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Saturday, July 24, 2010

Wake me when its not over

RF stake: $330
QQ stake: $-95

And so how, you might ask, did the Queenus Quadmeritus start the day with a negative stake?

Well its obvious, isn’t it?

I mean, do you have to rub my nose in it?

My entry in the Official Royal Flusher Gamblog looks like this:

“RF Stake $190 – 20 +100=$270 + $60 = $330.”

Somebody was subsidizing me at some point during the day.

Mrs. F. woke up with pretty much a full on cold and I could tell I was headed in the same direction, with the sniffles. She couldn’t sleep and headed down to the casino at MSS while I futzed around the room, packing, and showering and whatnot, and coming to grips that our vacation was over.

I have often said – I shouldn’t gamble on the last day of a trip. I have gotten my ass kicked on the last day about the last 4 trips running. Seriously. I have the paperwork to prove it.

On a couple of trips, the last day was my worst day of gambling the whole trip.

On the other hand, our flight didn’t leave till after 11:00pm that night and I found myself in Las Vegas with 18 hours to kill before being strapped into the aluminum death tube that would hopefully (?) rocket me back to my (tawdry) life which consists of getting through each day at North American Veeblefetzer.

So what is a savvy gamblester to do? Sit on his savvy gamblester hands while the last shot at Vegas redemption slips away on the merciless clock?

I think not!

And so I made my way down to the den of gamblestering to do my best.

I found Mrs. F was on our usual machines, but she was not actually playing. As I approached I got that little feeling again… she looked sort of happy, not pissed off that she was out of money.

And sure enough, the screen came into view and the pattern looked familiar and very welcome.

A beautiful Royal Flush! What a way to end her trip! And why the hell did she wait so long??!!!



“I put only five bucks in!!!” she exclaimed.

“Fantastic! And look, it’s sequential! …except for the Queen being in the wrong place. And the ten and Jacks being one spot over from where they should be.”

Only five bucks in. That’s the way to do it, isn’t it? That is – the Royal Flusher Way.


We played some more and she managed a couple of quads – both in Kings.

I, on the other hand, couldn’t hit a thing.

We had some breakfast at some point and then went off shopping to find the cheapest, gaudiest gew-gaws we could for folks back at the plant. My favourite find – a souvenir Las Vegas foam rubber toe spreader. Now who wouldn’t appreciate receiving such a fine, thoughtful gift as that!

We hit the MSS buffet for lunch and played some more, alternating with naps. Finally, Mrs. F sent me over to Walgreens for sick supplies for the plane. I faithfully took the list and trucked the 6 blocks over there – just to find out they close the pharmacy part of the drugstore at 5:00 on Saturdays.

I’d missed it by 7 minutes.

I bought what I could and trucked back to the room.

Mrs. Flusher and I played a bit more. I figured I was due because – I hadn’t nailed a single quad all day. Not one!

She got four Kings for the 3rd time and then 3s for $50. Me – nothing.

It was time to see our host and the fact that seen us the day before while we were playing $10 a hand video poker and stopped to chat seemed to have made an impression.

Our room bill was $272. Gloria got on the phone right away and uttered the sweet words “Wipe room 707.” She’d picked up all our extras, and added an extra night onto our stay, comped, so we could have the room up until departure.

Presidential had their limo there right on time and I couldn’t believe it was really over.

When would I see the sights of our favourite stomping grounds again?

When could I ever gamble in Vegas again???

When???

When?????

At the airport, that’s when.

“I’m not playing here,” I said.

“We have 2 hours to kill, I’m going to hit Deuces Wild.”

“Give me $60.”

Well, I blew through the $60 on a couple of different games and, this is a first, I did not hit one quad my entire last day in Vegas.

But I’ll tell you one thing – we woke up a bunch of people when we shrieked like a couple of gray haired grannies hitting a buck fifty on the penny slots when Mrs. F, the Quad Queen, held three deuces and got this:


A perfect end to a perfect day for Mrs. Flusher. I just had to look on and enjoy it. My ass had been as thoroughly kicked this day as her ass had been thoroughly caressed by the powdered hands of the Nanny of Gambling, Lady Lueke (the German au pair of luck, actually).

RF: Day: $-390. Trip: $-1060
QQ: Day: $+835. Trip: $+525

Yup, eleven days of hard core video poker and the Quad Queen pulled out a $525 win for the trip. That meant we were down about $500 between us – and all our rooms and meals were comped.

The plane took off on time and thankfully, we had a middle seat open between us again. I slept the whole way to Toronto and dozed on the Grumm-craft Aero-Spatiale Beecherfokker 2-4-D flight to Flusherville Regional Aerodrome.

Another great trip in the books. Another fun trip report. Another great group of readers to enjoy it with us.

I’m already dreaming of our next adventure and being able to utter that wonderful phrase on the first morning:

“Gamble?”




Saturday, July 17, 2010

High Stakes Video Poker

We went down and picked a couple of likely machines. (Have I mentioned how pretty one of the cashiers at the cage at MSS is? She is polynesian by descent and has long straight hair and pouty lips and beautiful eyes.)

(Have I mentioned I am easily distracted?)

We each loaded up a machine with $100. We had enough money for four hands each. The idea was to take turns and hope for a dinger.

My first hand came up four to flush. Another heart and I’d be up $100. But no, it was a queen, and I had a pair, so won back $25.

The QQ drew 8 4 6 J 4 – a pair of fours. An auspicious beginning. The draw card was… a rag.

Nothing. $25 gone.

