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Wednesday, February 13, 2013

Squidward's CES 2013 Trip Report Part 4: Scratch My Cards

Because it's the RFW blog, I get left with all the gruntwork of posting Squidward's report while he gets all the cash, glory, and hangovers. (It also entitles me to completely screw it up, as astute readers will have noticed.)

But with great responsibilities come great rewards - I also get to name the posts. See, this here one was originally entitled:

Squidward's CES 2013 Trip Report Part 4: TITLE GOES HERE

Well, I couldn't let it go at that could I... so I am proud, thrilled, and more than a little concerned to present:

Squidward's CES 2013 Trip Report Part 4: Scratch My Cards

Roll 'em, Squidward...


Squidward writes:

I woke up around 9:00 AM unassisted to a sunny, windy, and cold day. No mid-sixties today, it was in the low 40’s and was expected to drop into the 20’s by the night. As I am from South Texas, I am not used to cold weather; I left my pajama bottoms on underneath my business casual outfit. Not the same as my man-thong but, I’m a tiddie-baby when it comes to the cold.

Put on my heavy wind-breaker, I do not even own a heavy winter jacket.  And then went down for my morning coffee / VP session at the Boar’s Head Bar. The bartenders teased me about my coat and “long-johns”… yes I tend to over share in person too. I spent about a half hour at seat number two playing $.25 DDB and had four cups of coffee, good conversation, and only lost $20.00. Hey… this is better than the normal $40.00 loss I usually incur on my early morning coffee sessions.

Now fully caffeinated, I head over to the Cal and across to Binion’s.  Brrrrrr… the wind was brutal. The deep purple stain from last nights amazing projectile puking incident was still there. I even stopped and explained the sight to one of the T-shirt selling ladies coming in to go to work. She was not as impressed at this sight as I was…. I think, no I’m sure I pissed her off, as I enthusiastically recapped the whole sequence of events from the Redwood Grill to the Bachlorette’s butt-cheeks.

I do tend to amuse myself at the expense of others. I know... I’m an asshole.

Any way, I finally decided to leave this poor woman alone and continue to the SDX bus stop. I blame this yet another over sharing incident with the T-shirt lady on the caffeine, as I was completely sober at this time in the morning. Then again… maybe I’m just an asshole.

So get my caffeinated butt on the bus… go to the CES at LVCC and mainly pester my Chinese vendor reps about prices and quality of their products. They know I’m an asshole so they put up with my antics with an amazing amount of decorum and politeness.  At about 3:00 pm the show was closing down… It has a scheduled closing time of 4:00 pm, but most booths/exhibitions were packing up.

So I walked all the way to the bus stop on Paradise from the South Hall outside on the sidewalk. About froze to death… it was in the 30’s and windy. Hah! I put up with abuse from those bartenders at MSS this morning who teased me about wearing “long-johns”… I was vindicated I tell you!

I got on the bus after a short but cold wait. This was still faster than the cab line or free shuttles at CES going to the Strip. And I even found a seat between two very "big-boned" women. They didn’t know it, but I wanted to “snuggle” with them for body warmth. Well maybe they noticed, because I sat between them on a half empty bus with many single seats open. I didn’t care… it was COLD… Shit!

Got off the bus and made a quick dash to The Fremont… the place was hopping… extremely crowded. Had to stand at the end of the front bar and wave dollar bills at the bartender while shouting "Heineken!!!!" Got my beer, and then quickly exited stage left before the bartender realized I'd stiffed him on the tip… man I really hold a grudge.

Wandered around and met up with a few CES attendees… I was still wearing my badge… and had a big gimme bag full of convention trinkets. We compared notes, and congratulated each other for being Savvy Convention Attendees. No one mentioned being Savvy Gamblers as I’m pretty sure we were all losing money.

Stopped by the back bar for another Heineken… yes, I stiffed this bartender too. I know I’m really, really, a grudge-holding asshole.  I then headed over to Binion’s for the cross-over to The Cal.  I was tempted to stop and show the ladies on the second shift at the T-shirt place the puke stain, but someone had washed away the evidence… Shit!

Stopped at the San Francisco Pub to warm up… yes I’m a tiddie-baby… less than a 100 yard walk on a windy 30’s and I need to warm up… hey come down to South Texas in August and spend a 100+ day with 98% humidity… I’ll laugh at you!

Anyway I sat there and drank Heinekens, updated the bartenders on my adventures. They even listened to my projectile puking story with much more interest than the grouchy T-shirt selling lady this morning. But then again, I was tipping them.

Anyway sat there for at least an hour and a half all by myself with two bartenders playing $1.00 9/6 DDB. After six Heinekens and hitting three small 4OAK’s for 250 each I ended up winning a whopping $60.00? How did that happen…??? Shit!  Better than losing though!

