Last Day on the Moonar

The last day in Vegas is always a tough one. Not only did I have the last day blues to contend with, I had to pack up and check out of the California, hump my gear across the Moonar surface back to Luxor, and stage my blastoff for my return to Earth.

This meant planning everything in complete and thorough technical detail on half of the front page of a hotel room six-sheet pad.

Basically, I had to be super ready before bed, get up at 4:00 AM, get a Lyft at 5:00 AM, blast off at 7:00 AM.

I spent a fair bit of time doing the blogging and packing up my gear so it was well organized. Then I went and ate breakfast and did a bit of final gambling at the Cal.

At that early hour, the host was a new one, one I'd never seen before, so I had no worries about shirking the two hosts I've fired - in particular, the first one - let's call her Jira - since she was fired and replaced. The other one was just fired because of the slot club changes.

When I say 'fired' it's not like I gently motioned them over with a crooked finger and said, "I'm sorry, I don't think I can give you what you want." No, I grabbed them by the scruff of the neck, dragged them into the back room, and jabbed a finger in their clavicle while shouting obsenities at drill sargeant volume.

OK, busted, it's not that one either. I just ghosted them. And I'm too much of a pussy to let them see me in the casino, when I booked it myself and went around them.

The Quad Queen asked me to play some quarter 10-play Bonus Poker before I left, so I went down to have my standard coffee shop counter breakfast (two over hard, sausage, hash brown, wheat, cold pig on a green sea, dust the roof and no pom pom) and do just that.


I tried to get it going with $20, but it took $60 before I was able to play for a while. It's all about getting good deals to keep going, and it's all about closing the good deals to make some real money. I got plenty of crappy deals, and didn't close on the good ones, like getting three of a kind and no quads out of it.

In all I put in $160 and really, sadly, there is no fireworks display to describe. Just some video poker.

It was great fun though, and very exciting and I'm glad I did it.

But I was sad that I lost, considering the brilliant comeback at Excalibur the day before.

There was one little thing on my mind, in the 'I could save a dollar' department. And one little unexpected win.

First, as mentioned, I'd booked Main Street for one night on an offer, followed immediately by three nights at the Cal on the slot tournament offer. The slot club boothling at Main Street had warned me not to use my freeplay from the first offer, because I'd be double dicking them.

Which is a whole 'nother part of the internet with which the likes of Jackie Moosereiner is familiar, but not I.

Well, at Main Street, I'd noticed that the $10 free play was still showing up as available on my little slot card display. So I played it. Double-dicked it, as it were.

Secondly, I'd had $10 in food with my slot tournament offer. So one day (when I had the Korean Short Ribs and salad bar) I asked the cashier to charge $10 to my room, and the rest I would use points.

She couldn't figure it out and so I relented, as the line behind us was growing like an Amazon Forest forest fire. I said just do whatever you need.

So, the $17.42 showed up on my room bill, even though I had the food credit and enough points to more than cover it. What to do?

I got on the phone and asked for the host desk. Maybe I'd played enough for them to pick it up.

After getting transferred, I enjoyed the on-hold announcements for two or three minutes, and then someone picked up.

"Hi, this is Jira, I'll be right with you please hold <click>".

Uh oh. Jira who I used to feed hundred dollar tips every trip even though she fucked up everything I ever asked her to do. Jira who I'd ghosted and left for another woman (host).

Fuck it, $17 is $17, I'd take my lumps and hope for the best.

"Hi this is Jira, how can I help you?"

"Errrrm I have a $17 food charge on my room. Can you take a look at my play and cover it?"

"Let me see hon'. What's your room number? You are..."

"...In the room 2525."

"Oh. Hello Mr. Flusher. Give me a minute."

Awwwww Kwarrrrrd.

She made typey typey and promised to take care of it. I put the odds at 50/50, same odds as coming back from the desert alive if I accepted a ride from her.

To Jira's credit, she was all business and professional. I was ready to give all sorts of explanations (none of them true) for why she hadn't heard from me, but ever had the chance.

I suffer from Gambling Survivor's Guilt when it comes to the 'you're fired and dead to me now' department.

The TV, which knows all, tells all, confirmed that the charge was indeed wiped. My bill was $0.00, same as Luxor (after fighting), same as Main Street, and same as Wynn.

I love a good comp, don't you?

I triple checked my packing, dragged my stuff to the door, only then remembered the safe (Jesus!), emptied the safe, and dragged my way across the overpass to Main Street Station to summon a Lyft.

I hate leaving downtown, but that was the last I'd see of it this trip.

Next stop, Luxor, for about 18 hours.