Friday, December 9, 2016

My Incredible 9% Lunch





Day 10 - Mon Oct 31 - part 3

Back on the ground, the three of us tied down the Good Airship Piffles, and caught a ride with the service van back to the terminal.

I tried to give the guy the green handshake but he was adamant not to accept.

"I'd really like to, but the cameras wouldn't."
"Take a look at the seventh Fetzer valve, will you. I think it's been sticking."
Noted. Next time, grease the palms out at the airplane.

I drove the guys back to Kaytel ("Kay.") and Mike's condo and came inside for a bit to make nicey small talk. They seemed like really nice folks and I could see us hanging out in a condo in Henderson for the winter someday.

Maybe theirs.

If they don't mind.


We don't take up much room, We're quiet, and we don't use much water.

I had some shopping to do, so I hit the Walmart just off the end of runway 25 right. We had the perfect costumes. There was just one piece needed to complete our ensembles.

And sure enough, there was one left and it was perfect!

I gathered up a bunch of supplies in my cart, like some drinks, and replacement vodka. Sadly, they were out of Jameson's - it was a really good price too. (Always a progressive drinker thinker, I bought bourbon instead.) I think next time around I'm going to just buy my duty free at Walmart - vodka in PET bottles, stick it in my checked luggage and hope for the best.

They had kind of a deli section at Walmart. But that's no surprise, they have every kind of section. I located some amazing foods to make up an inexpensive lunch, and gurgled at the idea of paying about 9% of what I would have to pay at Wynn for essentially the same stuff.

The only thing missing was... mayo. I needed some mayo, or my deli lunch would simply not be complete. And that's when I did something really daring.

There was me. There was a McDonald's outlet near the deli. There was a counter.

First, I disguised my shopping cart as a pensioner, with eyebrow hairs as long Rapunzel's, a two-sizes too small sweater vest, and a flip phone, at which it stared blindly, occasionally poking at a button or two, muttering "Can you hear me???" The perfect disguise, it would be indistinguishable from approximately half of the Walmart clientele.

I waited until the counter staff was busy and sashayed into the place, and then sidled over to the counter. (I got 93% in my Sashay, Sidle, and Mince course at Flusherville Tech.)

Then I simply approached the counter exactly as I would if I was somebody who had purchased a meal at McDick's and forgot to get mayo.

"Uh... yeah... can I get... some napkins, a straw... um, an extra coffee cup lid, a Three Musketeers, a ball point pen, one of those combs there, a pint of Old Harper, three extra Mayos, a couple of flash light batteries and some beef jerky."

"You got an ID for the mayo?" I thought I heard the counter-boi say, but he didn't, and three mayos in hand... I got extra, extra bold.

I waltzed over to the condom stand, and helped myself to a handful of pepper packets. A few yards of mincing and I was OUT of there.

Three overweight pensioner women wearing slip-on shoes so broken down that they had migrated up the sides of their corned feet, t-shirts the size of mess tents adorned with pink and purple sparklies spelling out various cutsie slogans involving their perfect little princess grandchildren, carrying purses containing entire sets of the Encyclopedia Britannica plus nine sets of keys, six flavors of chapstick, coupons from 1993, a few empty glasses cases, eleven lipsticks (all broken), a pair of mittens (inexplicably), five rolls of Tums with just three lint-embedded antacid disks left in their tattered foil, a can of tuna, and 19 pounds of various and sundry Grandmother supplies, were talking to my shopping cart, yelling respectively, "SIDNEY???" "MORTY???" and "ALFIE???"

I whipped the disguise off my shopping cart like a Walmart David Fucking Copperfield, and sashayed it away from the 'dropped jaw in astonishment' Martha crowd.

They never knew what hit 'em.


Back at Wynn, I valeted the car, and phoned the Quad Queen, who was feeling better and doing business in the casino. She met me outside the valet to help with the load of water and illicit anti-Wynn booze, food, and snacks I'd procured.

"Let's to the room!!!" I shouted, excited for my pickle.

Yes, my pickle.

For it was lunchtime.

I laid myself out a very fine tableaux de apres-midi au fromage con sous-chef. That's lunch, you idiot. Who knew that America had perfected the art of making, packaging, shipping, vending, and presenting a single dill pickle in the most sexy, the most perfect, the most sensual of ways, and last, but not least, the mouth orgasmic white glue that holds it all together - illicit black market Mayonnaise?

"Is that McDonald's mayo???" asked the Quad Queen.

"Shhh... you don't know what sacrifices our side made to get this mayonnaise out of the forbidden zone. Many lives were given. Marthas were left with dropped jaws."

And so, Behold, my incredible 9% lunch - Oh Snap! Dilly dill pickle, half a meat sandwich on bun au fromage, a packet of crisps in ersatz Sour Cream and Onion dressing, and about four ounces of bourbon to ensure that nothing could possibly go wrong.
Steve Wynn can suck it. This is as good as anything Wynn serves at 9% of the price!


The Quad Queen probably snacked on something - memory cells fail me in the 'what happened on the trip, anyway?' department. Deal with it.

After whatever it was she had, and Mon Amazing Dilly Pickle, we hit the casino again.

We played. And we played. And we played some more. And I've got not much to show for it.

There's one nice 10x pay dealt straight hand, that kept me going for quite a while.


One of the most interesting things was watching a machine freak out and go nuts, flashing, and grunting and groaning, like it was on a bad trip.

But in the end, it was a bloodbath, if a fun bloodbath. I lost $400 and the Quadless Queen lost $500.

And you know what? By this point in the trip... I was getting fucking sick and tired of losing.

Hours had passed, and I was out of pickles, so we grabbed dinner from Zoozafuckyous or whatever it is.


At least Caddyshack was on.

I ordered "something sloppy and disgusting, please" and was not disappointed.

It actually tasted great. And was sloppy.

The Quad Queen had a pastrami sandwich which, for some reason, was salty. So salty it was awful. For some reason, she ate it, and suffered incredible thirst all night.

We're talking Dead Sea Pastrami salty.

None of this really daunted me. I was undauntable.

Because the whole crux of the trip had finally arrived. It was time to don our amazing costumes, add the perfect additional item I'd procured at Walmart, and hit the town, blowing everyone away.

But first... my Good Luck Socks.

2 comments:

  1. Your description of the machine going 'nuts'... reminded me of the old Haywire Slot machines...

    Travelling_greg

    ReplyDelete
  2. I'm not sure the dinosaurs had "good luck."

    ReplyDelete

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