My second hand was nice – I was dealt 3 J 3 J 9. I had a dinger! Oh for a full house, which would be worth $200. The draw came up with a queen but I was still ahead now.

The QQ matched me with a nice hand – 2 2 4 4 5. A dinger, and also full house potential. No improvement but a $50 hand.

My third hand saw me with 9 A J 7 10. Well that’s just fucking great. I held the suited A J and finished with a pair of Aces.


The QQ’s third hand was a loser.

“Okay, this is my fourth and final hand. Here we go,” I said, ready to push the deal button and risk another $25.

“Double or nothing.”

“What??? You never said! You said four pulls.”

“We’re playing high stakes double or nothing. That’s what we’ve done all along.”

“Oh fuck! But you bailed at $150!!!”

“But I was down to zero so that’s way more than double.”

There was no sense arguing about it. I was getting a real rush from this level of action. I was nervous about playing on, but at the same time, I kind of wanted to. After all, what had we come all that way to Vegas for?

I played again – I got… nothing.

The QQ pulled up a beauty – 9 7 3 Q 8. Hold the Queen and draw… nothing.

Next hand for me – pair of sixes. Draw and… nothing.

At this point Mrs. F was down to $50 and I had $75. I pressed deal again. I felt tingly. I thought I might have wet myself and shorted something out.

3 7 5 6 8. WTF???

“Oh great.”

I held the outside straight draw.

Got a 7. Nothing.

The QQ held a pair of deuces… nothing.

I could see the way this was going to go.

QQ’s last hand – A 9 3 Q 6. Nothing. She was finished.

My last pull – Q 4 6 8 3. I held the Queen and my breath.

Pressed Draw.

Nothing.

We were both busted.

And that, is gambling.

RF has: $190 Day: $+10 Trip: $-670
QQ has: 0 Day: $-200 Trip: $-490

After ten days in Vegas we were down a $1160. Not bad, not bad. One more royal could turn that around. We’d certainly been playing enough. And I’d managed, this day, to eke out a $10 profit. Now that beat any day on the size 7 grommet line back at North American Veeblefetzer!




Bad News at Binions

RF Stake: $180
QQ Stake: $200

"Hey boss, what do you want me to do with these 10,000 lightbulbs?"

It was getting near the end of the trip and we’d agreed we should try to play some higher stakes video poker from time to time, with various rules.

The Quad Queen decided to take $100 and play some VP at $10 a hand on Bonus Poker. I opted to cheer from the sidelines. The idea was – double or nothing.

She slid in a Benjamin and started to play. Nothing much was happening and the credits were drifting down.

$30 left. Then $20 left. Then $10 left – last hand.

And – she – got three of a kind. Played that down to the Lazarus hand again.

And got two pairs. And played that down to the Lazurus hand yet again.

And then got another two pairs. And then she was dealt three of a kind and was starting to have a bit of running room again.

Next hand was a very nice full house, followed by a three of a kind. After swooping down and bouncing it off the bottom three times, the Flushoccio managed to get up to $150 in credits.

“BAIL!!!!” we both yelled as she hit the cash out button. Lots of adrenaline of the wrong kind and a net profit on the session. How can you argue with that?

This day I really, really hit the quad drought badly.

I played for three hours and got no quads. None. Zero. You can imagine how that drained my bankroll.

I switched to Double Double Bonus and finally got one for $62.50. And five hands later I nailed four deuces with the kicker (from 2) for a nice $200 payoff.

Tried some blackjack at MSS and it was an unmitigated disaster cluster-seventeen.

I don’t want to talk about it.

We took a rest and had a shower and then it was time for the daily pilgrimage to the Deuces machine at the Vegas Club. Could lightning strike twice?

Of course it could. I strikes thousands of times every hour, all around the planet. What a stupid question!

The question I really wanted answered was, could I get for deuces again and get paid $500 and totally piss off the pocket-protectored uber-nerd Mr. Peabody again!

I had my share of excitement getting dealt three of four deuces on 3 separate occasions. One duck away from five bills, as it were. But it was not to be. I was ready to scream with frustration.

Lunch was yet another artery clogging burger at Binions. We thought we’d hit the full pay Deuces there again as well – it is one of the only places downtown or on the strip where you can play quarter full-pay Deuces.

Wouldn’t you know it, the machines were being ‘serviced’.

“Uh-oh,” I said, and followed up with the only extremely astute observation a savvy gamblester like myself could observe: “The machines are being ‘serviced’.”

We had a cheeseburger apiece and on my last slug of ice cold Anderson’s milk, I felt a kind of thud in my chest and a squeeze and then a sort of feeling of relief – I was pretty sure I’d felt the last of the greasy burger clear pass through one of the atriums in my heart and move safely on down to the vena cava or aorta or some shit.

We went back to the 4 lone machines with the full pay Deuces on them and… the paytables had been downgraded.

Goddammit.

And, there was a floor manager standing right there talking to the slot guy who had a clipboard.

You rarely get the chance to spout off about these kinds of changes that hurt players, and lower business but I took my chance and buttonholed her.

I said, “I know you’ve just lowered the paytables on these Deuces machines. Why do you have to do that?”

“I was just following orders,” she said.

We talked about it and I explained, first of all, that the Deuces were the only reason we had
to come into Binions except for the cheeseburgers. (I left the part out about the sleazy costumes they put on the busty female dealers – no sense in letting them know about that or they’d take them away too. Which might not be bad, actually.)

I went on to explain that the machines are already set to give 1/3 points, and at quarter play, nobody is going to hurt the casino. So why mess with it and leave many savvy gamblesters such as myself and Mrs. Flusher no reason to come into Binions anymore?

