Vegas Revenge on the Plan Your Trip, Trip Your Plan trip report. There are at least two top 10 posts in this one including The Man With Two Senior Hawaiian Girlfriends.
Saturday, May 19, 2012
The Las Vegas Revenge aka Plan Your Trip Trip Your Plan Trip Report
April/May 2012
Vegas Revenge on the Plan Your Trip, Trip Your Plan trip report. There are at least two top 10 posts in this one including The Man With Two Senior Hawaiian Girlfriends.
Vegas Revenge on the Plan Your Trip, Trip Your Plan trip report. There are at least two top 10 posts in this one including The Man With Two Senior Hawaiian Girlfriends.
Royal Flusher Twitter Facebook Blaster Fracker
The Royal has entered the new millenium.
I did have a Facebook account back in 2009 but I am starting to get the feeling that this thing might just take off in a couple of years, so I'm going to start doing some more facing on it.
And more big news, I also have a Twit account so I can toot or twat or whatever it is you do with that. And apparently it's hooked into my Faceblast account.
So now, you can keep up with Royal Flusher in the following ways:
Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/royalflushervegas#
Twitter:
https://twitter.com/royalflusher
I'm really excited about this new technology and what it can mean in terms of exposing my debauchery, Vegas humiliations and gambling failures for your the purposes of your reading entertainment.
I've also signed up for some additional cutting edge accounts the web and on my various handheld devices which include eHork, iSoar, Yabbo, hooHa, ManDroid, IOSRGBWTF, vidCrapCap, innaGaddaDaVida, WebLinkHookMashup, MyYoursOursHisHersPlaceSpaceFace and Bizzbuzzword.
So watch for me on all of those places!
I did have a Facebook account back in 2009 but I am starting to get the feeling that this thing might just take off in a couple of years, so I'm going to start doing some more facing on it.
And more big news, I also have a Twit account so I can toot or twat or whatever it is you do with that. And apparently it's hooked into my Faceblast account.
So now, you can keep up with Royal Flusher in the following ways:
Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/royalflushervegas#
Twitter:
https://twitter.com/royalflusher
I'm really excited about this new technology and what it can mean in terms of exposing my debauchery, Vegas humiliations and gambling failures for your the purposes of your reading entertainment.
I've also signed up for some additional cutting edge accounts the web and on my various handheld devices which include eHork, iSoar, Yabbo, hooHa, ManDroid, IOSRGBWTF, vidCrapCap, innaGaddaDaVida, WebLinkHookMashup, MyYoursOursHisHersPlaceSpaceFace and Bizzbuzzword.
So watch for me on all of those places!
Saturday, May 12, 2012
Leaving Las Vegas (Again) Part 2 - the Final Conflict
I transferred one last hundred dollar bill to my stake and headed downstairs.
The plan - I had 2 hours 15 minutes before the limo. I wanted to have a few drinks, play some VP, hopefully win, eat a decent meal, and head out.
I slid into a stool in front of the end machine at the bar at Main Street Station and shoved the hundy into the machine. The bartender wandered down and I gave him my order.
"Bring me an Absolut on the rocks now, and another in three minutes, and another five minutes after that. I'm not even kidding."
Started playing some 9/6 Jacks kick my ass, and the guy next to me pipes up, "So, where ya from?"
No one knows where Flusherville is, or has ever even heard of it, so I always give the same answer.
"East of Toronto. You?"
He paused for a moment.
"You wouldn't be Royal Flusher, would you?"
I looked him square in the eye. I couldn't deny it. I was, in fact, Royal Flusher, even though my nom de plume is Royal Flusher.
"You just met him." I whipped out one of my valuable official business cards and presented it with a flourish.
"Here's my valuable business card to prove it," I said.
We shook hands and it turns out I know the fellow from the various online places I have haunted and still haunt. Goes by the handle of Squidward. We spent an enjoyable 17 minutes talking, having a few, and losing $50. Well, I did, anyway.
Need I mention that I got no quads?
It was really cool to meet someone in person who has been following the blog and gets a kick out of it. One of the high points of my trip, really.
Time to move on. I had a $10 coupon for the Pasta Pirate in the California. Got that set up at the slot club, and still had a $5 food coupon left over from the tournament.
I got seated right away, but despite asking repeatedly, nobody knows what the connection between pirates and Italian food is. Are their Italian pirates? Did pirates crave carbohydrates? It makes no sense to me.
At the Pasta Pirate they make the chefs slave away in a little glass lined enclosure. It was fun to watch them duck as I pelted the glass with spitballs.
I had a nice salad and they brought me a breadsicle. A breadsicle is a loaf of bread with a knife stuck in it for a handle. It was very convenient to hold the bread with the handle and nibble at it delicately. One must mind one's manners and not take 'big boy bites' of the breadsicle, when dining at the hoity Pasta Pirate.
Entre was a rib eye steak, and it was really, really nice. Cooked to perfection, tender, flavorful. A fit last meal.
The remainder of the $24 tab was covered by my slot points, so, another fine comped meal. Made me feel good.
I walked out of the restaurant and the first thing I laid eyes on was... a nice little dollar Bonus Poker slant-top. And I had my extra $50 budget left.
Well, of course I did. Of course. Played it down, got a bit of this and that, down again to maybe ten bucks left (two hands), got a full house, nice, couple more hands, and then boom, a nice quad for $125.
I cashed it out. Gambling activities had ended. I'd secured a win for the trip, and was leaving on a high note - a nice dollar quad. I'd won back my extra hundred stake, and a bit more. I was up some $200 on the trip and had a good steak in my tummy. I was happy.
On my way up to the room, my cell rang - limo was waiting for me. Got everything together, emptied the safe, headed down and off we went.
Did I say gambling activities had ended?
The airport, dumbass. There's always the airport. Had some time to kill before the redeye (got my duty free this time, thank goodness, bottle of Finlandia for $18).
Ah, the airport rarely lets me down. This, actually, was my last gamble of the trip. $20 in, $60 out. I left a card on the machine, if anyone finds it. It's in Terminal 2.
I deem this trip a huge success. I had a really fantastic time. I added up all the comps I got which included 9 free nights, maybe $350 in free play, mostly free meals. The total of all that, valuing room nights at $50 each, comes to:
$1088.00
On the gambling front, I had a net win of:
$250.00
I had out of pocket expenses (various meals, airport rip-off items and meals, tips, bits of this and that, Plonknyett vodka etc.) of maybe $350.
And the airline ticket was (ulp) $900 plus $50 for parking.
Total expenses: $1300
Comps plus win: $1338
That's a pretty cheap vacation, and I was able to extract some amount of Vegas Revenge on the casinos by winning $250. Beats the hell out of losing $3K like last time.
So what made the difference? Playing more carefully. Training on VP and blackjack before coming to town. Playing within my budget, which means playing mostly quarters, and not taking many flyers on 50 cent or dollar play. Not drinking as much while playing but saving it for after. (Mostly) not breaking my $300 daily loss 'guideline'. Getting the VP wins when it mattered. Getting a big slot win or two to help me out. When those things don't happen, you are in trouble.
And that's how you do it, the Royal Flusher Way.
The plan - I had 2 hours 15 minutes before the limo. I wanted to have a few drinks, play some VP, hopefully win, eat a decent meal, and head out.
I slid into a stool in front of the end machine at the bar at Main Street Station and shoved the hundy into the machine. The bartender wandered down and I gave him my order.
"Bring me an Absolut on the rocks now, and another in three minutes, and another five minutes after that. I'm not even kidding."
Started playing some 9/6 Jacks kick my ass, and the guy next to me pipes up, "So, where ya from?"
No one knows where Flusherville is, or has ever even heard of it, so I always give the same answer.
"East of Toronto. You?"
He paused for a moment.
"You wouldn't be Royal Flusher, would you?"
I looked him square in the eye. I couldn't deny it. I was, in fact, Royal Flusher, even though my nom de plume is Royal Flusher.
"You just met him." I whipped out one of my valuable official business cards and presented it with a flourish.
"Here's my valuable business card to prove it," I said.
We shook hands and it turns out I know the fellow from the various online places I have haunted and still haunt. Goes by the handle of Squidward. We spent an enjoyable 17 minutes talking, having a few, and losing $50. Well, I did, anyway.
Need I mention that I got no quads?
It was really cool to meet someone in person who has been following the blog and gets a kick out of it. One of the high points of my trip, really.
Time to move on. I had a $10 coupon for the Pasta Pirate in the California. Got that set up at the slot club, and still had a $5 food coupon left over from the tournament.
I got seated right away, but despite asking repeatedly, nobody knows what the connection between pirates and Italian food is. Are their Italian pirates? Did pirates crave carbohydrates? It makes no sense to me.
 |
| Helpful guide to Cheese in the Pasta Pirate |
 |
| Lousy picture of the breadsicles. |
At the Pasta Pirate they make the chefs slave away in a little glass lined enclosure. It was fun to watch them duck as I pelted the glass with spitballs.
I had a nice salad and they brought me a breadsicle. A breadsicle is a loaf of bread with a knife stuck in it for a handle. It was very convenient to hold the bread with the handle and nibble at it delicately. One must mind one's manners and not take 'big boy bites' of the breadsicle, when dining at the hoity Pasta Pirate.
Entre was a rib eye steak, and it was really, really nice. Cooked to perfection, tender, flavorful. A fit last meal.
The remainder of the $24 tab was covered by my slot points, so, another fine comped meal. Made me feel good.
I walked out of the restaurant and the first thing I laid eyes on was... a nice little dollar Bonus Poker slant-top. And I had my extra $50 budget left.
Well, of course I did. Of course. Played it down, got a bit of this and that, down again to maybe ten bucks left (two hands), got a full house, nice, couple more hands, and then boom, a nice quad for $125.
I cashed it out. Gambling activities had ended. I'd secured a win for the trip, and was leaving on a high note - a nice dollar quad. I'd won back my extra hundred stake, and a bit more. I was up some $200 on the trip and had a good steak in my tummy. I was happy.
On my way up to the room, my cell rang - limo was waiting for me. Got everything together, emptied the safe, headed down and off we went.
Did I say gambling activities had ended?
The airport, dumbass. There's always the airport. Had some time to kill before the redeye (got my duty free this time, thank goodness, bottle of Finlandia for $18).
Ah, the airport rarely lets me down. This, actually, was my last gamble of the trip. $20 in, $60 out. I left a card on the machine, if anyone finds it. It's in Terminal 2.
I deem this trip a huge success. I had a really fantastic time. I added up all the comps I got which included 9 free nights, maybe $350 in free play, mostly free meals. The total of all that, valuing room nights at $50 each, comes to:
$1088.00
On the gambling front, I had a net win of:
$250.00
I had out of pocket expenses (various meals, airport rip-off items and meals, tips, bits of this and that, Plonknyett vodka etc.) of maybe $350.
And the airline ticket was (ulp) $900 plus $50 for parking.
Total expenses: $1300
Comps plus win: $1338
That's a pretty cheap vacation, and I was able to extract some amount of Vegas Revenge on the casinos by winning $250. Beats the hell out of losing $3K like last time.
So what made the difference? Playing more carefully. Training on VP and blackjack before coming to town. Playing within my budget, which means playing mostly quarters, and not taking many flyers on 50 cent or dollar play. Not drinking as much while playing but saving it for after. (Mostly) not breaking my $300 daily loss 'guideline'. Getting the VP wins when it mattered. Getting a big slot win or two to help me out. When those things don't happen, you are in trouble.
And that's how you do it, the Royal Flusher Way.
Leaving Las Vegas (Again)
Today's Royal Flusher Gambling Song Of The Day Is: Sheryl Crow - Leaving Las Vegas
I had a great sleep but was kind of edgy knowing that this was my last day in Vegas - I'm booked on the red eye out of town at 11:20pm. I was edgy for a couple of reasons. One, I still haven't got Aces with kicker. Two, a winning trip with some, albeit small, Vegas Revenge is dangling in front of me. Would I have to stop gambling (horrors) to preserve the win? Three, I always - always - seem to get my ass kicked on the last day.
First stop - check the Keno tickets. Big whoop, I won $4 and played one of the sets of numbers again with the proceeds. The coldness of the machines froze my metaphoric balls once again and the non-quad trend from yesterday continued. Dumped $30 at the Cal and $40 at MSS before breakfast.
Had an okay breakfast buffet at MSS. Did you know they have a whole bin of country throw-up gravy there? I was pretty thrilled, and put it on everything, including a banana (which I saved for later).
With some time before Round 1 of my slot tournament, I went at various video poker machines in MSS, trying to get some wins. Nothing doing. I dumped a hundred in no time and ended up hanging around the tournament area.
It was killing me, being down so much already with really no playing time, and no quads to show for it. I could easily see going through the rest of my trip revenge profit at this rate, which I really did not want to do.