So I finally left… after I realized how much of the winnings I gave back. Not Savvy Gambling!

Went directly to my room and dropped off my gimmie bag and made myself a final Scotch and Water from my $30 fucking little bottle of fucking scotch. Why? Because I figured it was cold outside, and I need to switch to Scotch drinks with ice from beer. I also changed from my “long-johns” to a clean pair of “lucky” man-thong panties… because it’s cold outside and I’m going to stay inside the warm confines of the MSS/Cal to keep warm… yeah right.  OK… I admit my mental processing at this time was a little fucked up… but that’s when things get interesting right?

So down to the Boar’s Head Bar for some more VP.  Now I was a little leery of my previous very Un-Savvy session at the San Francisco Pub so my game of choice was $1.00 JOB. You know… lower variance… easier decisions… more J&B and soda’s for the miles driven. The bar was very crowded, so I sat down at the last machine by the buffet. It was even-steven, but there were a bunch of drunks drinking and yapping and smoking very stinky cigars.  I couldn’t take it so I went to a seat in the middle of the bar.

Apologized to Jose for moving, he understood saying, “It does smell like a Texan’s fart down there!”

Sat at this machine and lost a quick $200.00 on JOB… what the fuck? So I looked over and there were a couple of seats open at the cocktail-waitress end of the bar. Grabbed my drink, moved down there and took up a seat at the Infamous Machine Number Two.

Why is this machine infamous?  Besides personally watching Royal Flusher getting his ass kicked by it last year… both Joe and I agree… it used to be lucky… but recently it has kicked our asses too!

I was sort of down mentally at this point… losing again… I was still within budgeted losses… but I was tired (lot of walking at the show)… hungry (have not eaten since a crappy chicken sandwich at CES)… Oh, yeah and drunk. So I sat down at Infamous Machine Number Two and slow played $1.00 JOB while pretending to watch some college basketball game. It was a boring Big12, or Big10, or Pac14 Game… but it was not an exciting SEC game. My streak of 4 to a royal continued…. I got at least 5 of them. Every time I would comment that “I wished I got a no-draw, this is futile!”

Then I was dealt four to a royal again. Insta-held the four and turned my eyes and attention to the boring basketball game. After, seriously 30 seconds (which is forever in degenerate gambling time) I noticed silly music.

The guy next to me nudges me and says “Dude, you got a Royal Flush! How much were you betting??!”

I looked down and saw the “Call Attendant” flashing. Jose was walking by and I flashed the “four finger” sign for a scratch card. Kelly walked by and gave me the typical nod, then realized what had happened. She said “Holy Shit!”

I was being very nonchalant about the whole situation and replied to anyone who came by to congratulate me “Well now I’m even.” I told you guys I can be a Big-Fat-Lying-Big-Turd.

So I filled out the paperwork… good news I won… bad news, I will eventually have to fess up to my wife. Oh well, I have a year to worry about this… 1099’s don’t arrive until Jan 2014 right? I did have them withhold 28% on the W2-g thingies, because as we all know I’m eventually going to have to fess up to the war department. Tipped the bartenders a hundy and went up stairs to unload my cash to the room safe.

Jose and Kelly are probably still standing around shaking their heads in amazement that I actually tipped more than a dollar at a time. I did not tip the slot attendant because she did not offer me a scratch-off until I reminded her. She needs to transfer to The Fremont… so there!

So I peeled off a thousand smackers and put the rest in my room safe. Back down stairs and over to The Cal. I was starving… so I stopped off at the Main Street Bar and asked the bartender to call the Redwood Grill to see if there was a table available. He remembered me from the previous night and said “Mr. Squidward your table is ready.”

So off I went and was seated at the same booth with the same waiter. He came up and said “The Same Mr. Squidward?”


I responded “Yes please, but J&B and Soda and a glass of water!”

Ate my filet mignon, baked potato all the way, house salad with blue cheese dressing and drank a couple of J&B and Sodas. I even shared the story of the projectile puking divorcees with the water boy… he thought my story was hilarious… I observed him retelling it to the waiter. So I paid with my Sapphire Card and another $30.00 tip and contemplated what to do next.

Now remember it was cold out and I was running around in my skimpy man-thong panties… but I decided to throw caution to the wind and make the walk from The Cal to The Vegas Club.  Oh yeah, I had a pair of khaki pants on too… don’t want you to think I run around Vegas in 30 degree weather with my butt cheeks flapping in the breeze.


