Aviscerated at the Mirage

Thursday Feb 16 - Day 3 and I was finally starting to relax into Vegas. But I had plans!

We had a leisurely morning planned. And breakfast planned. And a plan to walk over to Mirage to pick up the rental car from Avis.

The Quad Queen wasn't up to the walk, so I'd go it alone, go and get a special lunch by myself, once I had wheels, and then swing by and pick her up, and we'd execute the rest of the day's plan.

It felt great to be in complete control, relaxed, efficient, and happy. Coffee and food was in order.

The Jimmy Dean breakfast bowl was really good so I did a repeat of that and some healthy green pepper hunks, and a couple of slices of the comestible that traditionally is the embodiment of over 250 years cultural development - Fromage a l'Americaine.

Fun Fact: Jimmy Dean is a real person. He lives in a shiny black plastic mansion.

We still had those damn Caesars gift cards that I bought for the sole purpose of generating much-needed airline points. And the question was still outstanding, where to use them? We thought maybe we could have lunch at Harrah's before picking up the car, but the timing wasn't right, and beside's, Mrs. Flusher was too pooped to perambulate.

It was quite distressing when I learned that Caesars, after a year, charges a monthly fee to 'maintain' gift cards. What a fucking rip-off.

I'd booked the car for 12:00 noon, but I had lots of time, so when I was ready to head out, I did.

I sauntered down the hallway, sauntered through the foyer, sauntered in place in the elevator, and sauntered to - where else? - the Wynn casino. A quick stop off to confirm my luck and while away a bit of time and enjoy my relaxed, joyful mood. 

Joker Wild had other plans and $100 disappeared quite quickly.

No matter, I'd play $100 on Double STP Double Double Bonus quarters triple play and score big. Nope.

Another $100 went in, and I finally did get a quad, which got me to $180. I could cash out and be only down $120 of my $300.

Of course I didn't cash! I had to win back all my stake. Lose lose lose lose lose and there I was, down $300 for the day and I hadn't been out of the room more than 37 minutes.

There was nothing for it but to go on my way. Sauntering was out, spirited antarctic-ass speed walking was in. It was just freezing out, and there I was draped in about 1 square yard of gauzy homespun. At least, that's how it felt.

I walked up to Mirage and gazed upon it for one of the last times before it would be transmogrified into a Hard Rock. It's really where the modern strip started (notwithstanding Caesars), and there has always been something special about it. I will miss the old girl.

With bidness to attend to, I headed to the slot club, giving the bronze mermaids a quick lucky goosing on the way in.

I have a Unity card from the Hard Rock in Tampa, and I had Pearl at MGM, so I got a tier match and a new set of cards. There was a 5000 point bonus, and that, plus whatever points I already had on the card could be converted into $34 freeplay.

It was just a few minutes before noon, so I hustled through the casino, and from a decent distance away, I could see the Avis desk which is situated just to the right of check-in. It's a smallish area with a beaten up computer monitor, all kinds of dusty wires here and there on the worn work surface. This surface is just behind the customer counter, which is raised a little higher and features a sign saying, "WE ARE SORRY WE FUCKED OFF FOR LUNCH EARLY AND MISSED YOU."

WHAT THE HELL?????

I looked around to see if maybe the boothling was nearby and shouted HELLOOOOO a few times and ANYBODY THERE and WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU????

I checked my watch just in time to see it tick over from 11:59 am to 12:00 pm. And I took a photo of sign and it was dead on noon.

It was clear that the boothling had screwed off a few minutes early. Why would Avis let me book a car for 12:00 noon when the kiosk closes at that time?

So I had an hour to kill at Mirage, and there was nothing to do. No fun to be had. No distractions, diversions, or entertainments. What was I going to do?

Well, I had $34 in freeplay so I played that out on video Keno. And lost it all.

Then I lost another $100 on video Keno (which is a terrible game, you should never play it).

