Day 2 - Wed May 17, 2017 - continued
After finishing my coffee and bopping around my Tropicana tower room to Taco Bueno, I took the elevator down to the lobby, and turned left instead of right. At the end of the corridor are some stairs, and some doors, and they spit you out a chicken wing's flight from Hooters.
What a beautiful day it was! The temperature was in the mid 70s and the sun was shining like a Texas sheriff's badge, just before he starts explaining "how things-a done round heah".
Ironically, it is the sun that makes the sheriff's badge shine. Hey, I don't necessarily think these things out, I just shoot from the hip and type it in, like a Texas sheriff's deputy fudging a report in which nobody seems to have any memory of your valuables.
(I would like to point out to any Texas law enforcement that I may encounter in the future that I'm just joshing around. I pick on everyone. You only need to feel bad if you work for Air Canada.)
For this trip, I had a buttload of coupons from both the Las Vegas Advisor and the American Casino Guide. It's really free money, especially match plays, which are worth about half their face value, on average. Of course, as I found out last time I did this, the whole worth of these things is predicated on the idea that you would actually fucking win some of the match play bets, something I did not, well, master. At all.
I assumed I had to play a certain amount first, which I did, and then I pulled the coupons out of my Flusher Utility Belt, and got those going at the cashier/slot club.
$10 free play!... Lost it.
$10 more free play!... Lost it.
$20 match play coupon... Lost it too.
Then I had a sweet $25 donation that came in using the rather large and obvious DONATE button on the website from Margie O., with instructions to play it on Beeefalloooo!!! and win a shitload.
I circled the casino, scanning the machines for the one.
And then I saw it.
I bent down and scratched at the carpet, and sniffed the soil in my fingers.
"Beefalllooo Tatonka dung..." I muttered. Another deep sniff. "Fresh, too."
This was a wonderful machine. Great screen, dead comfortable, seating for two (but the lycra-clad Hooters Boobgirls were having none of that thank you very much). I plugged the wonderful, lucky $25 into the machine.
And I lost that too. Nary a bonus. Fucking Beefffallooos must have taken a shit on the carpet and run full speed over the Headsmashedin Beefffalllooo jump.
This wasn't really the way I wanted to start my day. Time to eat. My choice was a repeat of the last time I was here - the amazingly delish sausage and egg sandwich, with (apparently) triple butter, and death-defying potato balls.
Not sure what they did to this thing, maybe the bread was buttered on both sides... but it was pretty fuckin' tastebuddy! I also appreciated the way the sandwich was spreadeagled on the plate. I notice these things.
I tried (and failed) to get a general sort of 'vibe of the place' photo that would include many of the Hooter's girl's asses in stunning detail and vivid, realistic color.
I blew another $45 of my VP/Slots budget in Hooters before hauling my carcass, buttery lips and all, back across the parking lot to the Trop. The mission was pretty much a complete fail, but I wasn't worried. I had three grand to gamble with and a bunch of hot desert days stretching in front of me.
Back at the Trop, I stopped off by the pools to sit in the shade and relax a bit. It was very nice indeed.
As I lay back and relaxed, I pondered something that had me perplexed. Had the Tropicana maid staff actually found a way to reverse the forces of gravity? It sure looked to me like they had.
|Behold the levitating emergency backup roll. Suck it, gravity!!!|
Next stop was the good ole multiplay video poker machine. I hit a few quads, just poking along, having a few cold ones, enjoying being in Vegas.
Yes I'm playing nickels. Sue me.
I did a stint at blackjack, and managed my first win in that category, $20. Hey, twenty bucks is twenty bucks.
And then it was time to try out the Super Cheap Craps Strategy I put together, using quite a few ideas from the Dice Doctor book.
I walked over to the table, waited for the hand in progress to finish, and sidled up next to a friendly looking woman.
Hundred dollar bill, onto the felt. Player's club card, onto the felt.
It was time.