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Sunday, September 9, 2018

How Stupid Am Me?

Tuesday - Day 4

By now I am finally settling into a relaxed Vegas groove. It always takes me a few days to stop being completely out-of-control hyped with excitement and chill down into being mostly in control hyped with excitement.

Today's plan is to try to get as much play in as I can at the Plaza without denting my trip bankroll too badly, and then pivot to the Tropicana.

I do a bunch of room stuff, taking my time. I love the view from this one bedroom suite, which features all kinds of stuff I never get to look at from this vantage point. Favorite downtown casinos, the pool down below, the other Plaza tower, the Gate, the Cal and Main Street, the distant mountains and everything in between, including a straight shot up the train tracks to the north. Reminds me fondly of the time I rode the rails with Licorice Petey.

Ever since I left Toronto I've felt kind of gut gnarly, and it hasn't passed yet. Something's not right but it isn't going to stop me - just slow me down a bit. As I poke around getting packed, I play back the American Idol finale from my now dented chromebook, piped onto the bedroom flatscreen. The Idol final is awful. At least I think it is - as I skip about 75% of it. I am pleased with the winner, though. Maddie Poppe is one of the most endearing singers to secure a future rapidly fading out of the public eye in quite a few seasons.

Let's play a game of how stupid am me.

How stupid am me?

I had planned that the Hash House a Go Go dinner would also yield breakfast via leftovers. But dinner left me feeling wankly and squibbard, and I only consumed one of the breaded hubcap cutlets. There wasn't much that was redeeming about it, unfortunately.

Carefully, I squeeze the white styrofoam top of the take-out bomb, and free the tab from its slot, and let the top float half open on its own. I peer in, taking a look-see.

The remaining hubcap looks like it could push my septic system even more off kilter - or even off a cliff.

All it takes is that one glance and I know that it would be utter folly and incredibly risky to even sniff it, let alone consume any of it. Only a complete, stupid, fuck-tonsils would even go near the thing at this juncture. So that's settled.

Just for fun, I scrape at the the glue stuff glommed onto the hubcap cutlet, to see what it looks like underneath. There are still some taters under there, so I check them out too.

How stupid am me? Somehow, nibble by nibble, I consume the hubcap and most of the taters. That's how stupid.

For the next n hours, I will walk as though a bowling ball is ensconsed in my stomach.

Packing done, Idol done, breakfast... loaded aboard, I head down to the casino to pump up my numbers some more, have a blast, and win a lot of money. Strict Rules of Parlay seems like a good idea, and it works nicely for quite a while, except for the part where I get the premium quads





I'm down about $80, and figure $20 more and then I'll stop. I go and check a keno ticket and I have $1 coming back. The Kenoling asks if I want to play it again and I say "sure" and hand her the dollar. But she meant 'do I want to repeat the whole $20 ticket for 20 games', not just $1 for one game. I take it as a sign and pay up.

Gambling Thor obviously wants me to win at Keno!


I really shouldn't play any more, so I secure a hundred dollar bill in a safe place...

...in Beefffallloooo!!!!

It goes, and another $20 and another. Oh shit.

But the machine gets hot hot hot and I get a number of bonus rounds - and the last one is a beauty, netting me $145.

I make a savvy gambling move and cash out at $200. Morning salvaged, and coin in pumped up on slots.







The keno ticket does not yield any riches but whatevs. I visit the lobby and talk to the check-out Sheila.

I have this nagging feeling that when my host said he'd comped off one night already, he meant the one night out of three that he'd comped up front, not one of the two remaining. I ask what I owe on the room, fully expecting to get hosed with a $300 Electric Flusher Carnival high season hotel bill.

But it's only $40 - the amount I charged to the room for food. Mission accomplished! I'm good to go and have preserved a significant chunk of bankroll.

I head up to the room, expel something that looks vaguely like tartan, and head off to my next destination via Uber - The Tropicana.


1 comment:

  1. 'expel something that looks vaguely like tartan'
    I'll never wear a kilt again!!

    ReplyDelete

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