She listened. She really did. And she said she’d pass it on to her boss.

And then I believe she made this sort of hand motion when my back was turned, like she was shaking a can of Nutrisystem. Only it was meant to mean, not Nutrisystem shaking, but something along the lines of “whatever you say, jag-off”.

But I didn’t actually witness the hand motion.

Anyway, we had better things to do – high stakes VP that evening back at MSS.

Again Mrs. Flusher’s energy was flagging, so I got take-out from the Triple 7 brewpub for us both. Chicken philly sandwiches with onion rings. I hauled it up to the room in delightful, decorative, strong, yet light-weight white Styrofoam containers, which, I believe, are very evocative of the late 1800s ambience that Main Street Station strives to project.

Post dinner it was time for some high stakes VP play.

We were going to take on $25 a hand action.




Friday, July 16, 2010

K9 Vegas

“We really should get down to the Strip. Check out the ACE bus,” I said, as we walked by the Downtown ACE stop.

“Yeah, we should. Feeling tired though.”

We were on our way down to the ElCo to get loaded and see if we could spot the cough syrup stains in the little bit of the ‘old’ carpet that remains. The ElCo is getting downright snazzy with its wood, sans-serif signage, and jazzy piano bar.

Mrs. Flusher left ahead of me to go to Walgreen’s to get sick supplies and I lost my buy-in on craps, so went out to the street to meet her.

She was just about to cross the street in front of the ElCo and we turned around and walked back the other way, only to find out that the last block before the Experience was cordoned off by police. In fact, the K9 unit was blocking Fremont.


We had to walk south a block, then west 2 blocks, and then north to get back onto Fremont. At every intersection there were police and security people. And it was the same deal a block north of Fremont on Stewart. They must have had 8 square blocks cordoned off. We figured it was either a bomb threat, or a jumper.

We never did find out what the deal was, but it was scary. So scary we decided to play the old coin droppers at the Cal. Nothing much happened there and it was back to Main Street Station.

The Queen showed me up once again hitting 5 quads to my 2.

The Missus didn’t feel up to dinner so I ate alone at the Cal coffee shop. If you don’t want a table, you can walk right to the front of the line and take a spot at the counter. It’s like being thrown back 30 years to the kinds of diners I once knew, with their stools, thick coffee cups, and Hamilton Beach milkshake mixers.

I found a spot and had the prime rib special for $7.99. The guy next to me was on a comp and wasn’t very hungry, he said. He had a huge salad to start and then received a t-bone steak the size of a hubcap. There was enough there to feed a family of four. It was ridiculous.

Decadent. Typical overblown new millennium calorie pig-fest.

I resolved to order the same thing, next time.

Mid-meal I ordered a club on white (no bacon, no mayo) with fries to go for Mrs. Flusher. I trucked it back to the room, ate half her fries, and we turned in.

RF has $410. Day: +330 Trip: $-680
QQ has $220. Day: $-120 Trip: $-290




Wednesday, July 14, 2010

Mr. Peabody Plays Video Poker

RF Stake: $80
QQ Stake: $340

I woke up early, lay in bed, and pondered. The trip was really weird for me so far. Yeah, I’d hit the big one – a cool grand for my Royal Flush. And I was still down over a grand on the trip. How was it possible?

If I hadn’t gotten that royal, I’d be down two large. I’ve never lost that much on a trip, ever.

Records show that at this point, the Queen had nailed a total of 78 quads to my 49. That’s almost 30 more, and at an average of around $35, there’s your grand. So not counting the fact that I wasn’t winning, I was easily out gambling the Flushatina by about $170.

What a savvy gamblester!

I congratulated my savvyness and looked to my left.

The Queen was already up.

“How are you?” I asked.

“Sick.”

Yes, the One-eyed Pirate flu/cold/virus thing had finally gotten ahold of my Queen. She’d been up half the night with a runny nose. There was only one thing to do.

“Gamble?”

We started the day right – a Crown Royal for her, and a bourbon and Starbucks Doubleshot on ice for me.

And we were off to the races, with me hitting the Aces on BP for $100. The Queen countered with one of her world-famous lucky hands – getting four Queens on the redeal. Now that is hard to do.

After we had buffet breakfast at MSS I’d sobered up enough to return the rental car. I decided to take a drive – just head eastward on the city streets until I found a gas station to top up at, and had seen some of whatever Las Vegas was like in that direction.

It seemed to be mostly residential, many very small houses with small yards. Some yards completely neglected, and some beautifully kept. It seemed like the areas I saw were mostly occupied by latinos. The houses looked like they dated from the 50s with their style and design and I imagined dealers from downtown sawdust joints raising their families in what would have been new neighborhoods at the edge of town, with only the desert as a backdrop to the east, capped by the mountains.

Sometimes I feel like I’ve missed out on it all in Vegas.

I found a gas station, filled up, and grabbed a couple of pictures including one of the gas station next to the venerable Atomic Liquor, both of which appear in the movie Casino – only they dressed the gas station up for filming to look like it was in Kansas City in the winter.


Good thing I did – it looked like it was going to be torn down.



I dumped the car, no problems, and hoofed it back to MSS. Records show I pumped out 3 more quads before the Slot Tournament part II but who knows how many 20s I put in???

The button pounding yielded a better score this time – 16,000 points or so for the Flusheretta. But it wasn’t near enough and she’d finished out of the prize money.

We countered by hitting up some Double Double Bonus and Bonus Deluxe, each grabbing a quick $100 and a couple of scratch cards.