The slot tournament went well. I hit the top jackpot 10 times in my session and scored #1 in my group of 36 button smashing degenerates and potential granny I.S.Gs. Since I was booked to fly out, they let me queue for a spot in the next group on standby, in case anyone didn't show for their session. Well, there were 3 or 4 extra spots, so I was in and did session #2.
I really felt I had a shot at some tournament money if I could pull off a round like my first one. By the halfway point I'd had 4 top jackpots, not bad, and was on track to finish within a couple of thousand points of my 22,000 first round. If I had a stellar second half, I might even be in the top 5 for the big dough.
That's when, as they say, it went in the shitter. I got only one more top payout, and finished well short of anything close to winning with not even 16K points in round 2. I maybe - maybe - had a shot at top 50 where I'd win $50.
Slinking away, I slinked back to the room to regroup.
Before coming to Vegas, I'd done an El Cortez survey, which was good for $5 free play, and switched to their new green initiative online offer system, to do away with ecologically unsound unicorn killing paper mailings, and was supposed to get another $5 out of that.
When I'd checked in with the slot club, they wanted to see the confirmation emails I'd been sent. They couldn't just look at my account and see that I'd done my duty.
I pulled up the emails, and the confirmations are typical geriatric El Cortez technology. They don't even include any sort of code or ID number. Any 10 year old could create these in about 7 seconds on an iPhone and still have time to pick his nose.
So I got on the phone and talked to the boothling at the slot club. I explained that I'd like to forward my emails, walk over, and get my dough. Then I explained it again.
I got put on hold and passed to another boothling.
Lather, rinse, repeat. I got put on hold and passed to yet another boothling.
Explain again the incredible fucking absurdity of receiving an email to support their green initiative and then having them require that I print the goddamned thing out on precious oxygen giving clear-cut dioxin laden virgin printer paper in order to get my electronic free play.
I got put on hold and passed to the booth boss.
Explain yet again that I wanted to do the simplest thing - send them an email - and get my hard earned dough. And that I'd been there in person. And that I'd been on the phone for 10 minutes now trying to squeeze a fucking morsel of common fucking sense from these dimwit fucktonsils.
I might have said it a bit nicer than that.
Well, she at least understood the absurdity of it all. And she agreed with me. And there was nothing she could do. And she agreed it was stupid. But there wasn't anything she could do unless her bosses changed their minds.
Maybe the boss is the fucktonsils and the boothlings are all in indentured servitude, slaving for The Man and doing his bidding. Reminded me of the size 7 grommet line which smells of burning used condoms and cheap Chinese axle grease. For all I know, the El Cortez smells just like that.
I told her to explain to her boss that I would not be printing up the emails because, hmm, I don't have a PRINTER in my hotel room, and I would not be coming to the El Cortez today to gamble.
On my next trip, I swear to God I am going to laser etch that stupid email on a three foot chunk of virgin forest Douglas Fir and dump it on their stupid counter with a thud that could wake Paul Fucking Bunyan.
I reflected upon my good fortune that my wasted 10 minutes, and lost $10, would result in a Class A Fuck You rant on my blog. Time, though, to check the $4 last gasp Keno ticket.
I was flabbergasted and shocked beyond belief when the screen said "NO WIN". Me, lose at Keno? Unheard of, yeah?
Last day blues continued at Black Jack. Some dealers are great and some are just assholes. I wasn't sure of a particular double down situation and asked the dealer. Long story short, she have me the wrong answer after first saying, "You might double down....". Yes I know I can, I want to know if I should.
I stopped the game, and took my sweet time fishing out a strategy card. Took my time looking it up. Definitely should double down. She could have just said so.
I doubled, lost the hand, gave her the Flushereye, and left the table. Another $60 gone. Fucking day was turning into disaster land.
Tried $20 in Super Double Triple Fucker Bonus Poker (with $1000 for Aces with 2/3/4 which I still had not gotten this trip) and it dumped. Dealt 3 Aces twice, of course. Dealt 4 to a Royal once of course.
Do I sound bitter and angry?
Last day - what is it about it? It's almost as if the machines can smell the fear. I'm playing not to lose, not playing loosely, not playing to win. Maybe its that negative attitude, that conservation attitude that makes the last day so bad.
I decided to thumb my nose at the El Cortez by having lunch at Le Thai. Yes I would walk alllll that way and not play there. That would really show them!
Le Thai was fabulous again. I can see myself eating there multiple times each trip, its that good. Had the green chicken curry lunch special again. Delish!
Figuring Le Thai had changed my luck, I made degenerate move number 18 and picked up my very small cashback from the Four Queens. Jay was there and I excitedly asked him how much I had.
Six bucks.
Took it. It took longer to cash the voucher than it did to feed it (and lose it) in a $1 slot. No magic this time.
I went to say 'so long' to the Mikes, and for addition stupidity I dumped an additional $20 at the bar VP.
I had a strategy in my back pocket for a time-killer and now was the moment to pull it out - a visit to the Mob Museum.
One odd thing about it, if I didn't already know about it, as a visitor to Fremont street, I never would have known it was there. There are no signs, no ads, no mobsters wandering Fremont handing out flyers. Hellllooooooh......?????? How obvious is that??? Have some made wiseguys stuffing these things into your shirt pocket, "You didn't see nuthin'..."
Anyhoo, I wandered over there and bought a ticket. They are kind of learning their way around their own systems there, with some glitches in the buying process, and then it wasn't actually clear where I was supposed to go to start the tour. Maybe that was just me.
It's three floors of history, pictures of shot-up gangsters, mayhem, weapons, movies, interactive displays (some cool, some stupid) and I spent an enjoyable hour and a half going through it all. They have some really, really cool artifacts from old Vegas, and lots of pictures and movie footage I've never seen anywhere before.
One cool display let you use a shim to trigger a jackpot on an old mechanical slot machine. Man I love those old machines, and someday, I'm going to own one for myself. Not sure how, but I will.
I'd given myself a budget for the day which would leave some profit on the trip.
The last of it went into Super Double Triple Fucker Bonus Poker and then, I'd hit the wall. Day's stake gone, still $171 in profit for the trip.
Big sigh.
Back to the room, head drooped. Small tear in the corner of my eye as I faked up some busywork, packing and organizing and repacking and reorganizing.
Did some writing and posted it. Chatted with Mrs. Flusher online. Turned on the TV. Turned off the TV. Took a nap. Showered and shaved.
Lonely and (sort of) broke in Vegas and leaving in a few hours.
This is the moment when you sort of weigh your priorities. Was it really that important for me to have some 'accounting win' on this trip, compared to wasting precious Vegas gambling time? Was it worth spending my last hours in Vegas sitting around waiting for a ride to the airport?
I had a great sleep but was kind of edgy knowing that this was my last day in Vegas - I'm booked on the red eye out of town at 11:20pm. I was edgy for a couple of reasons. One, I still haven't got Aces with kicker. Two, a winning trip with some, albeit small, Vegas Revenge is dangling in front of me. Would I have to stop gambling (horrors) to preserve the win? Three, I always - always - seem to get my ass kicked on the last day.
First stop - check the Keno tickets. Big whoop, I won $4 and played one of the sets of numbers again with the proceeds. The coldness of the machines froze my metaphoric balls once again and the non-quad trend from yesterday continued. Dumped $30 at the Cal and $40 at MSS before breakfast.
Had an okay breakfast buffet at MSS. Did you know they have a whole bin of country throw-up gravy there? I was pretty thrilled, and put it on everything, including a banana (which I saved for later).
With some time before Round 1 of my slot tournament, I went at various video poker machines in MSS, trying to get some wins. Nothing doing. I dumped a hundred in no time and ended up hanging around the tournament area.
It was killing me, being down so much already with really no playing time, and no quads to show for it. I could easily see going through the rest of my trip revenge profit at this rate, which I really did not want to do.
The slot tournament went well. I hit the top jackpot 10 times in my session and scored #1 in my group of 36 button smashing degenerates and potential granny I.S.Gs. Since I was booked to fly out, they let me queue for a spot in the next group on standby, in case anyone didn't show for their session. Well, there were 3 or 4 extra spots, so I was in and did session #2.
I really felt I had a shot at some tournament money if I could pull off a round like my first one. By the halfway point I'd had 4 top jackpots, not bad, and was on track to finish within a couple of thousand points of my 22,000 first round. If I had a stellar second half, I might even be in the top 5 for the big dough.
That's when, as they say, it went in the shitter. I got only one more top payout, and finished well short of anything close to winning with not even 16K points in round 2. I maybe - maybe - had a shot at top 50 where I'd win $50.
Slinking away, I slinked back to the room to regroup.
Before coming to Vegas, I'd done an El Cortez survey, which was good for $5 free play, and switched to their new green initiative online offer system, to do away with ecologically unsound unicorn killing paper mailings, and was supposed to get another $5 out of that.
Thank you for registering for our El Cortez Green Program.
Your offers will be available on your personalized El Cortez Offer Site.
You will no longer be receiving direct mail.
Royal Flusher
Player ID# 696969
Please enjoy $5 in Free Play.
Offer valid one time only.
*Management reserves all rights to alter/cancel this offer. To redeem you must present this coupon with photo ID to the Club Cortez. Valid one time only. This offer is non-transferable. Cannot be combined with other offers.
Your offers will be available on your personalized El Cortez Offer Site.
You will no longer be receiving direct mail.
Royal Flusher
Player ID# 696969
Please enjoy $5 in Free Play.
Offer valid one time only.
*Management reserves all rights to alter/cancel this offer. To redeem you must present this coupon with photo ID to the Club Cortez. Valid one time only. This offer is non-transferable. Cannot be combined with other offers.
When I'd checked in with the slot club, they wanted to see the confirmation emails I'd been sent. They couldn't just look at my account and see that I'd done my duty.
I pulled up the emails, and the confirmations are typical geriatric El Cortez technology. They don't even include any sort of code or ID number. Any 10 year old could create these in about 7 seconds on an iPhone and still have time to pick his nose.
So I got on the phone and talked to the boothling at the slot club. I explained that I'd like to forward my emails, walk over, and get my dough. Then I explained it again.
I got put on hold and passed to another boothling.
Lather, rinse, repeat. I got put on hold and passed to yet another boothling.
Explain again the incredible fucking absurdity of receiving an email to support their green initiative and then having them require that I print the goddamned thing out on precious oxygen giving clear-cut dioxin laden virgin printer paper in order to get my electronic free play.
I got put on hold and passed to the booth boss.
Explain yet again that I wanted to do the simplest thing - send them an email - and get my hard earned dough. And that I'd been there in person. And that I'd been on the phone for 10 minutes now trying to squeeze a fucking morsel of common fucking sense from these dimwit fucktonsils.
I might have said it a bit nicer than that.
Well, she at least understood the absurdity of it all. And she agreed with me. And there was nothing she could do. And she agreed it was stupid. But there wasn't anything she could do unless her bosses changed their minds.
Maybe the boss is the fucktonsils and the boothlings are all in indentured servitude, slaving for The Man and doing his bidding. Reminded me of the size 7 grommet line which smells of burning used condoms and cheap Chinese axle grease. For all I know, the El Cortez smells just like that.
I told her to explain to her boss that I would not be printing up the emails because, hmm, I don't have a PRINTER in my hotel room, and I would not be coming to the El Cortez today to gamble.
On my next trip, I swear to God I am going to laser etch that stupid email on a three foot chunk of virgin forest Douglas Fir and dump it on their stupid counter with a thud that could wake Paul Fucking Bunyan.
I reflected upon my good fortune that my wasted 10 minutes, and lost $10, would result in a Class A Fuck You rant on my blog. Time, though, to check the $4 last gasp Keno ticket.
I was flabbergasted and shocked beyond belief when the screen said "NO WIN". Me, lose at Keno? Unheard of, yeah?
Last day blues continued at Black Jack. Some dealers are great and some are just assholes. I wasn't sure of a particular double down situation and asked the dealer. Long story short, she have me the wrong answer after first saying, "You might double down....". Yes I know I can, I want to know if I should.
I stopped the game, and took my sweet time fishing out a strategy card. Took my time looking it up. Definitely should double down. She could have just said so.
I doubled, lost the hand, gave her the Flushereye, and left the table. Another $60 gone. Fucking day was turning into disaster land.
Tried $20 in Super Double Triple Fucker Bonus Poker (with $1000 for Aces with 2/3/4 which I still had not gotten this trip) and it dumped. Dealt 3 Aces twice, of course. Dealt 4 to a Royal once of course.
Do I sound bitter and angry?
Last day - what is it about it? It's almost as if the machines can smell the fear. I'm playing not to lose, not playing loosely, not playing to win. Maybe its that negative attitude, that conservation attitude that makes the last day so bad.
I decided to thumb my nose at the El Cortez by having lunch at Le Thai. Yes I would walk alllll that way and not play there. That would really show them!