Now I was fuming and on 100% tilt. I shoved $100 into dollar Bonus Poker. And I did get a quad. Did I cash it out?

Not on your life. I played that into the ground.

Now I was down $500 on the day, and I had accomplished none of our plan. $100 went into Buffalo Revolution at 80 cents a spin. I played that down to $20 and had not had any bonus rounds.

So, I bumped it to $2.40 a spin and... and... I went out. Again.

I looked at the meter and I had $2.39 left. So I had to drop to $1.60 and... of course I hit free games.

I won $35 on that and played it all into the ground. I was down $600 on the day, with less than 2 hours play.

I was steamed. Pissed. Furious, as I walked to the Avis counter at exactly 1:00.

The time-challenged little Portuguese granny-troll behind the counter was very chatty and tickey typey.

I tried to get the paperwork done saying as little as possible. I was fucking livid.

On the desk, was a printout featuring a list of customers that were picking up cars, and what time they were scheduled for.

She consulted it and there I was, all right, clearly on the list for 12:00 sharp dead-ass noon top-o-the fucking sundial zero twelve hundred fucking balls o'fucking clock.

It didn't help that I couldn't understand anything she squeaked at me in her little Portu-troll dialect, which was unintelligible to anyone who is on time. I had to constantly asking her to repeat herself.

Finally, everything paperwork-wise was done, and I had a set of keys. I gritted my teeth.

And I told her how frustrating it was to be on time and to find out she'd left early for lunch. (I didn't mention how she forced me to lose $300 in the wasted hour.)

She said, "The computer tells me what time it is." 

This was the wrong thing to say. Totally.

The right thing was to say 'I'm sorry you were here and I was not available to serve you even though you had a reservation, because I was shoving customer body part stew into my greasy pug face back under my troll bridge and watching Judge Judy for my full fucking lunch hour plus ten minutes.' 

I told her, "Then your computer's wrong."

And I told her, "I have a photo of the sign taken at exactly noon, and you weren't there putting the lunch sign up as I walked to the desk."

And I told her, "If you are going to leave at noon you should leave exactly at noon. And how annoying it is that I booked a car for noon, but nobody told me you close for lunch. And that you have my name on the bloody hit list, so you knew I was booked for noon."

Of course, it was all for nothing. Trolls only care about themselves and the next episode of Judge Fucking Judy. I don't know how I managed to keep my temper through all that.

And as I walked away toward the casino, I heard her little sarcastic troll puppet voice shouting at my back, "Have a nice DAYYYYY SIRRRRRRRR!"

And that's when I snapped.

I didn't turn around, but I did say very loudly what I had been thinking this whole time.

"FUCK.   YOU."

I was so angry I was about to piss my pants in nine different directions and call myself a lawn feature.

And of course, I couldn't find the parking garage. Because I'd gone left from the desk instead of right, having never been in the Mirage parking structure before. I wandered all the way to the elevators, thinking it was back there somehow.

Naturally, I wandered and stumbled for a full ten minutes through the casino before asking someone for help. To get to the parking garage, I had to go all the way back and cross directly in front of Avis Troll Alley, where I'd just yelled at the counter minion 'Fuck You'.

I don't like swearing at people, or boothlings, or trolls, and even though I think it was somewhat warranted, I felt a little embarrassed.

I found a group of five people moving together through the lobby and paced myself beside them, letting them block for me, lest she should shoot me with Avis Troll Darts or something.

The car was on the seventh level of the parking structure. I found it, and it was a complete disaster.

I thought I'd had some dirty rental vehicles before but this one took the crown. It was filthy. Someone had made a half-hearted attempt at 'washing' parts of it, probably with a couple of Hardee's or Carl's Jr. napkins.

The keys worked, and I got in and started it up, and rolled off to the car park exit.

Except I couldn't find it. I was still seeing red, seething, furious, angry, and frustrated.

On the third lap around the seventh parking level, tears in my eyes from all the stress, I wondered, "How have I fucked my trip up so bad?"