We made our daily pilgrimage to the $500 Deuces machines at the Vegas Club – I was going to keep hitting those babies until they coughed up the four paying fowls.

I plunked myself down next to a guy that was some kind of prototype nerd. He was playing Joker’s Wild. He struck up a conversation.

“I usually play that machine,” he said, gesturing to my machine of choice. "I just wanted a break."

The guy literally had a huge pocket protector, a couple of notepads open on the machine, Fortrel slacks, short sleeve dress shirt buttoned up to his neck. I started to think I was on some hidden camera show.

I played away, asked him about Joker’s Wild a bit, listened to him ramble with his theories and formulae.

It was kind of weird because I could tell he was watching me out of the corner of his eye.

At one point I made a hold which I know was right. He practically had a little nerdy shit-fit in his rush to point out what he thought was an error.

“THAT,” he said, jabbing at the glass on my machine, “was the wrong HOLD. You shouldn’t hold Q,10 suited, you should have held four to the flush.”

What he didn’t know was that I had 2 diamonds and 2 hearts – no flush possibility.

I nonchalantly held two deuces, pressed deal and said, “Oh. Really? I guess I fucked that up.”

And then – “Oh look!”

Yes indeed. What a sweet moment. The other two deuces were there and I was back in it with a $500 hand pay.


Mr. Peabody next to me ground his teeth, sucked a couple of hits of his inhaler, and cashed out.




Tuesday, July 13, 2010

Slot Tourney and Ultra Boner Poker

RF Stake: $220
QQ Stake: $220

With matching stakes, I got down to the casino a bit ahead of Mrs. Flusher who was feeling a bit draggy. In fact, we both were having a lot of fatigue. Were we coming down with something like the dreaded Pirate Eye disease?

I didn’t even have time to order my coffee (with eye-opener) when I hit my first quad of the day – fourth hand in. The usual $2 scratchcard followed. I pressed to 50-cent VP and got another. A great start to the day!

I cashed out with $140 in profit and went to fetch the Quad Queen. We sat down to play, and my luck went over to her.

She nailed Kings.

She nailed Queens.

She had a Straight Flush Dealt to her.

She nailed $50 deuces and $31.25 eights.

All that time, I couldn’t have nailed anything if I’d had a hammer! A gambling hammer. A gambling video poker hammer and a gambling video poker nail.

In any case it was time for the first session of the Big Kahuna slot tournament and I was still up $40 on the morning. The tournament slot machines must have originally been at the Cal with their surf board, conch shell, and bikini motifs. They didn’t seem to fit in the Victorian antique ambiance of Main Street Station.

The first time I watched a slot tournament I kind of rolled my eyes when I saw the entrants pounding the Spin buttons repeatedly like those rats they train – whenever they press a button they get food or an orgasm, and they press the button over and over until they explode.

I thought – why not wait until the reels are almost done spinning, then resume the frantic button pushing.

Then I tried a slot tournament. You can’t help it. It’s crazy manic. You press that button and press and press and press. You really hope for an orgasm or at least, a few food pellets.

I watched the Button Queen pressing and pressing and pressing. She didn’t get many of the three big kahuna symbols, which is what you need if you are going to win. They pay 5000 points or something.

She ended up with what I thought was a princely 9000 points. That was until I walked around and saw some of the other scores. The top guy had 18,000 points.

“You’re going to need more Kahuna’s tomorrow if you are going to top 18,000 points, you know,” I said helpfully.

Savvy gamblesters pounding the slot tourney buttons for orgasms.
Back to the machines after the tourney where I started to catch up with a straight flush of my own and another quad or two. Uncharacteristically, Mrs. Flusher went back to the room to rest.

I went on a pilgrimage to the $500 deuces machine at the Vegas Club (lost $30), and strolled around a bit in the spring sunshine. Back at MSS, I switched to Double Double Bonus from Bonus at just the right moment – second hand I nailed a quad. Don’t you love it when that works?

I collected the Flushmistress and fed her a constitution-rejuvenating grease-running-down-to-your-elbows cheeseburger and fries at Binions' snack bar.

Hit up the Fremont for some $3 craps and got on some good rolls. I stood next to a brother who spoke a lingo I could barely understand, and tried to do many complicated handshakes with me when we won. He was a nice guy and was basically betting on the field. He’d shove a stack of chips out there at the last moment every few rolls and often as not win. When one of the field numbers came in and he didn’t have a bet out he’d yell “DAMN!” and spout a bunch of stuff I couldn’t decipher. We had a lot of laughs even though we are from completely different worlds and I enjoyed his company. We both finished up, me with a little over $60 profit for the session.

It was getting to be evening and we were getting tired. We still hadn't made it to the strip.

As we strolled through the Cal on the way back to MSS and a late dinner, the QQ said, “I’m almost broke. Find me a machine for my last twenty.”

“What kind of a machine?”

“I should play some sort of stupid high volatility machine with mega bonuses on the quads.”

I looked around and spotted something appropriate.

“This one has Ultra Boner Poker on it. Do you think you can get an Ultra Boner?”

“Very funny. What do the quads pay?”

“Ummm…. Well, look any Aces is $500 – don’t need a kicker or anything.”

She played, I believe about six hands of Ultra Boner.

Aces.

Dealt.

$500.


And she got the kicker anyway.


RF has 100. Day: $-80 Trip: $-1010

QQ has $340 Day: $+120 Trip: $-170

Coming in at the commercial? The current trip report begins here.




Thursday, July 8, 2010

Quad Drought

We woke up after a night of sleeping. And dreaming about gambling.

