Sunday, July 17, 2016

Gone Faster Than My Misspent Youth





Day 9 - Part 4

I steered the Poon Stang over to Koval and took that south, skipping all the Strip jams. In fact I took it right past Tropicana Blvd, around the bend, and deked into the south parking lot of the Trop. I wasn't sure I could wheedle my way to Valet, and in fact, I couldn't. I had to backtrack, onto the strip for a quick zip north and then around the corner and into the Valet lane. It was no problem.

Check in was one of those supermarket lane nightmare things. I got in the Invited Guest line which had three people in it ahead of me. There was one Check-in Sheila handling the Invited Guests and whoever she was serving must have made her recite all of Jabberwocky, and then recite it again whilst acting it out, and then recite it again backwards. Because they took up about 20 minutes of her time.
Meanwhile, the normal, loser line was moving way faster than the snooty Invited Guest line because it fed into a part of the desk where three Check-in Sheila's were cranking them through.

So what do you do? You shift lines. And then your old Invited Guest line moves fast. But you've lost your place. So you move back. And then it stops again.

That's the supermarket lane nightmare. No matter which line you choose, it moves the slowest.

The couple behind me put one representative in each of the lines. Now that's savvy. They got served first, too.

At least Far East Elvis was in the building. And in front of me.
Far East Elvis
Finally the Check-in Sheila beckoned and I got busy trying to chat up a free upgrade. It went nowhere though. And I think in the end I screwed up the room assignment. I asked for something quiet and said I wouldn't mind an airport view, as I like to count the engine cowlings falling off jets at takeoff. But she thought that would be noisy, and there was a pool view room I could have. We both agreed I didn't want a strip view.
Fucking slithy toves taking up all the Check-in Sheila's time!
So, room assigned, I began the Long Trek. The Club Tower is about as far as you can get from the lobby. It was so far that my Fatbit ran out of digits just walking there. I suppose it was just as well, given all that brisket, bun, and sauce in my tum.

The room was acceptable. It had a pretty great view. And it was reverberating with the pound-pound-pound of what looked to be an amateur rap contest for the 38 people who had paid to be in the exclusive, hip, young, super-exclu beach club.




One of the beds looked kind of bumpy-diseased, like it had had really bad bed acne as a young cot.
Creepy bed-bump disease. I avoided sitting, touching, or in any way looking at this bed.
I tried to take a picture out the window, but the building wrap screwed it up.

Fortunately, the windows open a little bit! Great for photography, and for fresh air too. And for listening to up-and-coming rappers.

Time to unwind a bit. I'd had a long day of it so far. The heat of the desert was relentless, and going in and out of it all day long while casino-hopping is tiring. Not to mention the constant onslaught of Chicago's "A.M. Mourning".

I went and got some ice, poured a few drinks from my stash, put my feet up, and enjoyed the view for a while. I looked forward to a little leeway on the gambling bankroll, since I'd actually won some money on my coupon run, and since I had freeplay coming with my Tropicana offer.

It had been not at all clear because the casino operations at the Trop were in the process of changing hands. And when I ventured down to the casino to 'try my luck', as the pros never say, the slot club informed me that I did not have the offer I thought I did.

I had booked with $75 freeplay and $50 in food a night. They told me I know had $125 and $30 food. Well that sounded great, right?

No, not great. The $125 wasn't freeplay, the $125 was in promo chips, to be picked up at the cage. Well, this was news to me, and I happy about it. Promo chips are worth, in the long run, a hair less than half their face value, if they are play once chips. The cage sorted out what they had to sort out and forked over five, orange chips, each worth $25. Play once, win or lose.
I played one chip before remembering to take a picture. Nice ankle!

That totally sucked, compared to free play. With $125 in freeplay I could play a 99% game at a very low bet size ($1.25 a bet). With these stupid chips I'd have to be $25 at a throw. I'd have only five chances at it. No, I was not happy about this at all, but I'd have to take what I got.

I played the stupid orange chips on the stupid pass line on the stupid craps table. I lost the first one. I lost the second one. I won the third one. I lost the fourth one. What the flying orange fuck?

I won the last one. So $125 in promo chips got turned into $50 cash.
I walked around the casino a bit, looking at this and that and found some cool-looking 50 and hundred play machines that I hadn't seen before. That looked like fun! I'd made a mental note of where they were and made a mental note of where I'd stashed the mental note, because otherwise it would be gone faster than misspent youth.




The $1K Scrounge Trip - June 2016: All Posts

Planning the $1K Scrounge Trip - June 2016

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