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Saturday, December 29, 2018


Changing hotels means packing up because generally you want your stuff with you, not scattered across the room in 100 different places like confetti. How does this happen? I'm in a place for just 66 hours and there is literally no belonging of any sort left in any suitcase, bag, or carryon.

The good thing, I guess, is you don't have to be as efficient - just everything has to go in there.

Friday the plan was to move to the California, thus the packing. The shower worked a treat, so I got that sorted, and then went to the Red Desk to see about a comped buffet - sorry, boofay - that the boothling had said I could get with 1500 points earned.

It took a lot of wheedling, and typey typey, and consulting with the perfectly groomed loafer-light boss, but the morning underling boothling got the job done.

The boofay line was almost non-existent, which made me ecstatic and hungry. Apparently, this was a 'brunch' buffet, which meant two things. One, they charge through the nose for it, almost $50 a person, and two, 80% of the food out was the same shit they had at charge through the nose dinner.

Fortunately, there were still lots of breakfast selections that appealed to me and I stuffed my face.

We spent some time relaxing in the room at Wynn, which means blogging for me and Reese's Peanut Butter Cups, vodka, and TV for Mrs. Flusher.

Things managed to find their way back into suitcases etc. and we checked out. The bill at Wynn was $400 some odd dollars. We'd gotten $200 free credit with that, so for the quality of room and resort, it was a good value. I still feel faint when I think of paying $400 a night in Sydney.

Lyft was swyft and we found ourselves back downtown at the California Hotel and Casino, where, once again, my host had done nothing right.

We had two bookings for the same room, and our room choice was not available. If we wanted a west tower room, it would be a king smoking room. I have never seen a king smoking anything, but no thanks.

Once our host got in to work, we asked her to sort it, and she phoned over to the desk, and we ended up with a non-smoking room in the east tower, which is tiny, noisy, smelly from cigarette smoke coming up from somewhere all night, and has no view, except of rusty pipes, and the non-available west tower.

I tip for this? We'll see.

Anyway, we checked our bags and got to playing, and by gum, I tried the old $5 routine and it worked!

I played for a full hour on five bucks. Sweet!

The Quad Queen struggled for quite a while, putting in a couple of hundies before hitting some things. Good ole Boner Deluxe helped out.

Jackpots were hitting all around us, providing a serenade of inspiring renditions of the Happy Video Poker Jackpot Orgasm Song. There were a couple of royals, and someone was hitting quads with kicker on dollar Triple Double Bonus for $2K a pop.

I made good use of the Strict Rules of Parlay, except I wasn't as strict - staying off dollars due to being gunshy from having my ass kicked all day and every day this trip.

By the time we quit, I was ahead $300 or so, and the Quad Queen was up a little. Boy did it feel good to cash in some tickets for a change!

Things were finally feeling right again at the good ole Cal. Too bad the slot club got gutted. But the important thing is the cash from (hopefully) winning.

Our room was available, so we fetched our stuff from the bell desk, and moved on up. I will say this about Cal's east tower - it is quick to get in and out of. It is a full 31 steps from our room to the casino, with one short elevator ride. That rivals the degeneracy proximity value of the El Cortez' pavilion rooms.

I celebrated my win by losing on various and sundry machines, including Buffalo, on which I got the worse Buffalo bonus round known to man or beast - $0.00.

$0.80 for the skinny coins, $0.00 for the 'bonus'.
We tried the 50 cent BP progressive and I had a few hits. The quarter double double progressive was sky high and I would have played it if I could have gotten a seat. It was jammed with hopefuls.

The Quad Queen had another 4-to-a-Royal fail. Will we even connect???

Since all our meals are covered by the meal books we got at check-in (where's the Gold card???), we thought we'd go to Chicago Brewing Company for pizza and Double Double.
All Drinks Include Sales Tax (and little burgers).

The drinks were HUGE pours, and I had some success early, but then gave way too much of that back during mindless play while eating one of the best pizzas they've ever served me up on a platter. Holy mozzarella it was good.

We played some Jacks after eating and I got kind of stupid. I won some, and I pressed, and lost. I put in more money. I played at 50 cents. I lost. I put in more money, and instead of being situated with a $160 win, which is where I sat after hitting the quad 3s, I was looking at losing to the Four Queens.

This quad helped, but angered me up.

I played it all off.

Fortunately, the Quad Queen made good on her moniker and hit this beauty to get her back some of her day - she was under, having gotten kick-assed at Chicago.

100 Quad Queen Quads
I found myself with a lone $100 bill left in my wallet. And.... I stupidly put it in and started playing dollar Jacks or Better. What was wrong with me?!

The machine dealt me three 8s and I prepared for the usual disappointment... but somehow, I nailed the fourth one and having doubled my hundred I finally did the smart thing and CASHED IT OUT.

We headed off to ABC for supplies (ok booze) and made some travellers in the room with which to travel to Main Street Station, where, although I didn't know it at the time, because I'm not prescient, Flusher History was going to be made.

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