Le Thai was fabulous again. I can see myself eating there multiple times each trip, its that good. Had the green chicken curry lunch special again. Delish!
Figuring Le Thai had changed my luck, I made degenerate move number 18 and picked up my very small cashback from the Four Queens. Jay was there and I excitedly asked him how much I had.
Six bucks.
Took it. It took longer to cash the voucher than it did to feed it (and lose it) in a $1 slot. No magic this time.
I went to say 'so long' to the Mikes, and for addition stupidity I dumped an additional $20 at the bar VP.
 |
| One of the Mikes was Out of Order for some reason. |
One odd thing about it, if I didn't already know about it, as a visitor to Fremont street, I never would have known it was there. There are no signs, no ads, no mobsters wandering Fremont handing out flyers. Hellllooooooh......?????? How obvious is that??? Have some made wiseguys stuffing these things into your shirt pocket, "You didn't see nuthin'..."
Anyhoo, I wandered over there and bought a ticket. They are kind of learning their way around their own systems there, with some glitches in the buying process, and then it wasn't actually clear where I was supposed to go to start the tour. Maybe that was just me.
It's three floors of history, pictures of shot-up gangsters, mayhem, weapons, movies, interactive displays (some cool, some stupid) and I spent an enjoyable hour and a half going through it all. They have some really, really cool artifacts from old Vegas, and lots of pictures and movie footage I've never seen anywhere before.
One cool display let you use a shim to trigger a jackpot on an old mechanical slot machine. Man I love those old machines, and someday, I'm going to own one for myself. Not sure how, but I will.
 |
| Big win at the Mob Museum. |
I'd given myself a budget for the day which would leave some profit on the trip.
The last of it went into Super Double Triple Fucker Bonus Poker and then, I'd hit the wall. Day's stake gone, still $171 in profit for the trip.
Big sigh.
Back to the room, head drooped. Small tear in the corner of my eye as I faked up some busywork, packing and organizing and repacking and reorganizing.
Did some writing and posted it. Chatted with Mrs. Flusher online. Turned on the TV. Turned off the TV. Took a nap. Showered and shaved.
Lonely and (sort of) broke in Vegas and leaving in a few hours.
This is the moment when you sort of weigh your priorities. Was it really that important for me to have some 'accounting win' on this trip, compared to wasting precious Vegas gambling time? Was it worth spending my last hours in Vegas sitting around waiting for a ride to the airport?
Friday, May 11, 2012
Wheel of Meat, We Love Meat
The Royal Flusher Gambling Song of the Day is: All My Money Gone - Paul Delay Band
I slept great, knowing that my footguards had secured the castle perimeter and were stationed outside my room, at various places in the corridor, in the parapets, and in the kiddy arcade in the basement.
Grabbed another latte from Starbucks and hit the VP again to try to get some more play on my account. The first 20 lasted 5 minutes, and I swear the second one, I got no wins on, save one 3 of a kind. Now that is brutal. The third 20 was more fruitful, yielding a couple of quads for me. Had an hour of play and lost $60.
I decided to see if the hosts would pick up my resort fees of $30 or so based on my pretty heavy quarter play. Headed down to the VIP lounge and was told, no that wouldn't be possible. She mumbled stuff about the $6 in Express Comps I still had. Blah blah, don't these people remember how comps really should work?
So I asked what kind of play they were looking for to be able to pick up extras.
Apparently on this stay I was over comped by 65%. My coin in and out were about identical, around $8,000. That's not that easy to do in less than 48 hours on just quarters. I have the blisters to prove it.
"So you're telling me I'd have to play $12,000 a day on quarters to get any additional comps?"
She looked down her medieval nose at me and smirked "yes".
I packed my stuff up, checked the time of the next WAX bus and found I could just make it. I left Excalibur for the last time this trip, shedding not a tear. Actually, I'd had fun, but what is with the comp situation these days? For $4,000 downtown I get room and food no problem, plus tournaments.
As I crossed the drawbridge to NYNY, one of the peasantry was laid out, begging, with a sign that said "Save the Hooters and Beavers". I gave him kudos for his valuable sentiments, clearly expressed on a hunk of wrinkled cardboard.
Made it to the WAX stop with plenty of time to hang around in the heat, and to swelter, and sweat, and check my watch 15,000 times. Finally the bus arrived and I ponied up my $2.
"You on the right bus?" the driver asked.
"Yup. WAX to Fremont. Two bucks. My favorite ride, brother."
We pulled out and 22 minutes later, I was downtown, outside Walgreens, and a pretty good hike from the California. Eleven sweaty minutes, in fact.
The temperature was up to full roast. 91.4F to be exact. My balls got sweated off somewhere around the Fremont, and my ass got sweated off outside Binions. By the time I made it to the back of the California, half of my body parts were sweated off.
I checked in and got a fine room in the East Tower. Sixth floor. Actually, I liked this room better than any of the downtown rooms. It didn't beat the Excalibur TV room but it was pretty darn good. Had a good place to write my blog from unlike the Trashy Castle.
One of the reasons I was at the Cal, was for a Slot Tournament. I hung around outside the Poipoi Mahalo Aloha Wiki Poona Durango Room, upstairs at the Cal, and played some Double Double Bonus (next to some new potential I.S.G.s). I even managed to hit a nice quad for $65.
Registration was fast and painless, unlike my fourth (unsuccessful) vasectomy. (I'm not sure the guys at the Lemon-Ayd Auto Body Shop really know what they are doing with that electric welder, but that's another sad story.)
You meet some interesting people in lineups in Vegas, and today I met a woman who is surfing on various offers for the next two months! She moves from hotel to hotel, casino to casino. Her mom lives in town as a backup in case she hits a dry spot on her offers. To me, this sounds like a retirement plan, and she seems to be enjoying it. I do wonder what her win/loss ratio is like though.
I tried my 'lucky' Double Double upright, upstairs at the Cal, and dumped $40 in the time it takes to whistle "Like a Virgin". With that, I was off to get some scratch cards at Main Street Station, and hopefully rebuild some of my Revenge winnings.
The bar was unkind and I lost $20 quickly on Bonus Deluxe, and then $40 on Jacks are Better. I dumped another 20 in and kept playing Jacks until it was half gone, then deftly switched to Double Double Bonus, the game in which you lose 3 times as fast, but win 3 times as much when you do hit. And hit I did, quad threes with a kicker this time for $200 beans. And what's oddest about it, is it was again my last 5 credits to do it.
For fun, I phoned Mrs. Flusher back in Flusherville so she could listen in while I took a $100 flyer on dollar Bonus Poker. I called out the hands as I played, and quickly started to drain.
"CHANGE MACHINES," she squawked down the wire and over the cellular airwaves to my FlusherFone.
I did. I was down $30 very quickly, and I did. Played away for a bit but I had something in mind... BAIL when I hit $50.
And that moment came very fast. I was losing. Losing way too quickly. It wasn't working. I cashed out, grabbed my ticket and got up.
"Well now what?" I asked, and as I looked around, I spied with my little flusher fucking eye, the lone $5 Wheel of Meat machine outside the 777 Brewpub.
"Mrs. Flusher, I just spied the one $5 Wheel of Meat machine outside the 777 Brewpub. I'm gonna go for it."
Now, this puppy is a two coiner and had a million plus jackpot on the scroller. That means its ten bucks a pull. But I was feeling stupid, so why not??
Because it's ten bucks a pull, that's why not.
Deftly, I slipped the $50 in 'winnings' from my hundred buy-in at video poker, and deftly I watched the machine tote up the credits. Deftly, I said, "Here I go,", and then I pressed the Bet Max button (very deftly).
Well wouldn't cha knowit, I got to spin the big Wheel of Meat on the first pull.
"I get to spin! I get to spin!" I shouted over the phone. Mrs. F could hear everything, it was like she was right there with me. Once centimeter high. Living in my FlusherFone. With tickets for the Fifteen Foot Titanic.
I hit the Spin button and the wheel went round and a recording of people clapping played and I waited and for a second it looked like I would get some big-ass prize, and then they pulled that away from me and of course it popped over to the next part of the wheel... and I won $250!!!
You couldn't have seen my hand flash to the Cash Out button. Lightning doesn't move as fast as I did. I was OUTTA THERE with a sweet $240 profit, and the Flusherina got to audibly witness it. Cheap fun for her.
I said goodbye and wandered into the brewpub to order a pizza. It came, I ate, and it was really, really good. I carted the remainders back to my room to be stuffed into the fridge there. Then I hit the machines again.
And lost. And lost. And lost some more.
I couldn't hit a goddamned thing. It got so bad I bought two keno tickets - a dollar a game each for 15 games - and crashed in the room. The tickets weren't doing well, and soon I slumbered my way into a napful slumber. When I awoke, I headed back to Main Street Station, deftly forgetting the stupid Keno tickets in the room.
There were a couple of quads waiting for me, but just as much losing. As soon as I got ahead, I lost it back. When it was all over, the $200 bar win had gone away, and I'd quit as I hit zero, so I wouldn't have a losing day.
The numbers said day win/loss: $0, trip so far: +$371 revenge dollars. I went to sleep in my room knowing that it was the last sleep I would have in my room on the trip, because I would be leaving the room for home, very, very, soon.
After tomorrow.
After tomorrow, the last day in Vegas (on which I would be leaving) of my trip. I also wondered if my Keno tickets had made me very, very revengeful.
I slept great, knowing that my footguards had secured the castle perimeter and were stationed outside my room, at various places in the corridor, in the parapets, and in the kiddy arcade in the basement.
Grabbed another latte from Starbucks and hit the VP again to try to get some more play on my account. The first 20 lasted 5 minutes, and I swear the second one, I got no wins on, save one 3 of a kind. Now that is brutal. The third 20 was more fruitful, yielding a couple of quads for me. Had an hour of play and lost $60.
I decided to see if the hosts would pick up my resort fees of $30 or so based on my pretty heavy quarter play. Headed down to the VIP lounge and was told, no that wouldn't be possible. She mumbled stuff about the $6 in Express Comps I still had. Blah blah, don't these people remember how comps really should work?
So I asked what kind of play they were looking for to be able to pick up extras.
Apparently on this stay I was over comped by 65%. My coin in and out were about identical, around $8,000. That's not that easy to do in less than 48 hours on just quarters. I have the blisters to prove it.
"So you're telling me I'd have to play $12,000 a day on quarters to get any additional comps?"
She looked down her medieval nose at me and smirked "yes".
I packed my stuff up, checked the time of the next WAX bus and found I could just make it. I left Excalibur for the last time this trip, shedding not a tear. Actually, I'd had fun, but what is with the comp situation these days? For $4,000 downtown I get room and food no problem, plus tournaments.
As I crossed the drawbridge to NYNY, one of the peasantry was laid out, begging, with a sign that said "Save the Hooters and Beavers". I gave him kudos for his valuable sentiments, clearly expressed on a hunk of wrinkled cardboard.
Made it to the WAX stop with plenty of time to hang around in the heat, and to swelter, and sweat, and check my watch 15,000 times. Finally the bus arrived and I ponied up my $2.
"You on the right bus?" the driver asked.
"Yup. WAX to Fremont. Two bucks. My favorite ride, brother."
We pulled out and 22 minutes later, I was downtown, outside Walgreens, and a pretty good hike from the California. Eleven sweaty minutes, in fact.
The temperature was up to full roast. 91.4F to be exact. My balls got sweated off somewhere around the Fremont, and my ass got sweated off outside Binions. By the time I made it to the back of the California, half of my body parts were sweated off.
I checked in and got a fine room in the East Tower. Sixth floor. Actually, I liked this room better than any of the downtown rooms. It didn't beat the Excalibur TV room but it was pretty darn good. Had a good place to write my blog from unlike the Trashy Castle.
One of the reasons I was at the Cal, was for a Slot Tournament. I hung around outside the Poipoi Mahalo Aloha Wiki Poona Durango Room, upstairs at the Cal, and played some Double Double Bonus (next to some new potential I.S.G.s). I even managed to hit a nice quad for $65.
Registration was fast and painless, unlike my fourth (unsuccessful) vasectomy. (I'm not sure the guys at the Lemon-Ayd Auto Body Shop really know what they are doing with that electric welder, but that's another sad story.)
You meet some interesting people in lineups in Vegas, and today I met a woman who is surfing on various offers for the next two months! She moves from hotel to hotel, casino to casino. Her mom lives in town as a backup in case she hits a dry spot on her offers. To me, this sounds like a retirement plan, and she seems to be enjoying it. I do wonder what her win/loss ratio is like though.
I tried my 'lucky' Double Double upright, upstairs at the Cal, and dumped $40 in the time it takes to whistle "Like a Virgin". With that, I was off to get some scratch cards at Main Street Station, and hopefully rebuild some of my Revenge winnings.
