Day 11, Friday May 26, 2017
Those last days go so fast. Wake up. I've still got three full days left in Vegas!"...Wake up. "I've still got two full days left!"...Wake up. "At least I'm in Vegas today".
And so it goes, and you know you have to start getting out of vacation mode, which happens when you start packing all your dirty shirts, pilfered glassware, magazines they leave in the room, slapper cards. You keep out a pair of underwear that you might be able to re-wear, rated "lightly bitch-slapped" and pack the others, rated "All 9 Classes of Dangerous Goods. For the love of GOD... NO!".
Hunter S. Thompsoning it.
- Flammable Liquids
- Flammable Solids
- Oxidizing Substances
- Toxic & Infectious Substances
- Radioactive Material
- Miscellaneous Dangerous Goods
That's where I found myself on Friday. (Not in an ABC bag, on my last full day of the Long Playing Trip.)
The trip had been a big success, and I was up about 33 1/3 of my bankroll, which I think is stellar, after being in Las Vegas for 10 days. I figured out how much I wanted to take home to force the win, and put some gambling chits in my wallet.
|View from the Single Lonely Diner table at the Cal.|
|View of Deuce Warrior Conflagration Breakfast.|
My notes indicate that I'd bought $90 worth of Keno tickets the night before or so. Return on investment - $15. Loss of $75. Eeek.
I hit the Deuces and it was kind of cool, because the machine hadn't been played since I cashed out the night before. So, I slipped into the chair and adjusted it fifty times, and swung the first haymaker of the Locked Horns in a Deuces Conflagration of Video Poker Beep Beep Beep End of Days.
Is it just me, or is it you too?
I've played a lot of video poker, and when I sit in front of a machine, I make what must be about three thousand tiny chair adjustments before I'm happy.
I've got to be just the right distance from the machine. Too close and I get crampy and gassy. Too far away and I get back strain and gout. And I've got to be square to the machine, or one eye will start to tear up from the strain of being 1 mm closer or farther from the machine than the other eye.
And left/right... It's got to be just so. I couldn't tell you what the right position is, but I'll tell you this - I know when its wrong.
This is probably one of the oddest things I've confessed in this blog - it certainly seems like it could be somewhere on the far, far, far precipice of the OCD spectrum - and yet... I'm willing to be that I'm not alone.
It's not just an unfounded mental obsession, either - it's buttockdynamic ernogomics. I really could sustain an RSI - a terrible regretitive sprain injury - if I played with my arms stretched out for too long.
I lost $130 and then $25 more on video keno. Maybe my chair was a millimeter off to the left.
Lappert's provided me with a latte and I took a time out in the room. This was unforunate, but it happened - things gambling rarely go the way you hope and expect. The critical thing was not to go on tilt and blow through all my winnings - a distinct possibility when unlicensed personal watercraft and alcohol are involved.
One of the hikes I wanted to do was up at Mount Charleston (more than just good advice!). It had been way too hot to hike, but what the heck, I decided to make some use of the Asshat and drive up there for a look-see.
(This turned out to be a completely wrong presumption on my part. The temperatures up the mountain would have been - and were - about 20 degrees cooler than Las Vegas. The hiking would have been awesome. Unfortunately, weather reporting and forecasting detailed and accurate enough to provide this kind of information has not yet been made available to the general public. No, really. No. Really.)
The drive to and up Hump Charleston (more than just good advice) was wonderful. They put up tons of amazing scenery for it.
And they make a good cheeseburger up there.
|The yellow band.|
|Others enjoy mountain cheeseburgers.|
I was quite pleased with the on-the-fly account of my summit bid of Mount Charleston.
More than just good advice.
If you enjoy quality blogging about 7000 foot ascents, please hike up your 9 class big boy or big girl traveling pants, and have a read of Climb a Mountain, Order a Cheeseburger.