The Lone Acer

Let's see, where we we? At T.I., looking for magic.

I switched to Double Double Bonus, held a single lone Ace and scored four pointies.

No kicker, though.

That's a quick $400, kicker would have made it $1000. I'll take it.

I had a great session, sat and hammered the machine for a good long while, had a bunch of drinks (different CW, thank goodness), made $100. What's not to like? (Besides not getting kickers.)

I gave the multi-play spinners a try again. I've never had such a dearth of luck on spinners. It was a little unusual.

And in fact, the dearth - there's that word again - the dearth of quads indicate that I took a beating on the session. Which I did.

Since that wasn't happening, I headed over to Bedrock again to see if I could get the Betty Does Fred Bonus Round we've all been longing to see since 1964.

Holy crap! I was getting good at this.

Or was I? I usually take the time to more or less know what I'm doing on these machines but the Bonus Frequency button eluded me until the end. When playing less than max coins, selecting this doubles the cost.

I thought I could hear a mechanical electronic snickering sound, as if Physics Space Time guy was laughing at me as I pushed the Bonus Frequency button over and over.

And it turns out, as far as I can figure, that at max coins you can turn it on without any additional cost. And I only just figured it out.

Rassa frassa ricken fracken ricken!!!....

I'd missed this one. Not very savvy at all.

Sure enough, that smarty pants Dr. Stephen Hawking rolled by from the other side of the machine, where there was an identical Flintstones set-up. His assistant had an $1100 TITO in one hand, and a two foot plastic guitar margarita drink in the other, with the name STEVE! on it in shiny glitter.

"Damn you, you super-genius scoundrel Dr. Stephen Hawking!!!" I yelled at him as he rolled into the sports book. "Last time I teach YOU savvy gambling tips. Next time you have gambling or space-tide continuing gravitational waving questions - ole Flushiepants won't be so helpful!"

He appeared not to hear me, and left me fuming in the aisle.

Two hours later, as I replayed the scenario, I thought of the perfect rejoinder involving the words 'Uranus' and 'black hole' but as it is with all such things, it was far, far too late. The chances of bumping into Dr. Stephen Hawking a third time at T.I. were... astronomical.

The chances of me gambling my winnings? 100%.

But first, I hit the bar, played a twenty, got a drink, downed it, tipped a few bucks, and then got a real drink. It's amazing how well that works. First drink, 3/4 ounce. Throw three bucks into the glass, next drink, you get a monster.

I took a nice break, grabbing a seat in the lounge next to the bar. It's quite pleasant there, a great place to relax, sip, and people watch.

Watch those people!

The results thus far on the day? Down $400. I'd won $25 on some promo, and had $45 free play to come on points. So there was that. And, I had some entries into the slot tourney. I figured I'd do that after dinner.

I'd checked out Senor Frog earlier and it seemed like a place where I could get a quiet ersatz Mexican meal. When I headed back there, all hell had broken loose, in the form of karoke rapping.

Frat boy review of Senor Frog? 8 or 9 out of 10. Sour puss Flushiepants review of Senor Frog? Dear God kill me now out of 10. With a point taken off for them not playing any Stompin

Where there had been no line-up before, there now was one. But I was determined to deal with the 'hood karaoke and sample Senor Frog.

The podium babe talked me through the process of obtaining a street cred rap karaoke table, and how long a wait it would be.

First of all, it's important to know that I use a separate phone number only when I'm in the US. I don't have it memorized. And why would I.

"If you give me your number, I'll text you when your table's up."

"I don't know it..."

I pulled out my piPhone, logged in, and took a moment to read a text that had just come in.

She reached toward the phone. I pulled it away.

"Your number should be right there," she said.

I thought about explaining about the separate micro-simm card that Jimmy Poon got for me, that I had stored my US number as a contact, and I just had to get to it.

"Nope. Don't see it."

"Touch here - contacts..."

I lifted an eyebrow.

"Con. Tacts...." she repeated.

She crooked a finger and slowly moved it toward the phone, desperate to start poking and touching and pinching and swiping.

"Phone home?" I asked.

She looked at me.

"Are you sure? I don't see it. I see other people in here..." I said as I scrolled to the bottom, where I'd stashed it. I touched to pull it up.

I started rattling off the number.

"Now, what is it you need my number for again?"

"I'm going to send you a text."

"Oh! A Tex. Good."

I smiled.

She nodded.

I held the phone as though it were a dead fish.

"What's a Tex?" I asked.

Damned if she didn't start to explain to me what a text was.

I took pity and stopped her.

"OK, I'm good. I know all about texing. I'm getting the internet next month, too."

"And your name, sir?"

