The Most Ballsy Blackjack Play Ever

Thursday Feb 23, 2023 part 2 and by the time I got over to Harrah's, my cojones were frojones. It was so cold!

I wandered Harrah's, a property I'm not super familiar with, to find a place to eat. I wasn't sold on Ramsay's Kitchen, it seemed really busy. I ended up walking all the way to the lobby, and then back. That yee-haw red white and burger place upstairs was a hard pass. I thought of Ruthchris Ruth's Chris Ruth Chris's Ruth's Chris Steakhouse, and found the entrance - and it was closed till dinner. Of course it was.

By now I was starving, cold, tired, and hangry. I got the piPhone out and used the Caesars app to find restaurants. I looked high and low and decided, rationally and expeditiously, that I will go and eat at the nearest place to where I'm standing, digesting my own stomach.

The nearest thing was Guy Fieri's. I hate Guy Fieri.

I hate his stupid bleached 'wet fingers in the 600v socket' shock hair, I hate his show, his manner, his arrogant attitude, and his apparent lack of talent for anything. I have no idea how this man is famous.

I also have no idea how I am not famous, but maybe it has to do with hating everyone more successful than me. Maybe.

In a flash, I crossed over to the Linq and the place was right there.

I asked for a table for one and was told it would be a 30 minute wait. But there were lots - lots and lots - of seats at the bar, which was full service.

I hate eating at bars and I hate even more eating at Guy Fieri bars. But I need to get this done.

I found a seat, and was entertained by a shaker of too cool bartenders, fast talking, full of platitudes. I ordered wings. and a beer. Upsell attempt on the fries. No.

The wings arrived in two minutes and looked good - but were barely warm. And tough. I asked for a knife and fork and I could barely eviscerate them. They were clearly old and dead.

 At least the BBQ sauce was excellent - I'll say that fairly. And the ranch dipping goop was also excellent.

And the wings could have been excellent if they'd just been cooked fresh.

After slapping the severed flappers in front of me, the bartender ignored me from then on in, flitting around, doing various too cool bar things.

I ate and looked around and noticed there were lots - lots and lots - of empty tables. A couple sat down next to me at the bar while waiting for their deuce, and they lasted about three minutes before being retrieved by the hostess and taken to their table.

The whole 30 minute wait thing... I have to conclude it was a bleach blonde frizzled boner-hair lie to herd me to the bar instead of taking up one of Guy Fieri's precious fucking tables.

I finished. Another different bartender asked me how everything is. As in how is your meal. Now that everything is gone.

I told him the truth. He truly seemed perplexed and flitted around the bar for a while. Eventually the bill arrived and the beer was taken off it as well as $4.00 off the meal - the local's discount I'm told.

Whoop.

When you're hangry and you get jerked around and get a bad meal you just want to be done with it all. I ponied up one of the gift cards and paid the bill, left a proper tip, and walked by many empty tables on my way out, my temper on full Fieri.

It's really best to let these experiences go as soon as you can, for your own peace of mind, so I hustled back to Wynn quick like a bunny, so I could go to the room and tell the Quad Queen all of the miserable details, with many grand gestures, loud grunts, stamping of the feet, and various expletives.

I regrouped, and together, Mrs. Flusher and I headed down to the Wynn casino to see what damage we could do.

This time I remembered to unleash the power of Brains. He seemed to help me hit some hands, but once again, the Quad Queen struggled.

At the very least, I had a couple of decent Mojitos.

We took a break in the room to rethink things before heading down to the casino again.

  

Oh, hi Brains.

We settled in to play on some machines near the pit, and near the cage. We played for a bit and there was a loud ROARR! which startled me a bit.

It happens in the casino, a bunch of people cheering.

We played on and a minute later ROARRR!

"Craps table," I said confidently to the Quad Queen, because I'm Mr. Big Shot Savvy Gambler.

A few minutes later, ROARRRR!

And again. ROARRRRRR!!!!!!!

I looked around and... there was no craps table nearby.

"Not the craps table," I said confidently to the Quad Queen, because I'm Mr. Big Shot Savvy Gambler.

And again. ROARRRRRRR!!!!!!!!

And again. RRRRRRRROARRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!

And again. ROAR (with a shitload of Rs and !s).

I had to see what was going on and witnessed the end of what is The Most Ballsy Blackjack Play I've ever seen in thirty years.

There was a crowd three or four people deep around one of the blackjack tables and I pushed in a bit so I could see.

A player had a massive mount of checks pushed into the betting circle. He stood, and the dealer busted.

RRRRRRRRROARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I don't know what this guy had bought in with, but clearly he had parlayed every hand and won about seven or eight in a row.

Balls the size of the Bono's Sphere.

He'd (smartly) had enough and was coloring up. He took down thousands.

We played some more and the Quad Queen finally hit a couple. But we were back up in the room in a couple of hours and I was staring reheated Lanai Express Slop Wok dinner in the face.

The Quad Queen had lost her $300 stake for the day, but I managed to claw out a second winning day in a row, sitting at plus $70.

QQ: Day -$300 Trip -$HelpMeHelpMe.

RF: Day +$70 Trip -$IDontWantToLook.

Combined: -$OhGodWhatHaveWeDone - $230.

Yeah, the trip was a bad one, gambling wise, and was now irretrievable. It's happened before and this wasn't the worst, which isn't saying much.