Royal Flusher Park

Monday - Day 3

I'm up before sunrise after a full four and a half hours of restful sleep, excited to be in Vegas, and not excited that it's the first day of GrommetCon. My volunteer work handing out rubber grommet replica keychains will keep me from the real business at hand - drinklegambling.

My super-low-riding no-rolling budget requires that I start the day with a healthy Punishment Breakfast of Quaker Oats. Why? Because it's dirt cheap. Why? Because it's healthy. Why? Because it is 1900 calories less than my usual typical Vegas breakfast. I'm kind of tired of gaining 4 or 6 pounds every trip, and, lets be real, I need to save some calories for drinking.

A K-cup machine makes hot water, free FSE plastic cups, pilfered plastic spoon, and $3 worth of oatmeal...spice it up with a some overpriced trail mix from ABC and you've got the Breakfast of Losers!

This is going to be an interesting experiment in room camping, because I plan to make the oats in the k-cup machine. The basic principle works - I put oats in a cup, and fool the Freddy Krueger machine into brewing hot water into the oats. My first try is a disaster because I have five times the water needed and create what looks like a steaming cup of hot summer midway puke.

A couple more tries and I am "successful". With the right amount of water, the Torment Oatmeal doesn't look like a steaming cup of hot summer midway puke - it looks worse.

Dear God, Flusher, first nickle video poker, and now this?

Welcome to my glamorous world.

At least I'm enjoying my Torment Oatmeal in the comfort of a spacious, well-appointed mostly-comped brown and gold and brown suite at the Golden Nugget.

Somehow the day passes. There are 3,000 grommet keychains to hand out for each volunteer. In the morning, I hand out 800. For lunch, I head to the Nugget buffet. Instead of escalating between floors like civilized gamblers do, I take the stairs, of which there are many. I do the u-turn at the top, then turn right and hit a line of 437 people waiting to buffet.

This is not a problem for a savvy guy like me who knows how to work the system. My ratty, six year old VIP line pass does the trick again. Sayanara, hungry bitches.

My plate is loaded up on vegetables and unlocked smoked salmon, which makes me feel stupid healthy. Gobs of cream cheese come in handy to wash down the salmon, which I borderline hate. I follow up with fruit, and an beautiful sausage (not pictured). The sausages at the Nugget buffet are just amazing.

Somehow - somehow - a couple of apples rolled their way into my pockets, trying to escape. I had no choice but to take them with me, even though they had no letters of transit.

After lunch, I empty my pockets except for $20, and I take that to the El Cortez to play that Deuces machine again. Sooner or later, one of these years, I will get those $500 Deuces - but not today. It's really a very smart move, because when the twenty is gone, it's gone, and more bankroll is well out of degenerate reach.

In the next two and a half hours, I hand out 900 more keychains at GrommetCon. When nobody is looking, I stash the last box of 1000 stupid keychains under a table with a curtain stapled to the front of it. The table belongs to the exhibitors next to us, a company that makes grommet de-greaser compound. Handfuls of the remaining stupid keychains go to anybody who comes within seven feet of me sporting one of those give-away tote bags - which is basically everyone. Ten minutes later, I'm done, and with a smirk on my face, I return back where I belong.

They seem to be doing construction on Fremont - replacing the old Yellow Brick Road surface with something more akin to a flooring salesman's acid flashback, with specks of jumping multicolors reflecting every which crazy way.

It's bright and sunny out and looks warm, but it isn't. It's again a bit chilly in my shorts and Stompin' Tom Connors t-shirt.

I walk to the Plaza, into the Plaza, around the Plaza, and then out. Once again, I chicken out of doing my blackjack match plays. It just doesn't feel like the right time, and I can't find a seat open anyway. Three of the match plays are $25 (Plaza, Golden Gate, D), and when you have no budget except for a Costco pill bottle half-full of quarters, you think twice before committing.

Outside Main Street station, I take 15 minutes to bask in the sun at Royal Flusher Park, which is just outside the south doors. What a relief to have ole Sol irradiating me and filling me with light and hope.

Plaza Hotel and Casino as seen from Royal Flusher Park.

The Boar's Head Bar at Main Street Station seems like the perfect place to play some video poker and have a few Maker's Marks. But a memo has been passed around at the downtown Boyd properties telling them to tighten up on the comped mid-premium liquor. As in you can't get any unless a manager approves it. It's possible that I am named specifically on the memo, but I have yet to confirm this. (Later in the trip, I find out that this rule has some 'flexibility' to it, depending on when, where, and who.)

It is a black day at the Boar's Head.

Jacks or Better seems like the right choice, and I fire it up and sip a Wild Turkey on low-end rocks. A manager has to approve the premium ice, now. My first twenty disappears after about 7 minutes. In goes another. And it goes well.

After playing awhile, I get the old four-to-a-straight flush. There is no point in hoping or even raising an eyebrow - single card draws, whether to straights flush or royals flush are my video kryptonite. The words "Holy Shit." pop out of my yapper when I make it. I really did not expect to make the inside draw.

This engages the fellow next to me and we get talking - and it turns out to be Brian from Belleville, who introduced himself to me in a very novel way a few years back. (See Sir Flushiepants.) Now that the Belleville Bulls have vacated their arena, the town has only its scintillating cultural scene to anchor it. I spare Brian and Mrs. Brian by not mentioning the Bulls.

As I'm getting low on credits, quad 7s grace my screen. I am liking the videoing poker. In all, I play two hours on my second $20 and cash out $60. Who could ask more than that?

Want it? Go get it! (The card, not the tush.)

I give the Loose Doose at MSS a try, and then head for the Four Queens. My very own seat at the end of the bar there is occupied, so even though the doors are open to the Fremont Street spectacle, I am not able to hold court. Just as well, most of my bankroll for the day is tied up in a Main Street Station TITO that I forgot to cash in.

I'll simply counter the forced exercise with some Magnolia's Veranda grub, and head there forthwith.

Continues...