Saturday, December 24, 2016

You Are Twelve Dollars Millionaire







Day 18, Tues Nov 8, 2016

We had a pretty tight schedule and the key to it all was to be, not ready, not packed, not completely packed, but packed packed packed such that we could literally grab our stuff and stroll out of the hotel room.

In an odd fit of efficiency and lack of drama, we achieved this with enough time to go and grab a quick breakfast before the first tournament round at 10:00am.

The day before, I changed the limo time from. It would be a bit of a pinch at the airport, but I was pretty sure we'd be okay. We needed at least half an hour for potentially our last tournament round, if we played at 11:00am.

The limo would pick us up promptly at 11:30am, thus the need to be ultra-ready.

Everything was working like clockwork until I decided to sneak in a few hands of dollar play, off the record.

I put in a twenty, played a few hands, went up a bit, down a bit, the usual. You know, it's routine, you're in, you're out, hello, goodbye - just another fat fuck with a suitcase. I heard the happy music coming from a row over - it sounded like somebody had hit a dollar progressive. Nice jackpot.

I doubled up and decided that was enough. I'd noticed a message on the slot card display that said something like "SLOT PTS NOT COUNTED" or something. I ignored it.

If you see this message, pay attention to it.

When I hit the cashout button, the video poker happy orgasm winning music started playing, the same as if I'd hit a $4000 royal. And the machine called for a handpay of $40.

Is this some kind of cruel joke?...

That was odd.

I waited a bit, checked my watch 3000 times, and finally stood up to hopefully wave someone over. That's when I noticed that all the machines had flashing candles on top. And more and more people were standing and looking around.

There was precious little time before the start of the first tournament round upstairs. Finally an attendant came by and said, "I'll be right with you".

She still had to do the whole jackpot rigamarol for EVERYBODY that had cashed out - register her card, go to the cage, get the money, etc. etc.

Ten minutes to go.

Five.

In the nick of time she showed up and gave me the $40, and I hauled ass upstairs and went to see Danielle, who was checking people in for the tourney.

There were indeed two open spots, so we'd get our first round in at 10:00am. So far so good.

Sadly, we both played shite. The Quad Queen did better than I did. We'd need a miracle in the second round to get any dough out of it.

For the 10:30am round... they were full up. Huh??? No room for Flushiepants? (Great sit-com title, by the way.)

We had one more shot, the 11:00am and if we didn't get in, the tourney was kaput for us.

Then one of the management said it didn't look good, and could we stand off to the side! Whaaaa??? Right on the button of 11:00am we were told.... that there was room.

In fact there were tons of open spots. (After our round someone whispered in my ear that it was always obvious that we'd get it. Not sure what was up with piling on the needless stress.)

And, we did shite. Up to the room, grab the bags, out to the foyer, limo waiting, goodbye California Hotel and Casino.

The airport was easy. Lots of time. The ride home with Westjet was smooth. Getting the car at Park 'n Fly at Pearson was a nightmare.





I hate to end trip reports with junk about getting home... so I'll end with this.

The Standard Royal At The Airport Attempt. You gotta do it, right?

I got stiffed on the airport machines, but the Quad Queen hit a nice final hand. No kicker, though.


I got fed up playing, actually, I'd had enough of an asskicking this trip.

I took a voucher for $12.50 over to the attendant. She was very nice. She chatted. She smiled.

"I was really hoping to become the latest airport millionaire," I said.

She handed me my money.

"Here you go, you are a twelve dollars millionaire."

RF: Day -$120 Trip -$4925
QQ: Day +$160 Trip -$1590
Combined -$6525

Eighteen days, almost all free rooms and food. We'd still gotten our asses kicked, there's no way to spin it otherwise.

Thanks for reading this trip report, come back tomorrow for....



....A Wynny Christmas, Live.

Wha????


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