"Elliot. El- leee- ottt."

---

I headed over to the blackjack tables to kill the time and see how my card luck was. Well, it wasn't very good. Not very good at all. Lost most of $100 flat betting reds. Lost the last couple on 17 straight up at roulette.

A tex came in and I was befuddled. What was this confounded thing cluttering up my picture screen?... OK, OK...

So.

Fajitas. Senor Frog. Announcer/MC/Deejay. Stupid contests for shots. Some of which I could have won, too. It was entirely forgettable and annoying. The food was okay, but that's all.

I can't fathom any reason to return there unless I am with about 19 other people. Then, it had the potential to be fun.

Alone, with crappy food?

Single Lonely Diner Table at Senor Frog's, right by the server's station.

Forget it.

The only thing that could have been worse was Kahunaville, which I'd avoided since that fateful night over Macho Grande.

I killed the rest of the evening playing spinners, walking around outside, and playing in the free slot tournament, a pursuit which I abandoned after one round - the over-the-top fake enthusiastic MC, and the ear-splitting 80s rock music, after the debacle in Senor Frog - was too much for me. I have a low tolerance for people who think they are funny because they have a microphone in their hand.

Put a heated 9 pound cannonball through that joint!!!

My last gasp for the day was again Boner Deluxe. I hit one, but blew it all back parlayed to dollars, going for the big score.

I pretty much lost my $500 budget today. But I had a blast doing it.

East is east And west is west And an elephant never forgets. Boulder's Rule. Burma-Shave. (FB like RF, K?)

The Singularity...With Bacon

Saturday Jan 23, 2016

There's nothing like rising on a bright and fresh Saturday morning, heading to the casino, hitting a quad, an getting propositioned.

Not once. But twice.

I think my Saturday morning was these girls' late, late, late Friday night.

I'd done $12,000 coin-in the day before, which kind of surprised me, but on the other hand, I did play a lot of quarter multi-play.

The second proposition chick (who didn't have an adams apple at least, unlike 'chick' number one), ended up making nicey-nicey with a dodgy looking guy on the other side of the bank. And it turns out, he was her boss. And they got into a loud, long argument which featured him saying in a thick Russian accent, "Doesn't matter how much I win lose."

It got heated and I took that as a cue to clear out and go try the spinners.

Well. Here's how I described it:

It would disguise it's nature a bit longer, but this was the moment your foot goes out from under you on the banana peel, the moment you notice the first loose thread, the moment the car only just 'clicks' when you try to start it, the moment they say to you, "we need to talk', the moment your team is three scores down, the moment you fail to land the triple-lutz and spin slowly across the ice into the boards.

In fact, that was the moment, the singularity, where you can identify that this trip took on its true character and slid down the stenchy slime-covered sluice of my life, quivering and breaking up like so much formless rotting gelatinous goo, into the dumper.

Breakfast buffet seemed like a good idea.

"It's hard to fuck up eggs." - Royal Flusher

I had omelette man do his omelettey thing, and hunted around for whatever, and struck pink gold in the form of smoked bacon, the likes of which I've never had before. This was a totally new experience for me. It was about 3/8" thick, soft, succulent, smokey, tender, and delicious. I rounded out my plate with an inflate-o-weenie, which is what your dick looks like after staying out too long in the sun at a nudist camp.


Zoom in on that bacon, Jimmy Poon...

Even though I was stuffed, I went back for Smoked Bacon II, the Sequel, and some fruit to cancel out the over-cheesed omelette, which was at that very moment, hardening like silicone sealant deep in my arteries. I must have the best tasting arteries around.

So back to the casino, and I was already in damage-control what-if holy shit recovery mode. My sort of rough stop loss for this trip was $500 a day, and I was within spitting distance of that, and it was only just after sunrise.

I managed one quad and lost it back.

I took a break and did some shopping at CVS. Rubbie plonk wine portions in little loser bottles that double as crack pipes when empty.

I'd brought some electronic gear with me with the idea of doing a couple of things - trying to fake out the hotel and use more devices than they allow by going through a little mini router - and trying to get a Chromecast working on the hotel TV so I could save gambling funds and watch what I want off my iPad. Same as home.

I fooled with that in the room, had no luck whatsoever, and drank a bunch of the plonk. Took some sunshine.

Took a nap.

I made lunch out of some of my emergency cheese, and an apple from the Maple Leaf Lounge in Toronto. Free-dee-lish!

Recharged, I took a small budget, $130, and lost it almost immediately.

Came back up to the room. Drank another degen mini-hootch.

I had some things I could do for free - I'd earned more slot tournament entries, for one thing.

After a suitable punishment break, I went down and on my way to the tourney area, pumped a test $20 bill into 'those machines'.

