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Wednesday, December 14, 2022

Pumpin' Jack Splash

Day 7 - our last day in Las Vegas for this, the Quad Queen Returns Vol.1 trip.

Every trip has a different shape, and as much as you try to predict it, or re-create pieces of luck you've stumbled across, you never can.

We've had incredible highs, and then dashing lows - there doesn't seem to have been any middle ground.

With our overall numbers pretty good, I was really hoping we could pull out a winning trip.

I got my chores out of the way (writing about the brutal beat-down yesterday), had my coffee and so on, and I headed downstairs to play two or three quick twenties. Three actually. Got nothing back.

Fortunately for me, I remembered to swipe my player's card before I started and I got 10x points for Young at Heart day. Sometimes it pays to be an old bastard.

I had breakfast at the counter in the coffee shop, my usual. Eggs, sausage, hash browns, wheat toast. Coffee.

Like everything, it's gone up. Sixteen bucks for breakfast. Fortunately, having just made Sapphire last trip, my account now generates points and I had enough to cover the tab.

Fond memories of this room name, even though the Maile room used to be to the left of this one.

Fond memories of these escalators, even though the old ones used to run in opposite directions.

The Quad Queen came down and we got busy playing on Pinchy and Flashy. I really liked the results we got on Super Double Bonus the other day (no kidding!) so we got busy on that.

The Quad Queen hit a couple but I struggled and struggled. It took an hour but I finally got one.

Enjoy looking at those quad fives, it is the last one you will see of mine. The day was already in the dumper at this point.

It's weird to play and play and just nothing happens except slow and sometimes fast losses.

I found myself down four or five hundred with very little play time, one quad, and no fun. Time for a break.

Up in the room, I took a long shower, shaved, poked around on my phone, and heated up left over chinese from Lanai Express in the HotMamaRocketPocketLogic dealy. It turned out quite good, and I enjoyed eating it, although there was zero differentiation between the Mongolian Beef and the Beef and Broccoli at this point. It was like it was all 'Beef With Sauce'.

The Quad Queen was chugging along all this time, not hitting much, but not losing much either. She actually logged a ton of playing time on Tuesday, perhaps 5 or 6 hours.

Looking for ways to avoid being in the casino, and yet not simply lie on the bed, staring at the ceiling, slow salty tears dampening my pillow, I thought I'd better go out and fill the car, so I wouldn't have to mess with it on travel morning.

Luck is indeed funny. I googled gas stations, and picked one. Then I changed it to the Chevron across the street, because I could turn right in to it, and then turn onto the cross street with enough time to get over to the left turn lane to return.

I picked a pump, and pulled up. Then I thought, hmmm, my snout is really sticking out into a small passage and someone coming through could easily hit it.

So I backed up to the other pump behind it.

I did all the things, put the nozzle in, and pumped fuel. I do remember thinking it was taking a lot of fuel to top up the needed quarter tank.

And the next thing I felt was my left foot.


Wet with gasoline.

Gasoline that was cascading down the rear quarter panel of the car in a torrent, gasoline that was pooled all around, gasoline that had soaked the leg of my jeans.

The fucking nozzle had not shut off when the tank was full.


Now I had to figure out what the hell I was going to do. I had visions of the TSA backrooming me with all kinds of torture devices like bamboo shoots under the nails, waterboarding, and "All I Want for Christmas is You" on loop, asking me where the gas came from and was I making explosives.

Is there gas on the car? Yes there's gas on the carrrr.

First things first. I popped open the trunk and grabbed some bottles of water and used those to flush my jeans and shoe. I completely soaked them.

Then I calmly got in the car and calmly made the wonderful left fucking turn and headed back to the calm hotel, calmly swearing my calm fucking head off the entire way.

I got back to the Cal, parked (got a pretty good gas parking spot), and went inside. I texted Mrs. Flusher and she pinged me back her location.

"I have a problem," I said.

Her eyes widened in panic. Of course she thought I'd been in an accident.

"The car's okay..." I said

"You smell like gas," she said, stating the obvious.

