Thursday, April 12, 2018

You Feelin' Loose?

Thursday day 6 continued part 3


When GrommetCon is done for the day, I skip back to the hotel. Seeing a grown man skip down Fremont Street these days - is looked upon as tame.

At the California, I head for the elevators. Seven or eight of us shuffle in, and at the last moment, a tiny little 83 year old Chinese woman gets on, pulling a hot pink suitcase behind her. She must be four foot nothing and all of 77 pounds soaking wet and pockets full of nickels.

As I often do at the Cal, I make elevator smalltalk. I have a repertoire of snappy elevator slogans. For example, on the way down, if someone pushes the button for the mezzanine, I'll say "M - for money!" Yeah, I'm witty like that.

"Welcome to Fabulous Las Vegas," I say, stretching my patter out a little bit. It's like pouring gasoline onto a fire that has been started with gasoline and has already had a shitload of gasoline poured onto it by like David Bowie, who is like a singing gasoline-pouring gas attendant.

"I just got here, it's my first time here!" she says. Her face is lit up with excitement. "Have you been here before?" she asks as the elevator doors close.


"Over sixty times. Where did you come in from?"

 "Toronto," she says. "I just got here!"

I point at myself. "Flusherville," and smile big.

"Oh also from Canada!" She claps a little. "Do you know where I get a bus from here?"

"It depends - well, yes, you can - but where do you want to go?"

"I want to go all over! Can I get a bus for that?"

The elevator stops and it's her floor. As the doors open, she takes a step forward and a big Hawaiian guy on the other side of the elevator says, "There's a shuttle downstairs that you can take."

She turns around to look at him. "Oh, where do I get that? Where does it go? Can I go everywhere on that?"

The doors try to close on her and three of us scramble for them, and for the buttons carrying those unintelligible hieroglyphs. Frantically, I try to distinguish between them to find the 'press to not crush the adorable little old Toronto lady and her adorable hot pink suitcase' button.

"You can take city buses for that. The shuttle goes to Sam's town," offers someone else.

I decide I better give her something specific to do and say, "Go to the lobby and ask the bell desk where you can get the bus you need."

The elevator is emits a continuous10,000 decibel warning screech. It doesn't like being teased by having its mouth held open while a delicious little old lady is in snacking range.

"Ok, I'll go to the lobby," she says, smiling, and looking around, and doing everything except getting out of the way.

"Go!" I say, "Go put away your suitcase and gamble already!"

She has managed to make it mostly out of the elevator. The doors are now forcibly, but slowly closing.

"Thank you! I'll go to the lobby. And that's where the bus is I take everywhere?"

Everyone is chuckling and the big Hawaiian guy pushes her suitcase out just as the doors close. Flusherville Jones never had a closer call.

The horrific beeping stops and I swear I can still hear her saying goodbye and yammering about the bus. I feel wonderful about this whole elevator ride and the little Canadian bus lady. I'm also happy that she didn't get pulverized into beaver jerky in the crushing maw of the abominable elevator doors.

Somewhere along the way, up on Fremont Street, I had made a point of grabbing four or five of those big plastic to-go cups they have at the doors. You're not allowed glass or cans on Fremont, so you have to decant before you depart. I take one of these to the ice machine and fill'er up.

Then I take the big plastic cup and fill'er up again with Wild Turkey 101. I successfully manage to fill every little gap between all the pieces of ice with the fowl elixir. I can't wait to gobble it up. After dressing, I give thanks and head out to seek some early spring sunshine.

Royal Flusher Park is bathed in it and even though I can't wait to get into Main Street Station to start gambling, I force myself to sit in solar solace for a full six minutes.

My plan is to hit the nickel double double machines but I am completely waylaid by the bank of double double quarter progressive machines not far from the cage. Holy shit, the royal is up around $1800.

And I've got a pocket full of winnings. With no hesitation, I grab the only vacant seat and get busy - it takes me $60 to get going - and then I crush it. The quads are coming regularly - sadly, I don't hit any super premium ones.

But look! $100 isn't bad!




Dealt eights...


And eights again for some reason.


Things go south, but I get to play for a solid couple of hours. I have four to a royal once with no result. I feel great about the play - it was fun, I had a decent shot at it, and the royal was well worth spending some bucks. By the time I leave it is up to almost $2K.


The next stop is the Boar's Head Bar and some Jacks or Better. I order a Maker's Mark rocks with a smug knowing frown ready to be turned down - and it appears before me. How about that?!


Four nines come along so I employ the Strict Rules of Parlay and switch to 50 cent.

I keep telling Jose that he is internet famous. I show him a photo of Joan of Aces and he says, "Yeah, she's been around here... a lot." I suspect that this is probably true.


I play for quite a while and got down $80 and then worked and worked to get back even - which I do. Damn, it is fun. A couple of machines over a three women are whooping it up, celebrating something - birthday probably. There is music playing on their behalf and they sing along, loudly. The best part is when they play some reggae. It seems perfect for the place and the situation and it's hard not to smile. So I don't fight it.


My recovered $100 dumps, and with a tummy full of a few more Maker's, I stumble back toward the progressive and... it STILL hasn't been won. That thing is jacked up to $2200.

Quiet, there's some serious gambling shit going down here, five quarters at time.
What the hell. I decide to hammer it and hammer it hard. Again, the quads come my way and I have a great run. I burn through everything in my pockets and regret none of it. Except not hitting the Royal.

But boy I came close - I ended with 4 to a royal four times, and was dealt 4 to a royal once.

The GIF of FAIL








When it's done, I have nine scratchcards - good for tip money.


All told, I played 3000 hands of video poker before weaving a shoe-leather tapestry trying to find the Cal.

I grab a seat at the counter just as two other guys sit down, one on each side. We each order the Hawaiian Hamburger Steak. I think I must be seeing triple.

The special of the day is the H.H.S., and I think because of that... it isn't very good. It's kind of room temperature. My theory is that because its the special, they premake a lot of them. But when its not the special, it's made to order. Lesson learned.

Full of onion gravy 'n fries 'n hamburg 'n bourbon... and tapped out... it's time to shut it down. I smile all the way to bed.

Day: +$15 a winning day!
Trip: -$425

2 comments:

  1. Gr8t report Flusher, keep up the good work........

    ReplyDelete
  2. Jose! Telling tales on me. Great report! Gobbling down the fowl beverage. Heh. I love leaving Boar's Head with a big ol' stack of scratchers.

    ReplyDelete

Leave a message for Royal Flusher!