But all was not well – Mrs. F’s eye was looking alarmingly red. I thought we might have to put some polysporin in it or do surgery later. But for now – it was time to gamble.

“Let’s get some scratch cards!”

Quad 8s. Yep.
We went down into the Main Street Station casino to our favorite machines. The morning sun was streaming down Stewart street, through the center doors of the casino, and lighting up our gambling den.

I started the fun with two sets of quad Kings and Mrs. F countered with quad 7s on Double Double.

That’s when things started to fall apart for me, relatively speaking. And I hadn’t even had breakfast buffet yet.

I entered what is technically known as a ‘quad drought’.

“I’m in quad drought…” I whined as Mrs. F, the Quad Queen, banged out her third in a row with no answer from me.

She went on to get a straight flush and then quad fours on Bonus for $50 and then quad sixes for $100 on Bonus Deluxe and then just two minutes later quad nines on Bonus Deluxe for another hundred dollars – the woman was on FIRE.

I thought about putting her out, but you never mess with a streak.

Somewhere in there we had naps with the louvers closed to the now burning desert sun high overhead.

Upon awakening, she asked me, “How does my eye look?”

“Better, now that we’re in a dark room.”

“No really, how does it look?”

It didn’t look good.

“You look kind of like a pirate. Hop around on one leg and black some teeth out with a magic marker and you could be a pirate.”

We put some goop in her eye and left the room to get on with the day. In the hallway, some woman was trying to get into her room, sliding her key over and over, to know avail.

“Key won’t work?” I asked.

She shook her head. “No…”

“Here, try mine,” I said helpfully.

Dinner was the $7.95 Prime Rib special at the California. What’s not to like at that price?

We had decided to play some higher stakes VP at a few junctures this trip. To get things started slowly, tonight it was fifty cent Bonus Poker at the Cal. The idea was that we’d each play $20 in at a time – double or nothing. You doubled it, you cashed out. You played to zero, you were done with that $20 and had to wait for the other person.

I managed to eke out an overall win, finishing with $147.50. Mrs. Flusher only lost $20. So that was a success. And just about the only success I had all day.

Just to cap the night off, the Queen hit Bonus Poker Aces for $100 – again.

RF: Day: $-400 Trip: $-930
QQ: Day $+180 Trip: $-290

I could see my trip was going in the dumper again. There’s not much to write about when you play all day and get only three sets of quads.

Well, the slot tournament Mrs. F was entered in started the next day, and first prize was like Five Grand or something. I set my sites on that and went to bed and dreamed of red-eyed pirates.




Wednesday, July 7, 2010

Fried Karma and Chicken

Mrs. Flusher went down to the Boar’s Head Bar to play and sample some microbrew drafts while I grabbed the Video Poker WinSimulator 3000 featuring WinPoker (which also does email) to take advantage of the free WiFi available just off the slot club booth.

My nephew Stanley had spent some time in Emergency in considerable dick-pain, but ultimately was released to home with an empty 2 gallon jug and some explicit instructions. They wanted him to drink like Flipper and hopefully piss out the kidney stone. For some reason, this entailed him keeping all his pee. Sometimes I think doctors tell us to do shit like that just to see if they can get us to do it.

I took heart that St. Flusherina’s sincere grovelling prayer (“Aloha!”) had at least moved dear Stan out of danger.

The news from the size 7 grommet line back at North American Veeblefetzer was the same as it had been all along. There was no real reason for me to check in. Never mind that my brain was already back on the line even though my bod’ was in Vegas. What does a guy have to do to get a vacation?

I checked at the front desk and the Colombian minions at Net10 had finally come through… with something. These guys have a tendency to overdo things (see No Bills, No Contracts, No Evil ) and this was no exception. I carried two 11x14 Fedex envelopes back up to the room along with the Video Poker WinSimulator 3000 featuring WinPoker. Dramatically I fought the plastic envelopes to try to get them open. I pulled, I stretched, I strained, I spotted.

Finally some of the adhesive gave and I found myself staring at a single piece of paper, and a credit card sized piece of plastic with a teeny tiny SIM card entombed in it.

The actual bit of business that I needed to get my phone working was all of half an inch square. Good thing it was luxuriating on its trip from Net10 SuperGenius HQ in the 11x14 padded vault Fedex envelope!

The idea of spending any more time on the Net10 hotline to Bogata to get these phones working rankled. I should be gambling and drinking. It was at that moment that I had a brainstorm.

“Fuck it.”

I went to the bar.

Sometimes it's fun to see how far you can get with a minimal buy-in. In this case, a single five-dollar bill. First of all, it got me some sample tumblers of various bourbons I’d been meaning to try (all cheaper than the Wal-Fuck-You-Liquor-Prison-You-Can’t-Come-In-Here-Mart booze I’d bought for home.)

I started with Gentleman Jack and moved on to Maker’s Mark. I found the Jack a tad smoother but the Mark to have more flavor.

Meanwhile, doggone it if my $5 buy-in didn’t net me Bonus Poker Aces for $100. A few more drinks, and ultimately, a losing session, and it was time for din-din.


Specifically, free meat at the Fitz. More specifically, the Fuck You Colonel Fried Chicken, which is ‘to die’ for.

Perhaps that is a bit too strong. I wouldn’t actually die for this chicken (although the chicken did). I would take a ‘serious wounding’ for it though, something along the lines of ‘a nasty hangnail’ or ‘an ingrown hair’. Yes, this fried chicken is to ‘take a glancing blow from a claw hammer on your thumb’ for.

