As Fellow Flushie Julie points out, even on the day is a win. And that's true. And that's where I was, more or less. Except the day was far, far from over.
I got in the car and Peter said, "And welcome back..."
We headed onto the interstate to take me to my destination - the Tropicana. The Trop used to have the url 'tropicanalv'. You had to be an ass to have a url like that. It always made me giggle. Because childish.
I'd never stayed at the Trop, not once in 20 years. In fact, I've probably spent all of 30 minutes gambling in the place over that time. But what the heck. I had no offer, and I'd heard their bungalow rooms were kind of cool (and their bungalow suites were really, really cool, but out of my reach). I found a reasonable deal online and booked a few nights in their lowest quality room. I'd work my magic at check-in and figured I'd probably play enough to get things comped on the back end. And if they weren't, I probably wouldn't be back. You have to start somewhere, right, and I had no idea if I would even like the place.
"The car, a Lyftber vehicle, driven by me, is reported to be headed down interstate 15, its final destination..." said Peter, adding a slight dramatic pause, "...the Tropicana, one of the original Las Vegas Strip casino hotels."
Peter made a lane change without moving his head in any way.
"Sitting beside me is -"
He glanced my way.
"Royal Flusher?..." I said.
"...one of the 41 million tourists who will visit Las Vegas this year. The purpose of his visit to the Trop - unknown. But the world is watching, waiting to see the drama that will no doubt unfold. Here's Terry Milewski with more."
Well, of course there wasn't any Terry Whoozis that I could see or hear. Peter just drove on, smoothly, professionally. Occasionally, he reached up to press on his left ear.
Not sure what to think, I sat and stared straight ahead, motionless. To an observer, I might have been absorbed in the nightly news on TV.
"The Lyftber car is now arriving at the Tropicana. We'll have complete coverage later tonight," said Peter as he pulled up at the main doors.
I got my stuff and waved goodbye.
Just inside, I prepped my $20 bill, folded so you could clearly see the denomination, tucked it into my shirt pocked with the corner readily available,
The check-in experience was very pleasant at the Trop. It didn't hurt that the lobbyist was drop dead beautiful. I explained about my Fucked Up In The Head From Darkness (F.U.I.T.H.F.D) condition, how I needed a place to work, and what upgrades could I get.
What I ended up with was a cool, recently remodeled bungalow room with a private balcony and a view of the gardens. It was very close to the casino and restaurants, pretty much perfect for me. I also scored about 9 coupons for free chocolate chip cookies - something to do with the hotel chain that owns the Trop.
|First thing I did? Re-align the lampshade.|
I was happy with the room. The desk situation wasn't the best, because of no proper desk chair, but I got by just fine. I only had to do one day at the computer entering response forms anyway because I'd booked Friday off.
The garden/pool view was really nice.
By contrast, here's the view from the rooms on the other side of the hallway.
The HL room has some machines that are full pay. Unfortunately, they are 50 and 100 play machines. It is tedious setting them up to play just one hand, and if you accidentally press the Max Bet button, you can be in serious trouble - playing up to 100 hands of quarters and $1.25 a hand. Might not be what you had in mind...
I ended up making a little cover for the Max Bet button so I wouldn't hit it by accident.
I ordered a Maker's Mark - got it no problem. It's quiet and deserted in there, a great place to unwind and play some VP.
It was fun to start out playing one hand, and doing a progressive parlay to add more hands. Put $20 in, if you double it, go to 2 hands, win more, go to more hands... like that.
|Tiny Quad Queens.|
The saddest part of all this is I got my ass kicked.
I moved on.
There were some dollar machines that weren't too terrible for the strip, and I gave them a try.
I wanted to get some sunshine while I could (and some grub), so I went on walkabout. Across the bridges to You Nork You Nork and the cigar stand within, where I purchased some things horrid, stinky, deadly, and lame. It's a good thing I don't make a habit of this - its strictly a Vegas behavior.
I headed back via MGM Green, making the fatal error that left me circling back over my tracks (if you've been caught in this trap, you know what I mean), and finally back to the Trop.
|You can't hide. Your lion eyes.|
Back at the Trop, I played some DDB Slutty Times Pay. And man, it was cold. I was at sixes and sevens, as it were.
Eight times multiplier on the Lazarus hand and I get crap. Got zero out of this.
Got one quad, anyway on Double Double
Switched to Bonus to preserve my bankroll and of course I get this - deuces kicker. $50 instead of $200
Then I played a solid half hour of triple play with nothing. No quads, nothing.
I picked the Italian place, Bacio. It wasn't that great, sadly. The appetizer was way over salted and the chicken parm was overdone. It even had some black on it. I said nothing. I was such a loser I didn't deserve to complain.
|People having marginally more fun than me.|
|Tomatoes and cheese with weeds on top.|
|Look at the black bits on the right. That was a hint of what was underneath. Yuk. At least there were more weeds.|
I had one more go at the 8/5 Bonus dollars. I got on a really good run, too, played as fast as I could for over an hour. I hit 15 fulls house (which kept me in it), had three Aces dealt six times, did $3500 coin in. But no quads, no royal, no win, no way.
My daily budget was gone and then some. Another losing day.
Chicken parm is really fun
Unless it's totally overdone.