The bar was unkind and I lost $20 quickly on Bonus Deluxe, and then $40 on Jacks are Better. I dumped another 20 in and kept playing Jacks until it was half gone, then deftly switched to Double Double Bonus, the game in which you lose 3 times as fast, but win 3 times as much when you do hit. And hit I did, quad threes with a kicker this time for $200 beans. And what's oddest about it, is it was again my last 5 credits to do it.
For fun, I phoned Mrs. Flusher back in Flusherville so she could listen in while I took a $100 flyer on dollar Bonus Poker. I called out the hands as I played, and quickly started to drain.
"CHANGE MACHINES," she squawked down the wire and over the cellular airwaves to my FlusherFone.
I did. I was down $30 very quickly, and I did. Played away for a bit but I had something in mind... BAIL when I hit $50.
And that moment came very fast. I was losing. Losing way too quickly. It wasn't working. I cashed out, grabbed my ticket and got up.
"Well now what?" I asked, and as I looked around, I spied with my little flusher fucking eye, the lone $5 Wheel of Meat machine outside the 777 Brewpub.
"Mrs. Flusher, I just spied the one $5 Wheel of Meat machine outside the 777 Brewpub. I'm gonna go for it."
Now, this puppy is a two coiner and had a million plus jackpot on the scroller. That means its ten bucks a pull. But I was feeling stupid, so why not??
Because it's ten bucks a pull, that's why not.
Deftly, I slipped the $50 in 'winnings' from my hundred buy-in at video poker, and deftly I watched the machine tote up the credits. Deftly, I said, "Here I go,", and then I pressed the Bet Max button (very deftly).
Well wouldn't cha knowit, I got to spin the big Wheel of Meat on the first pull.
"I get to spin! I get to spin!" I shouted over the phone. Mrs. F could hear everything, it was like she was right there with me. Once centimeter high. Living in my FlusherFone. With tickets for the Fifteen Foot Titanic.
I hit the Spin button and the wheel went round and a recording of people clapping played and I waited and for a second it looked like I would get some big-ass prize, and then they pulled that away from me and of course it popped over to the next part of the wheel... and I won $250!!!
You couldn't have seen my hand flash to the Cash Out button. Lightning doesn't move as fast as I did. I was OUTTA THERE with a sweet $240 profit, and the Flusherina got to audibly witness it. Cheap fun for her.
I said goodbye and wandered into the brewpub to order a pizza. It came, I ate, and it was really, really good. I carted the remainders back to my room to be stuffed into the fridge there. Then I hit the machines again.
And lost. And lost. And lost some more.
I couldn't hit a goddamned thing. It got so bad I bought two keno tickets - a dollar a game each for 15 games - and crashed in the room. The tickets weren't doing well, and soon I slumbered my way into a napful slumber. When I awoke, I headed back to Main Street Station, deftly forgetting the stupid Keno tickets in the room.
There were a couple of quads waiting for me, but just as much losing. As soon as I got ahead, I lost it back. When it was all over, the $200 bar win had gone away, and I'd quit as I hit zero, so I wouldn't have a losing day.
The numbers said day win/loss: $0, trip so far: +$371 revenge dollars. I went to sleep in my room knowing that it was the last sleep I would have in my room on the trip, because I would be leaving the room for home, very, very, soon.
After tomorrow.
After tomorrow, the last day in Vegas (on which I would be leaving) of my trip. I also wondered if my Keno tickets had made me very, very revengeful.
Score With Four!
Boar's Head Bar at Main Street Station! The home of cold brews and hot scratch cards.
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
My Heart, Spade, Diamond and Club Will Go On
I put yesterday's troubles behind me, and got up about 5:30 or 6:00. Headed down to Starbucks and for some reason had quite the headache. It's the benzine in the vodka I think.
I decided to be Freddy again today, but otherwise, no goofing around.
Did some play on the Double Double Bonus, avoiding the machine which was the scene of last night's cross-eyed crime. Hit a couple of quads to keep me going, and finally got hungry.
I decided to go for the $32 All Day Buffet Pass which consists of a wristband, like the ones they put on you when you are admitted to hospital. I hope the resemblance ends there.
Buffets are a good choice when travelling solo. I'm always careful to follow all the buffet best practices, including plating my hot and cold foods in the right order. Like Peter Lik's work, building a plate full of buffet food is a visual art.
I went for an omelette, always a safe choice at the buffet. You get it the way you want, you get it freshly made, and you get it hot.
Had another bash at Double Double Bonus and the oddest thing happened. I was playing away, minding my own business, playing it down, thinking, well, when this is gone, I'll get moving, and I got down to the last 5 credits.
Held 3 cards and got a quad. Okay, great, play some more. Down to my last 5 credits.
Hit deal, and was dealt a four of a kind. Okay, fine, play away.
Playing it down after a while, getting down there, thinking, okay, when this is done, I really will get moving. Final 5 credits, hold three eights, and get another quad.
Cashed out some money and I was up $100 on the day. And my head was still throbbing.
It was another beautiful day, so I went on walkabout, first to the full pay no points machines at New York New York (lost), and then over to MGM Grand, to the holy grail, the Lion's Share 2.2 Million Dollar machine. Someone was just cashing out when I got there and I decided to put $60 in and play it out. I wanted to put in an amount divisible by three so I wouldn't risk accidentally playing less than max coin at the end. I sipped a cold one and went at it.
I got some seriously good play out of this, almost half an hour, and racked up 500 or so MILF points. Biggest win was $60, and I got as high as $127 in the machine. Did I consider cashing out? Briefly. But then I thought of the $2.2 Million Dollar prize. And if I got 3 lions not on the center line, that nets $10K.
Anyway, the Lion's Share is still up for grabs.
Once I was done playing, I found the attendant and asked her some questions about it. She's been with MGM Grand since day one and remembered the Lion's Share machines being in banks. I told her there is a shot of them in Vegas Vacation and a sign indicating that it had hit.
"Oh yes, it has hit before, many times. Its just that now there is only one machine, it takes a lot longer. And it has hit on that machine without full coin in. And many times it has hit for $10,000."
So, kids, it is possible to hit the Lion's Share progressive - the 3 symbols have come up on it with people not playing full coin in. I don't have to tell you what the lesson is here.
I asked her about the rumor that the winner gets to keep the machine and she hadn't heard of it. I also told her that we are talking it up on the internet to keep her busy all day doing hand pays.
Walkabout continued at Sigma Derby, which sadly, was all full. I guess that is a good thing, hopefully it stays around for years. The Lions in the lion display were not so lucky.
I would be careful which meat I chose at the buffet in the MGM for the next few weeks.
I strolled over to Tropicoconutacana where the fake scent wafts outside even, almost like Chippy (our Great Dane / Chihuahua cross) marking her territory. With coconut water. Some slot or other netted me $50 on a $20 buy-in, so I cashed that and headed outside.
It was too nice not to be out in the sunshine, so I walked the sidewalk to Luxor, made my way past the Egyption Sphinxter, and into the Majesty of the Great Pyramid (with Carrot Top inside).
In the lobby was a display of the ship Titanic, which was about 15 feet long. A few of us were gazing upon her lines with admiration and I couldn't help but remark:
"I thought Titanic was much bigger than this."
I peeked in a tiny porthole to see if there was a tiny model 1912 car with steamy windows from someone getting veeblefetzered in there.
Inspired, I headed upstairs and got an admission to the exhibit on my MILF points.
The displays of actual Titanic artifacts and information given was quite something. I enjoyed it (if that's the right word) thoroughly. I have to admit, I'm troubled a bit by making money off of a tragedy like that but I did go through it, didn't I.
I did not, however, buy a pea sized piece of genuine coal recovered from Titanic for $25. I can't imagine how I would ever get it lit.
I had lunch at the Luxor buffet and spent some time reminiscing with the hostess, who had been at Luxor since day one. There was indeed an arena where the buffet now is, with a show in it with horses and elephants and stuff. And there is indeed a secret area below the buffet where the animals used to be housed. That area is now used for storage. It's probably where they keep the recently mined "Titanic" coal.
Found a progressive with a decent amount on the Royal Flush - over $2000. Not bad for a quarter play. I hammered away on it for an hour or an hour and a half but couldn't bring it down.
My notes say "Room. Blog. Keno. 20 -> 4".
And then dinner at the Excalibur buffet, where I was now being recognized as a 'regular'.
And that's all she wrote for this day. Headache finally gone, liver somewhat recovered, I had, again, a winning day, ending up with $70 more than I started with. On the trip, I'm now up $371 Revenge Dollars.
Plonk Goes the Vodka
Still reeling with disgust at having sat in some sort of (possibly bodily) fluid soaked into the seat of the Airplane slot, I hauled (wet) ass through Mandalay Fuck You Bay (as I now think of it), through the crowds of people who all of a sudden I resented, and who imagined were looking, pointing and laughing at me.
Passed some rich Mom and her stuck-up kids, fresh from frolicking outside, towels wrapped around their probably Gucci bathing suit clad butts. As I rode up the escalator, I tried to kind of hide myself, imagining what the huge wet spot all over the back of my pants must look like.
Needless to say, I used some Royal Flusher Way stealth mall-walking techniques to get me safely by the Peter Lik gallery. Those memories of the leather sofa room are bittersweet now...
Dear God it is a long way from Mandalay Wet Ass Cluster Fuck Bay to my pathetic room at Excalibur. All the way through the shops, all the way through Luxor, with people looking at me, the long, long walkways and the Excalibur shops and the Excalibur shops that sell liquor... hmmm.
By now, in the low humidity air, my behind was actually getting near dry, so it was a great consolation that I only had to worry about dry piss baked into my clothes and next to my skin, instead of the once wet piss soaked into my clothes and next to my skin.
But desperate times call for desperate purchases, and it was worth the risk of further embarrassment to nip into the little store (I think its name is "Excalibur Overpriced Sundries and Gouging"). I spotted a bottle of Absolute. $25. Uh-uh. I'm not worthy of it at that price. A bottle of Smirnoff. $15. Nope. A mickey of Plonknyett. $7.
Sold.
Down the escalator, into yet another casino for further ass-humiliation (I wonder what sort of people will get lead to that word on my blog from google searching...) and finally, finally, into my room.
I emptied my pockets. Anything in the back pockets went into the garbage. I stripped and everything went into the shower. But first, the moment of truth.
I had to know. The sniff test.
Passed.
Hmmmm.
Then I remembered the kids in swimsuits. Mandalay Ass-Humiliation Bay is big on pools and wave ponds and such aren't they...
I'm now pretty much convinced I was the victim of a wet bathing suit sponge-by shooting.
Small consolation. I put myself into the shower and scrubbed and scrubbed. The clothes got a good two hour and 15 minute soaking.
Okay, you got me, that's just wrong. It was two hours and 45 minutes.
There were three bright sides to all of this that I could think of.
ONE: I have proven that a 'one pair of pants' trip, is probably not feasible, especially if you are staying at Mandalay Buttshame Bay. Emergency pants are now de rigueur for the Flusher.
TWO: Thank God it was actually one day past 'change pants day'.
THREE: I had a bottle.
The next couple of hours were spent writing up stuff for the blog, and sucking back jet fuel and coke on ice cubes with holes in them. Finally, I hit 'Post' for the previous days adventures, and hit the casino for one last bash.
By the time I reached the machines I realized I was in no shape to be playing the 10-card variety of video poker I seemed to have sat down at. With some effort, I refocused and could see many of what were actually five cards.
I talked to myself, giggled, cursed, and played all sorts of stupid games. Some I didn't even know how to play.
Got myself a Wild Royal with Sevens, wtf is that???
Oddly, I managed to run my $20 up to almost $100. Did I cash out? Not on your life. Remember what (little) judgement I possess was long gone with all that Plonknyett brand vodka.
Finally, it was done, I was done, and I staggered up (in my clean pants!) to the room. I would have dreamed of leather couch wearing Art Babes if it hadn't been for the Post Traumatic Ass Stress Disorder I now have. Instead, I dreamed of cold, wet, casino seats.
Through all the shenanigans, I lost $120. And was still up on the trip, by a very thin revenge margin of $311.
Passed some rich Mom and her stuck-up kids, fresh from frolicking outside, towels wrapped around their probably Gucci bathing suit clad butts. As I rode up the escalator, I tried to kind of hide myself, imagining what the huge wet spot all over the back of my pants must look like.
Needless to say, I used some Royal Flusher Way stealth mall-walking techniques to get me safely by the Peter Lik gallery. Those memories of the leather sofa room are bittersweet now...
Dear God it is a long way from Mandalay Wet Ass Cluster Fuck Bay to my pathetic room at Excalibur. All the way through the shops, all the way through Luxor, with people looking at me, the long, long walkways and the Excalibur shops and the Excalibur shops that sell liquor... hmmm.
By now, in the low humidity air, my behind was actually getting near dry, so it was a great consolation that I only had to worry about dry piss baked into my clothes and next to my skin, instead of the once wet piss soaked into my clothes and next to my skin.