We marched up to the podium and ordered the chicken. By now, the hostess knew the drill, and knew we’d be back. We mean chicken business!

We spent 20 minutes having a quick gamble upstairs and then zipped over to the Keno area to pick up a joint ticket as is our wont. Why eat without gambling, when you can eat and also gamble????

I filled out a ticket with some lucky numbers and handed it in to the cashier.

“There are a lot of numbers to choose from aren’t there?!” I said.

“Yes, there are,” said the Keno cashier, her boss looking over her shoulder. New?

“And they're all chosen live, back there?”

“Yes,” she said, “with those balls.”

“Balls? You have balls?”

“Yes. Back there in the cage. They pick the balls.”

“Wow… It sure takes a lot of balls to play Keno.”

By this time the poor woman’s boss could barely contain her laughter. I winked at the boss and smiled at the cashier.

And, by making the Keno cashier the butt of my ball jokes, I had virtually ensured that we would win dick all. Making fun at people’s expense is not good karma, and is not the Royal Flusher Way.

The chicken was as amazing as always, and of course, we won pretty much S.F.A. I took the ticket back to the poor cashier and had her check it.

“Two dollars. Play again?”

“Keep it.”

Karma restored for the low, low price of two dollars, I retired to my after dinner stomping grounds – the $3 craps tables at the Fremont. Mrs. Flusher had a bash at the Treasure Chest machines. I’m not sure why we play these when we can’t ascertain the house edge on them. Maybe because they are fun and we are stupid!

My buy-in lasted a while but eventually disappeared. And poor Quad Queenie couldn’t manage a treasure chest quad in her session.

RF: Day: $-90 (only -90!!) Trip: $-530
QQ: Day: $-200 Trip: $-470

We were down exactly one royal. $1000.

And, we’d overpaid for liquor. But tomorrow was another day in Glitter Gulch. Maybe we’d make it to the strip and change our luck a bit. I had to wonder – other than my royal – where were the big wins that make or break the trip???




Sunday, July 4, 2010

Quest for the World's Biggest Guitar Store

Our first full day at Main Street Station, and we started bright and early with on our favorite bank of four slant tops. I love slant tops. They are just so much better than the horrible uprights at the Four Queens. The buttons are reliable, and your drink, notepad, pen, compass, dental floss, sewing kit, waterproof matches, quarter to call home, candle stub, fish hook, line, backup flint, and kindling can be placed on the playing surface, all within easy reach.

Notwithstanding the fact that the Four Queen’s uprights cough up Royals for me.

Speak of Royals… now it can be told.

I am pissed off at the Goddam Nugget. They used to have some secret machines back by the convention hall that had full pay 8/5 Bonus on them in quarters. It was a fantastic place to play, quiet, away from smoke, excellent drink service.

The best part is, I hit a Royal on the same machine the last two trips. And I was ready to go for the trifecta. But no, we visited my lucky machine, and sure enough, the Golden rat bastards have downgraded the pay table. Play ‘em while you can…

Mrs. Flusher started the day off with $100 Aces and we alternated quads until the Queen put together a streak of 3. All the scratch cards (8 of ‘em) were for $2.

We enjoyed breakfast at the MSS buffet and then headed out to the Vegas Club for our daily $500 Deuces pilgrimage. We didn’t hit it but the Slot Queen won some bucks on a dollar coin dropper slot.

Gratuitous Golden Gate shot.
Back to MSS to get more rated play towards our food costs. We were booked in on a slot tournament offer but had to bookend the tourney with some extra nights at casino rate. There was some food included with the tourney but not everything was covered. I like the tourneys where you get the little Aloha food coupon books – those are worth a lot.

The Queen continued to play well, getting dealt straight flush and I switched to 50-cent VP just in time to get four 4s for $100. (Hmm, that’s only 3 fors.)

Since we’d paid for the rental car for a few days, and hadn’t even ventured out of downtown, I suggested a tour. I wanted to go to the World’s Biggest Guitar Store, which I’d seen so many times from the freeway on previous trips over the past 15 years. Somehow, I’d never made it there. They were bound to have a fine selection of electric ukes to drool over.

“Let’s get out of downtown, hon, and see the strip again (and the World’s Biggest Guitar Store),” I implored.

“Can’t. Gambling.”

“We should make use of the car, we paid for it…”

“Gambling.”

“I’ll be lonely without your – “

“CAN’T. GAMBLING!”

I was clearly on my own.

“Pick up some liquor for the room and duty free,” were my sweet’s parting words.

Okay, fine. I grabbed the car and headed off.

I was pretty sure I knew just exactly where the guitar store was – on the west side of I-15 somewhere.

Deftly, I swung east on Stewart, made a left, and swung onto some road, swung right, went straight, feinted right again, but then swung left onto some ramp, and swung my way down Interstate number 15. I liked the sound of Tropicana so I swung off the I-15 and swung onto Tropicana.

I knew I was nearing the fabled WBGS when I saw Dean Martin. (The drive, not the singer.) I deked onto Dean Martin and drove south, looking for the huge signage which would herald the WBGS. I ended up way south, past Mandalay Bay. Too far.

Okay, I turned right and headed west, then right again so as to circle around. This turned out to be a dead end. I doubled back, went west some more, then south. It was good to be seeing some of Las Vegas’ finest industrial areas, replete with loading bays, and greasy-looking offices up front. (There were also some very, very large Adult Novelty Warehouses. I guess when it comes to sex toys, size matters.) Finally I made it back to Dean Martin, north of where I’d joined it. I turned left.

