checked out the botanical gardens, along with the dancing water fountain show. After about an hour there, I decided not to press my luck, and left. On to Caesar's Palace, where I visited the Forum Shops and the talking statues in the Fall of Atlantis show. Then I made a quick jump west of the Strip over to the Palms. The waitresses immediately jumped into my Top 5 rankings. (OK, here they are.) 1) Imperial Palace Back on the Strip, I played a little blackjack at Barbary Coast. Then it was on to the Mirage for the exploding volcano, and then to Treasure Island for the pirate battle. It was now 8 pm, and I was tired of all of the tourist crap. It was time to get serious! Goin' Downtown I got back into my more familiar surroundings by riding the CAT 301 downtown. Once there, I checked into my comped room at the Las Vegas Club, then strolled across the street to the Plaza. I love the Plaza because you can get rowdy there without getting into trouble. It also is a great place where worlds collide. You can see bums and high rollers playing elbow to elbow, and they're both having a blast. Tonight was no different, and the Plaza was rockin'. However, the craps table was three deep with people, and I didn't feel like waiting. A quick walk over to the El Cortez followed. Jackpot! The place was going absolutely wild! It was loud and raucous. I've never seen it so lively. In addition, there were hotties everywhere, not a common sight at the El Co. I was able to squeeze in on a craps table, and with an efficient waitress supplying the Bacardi and Cokes, I was set. The only negative was having to break in a slow dealer who was dumber than my brother-in-law Steve. But that was minor, and I had a great time for several hours there. No trip to the El Cortez would be complete without a side trip to the Gold Spike. A one block detour off of Fremont Street, and I was there. A glance around the joint confirmed that, unlike the El Co, a regular crowd was in attendance at the Spike. There was the old guy with a wooden wheelchair, circa 1920. The bum wearing a parka despite the 70 degree temperature. The lady with a God Bless America bumper sticker across her shirt. The hooker who I'm sure could be had for bargain-basement prices. Just a normal Friday night crowd. Since I didn't have my pennies with me, I strolled up to the $2 blackjack tables. My Beaverton buddy John gave me $20, with explicit instructions to play blackjack at the Spike. I sat down at the table and noticed that they were using El Cortez cards. I imagined some bum making a late-night raid of the El Co storage room, and trading the cards for a couple rolls of pennies. But I later found out that the Gold Spike and the El Cortez were both owned by the same person. I turned a fair profit for John, but the booze and lack of sleep were taking their toll. I picked up an official Gold Spike shirt to proudly wear, and crawled back to the Las Vegas Club. I fell asleep before my head reached the pillow. It was 1 am. With no assistance from an alarm clock, I sprang out of bed two hours later. I'm sure I was still drunk, which has its advantages because it saves you time if you planned on getting monkeyed up again, which I did. By 3:30 am, I was back at the Plaza. The wild atmosphere had only slightly waned, as the joint was still full of people, and the cheesy band in the Omaha Lounge was still belting it out. I sat down at an Elvis slot machine to play $20 that Uncle John invested with me. I remembered the lucky fly that I brought out with me, so I carefully opened my wallet, pulled it out, and set it on top of the machine. Some old lady sitting next to me promptly got up and left. I guess she didn't want to see me hit the big one, the loser. That, or she was allergic to dead flies. Either way, the bad mojo she left me with cancelled out all the good luck that the fly had. That machine was deader than the fly. Elvis had left the building. Goodbye $20. On to a quick session at the blackjack table to play some more coupons. The drunk that fell off his chair twice, and the crazy Asian guy I kept calling Arnold (from "Happy Days") were my entertainment for the morning. After turning a slight profit from the matchplays, I decided to visit the Horseshoe, where I have an open meal comp to any place in there, thanks to my old buddy Mike, the pit boss. I swung by the blackjack tables, and sure enough, Mike was working. He was busy setting things up for a blackjack tournament that he was in charge of, so we only talked for a couple of minutes. I did hang around for a little while to play some blackjack, but the bad mojo from the Plaza must have followed me. There was a devastating attack on my bankroll, and left $200 lighter in the wallet. Saturday's gambling wasn't progressing quite the way I had hoped. I took solace in the fact that I could eat a free meal there, but not $200 worth. So I ate as much as I could at the coffee shop, but could still only muster a $14 tab. My fortunes turned when I stopped at the Fremont. I swiped my player's card at the kiosk to find that I won a Fremont pen, which currently holds a prominent place on my desk at school. I then visited the slot club booth at the Four Queens, where I received a free polo shirt and cap for my play. I was on a comp roll! Next door at Fitzgeralds, the freebie collecting would continue. I first stopped at the craps table. The Fitz has been very generous to me in the past, and I wanted to reward their loyalty by putting some play on my card. A fun table, several cold Buds, and a good-looking dealer convinced me that this was where I wanted to be. I got on several good rolls, so good that, in a scene out of the movie "The Hustler", I yelled to a guy across the table, "Get on me Burt, I can't lose!!". The guy then started calling me "Shade Tree". When asked why, he said "Because you're so cool!". Three ladies at the table joined in, and soon the entire table was calling me "Shade Tree". I