Monday, June 29, 2015

Fate of the Mummy's Tomb Dessicated and Oozing Gangrene Brownie De-Lite








Day 11 - Thursday - part 2

With great dexterity, and using all my concentration and observational prowess, I motored safely to the California Hotel and Casino, using the gear selector lever appropriately, applying the brakes smoothly, well ahead of time, avoiding 'jackrabbit' starts, obeying all signs and signals, and refraining from sounding the horn except for the eleven or so times I got cut off or pushed out of a lane by some methed-up greasy-haired cab driver.

Ok, I'll admit, I'm out of line on that one. It's not a fair generalization at all.

Many of the methed-up cab drivers that ran me off the road were very well coifed.

My state-of-the-art degen gambling record keeping system.
After parking in the Cal parking structure, I took a chance and hauled all my crap (except the now completely irradiated brownie) right down to the lobby, even though it was hours before check-in time.

My favorite desk clerk, Kitty Bar the Door, with whom I share a little secret, checked me in and greeted me warmly, as always. She fixed me up right away with a Parlour suite, keys, parking pass (why not be prepared...) and my Gold card, which would serve to comp me any food and drink I wanted at any of the restaurants at the Cal, Main Street Station, and Fremont. It's worth its weight in gold. And then some.

A welcome change to the suite was a new credenza thingy, and a new wall mounted big-ass TV. They've added a big-ass fridge, which suits the clientele well - Aloha spirit includes a lot of take-out goodies. With my room camping tendencies, this would serve me well.

And the first thing to go in it? The Veuve Cliquot, still unopened.
The Keno Channel never gets turned off, in case of room gambling.
Chore time... return the Asshat to the Four Queens. I parked the reliable old Asshat in her stall and took a look around for lost belongings.

I did not want a repeat of the very sad Lost Lucky Goat incident of 2014.

So, in the back seat, I found, of course, the Mummy's Tomb Dessicated and Oozing Gangrene Brownie De-Lite, and a two and a half foot plastic straw.

Ah yes... the straw from Blonde4Ever's Drinking Problem Slotzilla Six Gallon Travelling Cup. I was sure she could pick up a new one anywhere.

In a miracle of competence, I noted the mileage on the vehicle AND the stall number I'd parked in. Down at the Four Queens desk, no-one was to be seen. I waited for five minutes. And then five more minutes. What the hell? I looked around a bit for information. There was no sign up saying 'be right back' or anything.

And That's because the sign that said 'be right back' was carelessly tossed aside on the counter, nearly hidden from view. I got on tippy toes and picked off the cell number from the sign and called it.

Yup, I got the boothling, who was doing things up in the Avis part of the parking structure.

"Hey, it's Royal Flusher, I'm down here at the booth. I've returned the Asshat into stall number 69."

He wanted to know if I knew the mileage, which I did, and he actually went over and found the car in the stall to check for damage etc.

"Yup, the tanks full," I said, "filled it with gas just down Main Street."

He told me to put the keys into the night key deposit box and be on my way.

"Will do..." I said. "I left you a brownie."


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