This took me smack into some construction and through some fucking tunnel which landed me on the wrong side of I-15. I pulled a u-turn, risking my, and several others lives in the process. The Jump off the Stratosphere Erection was starting to look very safe in comparison to driving in the Industrial Heartland of Las Vegas.

Going south on Dean Martin, I knew that the WBGS had to be in the next stretch, since I’d overshot it on the previous attempt. Well, I ended up back where I’d started.

Conclusion. The fucking WBGS wasn’t there anymore.

Okay fine. I’d tour some more of industrio-residential Vegas looking for a liquor store to buy cheap liquor. I went west, then swung north.

Do you think I could spot a single liquor outlet? NO!

Then I spied Walmart. Surely they would have the best, lowest, cheapest prices around!

I pulled into the parking lot and walked into a Wal-Mart the size of the Hindenburg hangar. (And inside the Wal-mart, some of the people were the size of the Hindenburg. Other of these people were just plain scary.)

Never mind. I hiked to the back of the grocery section, looking for the liquor area. I found some drinks, including beer, but no hard stuff. So I hiked back to the front and asked. I was told go to Aisle 22 to get the liquor – but you can’t go in there.

Huh???

I hiked along the front of the store. Found no liquor. WTF? I ended up doing a complete circuit of this approximately 300 acre Walmart. You could run an Indy-car race inside this mammoth store.

Back where I started I asked again about the liquor. And for good measure, I also asked about the World’s Biggest Guitar Store.

Back to Aisle 22. Finally I got it figured out. The booze was kept in an ‘employee’s only’ area, which I promptly stepped into, so as to find out what I wanted to buy.

“YOU CAN’T GO IN THERE!” came the rebuke from a nearby blue-aproned Wal-drone.

“So how the hell am I supposed to know what you carry, what the prices are, and what to ask
for?”

This seemed to stymie her.

Fortunately I could see what I wanted from outside the Liquor Compound. I got in line at the Aisle 22 cashier.

“So, do I just ask you for what I want and you bring it?”

“Yup. Or you can ask any cashier and they’ll come down here and bring it back to you.” Naturally, nobody had pointed this out until now – although they had helpfully pointed out
“YOU CAN’T GO IN THERE.”

This has to be the weirdest, most anal, fucked up liquor buying situation I’ve ever seen. You have to psychically know what they have in stock, and the price of it as well, then plead to the Wal-drone to go and get it for you.

Well, at least I knew I was getting the best price around.

Exhausted I drove back to Main Street Station, parked, and brought the booze up to the room, where I found Mrs. Flusher, who examined my purchases.

“The Crown Royal is $2 cheaper at the gift shop downstairs.”

No.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

It couldn’t be. I marched her down there. We left the elevator, swung right into Elevator Lobby, swung right again into Hotel Hallway, and then swung right into Giftshop.

Not only were the MSS gift shop prices better than Wal-Fuck’s on liquor, you could get a further 10% discount by using your slot club card.

Well, at least my hours in the car hadn’t been totally wasted.

Oh. Right.

Actually, yes they had.

Addendum:

I am informed by a very savvy gamblester, C.K. (not his real initials) that:

...the cheapest place to buy booze is at the gift shop in the Gold Coast Casino. It's located on the south east side near the check in desk. The wife and I always make our first stop there to purchase our adult beverages for room consumption.

Thank you for the heads up and the bottoms up, C.K.!!!!!!




Friday, July 2, 2010

Santana

A poor-quality picture of Carlos Santana, not on this trip, and not at the Hard Rock. But it's really him.
We used the car to move to Main Street Station – a full 4 blocks away. What a great use of a rental car! I dropped the Luggage Queen at the front door with the bags and wheeled into the parkade, right to the spots near the walkway, hoping for El Primo Spotto.

Unh un. I parked the car all the way up on the top level of the car park. I would have parked lower down if there had been any lucky parking spots. Getting in the elevator, I donned a couple of haz-mat gloves and gingerly pressed ‘M’. The elevator made noises like a Transformer with bowel problems.

It squeaked and groaned and blatted and scraped its way down to the bottom.

We checked in and I asked about the Net10 SIM cards which I would need, supposedly, to stay in touch with North American Veeblefetzer. Never mind that we were a good 5 days into our trip.

No such luck – or was it lucky? – there was no mail for me at the desk.

The room was adequate as always with a stunning view of three buildings – the California, the Las Vegas Club, and the Plaza.

With my Marine issue surplus Double Hubble space binoculars (with night vision) I could also make out the erection that is the Stratosphere.

I hear people are paying to jump off it. When someone dies doing this, they will call it an accident. I will call it what the hell did you expect.

It seems incipiently stupid to risk one’s life on a couple of thin fraying cables and some winch equipment stolen from the bumper of a Ford Explorer which is most likely maintained by a guy with a German accent and a beer problem named ‘Big Hans’ and another guy probably named ‘Manny’ (according to the stitching on his breast pocket flap) who slipped through the background check and has warrants out on him in 4 states (plus Mexico).

I resolved I would never, ever go on the jump off the erection ride, unless I have a really, really good coupon for it.

Bags dumped, we moved to the Boar's Head bar for some draft micro-brews, and video poker of course.

There is hardly a finer place to play at the bar than MSS. I nailed the first quad, being dealt four 5s, and got the first scratch card for an exciting… $2.

Then, Mrs. Flusher got a quad and got the second scratch card for an exciting … $3!!! The value of these cards seems to have dropped over the last year – it is really rare now to get anything more than $2. To compensate, the QQ nailed 2 more quads including Aces for $100.