I made it up to pit area at the Vegas Club shivering, but I noticed that the smell was more tolerable. Was it the cold… was it the booze.. was it the adrenaline of hitting a royal for 4 G’s… not sure. But I was in no hurry to venture outside again just yet. So I looked over the black jack tables. Hey they had better rules than any Boyd property… you could double after splits and everything.

So then I saw something that I have never-ever seen before. There were 4 drunk, cussing, loud, hipsters playing blackjack on a $25.00 table. Well then, I was curious! Never seen hipsters play at this level before. I suppose they do on the Strip, but I have never witnessed this Down-Town.

So I sat down and bought in for $400.00… reached in my pocket and eventually found my Plaza Club Card. The dealer hollered something to the Pit and he came over and asked me for a driver’s license and went off to get me an official Las Vegas Club card. Thought they were the same, but obviously not. 

So I sat there… ordered a J&B and Soda and talked with the hipsters… I did not bet until I got my card… no one seemed to care.

Now the hipsters were two couples… OK two male-female couples to be specific. They all had the prescribed body piercings and tats with the appropriate hipster wear.  You know… square thin glasses, plaid shirts, scarves, pork pie hats, skinny jeans and lace up tennies. It turns out that they were underemployed trust account babies here to check out CES. They were from Paducah, Kentucky.

Now why do I remember this…? Because they all smoked pipes! Yes, the girls too. Hipsters, gotta love em! By the way I’m talking old school tobacco pipes! Seriously, who has seen any one smoke a pipe in the past 30 years?

They were very nice young people, they and their pipes stayed at their end of the table by first base and I was on third base. I behaved myself and kept any disparaging comments to myself… I know… how unlike me… I’m not an asshole all the time. Anyway, they were all sweet kids (like my own) and they knew how to play basic strategy blackjack (unlike my own.)

So after an hour or so I looked down and was up $350.00 so I colored out, cashed out and dared to walk down to the Golden Nugget.  Brrrr… it was 20 something degrees now… wind was not blowing as hard but it was COLD… SHIT!

I had this great idea that I wanted to go see the “working girls” at the bars in the Golden Nugget. I have never witnessed this as I usually visit Vegas during the week. This is the first time in over a decade that I am here on the weekend. Why? Because I’m cheap (and an asshole) and this year was the first time Boyd offered me comps other than Sunday thru Thursday.

So Friday night at the Golden Nugget here I come to “look-but-not-touch” some real live High Class Las Vegas Hookers! Well I walked through both bars in the casino, visited the fancy-shmancy Rush Lounge, I even talked (lied) my way into Gold Diggers.

Not a hooker in site… just a bunch of old couples and old drunk men. So I went over to Claude’s Bar. At least that’s the name I remember… it’s the bar in the middle of the bar by the poker room. Any way it was crowded with a bunch of grouchy old couples… but there was a seat with a VP machine that was sort of behind a support column.

Why would a bar have a seat sort of back behind a support column…? Hell if I know. Why did I decide to go back there, sit down, and order a drink…? Hell if I know… Oh yeah I was drunk… remember?

Anyway I order a J&B and Soda… find my Golden Nugget Card… slip in a twenty… and continue my futile visual search for High Class Vegas Hookers. Bartender brings me my drink and asks me if I am going to gamble. I know he has seen this situation a hundred times a week. You see on the side of the bar closest to Fremont Street the machines offer a $.25 game… on this side of the bar it is a $1.00 minimum machine.

So I quickly whip out his tip and insert another $100.00 bill in the machine. I say “Sorry, forgot.”  He was satisfied… and yes I’m still a Big-Fat-Lying-Big-Turd.

By the way… if anyone is wondering if the $1.00 machines at this bar have any better pay-tables than the $.25 machines on the other side… NOPE… Shit!

But I figured if Royal Flusher can play shitty pay-tables on the Strip, I can play shitty pay-tables at the Golden Nugget. Well to make a long story short… I for the first time in years went Full-Tilt cussing mad and mumbling to myself about losing. It probably would have been OK, but another older couple sat down next to me.

They sort of boxed me in on this particular seat.



Every time I would get up to piss, I would drunkenly bump in to them while trying to extract my drunken butt from behind that stupid pillar.  Of course this was while simultaneously cursing my stupid VP machine… obviously out loud… I thought it was only in my mind at the time… but the older couple and security thought differently after several trips to the bathroom.

Well they complained to someone… the bartender was no help… the very polite and professional suited security guards helped me cash out and walked me out the door.

They very sternly told me “I was on a 24 hour ban from the premises.” 

I replied that “I have been thrown out of better places than this!!!!!” 

I then recanted and told them “No, this was by far the best place I have ever been thrown out of!”

They actually laughed and said “Have a nice night, Sir.”  Actually… a very cordial affair… unlike those Pricks at The Fremont!

