Friday. I booked Friday off work, so that I could concentrate on getting that dry Vegas sunshine, and losing money.
Fortunately, I had a plan.
I headed down to the high limit machine. A Chinese woman was hammering a machine at the entrance. $125 a hand.
She went through my entire trip bankroll in the time it took me to cross the salon.
This didn't daunt me.
It did made me feel like I was a useless nobody with absolutely no genitals, but it didn't daunt me.
I hadn't really planned to play any more at the Trop but I had time to kill before my next room was ready for check in. I didn't want to ruin my daily average so I played without my card.
Yay a quad for me. Chinese woman hit one too. They did paperwork and she played the machine adjacent.
There was a slot tech sort of circulating the room. I think he was there to witness jackpots and fix things if there was a problem. His job, basically, was to hang around until she hit something. He'd spend a couple minutes dealing with whatever, and then wait some more.
She hit another quad, another handpay.
Then she hit another one.
I got one too.
The room was empty, so I kind of moseyed over for a look. Four deuces.
With kicker, she was looking at $25x800 credits. Yeah. $20,000. Meanwhile, I'd won a cup of coffee at Starbucks or so.
I had a pretty good run and got to enjoy playing for almost 2 hours. She hit a total of six quads to my two.
But I only lost $100. I wonder how much she lost? But think of the comps!
Breakfast? Yes please. The Trop has a sort of upscale greasy spoon counter where you can custom order stuff, and they bring it to your table, but other than that its serve yourself.
What else to perk up a Friday morning but some delicious Loco Moco?
|Loco Moco. Because gravy.|
My coin in at the Tropicana was $12,626 in. My coin out was $11,479. Apparently, I'd taken a Tropicaning.
|$27 for the opportunity to lose $1200. Good deal!|
My Lyftber guy would be a guy whose name sounded to me like it would be some kind of fucking preachy guy.
First thought in my head was, oh an F.P.G.- I know what this will be like. I had visions of being, well, preached at. But this was NOT a fair thought.
My second strong thought was - be kind to your fellow man, don't make assumptions. You don't know anything about this fellow. Have an open mind, be accepting. We all deserve that.
It's good karma to be on good terms with all people. And with a light, open heart, I headed down to the lobby where I met my Lyftber driver.
Luggage stowed, I got into the front passenger seat, and we pulled out of the Tropicana.
"Hi P.G., thanks for the lift."
"Hello Royal Flusher."
I looked outside. Clear blue skies, nice sunny Vegas day. I was only down $100.
"Nice day..." I said.
"How is it that you experience this day? What parts of your being know that it may be a nice day?"
"Ummm." I said.
"You can look with your eyes, but what about your spirit, your being, your heart, how do these parts of you experience that this is a nice day?"
"Well," I said. I thought for a bit. "I look out the window. I see the sky is blue. The temperature is warm. The sun is shining. Therefore it's a nice day."
We pulled onto the interstate. And it got even weirder.
Next thing I knew, P.G. was talking about all kinds of deep deep shit that I had no interest in discussing. The kind of crap you talk about at 2:30 in the morning as a party is winding down and you are in the kitchen, half pissed, and snacking on cold sausage rolls.
Not in your first 2 minutes of meeting your Lyftber driver.
I said a bunch of non-committal stuff like, "Well, there are - uh - many ways of experiencing what a nice day is."
"Have you ever heard of Phisal Salami?"
I couldn't make out what he was saying. Some guy, probably some radio guy.
"You should listen to his CDs. He can enlighten anyone!!!"
And with that, the guy punches Play on his CD player and yet another idiot with a microphone (who turned out to be Dr. Shamusan Wail, yet another fake CD preacher with a website and an agenda, starts blathering about the coming world order and the recklessness of wealth and all kinds of crap.
Meanwhile, I'm just trying to get a fucking long weekend going. I do NOT need this crap.
I pretended to listen and hoped it would shut up P.G., but it didn't. It got him even more worked up.
Next, I got a lecture on debt and why it was evil and how it let the evil-doers have power over you, therefore, you should never have any debt.
The next sounds to be heard were the thuds of the side of my head hitting the window over and over.
This basically kept up the entire way downtown. I thought about various strategies to shut the guy up, but I didn't really want to piss off the guy who had his hands on the wheel of the tin can econobox bearing my body and soul at 75 miles an hour down the freeway.
We finally arrived and I about leaped out of the car.
I actually felt kind of abused. I am sick to death of everybody with an opinion foisting it on me, and being a captive audience in small car, with someone I've never met, man I just felt like I was being preached at, like this guy had an agenda to 'save' me or impose his beliefs on me and I am sick to shit of that kind of crap. Because I'm in LAS VEGAS and trying to get a simple ride to a CASINO so I can have some FUN.
In my humble opinion, a driver of any kind should keep his opinions to himself, shut the hell up, and drive.
I won't let this color my opinions of others, no matter what their name or beliefs - I try to keep an open mind. But in this case, this guy, was exactly the kind of dick that I was hoping he wouldn't be.
And he should be a Lyftber driver, preaching at people like that.
I hope I don't ruffle anyone's feathers over this - I really do try to be a good guy. But this really happened, just as I said it did.
And I didn't like it.
Thank God I was at the Golden Nugget where the hot chicks wearing blue jeans floated down the stairs like angels!
It's tough enough to make a rhyme
Without doing it all the time.
Rhymes are smart and rhymes are tough
And I like cocoa in the morning.