Day 5 - Saturday May 20, 2017 - continued
It felt really good driving out of Red Rock having had an amazing time, with a first class marine-style workout of sixteen of my 640 muscles to 100% failure - all of them in my left foot, and right thigh.
Well, that's what it felt like. I sucked down the water, let the A/C blow over me like a benediction, and just drank in what a great day to be alive it was (notwithstanding 16 of my 640 muscles).
Before long, I reached civilization aka suburbia and just pulled into one of those car malls that you can't drive more than 26 feet in before hitting a curb, building, dumpster crib, or some other burned out sweat-drenched cheesy-crotched wanna-be hiker.
However, this car mall had something I needed - beer. Some restaurant, looked like a pub food place, good enough for my needs. I parked after making 193 turns, got out of the Asshat, popped the trunk, and stripped.
I'd brought some dry clothing with me because I knew I'd be soaked after the hike. That's a savvy wardrobe move if I ever saw one. A clean shirt... who else would ever have thought of that?!
Don't worry, I left everything from the waist down untouched but I really, really wanted to change my underwear, which were an expensive technical performance dri-wear wick weave turbo balls thunder-butt model, but still quite damp even with all their wicking - but I also really, really wanted to stay out of jail. And I really, really wanted a cold beer - NOW.
Maybe I've dwelled on this a bit much. I made my way into Islands (Oooo-la-la) and got seated at a table.
|Islands features, of all things, a 'surf' theme, including a few flatscreens showing surfing people.|
|I had every right to be FlushyCrankyPants. I was tired!!!|
Now, that isn't to say that some of them aren't enjoyable, that some of the servers aren't fine people, or that some of them don't serve pretty tastebuddy food. Also, you can't fuck up cold beer.
|They should have called this place La Beach. Totally.|
The food came and it was, like, rully, rully good.
But for God's sake, don't fucking serve me an $11 entree on a goddamned 7" square piece of newsprint. I hate eating off of any surface that, at the end of the meal, I can't tell how much I've consumed by accident. Give me a plate, please.
I wolfed down everything you see before you, including some fiber with blue printing on it. My server popped by and plopped down across from me and started yammering about a milk shake. No I don't want a fucking milk shake now. No I don't want dessert or nachos or sides. I would have told you if I did.
Just so you know I'm not a complete dick (just a partial dick), there's a wrinkle. I had a Mastercard gift card on me and I've never used one before this trip. I assumed I would be able to put a tip on it just like normal, but they swiped it first, then I used the machine dealy (and it was not my server who picked it up, or who uttered the phrase that pays, "You're All. Set." tied with "You're Good to Go".)
I walked out - or more, limped out, using the Men's on the way. I had a nagging worry about the card, so I limped back in and verified that my server had gotten her end ok, otherwise I'd leave cash.
One of the matching polo shirt and black pants brigade went to check, and when she came back, she validated that my kindness had indeed been, err, gratuitously received.
"You're all set," she said.
"You're Good to Go."
And went I did.
It was a pretty uneventful trip back to T.I. I valeted the car because I'd be checking out the next day, and because they don't charge $49.99 for 4 hours of valet parking unless you have the right color / rank / precious gem / etc of card to get it for a discount, or free.
Want to guess?
Can you guess where I stopped first?
Did you guess - THE BAR???
"Any beer that is ice fucking cold, please." (Which turned out to be a lucky Heineken, if I recall.) I slipped a twenty in and played some Triple Double Bonus. I've been pining for Aces Kicker on that game, but never got it. I did get 2s,3s,4s with kicker for $500 at the same moment I met my pal Blue Skadoo for the first time - on the very machine I was sitting at.
Beer arrived and I was relaxing and next thing I know there's a tap on the shoulder.
Matt and Lisa!!!
It was great to see them, and they joined me for a couple. I think Lisa hit a quad (was it her first? maybe.) I had a couple of beers, lost $40, shot the shit, and got one to go. I really needed a shower.
We talked about playing some together later but they had some commitments to take some folks to Mystere (isn't that nice?) and they were pretty tied up.
Back up in the room, I took care of things. Rested up. Cranked out a live blog for you fine Flushie fans. Long shower and short shave. De-cheesed.
It got to be evening so I thought I'd do some casino-ing. The Fifty Cent Killer Machines of Death.
It took a few twenties to get going, but I did get my third one up to about $80, parlayed, and played dollars for a while.
Nice! I hoped this would turn into something big, but my credits dwindled down by $100. It can go fast on dollars. A few good hands, though, including fulls house, and I found myself in a position to cash out with a nice profit.
The position I was in to be able to cash out was seated in my chair in front of the machine, one hand pressing the cash out button. It's a great position.
And then things went into one of those losing spirals. Everything that had worked before, now failed, including both craps and blackjack, which had been amazing for me so far. I lost the whole ticket, including $160 on Beeffalloooo!
|Minor reprieve that also got swallowed up by the T.I. (I want to say pirates, but they are all dead) mascots.|
I decided to give Gilley's another try and did a replay meal at the bar. Tried the ribs like last time. It was a good place to be with the windows open to the strip, lots going on. Fucking loud though.
The ribs were better than last time, but still not as good as a rack of Cardinal ribs from Costco, thawed, and thrown on the gas BBQ for 10 or 15 minutes. Fries were awful, limp and cold. Coleslaw was pretty good.
I ate and didn't complain. I have a feeling this is about as good as it gets at Gillie's. Let me know if you've had anything outstanding there, because if T.I. needs anything, it needs some good food.
Back in the casino, it just went on like before. Ugh, ugh, ugh.
Lose, lose, lose.
Good thing I had a toothpick from Gillie's, because I'd be needin' an evenings entertainment soon.
I had one last $20 on me and I decided I would play it, and call it a night. I was pretty tired anyway and it was closing in on midnight.
One last twenty. At this point, I didn't much care about paytables or anything. I plopped down at a machine and decided that I would play the single most volatile longshot game with the biggest jackpots on it that I could find - win or lose. It should take about 2 minutes.
I pulled up Super Double Double Bonus and played a few hands and I really hadn't been honest about the choice - it has premium quads that involve kickers with quad Jacks, Queens, and Kings, so lots of chances for a good hit - but Aces kicker are 2000 credits. Only the Royal has a 4000 credit win.
Shit. Ok. I went back to the menu screen and picked Triple Double Bonus. Super volatile, with the big hands being Aces Kicker, and the Royal.
I played a bit and it was actually going fairly well. It wasn't just draining on me, it was giving me a bit of a chance to play.
I hit Deal and saw the four of the pointies come up and just started laughing. And while I was starting to think, 'don't screw up here, in case you need to draw for the kicker' and reaching for my phone to record the draw for y'all - the machine locked up and started ringing up another winning day in Vegas for Mount Flushiepants (more than just good advice).
|Triple Double Fuck Yeah!|
Holy, Moly, I was up $865 on the trip. (Yes, I dropped $100 at the bar celebrating. Degenerate.)