So here I am freezing my butt off… drunk as hell… experienced my second casino banning for the trip… and I still have a gamble-boner (girls can get gamble-boners too, remember.) 

I could go back to my room, call it a night, but this was my last hurrah at degenerate drinking and gambling. While I have a comped room for Saturday night, I will have to check out early for my red-eye flight back to Houston at 1:00 am Sunday morning.

I walked back to MSS taking the outside sidewalk route down Fremont Street, tuning right on Main Street and walked into MSS with semi-frozen butt-cheeks. Who the hell’s idea was it to wear man-thong panties instead of “long-johns”?  Oh, yeah… never mind.

So instead of going to my normal haunt at the Boars Head Bar… I got the bright idea of playing VP on the crazy machines back on the Main Street side of the casino. It was me and a bunch of older Hawaiians. They were drunk for the most part, they were loud and cussing for the most part, the cocktail waitresses were slinging drinks as fast as they could for the most part.  I thought what kind of trouble could I cause in here?

Well I sit down on a $1.00 Deuces Wild machine… cocktail waitress stops by and I order a J&B and Soda.  I tipped the cocktail waitress $5.00 and told her “I do wander around a bit, please try to find me, and keep ’em coming!”

There is one problem with this plan… I do not have a clue how to play Deuces Wild. The very nice little Hawaiian Lady playing next to me asks me with all sincerity if I know that machine is deuces wild, not DDB. I of course pretend shock at this revelation… why?  Because I’m a Big-Fat-Lying-Big-Turd! Well that and I lost 200 bucks in twenty minutes.

So I politely excuse myself and wander around to find something else to satisfy my gamble-boner. Then I saw the absolute “crack-cocaine” of VP. Glad I never saw this before. There were four multi-hand machines on the Main Street wall over by the escalators.

There was an attractive Asian lady playing one of the machines in the middle. I asked very politely if I could watch her play before I started to play.

She looked up at me and said “NO, YOU GO AWAY NOW!!!"

Well, let me tell you that rude kind of response did not sit well with my drunken-degenerate… man-thong wearing gamble-boner self. So I of course sat right down next to her… put in my Sapphire Card and a Hundred Dollar Bill. About this time the cocktail waitress ran up and said “There you are Sweetie, here is your drink, and I’ll keep ’em coming!”

This pissed off the lady next to me even more… she moved to the far right machine to put some distance between us. Now in this state I never really understood the pay-tables. A 4OAK paid 130 but it was not exactly JOB. Not sure what the catch was, because I got a 4OAK on my first draw and two more shortly after. The mean lady would look over and gave me a “humph!” without saying a word. I kept playing and then she got a 4OAK. She immediately stopped her rapid fire play and hit the “Call Attendant” button.

Slot attendant came up and gave her a scratch-off card. The cocktail waitress showed up at the same time with another J&B and Soda for me and said “Oh I thought you got a 4OAK?”  Yeah… yeah… blatant pandering for a tip… always works on me… so who am I to argue?

Anyway I ask the slot attendant to confirm that a 4OAK still got a scratch-card on the multi-hand games. She said as long as it is a natural “4OAK” they will give me a scratch-off.  Well ten minutes later I am dealt a 4OAK… and yes, she gave me three scratch-offs!

Again, to make a long story short, after I had collected 10 scratch-offs, the mean lady had enough. 

Well, that and I would holler “Remember the Alamo!” when they would hit. Basically, being a loud obnoxious drunk that tipped the cocktail waitress and slot attendant.

Yes, this was sort of a grudge match… and I won! The mean lady’s husband came and collected her… I’m pretty sure they both gave me a cussing in Mandarin as they left… I’m pretty sure I heard “Fucking Asshole” in their conversation a couple of times. Oh well… who cares… I won!

Oh yeah, I cashed out a $300 plus ticket for a two hundred dollar win on top of that! So I made my money back from my stupid Deuces Wild decision. I cashed in the ticket, went to the Triple Seven, had a Loco Moco and a Diet Pepsi, and finally stumbled up to my room. 

I had no idea what time it was, and I had nothing on the schedule the next day except to pack and go to McCarran for my 1:00 am flight.

Recap

  • Just about froze to death
  • Lies... lies... lies
  • Return of the Man-thong-panties
  • Hipsters
  • Tresspassed again
  • Pissed off another Asain Lady

Coming up

  • Last full day in Vegas... or is it?
  • Last sober day in Vegas... or is it?
  • Non-Down Town, Non Strip Casino Review (It’s called a Local’s Casino.. OK?)

Squidward



Squidward, just remember, not only can girls get a 'gamble-boner', but they can smoke pipes too.

Royal Flusher




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