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Saturday, November 26, 2016

Deathtraps of Dismembering Eternal Doom

Day 6 - Thursday Oct 27 - part 2.

Today we moved to the Golden Nugget from the California Casino and hotel.

It was pretty fun. Here's how you do it, Flushiepants Las Vegas Style.

First, you go to the Nugget, and you check in. This is in the morning. They won't have your room ready, nor do you expect this.

It will take fifteen minutes for a slight young man with hair greasy as the oil sands and a jacket three sizes to large to type in furious bursts in a keyboard.

Each time he two-fingers the computer, he has to delete most of it because he is trying to type super-fast, to appear super-confident. Each time he attacks the keys like a crow snagging part of a juicy roadkill just before it gets hit by a Mack truck. It's pretty much an index finger rat-a-tat-tat.

After thinking about it you realize that it's more like a woodpecker blasting at a metal shed, and then taking 9 seconds off in a thick-headed dizzy haze before attacking again. But you didn't want to lose the crow thing.

Each time he does this, he tries again after back-spacing - and then tries to go even faster, his fingers blurred.

He gazes into a screen that contains monotype lines of green text - this is a system circa 1982, running the back end for this hotel.

After 15 minutes of typey-typey, he assigns a room and says he will contact you via your pocket telephone device when it is ready.

You next spend a lot of time fucking around casinos, and wait for the call. When it comes, you go to ABC and purchase 9 kinds of liquor and 5 different snacks that you never eat at home. You pick up the keys and go up to the room.

You do this without your luggage, because experience. If you are dumb enough to get your luggage first before checking out the room, you are going to find yourself living in a world of hotel exodus frustration, where the promised land is a locked hotel room at the end of a 10,000 mile corridor.

You smile because you know better, and in the elevator, you try 83 different ways to get the key you have to work the fancy-ass sensor that gives access to the upper floors - club room.

It doesn't work. One of you guards the liquor. The other goes to see ole big-suit. Ole big-suit has given you the wrong keys.

It's now obvious as the new keys are fancy RFID ones that engage the buttons for the upper echelon of the tower.

You now check out the room. Yes it opens. You glance around, and confirm that nobody is doing it in the bed, and that there are not rumpled sheets, a counter covered in dented beer cans, and hand-washed torn lingerie hanging from the shower door handle. There is no deuce in the toilet either.

Yes this room is unoccupied, and clean. It is now safe to place the liquor in the room safe.

Next, you head back down, shlepp over to the California, and do final packing chores. You room check once, twice. You check the safe three times. You place a salmon in the safe and lock it with the code 6969.

OK not really - that trick is best saved for a safety deposit box at Flusherville Trustyco.

Now you drag 800 pounds of luggage down the hall, down the elevator, and out the nearest door. Luggage does not like to be dragged on carpet, no siree.

So much easier to drag it right down the Main Street sidewalk, past the sleeping 23 year old woman on the park bench that you saw on the way there, past the two rubbies sitting up against the Las Vegas Club, that are sharing miniatures of mind-number, purchased at ABC for small change, past the guys in the golf cart that are pretending to 'inspect' something but are really just fucking the dog.

You drag you crap all the way down, one block past Fremont. You turn east, yes east, with a tailwind, bound for home sweet home. All that stands between you and your port of call are the Revolving Door Flaming Dragon Deathtraps of Dismembering Eternal Doom.

At some point, one of you yells "GO! SAVE YOURSELF!..." but somehow, using your last bit of strength, and crushing your luggage to smithereens, you somehow land panting, drenched, prone on the Rush Tower lobby carpet.

Out of one corner of your eyes (which each have an indeterminate number of corners, Jimmy Poon is working on that one), you note the hinged doors adjacent to the Revolving D.F.D.D.D.E.D.

You also note the 20-somethings wearing smart looking collared shirts with the sleeves rolled up a couple of turns looking ever so bookish, the hair at the front of their head teased straight upward like two real-life Tintins, who were completely unoccupied other than watching you lose a couple of limbs trying to navigate entry into the hotel without lifting a 20-something finger.

Not all 20-somethings are like this, in fact, most aren't. However, you have filed these particular unit's faces into your memory bank, and you'll be ready to extend a tripping left leg into the casino aisle whenever you spot them shouting at the top of their lungs something about "BRITT!!! BRITTTT!!! FUCK YA!!!!!" while simultaneously having their noses buried in smartphones the size of baking sheets.

You know that your moment will come and you will never be caught.

Tripping revenge will be so sweet.

With that, you make your way to the elevator, and having the right keys, and, having mastered the art of holding your room key near the Gates of Heaven Key Sensor, you proceed with very few glitches to your room floor.

The next five minutes are spent trying to hold the two ton hotel room door open while driving your suitcase inside at the same time.

Miracle accomplished, you dump the bags anywhere.

And open the safe.

You've earned it, you savvy hotel-room changing bastard!!!!
Thank goodness you upgraded to a 'club' floor. Crikey.


    1. Frank and the Steins! They do a fabulous version of Time Warp. Hope you and the QQ have a great time on Fremont.

    2. That was exhausting. The pictures saved it though.

    3. VERY INTERESTING! Ummm, could you just go through the rectangles that have handles midway up one edge and hinged sides? Do you HAVE to transport yourself through the Deathtraps of Dismembering Eternal Doom? ORRRRRR did you use the hinged door and just tell us a tall tale? ;-) (Jimmy Poon told me that you do that sometimes).

    4. Great dinner, by the way.....and I love the capture of the old-fashioned cameras, and their size difference.


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