But desperate times call for desperate purchases, and it was worth the risk of further embarrassment to nip into the little store (I think its name is "Excalibur Overpriced Sundries and Gouging"). I spotted a bottle of Absolute. $25. Uh-uh. I'm not worthy of it at that price. A bottle of Smirnoff. $15. Nope. A mickey of Plonknyett. $7.
Sold.
Down the escalator, into yet another casino for further ass-humiliation (I wonder what sort of people will get lead to that word on my blog from google searching...) and finally, finally, into my room.
I emptied my pockets. Anything in the back pockets went into the garbage. I stripped and everything went into the shower. But first, the moment of truth.
I had to know. The sniff test.
Passed.
Hmmmm.
Then I remembered the kids in swimsuits. Mandalay Ass-Humiliation Bay is big on pools and wave ponds and such aren't they...
I'm now pretty much convinced I was the victim of a wet bathing suit sponge-by shooting.
Small consolation. I put myself into the shower and scrubbed and scrubbed. The clothes got a good two hour and 15 minute soaking.
Okay, you got me, that's just wrong. It was two hours and 45 minutes.
There were three bright sides to all of this that I could think of.
ONE: I have proven that a 'one pair of pants' trip, is probably not feasible, especially if you are staying at Mandalay Buttshame Bay. Emergency pants are now de rigueur for the Flusher.
TWO: Thank God it was actually one day past 'change pants day'.
THREE: I had a bottle.
The next couple of hours were spent writing up stuff for the blog, and sucking back jet fuel and coke on ice cubes with holes in them. Finally, I hit 'Post' for the previous days adventures, and hit the casino for one last bash.
 |
| These hot babes have boyfriends who don't look like they've peed their pants. |
I talked to myself, giggled, cursed, and played all sorts of stupid games. Some I didn't even know how to play.
Got myself a Wild Royal with Sevens, wtf is that???
Oddly, I managed to run my $20 up to almost $100. Did I cash out? Not on your life. Remember what (little) judgement I possess was long gone with all that Plonknyett brand vodka.
Finally, it was done, I was done, and I staggered up (in my clean pants!) to the room. I would have dreamed of leather couch wearing Art Babes if it hadn't been for the Post Traumatic Ass Stress Disorder I now have. Instead, I dreamed of cold, wet, casino seats.
Through all the shenanigans, I lost $120. And was still up on the trip, by a very thin revenge margin of $311.
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
Adventures of Art Mandalay
This afternoon's Royal Flusher (non-)Gambling Song of the Afternoon is: Accidents Will Happen
Gotta love that WAX. $2 and 20 minutes to get me from Fremont to the Strip. A quick luggage drag past Tropicana, up the escalator, along the walkway, and I was checking in to Excalibur.
I mentioned that I am Royalty, and that this was My Castle, and I was glad to be back home, in My Castle.
"And to prove it, here's my card," I said, producing one of my official business cards, with a Flusherly flourish.
The front desk clerk raised an eyebrow slightly and looked dead straight at me.
For some reason, I, Royal Flusher, was not given the suite at the top of the tower, or even a suite at all. No, I, Royal Flusher, was given a room in Tower 2, on the 13th floor.
It didn't go unnoticed to me that theoretically, when they built Excalibur, the elevators could have conveniently been placed at the other ends of the towers. In this case, the hackneyed old story that they make it so you have to walk through the casino to get anywhere is deadly accurate.
The room was nice enough, one of their so-called widescreen rooms. Golly, those flat panel displays are still pretty rare these days, why not make a big deal out of it and name a room after the TV.
After getting settled in, which consisted of putting my rolly bag on a stand and having a whiz, I needed to fuel up, and found myself in Baja Fresh ordering what turned out to be a football sized burrito stuffed with all kinds of things noxious and delicious, done enchilada style, which means they put extra sauce in and around it, cover it with cheese, and add chips, a cup of salsa, and an extra shot of sour cream from the sour cream gun.
I really want a sour cream gun at home after seeing this beauty in action. It's proof that North American innovation is not dead.
After cramming down all this oniony, salsa-ey, jalapeno-ey food, I was absolutely stuffed.
I hit the machines, finding a nice bank or two or three with 9/6 Double Double Bonus. They started out cold but before too long I hit a quad.
I'd had a great lunch, I was happy, and the tunes were good.
I recognized the distinctive opening of "Accidents Will Happen", with Elvis Costello's awesome gravelly, sweet voice, and those amazing chord changes, rocking the joint. I was realllly happy.
I hit four threes for $100. I was even happier still. I've had a lot of quad 2,3,4s but was not getting the kicker.
And where was my Aces with kicker???
I went on Walkabout to my old haunts in Luxor. I also wanted to go and spend some time in Mandalay Bay, one of my least visited resorts. I've spent like 7 minutes in there total.
I wandered around Luxor and wondered what the hell they've done to the place. They are redoing the center of the casino AGAIN, I guess there is a need for 15 hip and happening youth-oriented overpriced bottle service bars in Luxor. Have they forgotten that people used to gamble here?
Didn't really play anything, and ambled through to the Walkway to the Shops in the Walkway to Mandalay Bay. I looked at this and that on the way and found myself looking at some stunning photographs, at the Peter Lik gallery.
"Come in and have a look," she said. She being an extremely Chic Art Dealer Babe, classy, long dark hair, tightish skirt.
Ohhhhh my, she was hot. And she worked in a place called - ahem - Peter Lik.
I ventured in and she started to tell me about the photos, which are huge, and in gorgeous color.
I could barely make decent conversation, realizing I'd been sweating, had a 2 day growth of beard, and burrito breath that could melt naugahyde.
"Why don't you show me your favorite?" I asked suavely, wondering what was probably stuck in my teeth from the burrito, as I managed a smile.
The Chic Art Dealer Babe took me to a scene of birch trees in a snow-filled forest.
"Isn't it beautiful?", she cooed.
"Umm, well, it's not really for me, you're talking to a Canadian and I try to get away from snow as much as I can. And I'm allergic to birch trees."
"Well hey, I'm Canadian, from the west, and this reminds me of one of my favorite places."
"I get that, since you live in the desert."
"Come with me," she said, and took me into a little room. A little windowless room with one of Peter Lik's works on the wall. And a leather couch.
My burrito fluttered a bit.
"Sit."
I sat on the comfy leather couch and she closed the door. I was in the little room alone with the Chic Art Dealer Babe. Just me, her and the leather couch.
She demonstrated how the works are actually created - they are developed gigantic pieces of film and the depth of their detail is correspondingly stunning. What was really amazing was how the image responded to different levels of light, which she turned down low. Very low. Very very low.
I kept cool and made the appropriate sounds and some cooing of my own.
Sadly, my time in the room alone with the Chic Art Dealer Babe quickly came to an end. We looked at some more images and really, I thought we hit it off well, considering that ultimately she was looking to sell me something someday.
I mentioned that Mrs. Flusher would love these images and I'd bring her back to Vegas for a Peter Lik next time we were in town.
There were other customers waiting for their turn in the little room, so I thanked her for her time and watched her strut away to help some other folks.
I have to admit, there was an extra spring in my step as I strolled down to Man-dalay Bay.
I, Royal Flusher, maker of size 7 grommets, was now circulating in the heady, high-class, champagne world of High Art.
As I walked through Mandalay Bay, I spotted a slot machine - Airplane!
I usually don't go for these themed machines but I had to give it a go. I picked the middle machine, for no particular reason, and sat down on the cool, padded seat, coddling the memory of the Chic Art Dealer Babe's high heels in the back of my mind. I smiled and slid a 20 in.
"Good luck," the machine said, "we're all counting on you."
I felt good. Fun machine, day still ahead of me, nice cool comfy seat, hit the spin button.
Cool. Why was the seat so cool? I kind of felt the material with my fingers, between my legs, at the front, nothing really amiss there I didn't think. Or was there? Was it... damp?
And then it became obvious. I could really feel it. Cool, wasn't cool anymore, it was damp. In fact it was wet. Ohhhhh NO!!!
I jumped up and looked at the seat and it was soaked with a wet, wet ass print. Punched the cash out button, FUCK YOU, Captain Over. Thanks for nothing.
I had the prospect of a good 20 minute walk through crowded public areas ahead of me to get back to the room at Excalibur.
I imagined people were staring at me already. And my ass was soaked. But soaked with... what????
Great. Just fucking great.
In just 6 minutes, I'd gone all the way from:
"I had an intimate talk in the dark private leather couch art room with the vivacious Chic Art Dealer Babe."
to
"I pissed my pants in Mandalay Bay."
Gotta love that WAX. $2 and 20 minutes to get me from Fremont to the Strip. A quick luggage drag past Tropicana, up the escalator, along the walkway, and I was checking in to Excalibur.
I mentioned that I am Royalty, and that this was My Castle, and I was glad to be back home, in My Castle.
"And to prove it, here's my card," I said, producing one of my official business cards, with a Flusherly flourish.
The front desk clerk raised an eyebrow slightly and looked dead straight at me.
For some reason, I, Royal Flusher, was not given the suite at the top of the tower, or even a suite at all. No, I, Royal Flusher, was given a room in Tower 2, on the 13th floor.
It didn't go unnoticed to me that theoretically, when they built Excalibur, the elevators could have conveniently been placed at the other ends of the towers. In this case, the hackneyed old story that they make it so you have to walk through the casino to get anywhere is deadly accurate.
The room was nice enough, one of their so-called widescreen rooms. Golly, those flat panel displays are still pretty rare these days, why not make a big deal out of it and name a room after the TV.
After getting settled in, which consisted of putting my rolly bag on a stand and having a whiz, I needed to fuel up, and found myself in Baja Fresh ordering what turned out to be a football sized burrito stuffed with all kinds of things noxious and delicious, done enchilada style, which means they put extra sauce in and around it, cover it with cheese, and add chips, a cup of salsa, and an extra shot of sour cream from the sour cream gun.
I really want a sour cream gun at home after seeing this beauty in action. It's proof that North American innovation is not dead.
After cramming down all this oniony, salsa-ey, jalapeno-ey food, I was absolutely stuffed.
I hit the machines, finding a nice bank or two or three with 9/6 Double Double Bonus. They started out cold but before too long I hit a quad.
I'd had a great lunch, I was happy, and the tunes were good.
I recognized the distinctive opening of "Accidents Will Happen", with Elvis Costello's awesome gravelly, sweet voice, and those amazing chord changes, rocking the joint. I was realllly happy.
I hit four threes for $100. I was even happier still. I've had a lot of quad 2,3,4s but was not getting the kicker.
And where was my Aces with kicker???
I went on Walkabout to my old haunts in Luxor. I also wanted to go and spend some time in Mandalay Bay, one of my least visited resorts. I've spent like 7 minutes in there total.
I wandered around Luxor and wondered what the hell they've done to the place. They are redoing the center of the casino AGAIN, I guess there is a need for 15 hip and happening youth-oriented overpriced bottle service bars in Luxor. Have they forgotten that people used to gamble here?
Didn't really play anything, and ambled through to the Walkway to the Shops in the Walkway to Mandalay Bay. I looked at this and that on the way and found myself looking at some stunning photographs, at the Peter Lik gallery.
"Come in and have a look," she said. She being an extremely Chic Art Dealer Babe, classy, long dark hair, tightish skirt.
Ohhhhh my, she was hot. And she worked in a place called - ahem - Peter Lik.
I ventured in and she started to tell me about the photos, which are huge, and in gorgeous color.
I could barely make decent conversation, realizing I'd been sweating, had a 2 day growth of beard, and burrito breath that could melt naugahyde.
"Why don't you show me your favorite?" I asked suavely, wondering what was probably stuck in my teeth from the burrito, as I managed a smile.
The Chic Art Dealer Babe took me to a scene of birch trees in a snow-filled forest.
"Isn't it beautiful?", she cooed.
"Umm, well, it's not really for me, you're talking to a Canadian and I try to get away from snow as much as I can. And I'm allergic to birch trees."
"Well hey, I'm Canadian, from the west, and this reminds me of one of my favorite places."
"I get that, since you live in the desert."
"Come with me," she said, and took me into a little room. A little windowless room with one of Peter Lik's works on the wall. And a leather couch.
My burrito fluttered a bit.
"Sit."
I sat on the comfy leather couch and she closed the door. I was in the little room alone with the Chic Art Dealer Babe. Just me, her and the leather couch.
She demonstrated how the works are actually created - they are developed gigantic pieces of film and the depth of their detail is correspondingly stunning. What was really amazing was how the image responded to different levels of light, which she turned down low. Very low. Very very low.
I kept cool and made the appropriate sounds and some cooing of my own.
Sadly, my time in the room alone with the Chic Art Dealer Babe quickly came to an end. We looked at some more images and really, I thought we hit it off well, considering that ultimately she was looking to sell me something someday.
