Sunday, September 28, 2014

Caesars Hangar Palace Casino







We made our way through Wynn, successfully and directly, once again thanks to LuLU’s internal GPS, and not without a fight from me, which I had to admit defeat on. I did not like being out-navigated by LuLU one bit.

We meandered through T.I. and got involved in what looked like a casino promotion, featuring cute, friendly showgirls. Well, I was all over that shit like a manslut with a $100 profit on the day.
Fake Luxury craps tables at Encore
That was until they wanted me to sit down and fill out a form with my name, address, income, shoe size, urine sample, blood type, and an accounting of every online purchase I’ve ever made.

“Is this a timeshare come-on?” I asked Crystal the showgirl.

“No…. this isn’t…. ummm… well… Yes.”

We were out of there like a shot. And now I was all pissed off in retrospect. I really thought Crystal the Showgirl liked me.

We took the tram to Mirage and I let LuLU lead us to the room elevators, knowing full well that we should have veered left at the sportsbook. I did this just so I could show her that I knew the way. I felt a sick, cheap kind of pride for 6 seconds, which faded away to some kind of secretive man-shame. Being out-navigated by a girl, and then getting dumped by my showgirl fiance Crystal (or should I say showgirl fantasy fiance in another life) was just too much.

We walked out and I lamented the days when there were peoplemovers that would ferry you in and out of Mirage, while Steve Wynn’s sultry voice peppered you with false enthusiasm.

It doesn’t matter that they were never running, it was the thought that counts.

We made a 4 minute foray through the searing heat and made it into Caesars Forum Barn Shoppes.

I’ve realized that I hate the Forum Barn Shoppes. First, we got lost going up the spiral instagators, (which carry you along in extreme comfort, past murals of depicting mediterranean scenes). By the time we recovered, we were twisted all around and trapped in the mall aka Barn.

The Barn Shoppes aren’t cool any more, they seem cheesy and fake. The ceiling looks like a fake painting of clouds and sky. And that’s because… it’s a cheesy fake painting of clouds and sky. This isn’t 1995 any more. No one cares that Demi Moore’s underwear, or that a signed plaster cast of Judd Nelson’s crater-like nostrils are on display at Planet Hollywood. It’s loud and obnoxious in there. The talking statues were shut down for castration or something, and the Barn Shoppes led you only to either a wing with more endless Barn Shoppes, or to the Caesars Hangar Palace Casino.

Seriously, for some reason, I just hated how that place sounded. I longed for the fake luxury of EnWynn. But instead, we had pizza.

Lunch. Food court. Pizza. And it wasn’t too bad at all.

Kenny opted for…. nothing.

But he really did want to see the Bellagio fountains, so we obliged, sizzling our way down the boulevard (after a brief gawk at the original round Caesars casino, a place I hold in reverence).

Like three eggs on the sidewalk, we browned nicely, turned over, and awaited the artistically coordinated sky-high water ejaculations to music.

“That was just the best. That’s the best thing we’ve done so far. I loved that,” said Kenny.

Yes, we had all enjoyed the show - I’d forgotten how good it really is. It has a grandeur to it, a scale to it, that is breathtaking.

We agreed it was way too hot to even think about walking outside back to EnWynn. At one point LuLU started to smell faintly of bacon, and I am told that I’d developed a crunchy, red exterior (known as a bark) that was just begging for a mop of Carolina barbeque sauce.

At Paris, I seeked out special old friend, unique in all of Paris, but was disappointed to find out that the friend was no longer there. I dropped a twenty in a relative of the friend so we could get some comped waters, and because I was getting jittery, not having gambled in many minutes.

Nothing of note happened, and we opted for a cab ride - which fortunately featured a very pleasant driver, if somewhat of a smart-ass.

“Hey, you people been around bacon?” he asked as we left the porte cochon.

Back in the room, I took a break, nibbled on some lucky nuts cashews, took a shower and had a nap. There’s nothing like the refreshing, nuclear power of the blazing sun turning your flesh to wisps of smoke to lead you to a restful nap.

When I went back to the casino, Kenny was back at the pool. I played around, losing a few twenties, tried some 50 cents, tried a bit of Double Double, and nothing was working.
This cool device is reserved for the official Pool Boy.
I took heart that I was now about even on the day. I ordered a Makers on the rocks to celebrate, and stood up to just look around. And that’s when I heard a song, that was a sign.

A sign from God.

God said, “play triple play jacks on this machine beside which you are standing”. God does not split infinitives - he has no need.

I’m sure that’s what he said, through the song.

I put $100 into the machine and it was gone in a few minutes. And then I put an $80 cash-out ticket I had in my wallet in. And it was gone in - wait for it - two minutes.

Back to this again.

So I was down $200 on day. I hightailed it to the room with my bourbon to pout.

We ate at the buffet for dinner in order to use up the two comps I’d gotten Kenny and LuLU, and they picked up my meal, which was very much appreciated. The buffet at Wynn is always good and we all enjoyed it.

I had 63 different items, but I only remember the little triangular creme brulee. Delicious, if slightly burnt on top. I looked for a non-burnt one, but sadly, they’d torched the whole batch.

And then it was time to take LuLU to the airport for her flight home. That went extremely smoothly. I got El Primo Spotto in the short term parking lot and we were in and out of there in a flash.

Then it was just Kenny, and me, old friends, trouble in our eyes, and all of Las Vegas at our disposal. I put the radio on some classic rock station and we flew back to Encore, where I self-parked.

And Kenny parked himself in bed. Not feeling great.

Okay, well, I’d just take it as it came. I decided to risk $100 more bucks at Double Double, and try and hit something.

At the bar, I picked a machine and began to play. I worked my way down through about three quarters of my stake, and then hit a quad.
Nice! I thought. And then I thought, in my head, these come in threes. I played on.

And hit another one!
Nice! Nice! I thought. Where’s number three? Keep going!

Less than a minute later I hit number three and cashed out. Nice! Nice! Nice!

Live to fight another day, right.

Pathetically, this was by far one of my more successful days on the trip up until now.

Royal Flusher: Day: $-90 Trip: $-2490





4 comments:

  1. Did I spy a Monty Python reference? Are the forum shops really that bad? :D

    ReplyDelete
  2. You did indeed, Jonas, you did indeed. The Forum shops would have been better if they had not castrated the talking statues.

    ReplyDelete
  3. third pic is first pic! Come on, RF!

    ReplyDelete
  4. I've spoken to Jimmy Poon about this and he assures me that it is fixed.

    ReplyDelete

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