"If you'd been playing Double Double, you'd have won $1000 you know..."

Good stuff - I had a bit of a budget back.

In the process, I had four to a Royal a couple more times. Big deal.

I struggled along, and burned through... $200.

"I need some magic, and I need it now." Sometimes I say this out loud and then things happen.

Facebook likes are 500 strong! Surely you want to play along? Click the 'Like', you can't go wrong. I'll hit 1000 before too long!!! Burma-Shave.

Rockin With The Stones

Poor fuckin' bird.

Friday Jan 22, T.I. continued.

Dinner time. My notes say that at that point I was down $8 on the trip. I'd earned enough points to play some sort of game on a kiosk that netted me some slot play. $35 or something. That along with the $250 in the offer had kept me going.

I'd never set foot in Gillies Podunk Saloon and Geezer Line Dancing Emporium, and I wasn't about to now. No, instead, so as to not attract attention, I walked on my hands through the place and secured a spot at the bar.

They kinda indicate that ribs and other smoked goodies are their specialty (along with pickup truck babes and beer) so I ordered ribs.

Note how those tough, tough ribs stand up firmly and proudly on the plate... Goopy horrid beans, and some sort of deep fried coronary balls round out the offering.

They looked mighty fine, and they tasted mighty fine, but they were tough as shoe leather. I mean, these things were tractor tire tough. I got talking to the guy beside me who'd had them too, and he had the same experience. We could barely cut these things apart.

Long story short, we ended up getting free shots of Gentleman Jack from the hot bartender, and had a discussion with the manager. He didn't give a shit though, and didn't do anything on the bill. I think the barkeep felt bad and that's why she laid on the booze.

I didn't care to make a fuss but forget about Gillies for ribs. In fact, forget about them for sides too. The whole thing was a gawdawful mess, in spite of looking kind of edible.

Completely addled by a rather moist session at the bar and neanderthal meat-tearing rib stomach (plus Gentleman Jack), I waddled/stumbled out of there (on my hands again, so as to not attract attention).


What next?

Some line dancing?

I have to say, I don't get line dancing. Maybe it is a fun thing to do, but I also thought 'I'm a little teapot short and stout' was a fun thing to do when I was 3. Apologies to line dancers out there, but I just don't get it.

I think the woman on the left knew I wasn't a fan - check out the stink-eye I got from her at the end:

So.

Why not hang out with the 'Stones?

I had vowed to give penny slots a decent try, so decided to feed some hundred dollar bills to Fred and Barney.

You know why I don't often pay penny slots? Because they don't pay back near as much as video poker for starters, but mostly, I can't understand the rules.

Think I'm a rule wimp?

Think again.

I saw none other than Stephen Fucking Hawking at the machine next to me, crying like a baby because he couldn't figure out how the combinations on his screen caused him to win 339 credits.

"Suck it up, Physics Boy," I muttered, and slid $100 into Bedrock.

A big tear rolled down Hawking's cheek.

"Look Steve, there's a Rubble Zone and a Flintstones Zone. You have to have Bonus Fred or Bonus Barney PLUS a Bonus symbol in the LAST REEL to initiate a Bonus. Your Betty's have multiplied by 2 times. Quit whimpering and spin, Poindexter! Sheesh!"

Because I don't play less than full coin in on any slot, the first 14 or 15 spins returning nothing at $3.60 a spin kind of weren't fun. I liked the background music though.

I kept at that, lost $100, put $100 more in (because stupid) and started to hit some things, and it was kinda fun.

I think I put a third $100 in and started to sing, "You're the lucky num-bah, lucky lucky num-bah, etc etc num-bah! We cannot lose, we cannot LOSE!"

And then things sort of seemed to happen for me - some sort of Yabba Dabba Doo bonus round.

Well that worked out pretty well.

I ended up salvaging some money back out of the session.

Like maybe $100.

Then it was time for a good bash of video poker. I had some hits as you can see, but at the end of this next stint, I was down $220.

 I kept on and, well, it didn't go too well. Before I knew it I was down $500.

Two out of five, not bad.

13x spinner - got nothing. Annoying, needless to say.

What's a poor boy to do but check the Slot Club for more slot play, bonuses, freebees, points, tournament, etc.

The T.I. slot club is very busy - there's a million ways to earn and redeem points, and all kinds of scans, multipliers, this and that going on.

You can get quality merchandise for your points, like "Harmon Kadron" speakers.

I did some swiping and this and that and found out I had $30 play available for my points - it would come in handy.

Then I checked the slot tournament board. I came in 3rd with my savvy slot tournament technique.

