Jacking Around Part 1

Day 3 Friday Dec 22, 2023 and it's moving day out of Luxor and down to The Cal.

I had a solid 6 hours sleep and woke feeling refreshed. It's always better after the travel achies are gone. I fired up the Little Giant and brewed up some coffee to sip while taking care of my blogging duties.

Before breakfast, I got all the packing done and sorted, and checked the folio. So far so good, only resort fee charges. This 'resort' has a coffee shop that is only open for 7 hours a day, so I had to plan my timing carefully to meet their stringent resort guest feeding requirements.

The Pyramid Cafe was the site of many wonderful meals with the Quad Queen. She'd almost always have a club sandwich, and I remember the first hand-written comp we ever got. It was for the Pyramid Cafe and included the full meal deal. Two rounds of drinks, appetizer, main, desert. We had steaks and it was fantastic, a meal we never would have been able to purchase for ourselves.

They had Keno runners back then going through the restaurant and we'd play five games or so for every meal, hoping to hit it big.

At least a lot of the original decor is still intact. The menu is pretty bare bones with high prices. I still had about $60 resort credit so I picked the priciest thing I could find that was something I wanted - the Pharoah's Pheast.

It was pretty good, but was it really worth $25 plus whatever the coffee was?

I know I'm harping about the state of things and food prices on the strip lately - but it really just breaks my heart to see the exciting, wonderful hotels we'd loved so much to end up the way they are now.

The takeaway - or take-out? - is enjoy the hell out of those special things while you've got them - they won't last forever. And you can't ever go back again.

It was a pleasant enough meal, with good service, but I've learned my lesson about resort credit room charges on the last morning and marched straight to the front desk to make sure the meal was taken off the bill.

Magically, it was, so thank you Luxor for getting that part right. 

I headed back up to the suite to do a final sweep and make sure I had everything packed up. And now it was time to make tracks, into what looked like a dark blustery day.

My Avis rental car was ready to be picked up at the airport car rental facility and it would cost me $13 to get there. After my 'fun' picking up a car at Mirage, I've vowed not to use hotel franchises if possible.

And actually, that all added in to booking Luxor for the first two nights. One, it's a very quick (OMG) ride from the airport when you just want to get to your hotel after a long travel. And two, it's a very quick ride to the car rental complex.

The Lyft app showed a couple of drivers within a minute of Luxor, and as luck would have it, mine was a beauty.

I really don't want to identify this guy by his first name, because he was a fucking idiot. I'll just call him 'that fucking idiot George'.

He pulled up and we stowed the luggage. I got in the back and he started off by asking me what airline I wanted.

"Excuse me?"

"What airline?"

"I'm not going to the airport. I'm going to the car rental facility."

"What? Oh! It says airport here. Oh - the airport car rental place. I'm so sorry. OK."

We left the north entrance of Luxor and turned right onto the Strip. It's a straight shot down past the airport, and then a left, and then a right and you're there.

The Sphinxter will slut himself out to the highest bidder with no qualms whatsoever. Stay classy, Dorito boi.

That fucking idiot George proceeded to whinge about how hard life was, how this would be his only ride for two hours, how it costs too much but he gets so little of it, how sure, that's not your fault, how he retired but now he does this, how hard it is, how few people tip on and on and on.

That fucking idiot George then got into the left lane and put his signal on at the light.

"Excuse me, it should be a straight ride down the strip here... you know, to the car rental place?"

"Well it's showing I should make a u-turn here and..." he said, gesturing to the map on his cell phone.

I looked and it showed he should make a u-turn - and then proceed into the north entrance of Luxor. To pick up the passenger.

Me.

"You haven't tapped the button for pickup," I said.

"Oh! Oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't realize. I'll do that - what airline was it again?"

That fucking idiot George took 16 different streets and finally got us turned around and blabbered at me the entire way, apologizing some 300 times for the fact that he is, actually, a fucking idiot.

I held on just waiting for the sweet moment when I'd have my own wheels and not be held hostage by the likes of TFIG any more.

And the moment came, and in no time I bundled myself into my rental Subaru and pointed her nose south - south to South Point, good video poker, and freedom.