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Wednesday, May 14, 2014

Those Damn Aces

Day 15 - Part 1

With Air FU Canada's rebooking fee waived, and a storm coming on at YYZ, I'd rebooked my return home and found myself wondering, after all this time in Vegas, what to do with two more days?

I was actually kind of worried because, really, I'd had a phenomenal trip, hitting that dollar Royal and coasting it in from there. I'd managed to book a win, coming from way behind on some crazy Double Double coin-dropper behemoth old school cabriolet dollar action at the classic El Cortez on what should have been my last day. Maybe I was just tempting fate to keep playing.

But then again...

I got up at 5:00am Vegas time because I had more Veeblework to do. I took a quick detour to the casino at the Downtown Grand to check the Aces Kicker progressive after I got my delicious coffee and it still had not hit!!!!! It was almost at $900 which was just ridiculous. The thing starts at $500, it was almost double that now.

I blew $200 on five different machines trying to get on some kind of a run that would give me a chance at it.

Again, success apparently had eluded me. Phone calls took up my morning, trying to keep things running back at Royal Canadian Veeblefetzer, where Jimmy Poon had fed them some story that I had come down with a dynopeptic germ and had to work from home over the phone.

On another perfect day, I set out for a quick lunch at my go-to East Fremont lunch spot - Le Thai. It's that good.

Trying to replicate the amazing luck of the day before at the El Cortez, I played $60 on the same machines to see if history would repeat. It did not. My $60 went for nought. You have to respect a streak right, and you also have to know when it is done, and not to chase.

After doing my time glued to the phone, and faking a dynopeptic cough every time Norbert was on the line. I actually took some joy into horking and spewing and snorting and making the rudest noises my body is capable of into the IP phone - because it was all the germ, right?

Around two, I was done work for the day, and I went down to check 'those damn Aces'. And they STILL had not hit. Dear God they were at $950!!!!
Did you notice that the sign says 4 2s, 3s, 4s, W/ACE,2,3,4? Now how are you going to get four 2s with a 2? I'm just sayin.

So. I played another $150 chasing Those Damn Aces. I was getting kind of pissed off because I was doing nothing but losing again today. That was about $410 I was down so far, with hardly any fun to show for it.
My measly quad production for $410 of losses.
Having been in Vegas two weeks, and having brought just a Flusherville Solo Grocery plastic grocery bag full of clothes, I was well out of things to wear. But I had a savyy plan!

I texted for the car and hauled most of my textile possessions, including all three pairs of underwear, to a little laundry place I'd spied on previous trips. I knew the place had to be just super for fluff and fold laundry.


Because it is called Super Laundry.

The cost for a dropped off fluff and fold job is $2 a pound, with a minimum of ten pounds.

Super Laundry is kind of cool. It is in a vintage building right out of the 40s, with a little drive through in front, and some distilled art deco touches. They have a picture inside that shows what the original building was like. It's been a laundry all these years. I bet they washed Elvis' Love me Tenders and Charo's tassles.
Modern Cleaners from the 40s, before it became Super.
I glanced over at the Gold and Silver Pawn Shop to see if Chumlee was there. All I saw was a line-up. I've never been in the place, and with a line-up, I probably never will.

A terrible picture of a Super Laundry.
After dropping off the laundry and specifying unscented everything and no starch in the underwear, I had a devious wonderful greasy plan which included stopping off at the Strip again to do some gambling - which I did.

I played here and there on the east side - Bally's, Paris, Planet Hoooer, while visions of future offers dance in my head. It was kind of fun to wander around Paris. It reminded me of when theming mattered on the Strip. I played at some bars here and there but mostly just wandered around, taking in the sights. I have a hankering to stay on the East Strip sometime soon.
Welcome to the exotic Las Vegas Strip! With walkways!
My real goal, though, was to experience real BBQ for dinner at a place I've heard a lot about - Rollin' Smoke.

Before leaving the Grand, I'd checked on googley maps how to get to Rollin' Smoke. From Wynn, it was a piece of cake and I was pretty sure I had it figured out.

Unfortunately, I ended up coming down Audrie Lane yet again, looping through the chicanes of the Paris frontage, onto the strip, and then out into Industrial-Land.

I headed left off the strip around T.I. and thought if I just wound around the Fashion Show Mall, I'd magically end up at Rollin' Smoke, which I thought I remembered was on Industrial just at the road that leads from Wynn.


This all turned into a twisty, turny, clusterdrive. I went up Industrial. And down Industrial. And over here, and back there. I couldn't find it anywhere. I pulled over a couple of times to use my piPhone to try to home in on the place, but with the tiny screen and the way the images spun when I tried to zoom them I was hosed.

I knew I was near and yet I couldn't find the goddamned place. And worse, I was HUN-gry.

I must have driven past about 13 strip clubs, some completely nude, and for a while, I debated just looking at some ribs and hinds and loins and - dare I say it - brisket in one of those places like Cheatin' Darlings or Strippers on Ice or The Hotz.

But no - I continued on my quest. I was on Industrial. I was on Wilbur Clark. I was on Highland. Hell I knew I was way wrong when I hit Circus Circus drive at one point. Taking another look at my phone and the perplexing Rollin' Smoke address, I realized it wasn't really on the Capella Avenue like the phone said. I was pretty much right off a main thoroughfare, South Highland.

In fact, I'd driven by it 8 times so far.

With a vengeance, I pressed the game little Corolla on and it rattled over a curb and almost screeched a tiny bit as it stopped dead from 7 miles an hour.

And I was there.
The Amundsen Expeditionary Route to Rollin' Smoke BBQ
Rollin' Smoke BBQ. Right by the huge overpass that crosses Highland. Now why hadn't I realized that???

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