Another $100 for me!!! I missed $250 by the slimmest of margins, a shame, really.

If you go in their free slot tournament, my advice is to make sure you get slot machine number 2.

End of the day, might as well take a last shot at dollar Boner Deluxe, right? My go-to last chance game to make a quick $400. It almost never works, but tonight, it did.

I started at 50 cents, and parlayed up to $1. Then the big boys came out to play.

Just like that, my day was restored. I hit the hay, line dancing style, down only $100 on the day. If every day were like that, I wouldn't be too unhappy.

If you love Las Vegas the most, Click Facebook Like so you can boast. Learn even more with every post. Royal Flusher Vegas from coast to coast. Burma-Shave.

How Great a Guy Am I

Friday at T.I. continued...

There's nothing worse than being left behind while your partner in crime does a 16 day solo trip to Vegas, leaving you holding the bag and not much else.

I thought about this ahead of time and did something very wonderful for Mrs. Flusher. I'd arranged for the delivery of a rowing machine for her, to arrive while I was staying and gambling at T.I., eating great food, relaxing in the sun, having a blast. That way, we would both have ship-themed weekends! Together! And, she could get into great shape for my return.

My 'vessel' for the weekend, as it were.

Sometimes even I am surprised at how great a guy I am.

Hers: C'mon aboard for some Stay-at-Home nautical fun, Mrs. F., courtesy of Mr. Thoughtful!

For earning so many points, you can get entries into a free slot tournament. I earned, I participated. It was sort of fun, but they had a penchant for playing too-loud music, yelled over by a somewhat entertaining M.C. who, like me, wasn't quite as funny as he thought he was.

My very first pull netted a 3000 point hit. A jackpot. So I really tried to get as many spins as possible, because I kind of thought I had a chance. I kept an eye on the other peoples' scores around me and for sure, I was way out ahead of them. I finished with over 5,000.

My 2nd round blew - I didn't bother to stick around for them to write the score - 1100 or something - down.

I had some lunch (slice of pizza maybe? I forget) and took on the Killer 50 Cent Machines of Death.

Will I never learn?

Next thing I knew I was in for $200 and hadn't even seen a cocktail waitress, let alone gotten a drink.

I played only Bonus Poker and kept changing machines (drilling test holes!).

Then it was $300. But I got on the board, finally.

Free adrenalin.

Had four-to-a-Royal dealt after parlaying to dollars - didn't get it. I think I am about 0 for 200 on four-to-a-Royal. I have this idea that I will go back through the trip reports and see when the last time was that I got a Royal from four-to-a-Royal. I think it is about 3 years ago, maybe more, at the bar at the Four Queens. Quarters.

I ran out of money and ran out of T.I. into the sunshine. I thought I'd take a walk (for my health) and try to find Casa Fuente in the Foreskin Shops at Caesars Palace.

Not only is the Foreskin Shops purposefully and expertly spirally convoluted, so that you can't possible find your way anywhere without walking by every single over-priced shop in the place, they'd moved Casa Fuente at some point. Google maps wasn't a help, and all the maps in the Shops were out of date or too obfuscated to be understood.

After about an hour of going in circles, I found the place and picked up a few indulgences. I bought some cigars too. I was pleased to find a dark wrappered Hemingway Short Penis Story for $10 (compare to $14 at the Four Queens).

The sun was great, it was quite warm really, vindication for fleeing winter.

On the way back I stopped at Mirage to confirm how they've ruined the place since it's heyday. I dropped $20 in a slot and continued on, back to T.I.

Mirage, that was once decorated, and is no more.

Back at the Slutty Times Pay machines, I ran into a bit of luck.

Two X pay Aces (no kicker though) for a quick $400.

I cashed the $400 ticket and started again with a $20 bill.

Again, I could not for the life of me get a drink. I finally had to cash out and ask a floorman to flag somebody down. It was double aggravating because I was right outside the CWs drink cave entrance, and could see them coming and going on the other side of the bank of machines. But never could I catch their eye in time, and if I did, I probably wasn't in their section.

This could have been a real beauty. Got a shit deal though. 18x spinners. Jeez.

So the CW comes by after being flagged by the floorman, and she was downright rude.

"And?..."

I looked at her. Is that how to greet a customer?

I thought about my reply.

"And?... what?"

"You want something?"

I decided not to bother playing games and blurted out my drink order. Don't ask me why I tipped when she came with it.

She never came back either, and I knew just what to do.

Hit the bar.

Yes, the bar, home of short pay, high volatility take a flyer video poker, and service that couldn't be beat. A drink that never got empty, and lots of laughs with the barkeep too.

One kicker away from $500. Oh well, $100 kept me even at the bar.

 More to come!

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