At some point we had a nap and on awakening I sprung the news – we were going to Santana that night. We grabbed dinner at the Cal coffee shop and played around here and there until it was time to shove off for the Hard Rock Las Vegas Hotel & Casino.

(Since my first mention of the Hard Rock Las Vegas Hotel & Casino, the management has contacted me by email, insisting that I refer to it as the Hard Rock Las Vegas Hotel & Casino, so as to differentiate it from the other similarly named, but differently owned, Hard Rock Not In Las Vegas, Not Hotels & Not Casinos But Are Hard Rock Restaurants (Except the One in Florida) out there.)

We drove down Paradise and there was a ton of traffic. I saw a sign for Hard Rock parking but it seemed way too far from the big guitars. I turned in and saw that it was bumper to bumper and not moving so I did a u-turn.

“There’ll be another entrance up there for the lot.”

It had been a while since we’d been to the Hard Rock Las Vegas Hotel & Casino – before the expansion. And the parking lot I intended to use… well, I’m pretty sure that’s where Carlos Santana was going to play. There seemed to be a big box there that must be the Joint.

“There’s no more entrances. We’re screwed.”

I turned right, and found myself in the main entrance, leading up to the porte cochon. And it was bumper to bumper.

“I am a complete fool.”

The Hard Rock Las Vegas Hotel & Casino was never, ever this busy before. The expansion must have done wonders. We made it through the drive through fairly quickly and like magic, there was another parking entrance for the Hard Rock Las Vegas Hotel & Casino. I pulled in and turned right, into a sweet parkade. We’d made it.

The Hard Rock Las Vegas Hotel & Casino has really grown and I miss the intimate feel it used to have with decent video poker, great music, and amazing cocktail waitresses. You felt like you were being dominated as much as being served back in the day. Meowwwwr!!!

We had time for a pre-show drink so we headed for the old part of the casino – the big round area. As we walked in, the sound system started to blast a familiar song – Sinatra’s Luck Be A Lady. The same song I use to kick off the trips. Nice! I looked around and my eyes lingered on a couple of young hotties wearing bikinis of all things.

We plunked down at some short pay, high volatility, big payback on quads Hard Rock Las Vegas Hotel & Casino Video Poker Machines and ordered a couple of highballs. I had no luck but wouldn’t you know it, the Quad Queen banged out another beauty for $62.50. Another girl in a bikini walked by. Time have changed, I thought – we are way overdressed for the Hard Rock Las Vegas Hotel & Casino Casino.

We made our way to Hard Rock Las Vegas Hotel & Casino's The Joint and decided on a bathroom break before heading in. I found myself in a sea of people, trying to get to the men’s room. Mrs. Flusher disappeared in the throng.

Or should I say thong?

Two and two finally came together to make 36-24-36 and the little light went on.

It was Sunday – Rehab at the Hard Rock Las Vegas Hotel & Casino.

And it had just ended.

I found myself flapping to and fro like a middle-aged salmon, fighting upstream through an endless mass of hot, squirming, hardbodies. The eye candy was unbelievable. But there was a pervasive scent of armpit sweat, booze, and sweat. And some suntan stuff too. And more sweat.

I tried to relax and enjoy the feast of womanflesh which made up half the crowd.

Then I landed facefirst into some guys sweaty, shaved 100-pack abs. My face slipped off his oiled skin and my nose ended up in his armpit.

(The guy was probably named Blake, or Chad, or Troy. He’s 6’ 5”, and taking a stock broker class and works out 98 times per week. He gets women to sleep with him by flaring his nostrils slightly as the breeze flows around his stiff, gelled hair. I think I dislike Brandon or Tohny or Roq or whatever his name is).

I made the Hard Rock Las Vegas Hotel & Casino's Men’s Room and took care of business. Fortunately, the return trip to the Hard Rock Las Vegas Hotel & Casino's The Joint was uneventful – it's much easier going downstream.

I resolved to try to trip Tohny if I saw him walking by.

The Santana show was fabulous.

One of my favourite pieces of music is on Abraxas, the first four songs, which flow from one into the next. It is a tour-de-force of groundbreaking music. When you hear Black Magic Woman on the radio, you are missing 3/4 of the most amazing suite.

You have the mystical, ethereal Singing Winds, Crying Beasts, then it segues into the smoldering Black Magic Woman which seamlessly thrusts into the orgasmic rhythms of Gypsy Queen. And then we are brought back home again with Oye Como Va and its wonderful guttural shouts to end it all.

Now, I was hoping to hear some classic Santana, as well as the newer hits but Carlos kicked off the set with the full, perfect quadrecta – Singing Winds into Black Magic Woman into Gypsy Queen into Oye Como Va. I was in heaven and I’d gotten my money’s worth already at that point.

It actually sounded better than the album – which is pretty unusual for a live show.

I can’t praise the musicianship enough of the band Santana put around himself – to a person they are extremely talented and accomplished.

I play electric ukulele, so I know about these things.

Carlos played for a full 2 hours and we went back to MSS satisfied. Mrs Flushtana had even eked out a win for the day. I, on the other hand, had eked out yet another loss.

RF has: $0 Day: $-200 Trip: $-440

QQ has: $380 Day: $+40 Trip: $-270




Thursday, July 1, 2010

Servin' it up real soon now.



One of Binionses' lovely servers.
Okay, just hold yer horses there, whistle-britches.

It's comin', it's comin'.

The rest of the trip report will be served up after I enjoy a couple cold ones and get my shit together.

Thank you, come again!!!