I mentioned that Mrs. Flusher would love these images and I'd bring her back to Vegas for a Peter Lik next time we were in town.
There were other customers waiting for their turn in the little room, so I thanked her for her time and watched her strut away to help some other folks.
I have to admit, there was an extra spring in my step as I strolled down to Man-dalay Bay.
I, Royal Flusher, maker of size 7 grommets, was now circulating in the heady, high-class, champagne world of High Art.
As I walked through Mandalay Bay, I spotted a slot machine - Airplane!
I usually don't go for these themed machines but I had to give it a go. I picked the middle machine, for no particular reason, and sat down on the cool, padded seat, coddling the memory of the Chic Art Dealer Babe's high heels in the back of my mind. I smiled and slid a 20 in.
"Good luck," the machine said, "we're all counting on you."
I felt good. Fun machine, day still ahead of me, nice cool comfy seat, hit the spin button.
Cool. Why was the seat so cool? I kind of felt the material with my fingers, between my legs, at the front, nothing really amiss there I didn't think. Or was there? Was it... damp?
And then it became obvious. I could really feel it. Cool, wasn't cool anymore, it was damp. In fact it was wet. Ohhhhh NO!!!
I jumped up and looked at the seat and it was soaked with a wet, wet ass print. Punched the cash out button, FUCK YOU, Captain Over. Thanks for nothing.
I had the prospect of a good 20 minute walk through crowded public areas ahead of me to get back to the room at Excalibur.
I imagined people were staring at me already. And my ass was soaked. But soaked with... what????
Great. Just fucking great.
In just 6 minutes, I'd gone all the way from:
"I had an intimate talk in the dark private leather couch art room with the vivacious Chic Art Dealer Babe."
to
"I pissed my pants in Mandalay Bay."
The Castle Awaits
Today's Royal Flusher Gambling Song of the Day Is: Ooh Las Vegas - Cowboy Junkies
I stumbled off to bed and slumbered. When I awoke, I did an accounting. I had $360 on me and that meant I finished down $240 for the previous day.
I was still up $511 for the trip. Revenge was still in the offing.
Headed to the Golden Nugget's Starbucks in the early morning chill and ordered my usual latte.
"And your name is...?"
"Norbert."
She wrote Norbert on the cup.
On a whim I decided to check out the progressive amount for Four Aces and 2/3/4 kicker at the Four Queens bar - it was shockingly high at $635. I decided to give it a go and pounded away for half an hour before hitting quad 10s. I really want to hit Aces with Kicker on this trip on Double Double - I hadn't hit them yet.
I suppose I should be happy with Aces with Queen Kicker on Super Double Triple Overtime Desperation Hail Mary Bonus Poker.
The bar entertainment at six in the morning featured The Chubby Mexican Guys, probably in their mid forties or late fifties, trying to seal the deal with some Chubby Mexican Ladies who were probably in their twenties.
If they ever managed it, I imagined the sex would be like trying to stack two weebles on top of one another.
They'd all been up all night and it showed. And the drinks kept flowing, and the attempts at deal sealing kept attempting.
I hit quad 10s, which was nice, and kept hammering, looking for those bullets. Spent an hour and lost $60. Headed back to Fremont to give them some play - need to keep those offers coming!
I haven't played much 50 cent or dollar video poker, having learned my lesson last trip - my pockets are not deep enough to sustain the losses from variance at higher denoms. So I've been focusing on quarter play, and really, it's proving to be the right move.
Having said that, I thought it would be good to give dollar BP a shot, so I stuffed a hundred bucks in a machine and let fly. Played for 15 minutes, went down, went back up, and cashed out even, ready to fight again another day.
This is for Stu - I went to Lanai Express for Loco Moco at quarter to seven (they close at seven) and everything was put away. So Loco Moco was a No Go.
The Four Queens Aces were now at $637 so I gave it another spin and lost $40. The Chubby Mexicans were still partying, and I think the head Chubby Mexican might have put off the weeble senorita by screaming at her face from 3" away, "YOU HAVE NO FUCKING SENSE OF HUMOR! YOU HAVE NO FUCKING SENSE OF HUMOR!"
Repeating the pattern, I returned to Fremont and stuffed a hundred bucks in the same machine as last time.
This time I found some luck, hit a quad, and cashed out $260. That's the Royal Flusher Way, baby!
I kept playing and went up and down some. Good quad hits kept me in the game and when I headed over to the Four Queens yet again!
I was up $40 on the day. The Aces still hadn't hit. And the Chubby Weeble Mexicans still hadn't hit either. Now they were entertaining the casino floor by serenading the cocktail waitresses with their rendition of "Maggie May", which included a lot of stoppages in play for the next lines in the song to be remembered (usually incorrectly).
It was sort of like a drunken casino campfire.
Meanwhile, back at the Fremont, I decided to rest my video poker fingers and try some $3 blackjack. Bought in for $40 and promptly went on a tear. I didn't have too much time or I would have kept at it, but within about 15 minutes I was up to $115 for a $75 profit. As soon as the shoe turned, so did I, coloring up and keeping the money. Aren't you proud of me?!
Hit the $3 craps table, bought in for $40, and hit about 3 hot rolls, where the shooter hit over 20 numbers before sevening out. Colored up at $99, and the guy next to me threw in a dollar chip to make it an even $100. I was up $110 on the day and feeling good.
I was kind of rushing around because it was moving day - I was headed down to a 2 night comp stay at (brace yourself) Excalibur, that bastion of class. Mostly lower class. Like me. I feel at home at a place that has a buffet where you are encouraged to repeatedly take one bite of a chicken leg and throw it over your shoulder before grabbing another.
Meanwhile... the Four Queens Aces STILL had not hit and were up to $665. I played another 600 hands trying to get them, and lost $60. It just was not to be.
With very little time left, I packed up, saw the host (Fremont picked up all my food charges, thank you), and went on tilt, I'm sorry to say.
I played some dollar VP, and some crazy pick'em losing VP and dumped enough money to put me $100 down for the day.
Stupid.
Stupid Stupid Stupid.
I grabbed the WAX bus outside Binions, and headed for the Strip. The Castle Awaited!!!!
I stumbled off to bed and slumbered. When I awoke, I did an accounting. I had $360 on me and that meant I finished down $240 for the previous day.
I was still up $511 for the trip. Revenge was still in the offing.
Headed to the Golden Nugget's Starbucks in the early morning chill and ordered my usual latte.
"And your name is...?"
"Norbert."
She wrote Norbert on the cup.
On a whim I decided to check out the progressive amount for Four Aces and 2/3/4 kicker at the Four Queens bar - it was shockingly high at $635. I decided to give it a go and pounded away for half an hour before hitting quad 10s. I really want to hit Aces with Kicker on this trip on Double Double - I hadn't hit them yet.
I suppose I should be happy with Aces with Queen Kicker on Super Double Triple Overtime Desperation Hail Mary Bonus Poker.
The bar entertainment at six in the morning featured The Chubby Mexican Guys, probably in their mid forties or late fifties, trying to seal the deal with some Chubby Mexican Ladies who were probably in their twenties.
If they ever managed it, I imagined the sex would be like trying to stack two weebles on top of one another.
They'd all been up all night and it showed. And the drinks kept flowing, and the attempts at deal sealing kept attempting.
I hit quad 10s, which was nice, and kept hammering, looking for those bullets. Spent an hour and lost $60. Headed back to Fremont to give them some play - need to keep those offers coming!
I haven't played much 50 cent or dollar video poker, having learned my lesson last trip - my pockets are not deep enough to sustain the losses from variance at higher denoms. So I've been focusing on quarter play, and really, it's proving to be the right move.
Having said that, I thought it would be good to give dollar BP a shot, so I stuffed a hundred bucks in a machine and let fly. Played for 15 minutes, went down, went back up, and cashed out even, ready to fight again another day.
This is for Stu - I went to Lanai Express for Loco Moco at quarter to seven (they close at seven) and everything was put away. So Loco Moco was a No Go.
The Four Queens Aces were now at $637 so I gave it another spin and lost $40. The Chubby Mexicans were still partying, and I think the head Chubby Mexican might have put off the weeble senorita by screaming at her face from 3" away, "YOU HAVE NO FUCKING SENSE OF HUMOR! YOU HAVE NO FUCKING SENSE OF HUMOR!"
Repeating the pattern, I returned to Fremont and stuffed a hundred bucks in the same machine as last time.
This time I found some luck, hit a quad, and cashed out $260. That's the Royal Flusher Way, baby!
I kept playing and went up and down some. Good quad hits kept me in the game and when I headed over to the Four Queens yet again!
I was up $40 on the day. The Aces still hadn't hit. And the Chubby Weeble Mexicans still hadn't hit either. Now they were entertaining the casino floor by serenading the cocktail waitresses with their rendition of "Maggie May", which included a lot of stoppages in play for the next lines in the song to be remembered (usually incorrectly).
It was sort of like a drunken casino campfire.
Meanwhile, back at the Fremont, I decided to rest my video poker fingers and try some $3 blackjack. Bought in for $40 and promptly went on a tear. I didn't have too much time or I would have kept at it, but within about 15 minutes I was up to $115 for a $75 profit. As soon as the shoe turned, so did I, coloring up and keeping the money. Aren't you proud of me?!
Hit the $3 craps table, bought in for $40, and hit about 3 hot rolls, where the shooter hit over 20 numbers before sevening out. Colored up at $99, and the guy next to me threw in a dollar chip to make it an even $100. I was up $110 on the day and feeling good.
I was kind of rushing around because it was moving day - I was headed down to a 2 night comp stay at (brace yourself) Excalibur, that bastion of class. Mostly lower class. Like me. I feel at home at a place that has a buffet where you are encouraged to repeatedly take one bite of a chicken leg and throw it over your shoulder before grabbing another.
Meanwhile... the Four Queens Aces STILL had not hit and were up to $665. I played another 600 hands trying to get them, and lost $60. It just was not to be.
With very little time left, I packed up, saw the host (Fremont picked up all my food charges, thank you), and went on tilt, I'm sorry to say.
I played some dollar VP, and some crazy pick'em losing VP and dumped enough money to put me $100 down for the day.
Stupid.
Stupid Stupid Stupid.
I grabbed the WAX bus outside Binions, and headed for the Strip. The Castle Awaited!!!!
Monday, May 7, 2012
Lion's Share Picture
Yes, this is a picture of the (now defunct) Lion's Share. And not a very good one at that.
Apparently posted live from my $20 Tracfone...
The Man With Two Senior Hawaiian Girlfriends
Today's Royal Flusher Gambling Song of the Day (part 2) is The Man with the Golden Arm.
Continued from Mayday Mayday
Have I mentioned that I now have two nice hot Hawaiian girlfriends? They are lovely women, seniors, and pretty able of body for their age, at least in terms of being able to press video poker buttons and make craps bets. (More on that later).
To keep our love a secret from Mrs. Flusher, we did not exchange names. I just know them by their blue hair and the twinkle in and around their somewhat wrinkled eye areas.
The first, I met in the elevator, and chatting about gambling, we found we were both in the same boat - losing at video poker. We parted in the lobby and bade each other the secret gambler's benediction, which only the most savvy gamblers, and those of a feather indeed! know: "Good luck!".
Would I ever see the first of my two Island Senior Girlfiends again?
I broke one hundy into ten dollar bills, figuring that would encourage me to keep moving away from losing machines, and take lots of little breaks.
Decided on Double Double, and who should be sitting beside me but I.S.G. number one.
We chatted, and flirted, and I helped with her bill acceptor. It was a stirling moment in a pretty much horsecrap day. I ordered an Absolut on the rocks.
There was no luck for me, but I.S.G. #1 hit a big quad, and then another one! We giggled like young lovers and I almost high-fived her, but felt that it was too early in our romance for that, plus I might knock her down.
I.S.G. #1 played on and I ordered another Absolut. All of a sudden she gave the croaky, growly 80s-ish laugh that is so endearing and she'd hit the Aces, holding but one! This was remarkable and I was truly happy that her fortunes and turned around and I told her so. And frankly, I was kind of relieved, because I was starting to think that this might end up being a kind of 'sugar grandson' relationship.
I ordered an Absolut for refreshment and played a bit more, but it was time to move on. I just wasn't winning a goddamned thing. I was out of my first hundy and down $500 on the day. Ugh.
While sipping, okay guzzling, my Absolut, I realized that I was sick and tired of the stupid Tony Roma 'table number 69 is ready' announcements and I want to kick Tony Roma in his greasy meatballs.
I also reflected that the guy making the Tony Roma announcements sounds exactly like Mr. Bean playing Enrico Pollini (Now, I know what you are thinking...) in Rat Race.
Things were really looking grim. I walked back to the machines just off the lobby and found one near the Keno desk, all by itself. I wanted to hide and lose and hide.
