My Gambling Yogi

Monday - Day 3

I wake up early. Another six hours of wasted Vegas time has gone by. I look out the window at what I can see of downtown. There's a big, sandy hole in the middle of my view, allowing me to see all kinds of stuff. Someday, the new casino hotel at 18 Fremont will occupy most of this frame.

And looking at the Cal, the original casino ran from the corner at right, to the edge of the east tower you see there. The rest was added later, and a second tower, and an addition to the second tower even later.

I finally realized why there is a strangely placed exit from the Cal casino onto Ogden Avenue - it falls right where the old casino ended. Makes sense now.

The Little Giant produces yet another amazing cup of Naked Coffee, and I drink it while doing some online click 'n type to keep you all up to date on the latest stupid stuff I've done.

There's still only a couple of dried crusts of pizza in the cardboard box from two nights ago, so I get my act together and head off to the Four Queens to use up some more of my comp dollars on breakfast.

Magnolia's has changed the menu recently. There are, of course, higher prices - in some cases significantly higher - and some new items available, which is a welcome surprise.

One of the new items looks interesting - the Southwest Veggie Skillet. It has tons of yummy things in it and it comes with hash browns and toast, for your carbomatic desires. And you can have your eggs any style! It looks like this:

I order it. There's no meat in the thing, but the avocadro has tons of calories and should take care of that.

It arrives and after a few bites, the Southwest Veggie Skillet is automatically placed on my 'go-to' list of things to order. It's excellent!

It looks exactly like the menu photo except for the following differences. The avocadros are not fanned. They are scattered as though dropped from a substantial height. The eggs are not resemblent of something you might see frying at the Nugget's topless pool. You know, scoopy and slightly cockeyed. They are, however, properly cooked.

I will definitely have the cock-eyed implant egg skillet again!

I amuse myself for 8.17 seconds by strategically placing an Official Royal Flusher Business Card 2.0 (with Strict Rules of Parlay on the back) in the handy business card holder conveniently provided for my exclusive use and taking a photo of it.

I always wonder who might come across such a find of a certain value, and immediately dispose of it.

I shared this pic on Facebook and strangely, a blog reader saw me take the shot.

Matt M. - "I’m pretty sure I saw you take this picture yesterday. My son and I were sitting a few tables away from you. Best of luck sir on your trip!"

How cool is that? Very cool.

And, proving my point, another reader of the blog, Patrick, also saw the card and paid it forward by leaving it for someone else. Patrick already has one. Give that man a slice of Karma Pie!

I decide to head out to El Cortez from the Four Queens to play the Downtown Deuces. You know, just in case.

Fremont Street is quiet, for the most part, but the heat is already setting in. By quiet, I mean that the 'drum' contingent is limited to only one fucking idiot banging on an overturned 5 gallon plastic bucket.

Because the VP Gods love to torment me, I hit two natural quads on Deuces within the first five minutes. I'm getting good at dealing with this now, and I only half-blow a gasket.

"The cards in Deuces Wild are not the same as the cards in Double Double Bonus," I tell myself, over and over, like a mantra from my gambling Yogi. "The deuces in Deuces are different cards than the twos in Double Double."

My gambling Yogi's last name is Bear.

It's a nice quiet day at the El Cortez Downtown Deuces.

I have a pretty good run but don't invest too much money - my main focus today has to be playing at the Plaza. The closest I get to a hand pay is to be dealt triple twos on the redeal - their fourth brother is jerking off somewhere else behind the screen and too busy getting his pips off to make an appearance.

On the way back, I hit the Downtown Grand, just in case $20 is going to get me a premium quad, like Pointies Kicker, or a Royal. Not today.

Binions, do you have any free play for me? No you do not. Damn.

It's time to face up to the challenge... try to get enough play in at the Plaza today. And don't go broke. If I do a good job, I can get some room costs comped, and get future offers. If not, my trip bankroll could be decimated.

It could be more than decimated - the word comes from the Roman penchant to kill one soldier in ten when a legion didn't toe the line. Ten... decimate...

So, really, the danger I face is that my bankroll could be quadruple decimated or even - umm - quin... quinti... - five decimated.

Back at the Plaza, things are pretty quiet. I buy in at one of the only open blackjack tables for $100. There's one other player, and within a couple of minutes, he's gone.

It's just the me and the dealer, heads up. I do okay for a while and I'm thinking about bailing - the hands go by so fast! There's a dealer change though, and the new guy, Christopher, is a gem.

He is really fun and pleasant to talk to, and cheers for me in a way that seems like he's really cheering for me. The hands fly by, but I'm enjoying myself at $10 a hand, and tipping Christopher as I go.

I get up to $140 and then take a long, slow drift down to almost zero. I only have a few chips left when Christopher's stint is over and he moves over to deal roulette.

Quad fours with kicker. Good enough to win $20

Fortunately another good dealer is on my table, but initially, I don't have much luck. In fact I get felted three times, going all in. But I claw my way back and the session ends up being a success. I get exactly what I wanted - two hours at $10 a hand.

The pit boss comes over on my wave and I ask if I can get something to eat. Well, they don't write pit food comps at the Plaza, apparently. He gives me the song and dance about seeing my host, and/or putting food on my room and getting it comped on the back end based on my play blah blah blah blah. It's too bad, it works at Main Street and the Cal for me sometimes, when I'm on a food book but want something a little nicer and don't want to involve my host.

After all that hard work, I take a little old look at some slots and some video poker, and promptly lose the $100 that I worked for two hours to preserve at blackjack. I decide to grab some lunch and a keno ticket and eat up in the room, take a break.

I haven't eaten at Brightside before, so I give it a go. There's a ten minute wait before I get to order, and then a twenty minute wait until I get my food - a beeefffaalloooo chicken sandwich (called Mr. Buffalo 95) and fries (called Old School Crinkled Fries).

Finally my food arrives and I scurry off to my room like a chipmunk who's stolen a chicken sandwich and fries. I'm down $200 or so on the day, but on the plus side, I have a pickle.

The sandwich is good - damn good - and the pickle is amazing. The fries are good too - what there are of them...

When I open the box, this is what I see - a take-out box quarter full of fries. (This is $3 worth?)

Bogus amount of takeout fries from Brightside.

It is probably the right amount of fries that a person should eat... but THAT'S NOT THE POINT.

I want more fries than I should eat, just like I get everywhere else in Vegas. Brightside is not a total win this time.

Done eating, I'm ready to head downstairs again. Cautiously, carefully, I extract a third hundred dollar bill from my meagre stash in the safe, spaz out, and drop my Chromebook five feet straight down onto the hard, tile floor.