The plan we came up with was to go up to the room, and thus make the room smell like a refinery.

We'd go up there, and I'd get into the shower. I'd strip off everything soaked in low-octane fuel, and get the shower going. I wondered if maybe she should bring my flip flops (my only other footwear) down so I wouldn't walk in the room with my shoes, but that would just get gas all over them too.

It was only a couple of steps to the shower, so I headed straight in and took everything off below the waist, got the shower going, and sprayed shampoo everywhere.

We realized quickly that this was probably hopeless. Even when dry, all that stuff was going to reek. The Quad Queen Qorraled the maid and maid her give her a bunch of garbage bags.

In went the pants. Into another in went the new socks I'd bought last week. Into another went the new $120 Merrill Moab 2s with only 3 months on them, and the $20 sorbothane insoles I swear by.

Everything was double bagged and the maid helped out by disposing of it all.

I felt like a hitman who'd been hired to knock someone off and do 'wet work'.

With all that stuff gone we ran the shower for a long while. The whole room smelled like petroleum, but we hoped with the air on full and the window (thank God it opens) cracked the full 4". They don't want you jumping to your death unless you can squeeze through a 4" gap, I guess.

I put on my shorts and flip flops and headed back to the car to go shopping. I couldn't fly in these things, or walk long distances with luggage, I needed shoes.

At the bell desk, I asked for a plastic bag of some sort - there would be gas on the floor of the car. And I'd thought to bring socks with me, for try-ons.

In the parking garage, I could smell the car from 5 spots away. Gas gas gas.

I put that down and drove off to the Las Vegas Premium Outlets, where, in yet another insulting fleecing, they charged me $5 for the privilege of parking so as to shop and spend my money buying things.

It makes no sense to me.

Adidas was the first store I saw and the second was Skechers. I opted for Skechers, and was out of there in 10 minutes with a new pair to cover my dogs.

Do you smell gasoline?

I didn't want to wear them, of course, because there was gas inside the car. Back at the hotel, I regrouped, and donned the new shoes. Surely they would be lucky!

The Quad Queen wanted to play Shockwave, and the next session was the only real fun we had today. I played $100 through video keno, straight 5 spot ticket at 75 cents a spin.

On $20 she played for an hour, hour and a half, getting five quads and thus five chances at a $1000 Shockwave quad.

Things are gettin' Sloppy, Sue.

I didn't take photos of the five quads - there was only one photo I wanted to take, and that was if she won it.

Our credits petered out and I never hit the five out of five that has eluded me for days. I was down $600 on the day at this point.

We had dinner at the coffee shop, and again had enough points to cover the $40 tab. I had the Hawaiian Hamburger Steak and the Quad Queen had the Prime Rib (now $17.99 - I remember when it was $4.99!!!).

There was enough prime rib left over to stick in the fridge. Punishment breakfast.

We took a long break in the room, resting, looking at Keno (QQ still had a live ticket at the D), and watching James Bond movies.

Someone (not me) suggested we try one more time, dollar Boner Deluxe or something, try to get a decent win.

I went along with it, kind of scared, but kind of hopeful. Well it was a debacle. We each lost $200 in about 15 minutes. The machines were hoovering cash with the suckitude of a high class hoooooooor.

I felt very bad as we went back to the room. I tried to be thankful for the good times we'd had, and there'd been many. The trip was a loser, but overall, the results were not horrible by any stretch. It sure would have been nice to win though.

There will probably be one more post after this one to wrap things up.


    1. Next time 🫣 buy a bottle of vinegar and soak cothes in equal parts vinegar and hot water for a couple hours. This combo eats the petroleum enough that the clothing can go in wash. —Margery

    2. WOW, that's about as sucky as a casino day gets. Losing your shirt is one thing, but the pants and shoes?! Hope you took pictures of all the stuff you had to toss, 'cuz I think the rental car company owes you. Sorry man.

      1. OOPS - meant the gas station company owes you. those pumps should have automatic shutoff


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