Thought maybe Bonus Deluxe was a good choice, since any four of a kind pays $100. That's the kind of bread I needed to stay alive.
Played a 20. Nothing.
Ordered an Absolut.
Played a 20. Nothing.
Played a 20. Nothing.
Good Lord, now I was really in it. What was I going to do???
Keep going I guess.
I switched to the game on the machine that has the highest variety of large possible payoffs. Stuff like Aces with a 2,3,4 kicker pay $500, Queens with a 7 kicker on Saturdays pay $300. Kings with a Queen pay $400 and need to either come out of the closet, or tell their wives what they really need in bed.
The game is called, I believe, Super Double Triple Overtime Desperation Hail Mary Bonus Poker, by IGT.
I played. I really didn't think anything would come of it. The game is all about getting the Aces. That's where the big wins are, and the longshot royal of course.
"One Headlight" by the Wallflowers was playing on the speaker above my loser head.
Ace came up, great, lone ace. Sort of like one headlight...held it, hit draw and...
Bingo. Or in this case, more specifically, Aces with Queen kicker, a $400 win. And just like that the weight of the day, of Lei Day, of the world, was lifted from my video poker knuckles.
I rushed off to find my Island Princess Granny. I couldn't find her, but did a dance just as if she were in my arms, and trying to make sure her trick hip didn't 'go out'.
Looking back on the events, I am starting to wonder if I.S.G. #1 hadn't soured on our relationship. I did notice a slight 'cooling' about the time I asked her if she looked as good out of her six medic alert bracelets as she did in them.
Ah well, it's better to have loved and lost an I.S.G. than never to have gotten the $400 now sizzling in my pants!
I'd made an astounding comeback. Sure, I was still down some on the day but it was $400 less than it would have been. That's over a day's loss budget for The Flusher. What to do, what to do...
Gamble more, that's what.
The $3 craps table looked awfully good. I sidled up and bought in for forty bucks and the cocktail waitress happened by, so I ordered an Absolut on the rocks.
We got started and a few rolls went by, had the 6 and 8 covered, hit a six or two and pressed it up. And that's when everything changed when Island Senior Girlfriend Number Two came into my life.
"This table hot or cold?", she said, a twinkle in the wrinkled area around her eyes.
"Aloha, baby," I said, "the table's hot and so are you!"
I said it exactly like that, except for the first part, and the second part. Actually, I said "the guy's been hitting some sixes". I really was too dumbstruck by what her beauty must have been 60 years previously to make any kind of advance on my new Island Girlfriend, who had bought in for $200. Impressive!
Oddly, I.S.G. #2 didn't make a bet right away. In fact, she stood and watched for the longest time.
My Absolut arrived and I ordered a refill and said to I.S.G #2, "You should at least make a bet for the dealers if you're going to stand there."
She chuckled.
I think that love was on the felt at that moment in our lives.
Few more rolls went by, the guy kept hitting sixes. Crazy. One roll was a 12, six-six, very unusual.
"You should put about $25 or $50 on the 12 hitting again," I advised, very knowingly. This brought a laugh.
American Pie was playing outside on the 4 block Viva Vision(TM) canopy and my Aloha Lady Friend was clapping along - in a fashion that can only be described as "randomly". Still, I admired her enthusiasm for the arts, even if she couldn't carry a tune in a coin bucket.
The dealer across from me, Maryann, was, I think, enjoying watching our flirting, and was probably somewhat jealous - I'm a pretty prime catch, for a married guy.
She mispaid me on a bet (odds on the ten, which should be double, she paid me single) and I pointed it out. And then she adjusted her working stack of dollar chips which was sky high, got them straight and then deftly knocked them down, all over the place.
As Maryann scrambled to right the stack of 40 or 50 chips, I pointed out, helpfully, "Hey. You knocked over your stack."
"Yes, and I short paid you $5. Anything else?"
I smiled at her and crossed my eyes and stuck out my tongue a bit. She laughed. I pushed a stack of three $1 chips across the felt.
"Three dollar eight please. Try not to knock the stack over this time, okay?"
We got talking a bit, and I told her who I was.
"I'm Royal Flusher, and I have the business card to prove it." I flipped one of my cards onto the felt. The pit boss immediately grabbed it up and examined it for signs of tampering. What is it with those guys???
From then on Maryann called me "Royal", actually, the first person every to do that. I felt kind of proud. You do realize that Royal Flusher is just the 'nom de plume' of Royal Flusher, right?
I turned to I.S.G. #2.
"You should put about $75 on eight. I feel lucky about it!"
She just laughed at me again.
Eventually the table turned cold and my $40 buy-in dwindled to nothing. I.S.G.#2 had cut and run to minimize losses, and to keep me from giving her any more stupid gambling advice.
And I realized that Absolut does not replace dinner. It was steak night at the buffet so I ambled (read weaved) over. The buffet is great. You get to meet all sorts of interesting people as you try to find the hot sausages at the bottom of the pile, or load up with 4 plates of tiny cheesecakes. And one of the things I like most in life is meeting people from different cultures, learning from them, and ultimately making fun of them later.
It so happened that I heard some cultural mutterings from some extremely hot young ladies in line just behind me.
"I've either had too much to drink, or you ain't speaking English."
We said hello and I said, "Sprechen zie English?"
"Ya," she said, "sprechen zie deutsche?"
"Nien," I said, "just sprechen zie english, and that's all."
We had an interesting conversation - the group of them, six in all, three incredibly hot young frauleins and their ripped, muscular, body builder husband/boyfriends. Holy moly were these guys buff. I debated asking them if I could eat dinner with them but then thought, no, I want to live.
Got a table and a steak and it was awful. C'mon Fremont, what is that shite, grade Z utility beef? There wasn't a bite that was all gristle. I went back to get some fried chicken or something and bumped into the head fraulein who I'd spoken with.
"What did you think of the 'steak'?" I asked, making the quotation marks around steak in the air.
"It vas, well, okay, I guess, it vas fine." Clearly being polite.
I went up close behind her and made the sound a horse makes when it flaps it lips. She laughed.
On my way out, some of the German guys were going back for more food.
"What did you think of the 'steak'?" I asked, making the quotation marks around steak in the air. I made the sound a horse makes when it flaps it lips.
Frauleins are much easier going than their body builder boyfriend/husbands.
I headed for the exit, and up to bed, feeling like a winner. Sort of like the horse that won the Derby. For the others in that race that didn't do so well, you never know what's at steak.
Continued from Mayday Mayday
Have I mentioned that I now have two nice hot Hawaiian girlfriends? They are lovely women, seniors, and pretty able of body for their age, at least in terms of being able to press video poker buttons and make craps bets. (More on that later).
To keep our love a secret from Mrs. Flusher, we did not exchange names. I just know them by their blue hair and the twinkle in and around their somewhat wrinkled eye areas.
The first, I met in the elevator, and chatting about gambling, we found we were both in the same boat - losing at video poker. We parted in the lobby and bade each other the secret gambler's benediction, which only the most savvy gamblers, and those of a feather indeed! know: "Good luck!".
Would I ever see the first of my two Island Senior Girlfiends again?
I broke one hundy into ten dollar bills, figuring that would encourage me to keep moving away from losing machines, and take lots of little breaks.
Decided on Double Double, and who should be sitting beside me but I.S.G. number one.
We chatted, and flirted, and I helped with her bill acceptor. It was a stirling moment in a pretty much horsecrap day. I ordered an Absolut on the rocks.
There was no luck for me, but I.S.G. #1 hit a big quad, and then another one! We giggled like young lovers and I almost high-fived her, but felt that it was too early in our romance for that, plus I might knock her down.
I.S.G. #1 played on and I ordered another Absolut. All of a sudden she gave the croaky, growly 80s-ish laugh that is so endearing and she'd hit the Aces, holding but one! This was remarkable and I was truly happy that her fortunes and turned around and I told her so. And frankly, I was kind of relieved, because I was starting to think that this might end up being a kind of 'sugar grandson' relationship.
I ordered an Absolut for refreshment and played a bit more, but it was time to move on. I just wasn't winning a goddamned thing. I was out of my first hundy and down $500 on the day. Ugh.
While sipping, okay guzzling, my Absolut, I realized that I was sick and tired of the stupid Tony Roma 'table number 69 is ready' announcements and I want to kick Tony Roma in his greasy meatballs.
I also reflected that the guy making the Tony Roma announcements sounds exactly like Mr. Bean playing Enrico Pollini (Now, I know what you are thinking...) in Rat Race.
Things were really looking grim. I walked back to the machines just off the lobby and found one near the Keno desk, all by itself. I wanted to hide and lose and hide.
Thought maybe Bonus Deluxe was a good choice, since any four of a kind pays $100. That's the kind of bread I needed to stay alive.
Played a 20. Nothing.
Ordered an Absolut.
Played a 20. Nothing.
Played a 20. Nothing.
Good Lord, now I was really in it. What was I going to do???
Keep going I guess.
I switched to the game on the machine that has the highest variety of large possible payoffs. Stuff like Aces with a 2,3,4 kicker pay $500, Queens with a 7 kicker on Saturdays pay $300. Kings with a Queen pay $400 and need to either come out of the closet, or tell their wives what they really need in bed.
The game is called, I believe, Super Double Triple Overtime Desperation Hail Mary Bonus Poker, by IGT.
I played. I really didn't think anything would come of it. The game is all about getting the Aces. That's where the big wins are, and the longshot royal of course.
"One Headlight" by the Wallflowers was playing on the speaker above my loser head.
Ace came up, great, lone ace. Sort of like one headlight...held it, hit draw and...
Bingo. Or in this case, more specifically, Aces with Queen kicker, a $400 win. And just like that the weight of the day, of Lei Day, of the world, was lifted from my video poker knuckles.
I rushed off to find my Island Princess Granny. I couldn't find her, but did a dance just as if she were in my arms, and trying to make sure her trick hip didn't 'go out'.
Looking back on the events, I am starting to wonder if I.S.G. #1 hadn't soured on our relationship. I did notice a slight 'cooling' about the time I asked her if she looked as good out of her six medic alert bracelets as she did in them.
Ah well, it's better to have loved and lost an I.S.G. than never to have gotten the $400 now sizzling in my pants!
I'd made an astounding comeback. Sure, I was still down some on the day but it was $400 less than it would have been. That's over a day's loss budget for The Flusher. What to do, what to do...
Gamble more, that's what.
The $3 craps table looked awfully good. I sidled up and bought in for forty bucks and the cocktail waitress happened by, so I ordered an Absolut on the rocks.
We got started and a few rolls went by, had the 6 and 8 covered, hit a six or two and pressed it up. And that's when everything changed when Island Senior Girlfriend Number Two came into my life.
"This table hot or cold?", she said, a twinkle in the wrinkled area around her eyes.
"Aloha, baby," I said, "the table's hot and so are you!"
I said it exactly like that, except for the first part, and the second part. Actually, I said "the guy's been hitting some sixes". I really was too dumbstruck by what her beauty must have been 60 years previously to make any kind of advance on my new Island Girlfriend, who had bought in for $200. Impressive!
Oddly, I.S.G. #2 didn't make a bet right away. In fact, she stood and watched for the longest time.
My Absolut arrived and I ordered a refill and said to I.S.G #2, "You should at least make a bet for the dealers if you're going to stand there."
She chuckled.
I think that love was on the felt at that moment in our lives.
Few more rolls went by, the guy kept hitting sixes. Crazy. One roll was a 12, six-six, very unusual.
"You should put about $25 or $50 on the 12 hitting again," I advised, very knowingly. This brought a laugh.
American Pie was playing outside on the 4 block Viva Vision(TM) canopy and my Aloha Lady Friend was clapping along - in a fashion that can only be described as "randomly". Still, I admired her enthusiasm for the arts, even if she couldn't carry a tune in a coin bucket.
The dealer across from me, Maryann, was, I think, enjoying watching our flirting, and was probably somewhat jealous - I'm a pretty prime catch, for a married guy.
She mispaid me on a bet (odds on the ten, which should be double, she paid me single) and I pointed it out. And then she adjusted her working stack of dollar chips which was sky high, got them straight and then deftly knocked them down, all over the place.
As Maryann scrambled to right the stack of 40 or 50 chips, I pointed out, helpfully, "Hey. You knocked over your stack."
"Yes, and I short paid you $5. Anything else?"
I smiled at her and crossed my eyes and stuck out my tongue a bit. She laughed. I pushed a stack of three $1 chips across the felt.
"Three dollar eight please. Try not to knock the stack over this time, okay?"
We got talking a bit, and I told her who I was.
"I'm Royal Flusher, and I have the business card to prove it." I flipped one of my cards onto the felt. The pit boss immediately grabbed it up and examined it for signs of tampering. What is it with those guys???
From then on Maryann called me "Royal", actually, the first person every to do that. I felt kind of proud. You do realize that Royal Flusher is just the 'nom de plume' of Royal Flusher, right?
