Our final day in Vegas. So far, on average, we'd had a much worse than typical trip, in terms of gambling results. And we both were looking for the first Royal of 2015.
Veeblework got busy so I spent quite a bit of time giving the C.O.C. quite a workout and had a few status calls with Jimmy Poon to do. Quite a bit of the morning was behind us by the time we finally were freed of the chains of employment. Breakfast had gone by the wayside - I'd made do with a big take-out Wynn coffee and a bunch of cashews. It's important to keep your nuts nearby when C.O.C. testing.
I'd noticed the quality of the Wynn Reserve coffee at breakfast the previous day - let me say, they make one of the best cups of straight brewed coffee I've ever tasted. It was so flavorful and complex and satisfying, that I felt no need to get a latte or anything - just a big ole serving of Steve Wynn's java in a cup.
|Now you know how the little squares make them pictures.|
$200 each at the Four Queens (I'm still working on a deprecating slightly slanderous name for this place. One very smart readers has suggested the 'Eight Titties'. I think that's very worthy of adoption by The Flusher, don't you? Your suggestions, though, are welcome.)
$60 at the Downtown Grand
$5 at the D along with a $10 match play
So, we trundled our way out of the Enwynn complex, down the winding garden path, which was filled with beautiful blossoms and some pretty good chugga chugga music, and down to the bus station. (Those outdoor speakers they have are made by Bose and they must be tough as nails. They do a pretty good job of providing outdoor chugga chugga music. I'm thinking of installing a few dozen of them around the Flusher yurt back in Flusherville.)
We just missed an SDX express bus and had to settle for a ride on the many stopped The Deuce. Fortunately, north of Wynn, it isn't nearly as busy as on the rest of the strip, and the ride was quite bearable.
Next up, the Downtown Grand. We walked in to find that the area where the table games had been was taped off with caution tape and was full of slot machines to be installed and powered up.
They'd already removed half the table games, and now it looked like a complete purge. However, we found some tables had been set up in what used to be the High Limit room, back when the Downtown Grand had an uppity view of itself, not realizing that in order to understand exactly who their customers are, all they had to do was take a walk down Fremont and count the number of beer helmet guys with money to burn and very little self control. And those guys don't play $10 blackjack on a Tuesday morning. No, they are playing $3 blackjack at Fremont.
|A Conference of Suits.|
Our $60 freeplay (and an extra $5 earned on points) got us exactly dick all. We did get a drink at the bar out of it though. Unfazed, we strolled into the E.Ts., home of the free slot pull that I never, ever win, and neither do you. Like I always do, I greeted Bill warmly. Like he always does, he shows no sign of ever having seen me before in his life. I've performed this ritual perhaps 40 o 50 times. I guess it's just that I'm a very forgettable person (until I lift my kilt and sing Mull of Kintyre at the top of my lungs).
At the Mikes Bar, we were warmly greeted by one of the Mike's, who posed for a very reserved portrait, taken lovingly on my piPhone 3.14. I think it shows the side of Mike that embodies his understated charm and subtle wit. Pensive, that's what I'd call it, pensive and with a steady calmness as he moves through his carefully planned day.
Mike poured us a libation or two and we got caught up, and started in on the $200 freeplay each. I played Double Double Bonus, and the Quad Queen played some short pay jacks game with progressive Royals that reached sky high on some of the suits. We got sweet fuck all out of it.
The plan, since we had skipped breakfast pretty much, was to have a replay of our gargantuan pizza pie order of the other day, have another drink or two, and play more double double bonus, and turn that freeplay into cash that we could walk out of the place with, and spend at Enwynn.
I had already blown through $60 of it at the Mikes bar with nothing to show. QQ, same. Nevermind, we headed up to Chicago Brewing, got our drinks, and put our pizza order in, and kept playing. Double double. The pizza was great, and we made a healthy $40 dent in our $640 comp dollar balance to cover it. No quads.
After lunch (breakfast?) QQ wanted to play hundred play for a while, and I opted for a short parlay scheme on the full pay Jacks uprights. I had $60 free play left and did $10 at a time, starting on quarters. My second round I got to 50 cents, got a quad (dealt), then parlayed to dollars.
I had about $70 on the meter, and like the other day, it plunged into nothingness. Bugger.
Nowhere, did I get, and fast. With the last $30, I played the game that has never let me down - SILVER! STRIKE!! It let me down. No hunks of metal to weigh down my suitcase and sit around the house in various drawers and baskets for the next 29 years. Losing all my $200 freeplay with nothing to show for it was bad - but not getting a SILVER! STRIKE!! was worse. Really worse. I marched over to a different machine (after stopping at QQ's hundred play for a six minute whine and dine session) and put $20 of my very own USA cash dollars into it. MY OWN MONEY. Was I crazy like Trump's beaver dam hairpiece? I must have been.
Well, I showed them. I got not one, not two, but three SILVER! STRIKE!!s, and one of 'em was even a blue cap, which I hope to sell to DaiLun for big bucks someday. The blue cap one has a color picture of the Werewolf on it. I think its modelled after that Back to the Future guy (except when he was Teen Wolf, not a Future guy). The run of the mill ones aren't worth carting home, since they are just plated, so I cashed 'em in.
|Luck y Werewolf SILVER! STRIKE!!|
Across the street, we hit up Starship Binions, and did some play there on Boner Deluxe. That's when the Quad Queen started to shake off her bad luck streak from the day before.
Not one, but two quads on Boner Deluxe, within a couple of minutes of each other.
My day continued to trend into the 'holy shit, what a fucking debacle in the making' area. I was hitting nothing.
We earned enough points for a little freeplay on points, and two spins each on the wipe 'n gripe kiosk promotion.
My $10 in chips lost at roulette. Stupid chips.
Ultimately, I'd been shut out downtown, getting only one quad which I'd immediately blown back at the Eight Titties.
Waiting for the bus back down to the strip, I was pissed. We'd gone through pretty much $500 in freeplay / matchplay / chips and we had nothing to show for it. I tried to keep my thoughts to myself on the bus ride because inside I was steaming mad and frustrated beyond believe. I knew we had only a few hours left to possible make something out of this trip than the pocket emptying death ride to gambling purgatory that it had been thus far.