thought to myself that "Shady" (or dumb-ass) might be more appropriate. But I figured that if they wanted to worship me, then I would not deny them the opportunity. After I finally rolled a seven, I cashed in my chips to a standing ovation from the rest of the table. I was now in the black for the day, and planned to keep it that way. I stopped at the slot club booth to collect some more freebies. Over the past several months, I won an assortment of keychains, t-shirts, and ice cream sundaes via the daily contests on the Fitz website. I collected up all of my goodies and decided to drop them off in my room. On my way back out, I stopped at the craps table and gave the three ladies and the black guy each a coupon for a free ice cream sundae at Lucky's cafe. I was once again a god in their eyes. I hauled my load back to the Las Vegas Club and grabbed my rolls of pennies. It was Spike time! I went out the back end of the Las Vegas Club and across Ogden Street to the California. I played a couple of slot machines with no luck and was ready to leave, when I realized I forgot my 4 rolls of pennies at a machine. Sprinting back to the first machine I was at, I was delighted to find they were still laying in a bag between two machines. I snatched them up and continued toward the Gold Spike. I did stop at Lady Luck, which is right next door to the Spike. They have these really big coin buckets there, so I grabbed one in anticipation of cashing out a lot of pennies. By the time I made it to the Spike, it was 6 pm. The management did everyone a favor by opening the doors, and let the dive air itself out. The relatively fresh air inside made it almost bearable. Unfortunately, the fresh air and sunlight couldn't flush out the dregs that frequent the Gold Spike. With my four rolls of pennies and my Lady Luck bucket in hand, I excitedly entered the famous Copper Mine. I sat down at a video poker machine, ordered a Bud, and settled in for a session. An elderly guy sat down at a machine next to me and began to play, two cents at a time. He was dressed in typical Spike attire, but he seemed too well-spoken to be a regular. I was quite taken with his intelligence, as he explained a very complicated card counting system that he was trying. I continued to play and enjoy the old man's company, when I hit a 1,000 penny jackpot! As the machine was spitting out coins, it jammed up. Fifteen minutes later, the slot attendant fixed it. This time, the machine made it down to 280 pennies left when it jammed again. In no mood to wait another 15 minutes, I told my new friend that he was welcome to the $2.80 in pennies that would eventually come out of the jammed machine. All he could say was "Bless you, sir!". With a warm feeling inside me from my good deed, I rewarded myself with a piece of chocolate pie at the diner. I also decided to really reward myself another way. A Visit With The Ladies Of Glitter Gulch My buddy John threatened me with great physical harm less than murder if I didn't go to a strip club while I was in Vegas. Since I turned a profit with the $20 he gave me, I decided it was only fitting the he treat me to a couple of rounds and maybe a table dance or two. Armed with John's winnings, I entered Glitter Gulch, which is conveniently located right next door to the Las Vegas Club. I ended up sitting at the bar with a 50-ish truck driver from Saskatchewan, who said he was sleeping in his rig parked two blocks away. We compared our evaluations of various girls and found we had similar tastes, although his preferences were a little more top-heavy than mine. After a particularly striking blonde in a red, white, and blue outfit visited us, I commented on what great countries we lived in. We sang "God Bless America", followed by a couple of verses of "Oh, Canada". When John's profits were adequately distributed among the ladies (along with a severe depletion of the $1 bills in my tip-wad), it was time to say goodbye. With a tear in my eye, I slowly exited Glitter Gulch. I decided to hang around the Las Vegas Club until I couldn't stay awake any longer. The craps table had several familiar faces at it, and the dealers all remembered me from my last trip. I played craps for several hours until my eyes would no longer focus. On the way upstairs, I ran into a really hot EMT, who was working on a girl who was so drunk that she couldn't stand up. I mentioned that I thought she could make lots more money next door at Glitter Gulch, but she must have been really busy working on the girl, because she ignored me. I continued upstairs for a two hour nap. 1 am Sunday morning. I had only a few hours left in town, and I wasn't going to waste it sleeping. I could do that on the plane home. So I cleaned up and packed my bag. I made one more trip to the Plaza, which was still hoppin' with people who didn't need a two hour nap. After an hour there, I went across the street to the Golden Gate for my traditional corned beef sandwich and shrimp cocktail breakfast (or whatever meal it is that you eat at 2 am). Since I paid for this meal, my weekend food bill skyrocketed to a staggering $6.44 ($4.94, plus $1.50 for Spike pie). With a full belly, I returned to the Las Vegas Club, gathered my bags, and checked out of my comped room. Total room bill: $0. Thank you, thank you very much. A quick cab ride to the Stratosphere led to a final losing craps session. It was time to go home. Another cab ride to the airport, and the only thing I had to worry about was falling asleep and missing my flight. I spotted the sisters from the flight out (they saw Busta), and they assured me that they would make sure I got on the plane. As promised, they nudged me awake as boarding began. With a weary smile on my face, I entered the plane both monetarily and spiritually richer than when I came 47 hours earlier. Next trip will be in July: countdown has begun. But for now, please excuse me while I get some sleep. THE END |
|||||||||||||||