I turned to I.S.G. #2.
"You should put about $75 on eight. I feel lucky about it!"
She just laughed at me again.
Eventually the table turned cold and my $40 buy-in dwindled to nothing. I.S.G.#2 had cut and run to minimize losses, and to keep me from giving her any more stupid gambling advice.
And I realized that Absolut does not replace dinner. It was steak night at the buffet so I ambled (read weaved) over. The buffet is great. You get to meet all sorts of interesting people as you try to find the hot sausages at the bottom of the pile, or load up with 4 plates of tiny cheesecakes. And one of the things I like most in life is meeting people from different cultures, learning from them, and ultimately making fun of them later.
It so happened that I heard some cultural mutterings from some extremely hot young ladies in line just behind me.
"I've either had too much to drink, or you ain't speaking English."
We said hello and I said, "Sprechen zie English?"
"Ya," she said, "sprechen zie deutsche?"
"Nien," I said, "just sprechen zie english, and that's all."
We had an interesting conversation - the group of them, six in all, three incredibly hot young frauleins and their ripped, muscular, body builder husband/boyfriends. Holy moly were these guys buff. I debated asking them if I could eat dinner with them but then thought, no, I want to live.
Got a table and a steak and it was awful. C'mon Fremont, what is that shite, grade Z utility beef? There wasn't a bite that was all gristle. I went back to get some fried chicken or something and bumped into the head fraulein who I'd spoken with.
"What did you think of the 'steak'?" I asked, making the quotation marks around steak in the air.
"It vas, well, okay, I guess, it vas fine." Clearly being polite.
I went up close behind her and made the sound a horse makes when it flaps it lips. She laughed.
On my way out, some of the German guys were going back for more food.
"What did you think of the 'steak'?" I asked, making the quotation marks around steak in the air. I made the sound a horse makes when it flaps it lips.
Frauleins are much easier going than their body builder boyfriend/husbands.
I headed for the exit, and up to bed, feeling like a winner. Sort of like the horse that won the Derby. For the others in that race that didn't do so well, you never know what's at steak.
Mayday, Mayday
What day does Cinco de Mayo fall on this year?
Well, it happened to be May 5th, and also a Saturday, and also Lei Day, a celebration of Hawaiian culture hosted by MSS/Cal/Fremont. There was also a horse race and a boxing match.
Starbucks made me a nice latte.
"Name?"
I pondered for a moment. I could be anyone I wanted.
"Freddy."
She wrote on the cup.
"Does it matter if my name isn't really Freddy?"
"Why, is it Frederick?..."
She wasn't getting it.
"Freddy is fine."
I only took a single hundred for my stake, not wanting a repeat of yesterday. I figured if I left the rest in the safe, I might keep myself from over-gambling.
My steaming hot Freddy made the trip back to the Fremont and I started having those sorts of runs on video poker where you can't believe that hand after hand you get nothing and the money disappears in what seems like a few minutes.
Well, let me tell you, I timed these suckers and it was worse even than I thought. Here's the kind of action I got.
Bonus Poker (BP), $20, 2 minutes
BP, $20, 8 minutes
Pick'Em $20, 12 minutes
Bonus Deluxe, $20, 4 minutes
BP, $20, 10 minutes
It reads like the log of a hooker at a miner's convention. And was less satisfying.
34 minutes of play and $100 lost??? Give me break!
Walk of shame to the safe in the room for another hundred dollar bill.
Breakfast buffet at Fremont was some stupid champagne brunch, so I said screw that and headed to Du-Pars for the real deal - two hot 'Best in America as rated by Esquire magazine) crack cakes (which are made with premium uncut blow so you have to keep coming back for them again and again), an egg (over hard), and two turkey links (which I gobbled up).
It was yummy at $7.75.
Blew $20 in a slot at Golden Gate and headed back to Fremont for a 'run' in blackjack that lasted 25 minutes.
BP, $20, 8 minutes
Double Double Bonus (DDB), $20, 6 minutes
If it seems like I'm complaining, it's because I am bitter, and I am complaining.
Desperation was starting to set in. So I went to Four Queen's to get my last chance backup cash back - all of $35.
DDB, $35, 10 minutes
Back to Fremont.
DDB, $20, 6 minutes
I would have been better off ordering the 24 hours of porn on 3 channels deal and sat in my room at the Fremont watching the jiggle show on the 1982 17" tube Philco, which was so out of focus, if you crossed your eyes, you could get a sort of 3D effect, which might be a bit unnerving given the trends in today's adult films (I'm told).
Took a long, relaxing, hot, free, shower and lost no money.
Then,
DDB, $20, 5 minutes.
Treasure Chest, $20, 15 minutes.
Walk of shame, back up to the safe, to get another hundred.
Bought a Keno ticket for $20, 20 games at a dollar a game, and went back to the room to write up yesterdays events.
Imagine, dear reader, how difficult it is to write about one debacle day while you are in the middle of carefully carving out a second total cluster fuck, that you will also have to write about in gory detail. I hope my professionalism in this is appreciated.
DDB, $20, 5 lousy minutes.
Back up to the room, walk of shame to get another hundred for the road, and then I headed over to Lei Day and walked through the booths and whatnot. Enjoyed soaking up some Aloha spirit. There was live music with Island dancing, lots of great looking food for sale, and all kinds of merchandise.
Lei Day, $0, 45 fun-filled minutes. Woohoo!
Stopped in at the dollar coin-dropper full-pay Jacks machines by the Buddha (whose tummy I forgot to rub).
Jacks or Better dollars, $20, 1 minute, possibly less.
I would just again like to remind readers that these figures in no way relate to any sort of other performance. Just forget what you read about BJ and Treasure Chest.
Had a sort of 'back to basics' down home comfort food lunch at the Cal coffee shop - half a chicken salad sandwich, a cup of garlic mushroom soup, thick, rich, and filled with big chunks of free range mushrooms, and salad bar. I'm actually trying to eat more healthy things. Country throw-up gravy, I'm pretty sure, is not good for me, and is not actually food.
Thought my luck might be better at Main Street Station. Things went a bit better - I finally hit a four of a kind for $32 and got a $2 scratch card. And my $20 lasted me half an hour.
DDB, $20, 4 minutes, WTF?????
BP, $20, 20 minutes
And then hit four Jacks for $32 and another scratcher.
And then the Fremont...
DDB, $20, 6 minutes.
I had a long talk with Mrs. Flusher about what to do. There's simply no answer. For a losing streak to end, you still have to play.
Read that again, repeat it like a mantra. For your convenience the phrase is repeated below:
For a losing streak to end, you still have to play send me cash now for the love of God please I'm fucking dying here.
Did some more blogging, and uploaded the previous days accounting. Greeted my host, Lydia. I didn't know whether I should shake her hand or hug her. So I did both. Then I hugged her again. I hugged her probably a bit too long, and I sort of asked her to 'rock me' a bit because I needed soothing.
I was also feeling a bit bloaty and gassy, but I didn't mention it. There is a line that should not be crossed with a host, no matter how bad one is feeling about being a loser.
Thought about things some more, resting in the room and I decided that this is my vacation, this is my hard earned money, and no matter how much it may mean not having a winning trip and disappointed you lovely readers out there who are really cheering for me...
...I should take another couple of hundred and risk going down $600 in one day, double my budget.
In other words, fuck it! LET IT ROCK! I headed down to make my evening what it may be come what may or not come what may.
Well, it happened to be May 5th, and also a Saturday, and also Lei Day, a celebration of Hawaiian culture hosted by MSS/Cal/Fremont. There was also a horse race and a boxing match.
Starbucks made me a nice latte.
"Name?"
I pondered for a moment. I could be anyone I wanted.
"Freddy."
She wrote on the cup.
"Does it matter if my name isn't really Freddy?"
"Why, is it Frederick?..."
She wasn't getting it.
"Freddy is fine."
I only took a single hundred for my stake, not wanting a repeat of yesterday. I figured if I left the rest in the safe, I might keep myself from over-gambling.
My steaming hot Freddy made the trip back to the Fremont and I started having those sorts of runs on video poker where you can't believe that hand after hand you get nothing and the money disappears in what seems like a few minutes.
Well, let me tell you, I timed these suckers and it was worse even than I thought. Here's the kind of action I got.
Bonus Poker (BP), $20, 2 minutes
BP, $20, 8 minutes
Pick'Em $20, 12 minutes
Bonus Deluxe, $20, 4 minutes
BP, $20, 10 minutes
It reads like the log of a hooker at a miner's convention. And was less satisfying.
34 minutes of play and $100 lost??? Give me break!
Walk of shame to the safe in the room for another hundred dollar bill.
Breakfast buffet at Fremont was some stupid champagne brunch, so I said screw that and headed to Du-Pars for the real deal - two hot 'Best in America as rated by Esquire magazine) crack cakes (which are made with premium uncut blow so you have to keep coming back for them again and again), an egg (over hard), and two turkey links (which I gobbled up).
It was yummy at $7.75.
Blew $20 in a slot at Golden Gate and headed back to Fremont for a 'run' in blackjack that lasted 25 minutes.
BP, $20, 8 minutes
Double Double Bonus (DDB), $20, 6 minutes
If it seems like I'm complaining, it's because I am bitter, and I am complaining.
Desperation was starting to set in. So I went to Four Queen's to get my last chance backup cash back - all of $35.
DDB, $35, 10 minutes
Back to Fremont.
DDB, $20, 6 minutes
I would have been better off ordering the 24 hours of porn on 3 channels deal and sat in my room at the Fremont watching the jiggle show on the 1982 17" tube Philco, which was so out of focus, if you crossed your eyes, you could get a sort of 3D effect, which might be a bit unnerving given the trends in today's adult films (I'm told).
Took a long, relaxing, hot, free, shower and lost no money.
Then,
DDB, $20, 5 minutes.
Treasure Chest, $20, 15 minutes.
Walk of shame, back up to the safe, to get another hundred.
Bought a Keno ticket for $20, 20 games at a dollar a game, and went back to the room to write up yesterdays events.
Imagine, dear reader, how difficult it is to write about one debacle day while you are in the middle of carefully carving out a second total cluster fuck, that you will also have to write about in gory detail. I hope my professionalism in this is appreciated.
DDB, $20, 5 lousy minutes.
Back up to the room, walk of shame to get another hundred for the road, and then I headed over to Lei Day and walked through the booths and whatnot. Enjoyed soaking up some Aloha spirit. There was live music with Island dancing, lots of great looking food for sale, and all kinds of merchandise.
 |
| "Hiya hiya wanna. Lacka Lacka wanna. Lacka tonawanda...Five Alarma Fiya... Lacka Tonawanda" (joke for you Buffalo peeps) |
 |
| Mmmmm... chicken. Flamethrower chicken... |
 |
| I thought this was awesome. |
Lei Day, $0, 45 fun-filled minutes. Woohoo!
Stopped in at the dollar coin-dropper full-pay Jacks machines by the Buddha (whose tummy I forgot to rub).
Jacks or Better dollars, $20, 1 minute, possibly less.
I would just again like to remind readers that these figures in no way relate to any sort of other performance. Just forget what you read about BJ and Treasure Chest.
Had a sort of 'back to basics' down home comfort food lunch at the Cal coffee shop - half a chicken salad sandwich, a cup of garlic mushroom soup, thick, rich, and filled with big chunks of free range mushrooms, and salad bar. I'm actually trying to eat more healthy things. Country throw-up gravy, I'm pretty sure, is not good for me, and is not actually food.
Thought my luck might be better at Main Street Station. Things went a bit better - I finally hit a four of a kind for $32 and got a $2 scratch card. And my $20 lasted me half an hour.
DDB, $20, 4 minutes, WTF?????
BP, $20, 20 minutes
And then hit four Jacks for $32 and another scratcher.
And then the Fremont...
DDB, $20, 6 minutes.
I had a long talk with Mrs. Flusher about what to do. There's simply no answer. For a losing streak to end, you still have to play.
Read that again, repeat it like a mantra. For your convenience the phrase is repeated below:
For a losing streak to end, you still have to play send me cash now for the love of God please I'm fucking dying here.
Did some more blogging, and uploaded the previous days accounting. Greeted my host, Lydia. I didn't know whether I should shake her hand or hug her. So I did both. Then I hugged her again. I hugged her probably a bit too long, and I sort of asked her to 'rock me' a bit because I needed soothing.
I was also feeling a bit bloaty and gassy, but I didn't mention it. There is a line that should not be crossed with a host, no matter how bad one is feeling about being a loser.
Thought about things some more, resting in the room and I decided that this is my vacation, this is my hard earned money, and no matter how much it may mean not having a winning trip and disappointed you lovely readers out there who are really cheering for me...
...I should take another couple of hundred and risk going down $600 in one day, double my budget.
In other words, fuck it! LET IT ROCK! I headed down to make my evening what it may be come what may or not come what may.
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