Day the Second
Its noon, I awaken and need food. The 24 hour restaurants in casinos are always a gamble. The key is to look at the surroundings and go from there. Do you see that the waitstaff, bussers, and cooks are all Hispanic? You would think that the pork carnitas would be a safe and delicious choice for a decent meal. And you would be wrong, as it was actually crap.
It's 12:15. Hello complimentary screwdriver.
Lately I've been on a hunt to find Crystal Head Vodka. Dan Akroyd endorses it and it comes inside a bottle shaped like a skull. Dan Fucking Akroyd. You know that a ghostbuster drinks good vodka. Also Jon informs me that its filtered through "herkazoid diamonds". Fuck yes. One of the bars has a bottle, and the night before a bartender informed us that they sell it at a local liquor store.
We step outside our casino and can see the liquor store. I'm not sure if its the desire to purchase vodka in a skull shaped bottle, or the vodka in my stomach, or the giant liquor store sign, but the store looks really close. Jon and I decide to walk there. Poor decision. Its like a mile away. And I'm fat and lazy. And they were sold out of the Crystal Skull. Fuckballs. I need another drink, luckily there is another casino close that will give me a free one.
The bible in Jons room is awesome.
Exhibit A: the back two blank pages have a handwritten letter from a woman named Monica saying how she's leaving her husband Robert. It has "to the left, to the left" written in big letters with a lipstick kiss next to them, and it ends with "ps: dont kill yourself. pps: lose some weight. ppps: be nice to your friends". Classy
Exhibit B: the front of the bible has a picture of an crematory urn, and someone has written "your mom is in here" on it.
Poker here is easy money. Or I'm an amazing poker player. Or I'm drunk and overly confident and pushing people around. I'm up a hundo on a 2-5 no limit game after about an hour and 4 screwdrivers. I hate it when strangers know my name. But apparently thats common procedure here because all of the dealers know my name even though I've only told it to one person. Fuck that shit.
Meet up with Becki and Jon to start the heavy drinking. Jon waits in a giant line to try to win a Lexus. I know there's no way I'll win a new car, and I am fat and lazy and don't want to stand in line, also the elderly unattractive migrant cocktail waitresses won't give us free booze for standing in line, so Becki and I sit at a slot machine. I hate slot machines. That dingdingdingdingding noise makes me want to shoot things. But as much as I hate video poker and slot machines, I tend to get lucky with them. I get on a 15 minute streak where my slot machine essentially plays itself and continually dings up bonus plays and I watch it while praying that the waitress brings me the fucking drink so I can cash out and go find a craps table.
Come line. Six on the six. Hard 8. Niner giner. Craps is awesome. Professional casino staff will not care if you constantly bet on niner giners or occasionally slur your words a little. Good god where is that cocktail waitress?? Does she not know my cup is half empty and I require constant beverage intake to maintain my winning streak??
I have had a perfect moment: I'm winning money at craps, staring at a gorgeous Indian girl playing roulette across the pit, drinking a free screwdriver, and listening to an all girl band sing Journey covers.
I momentarily lose track of where we are. The neon and mirrors and screwdrivers and slot machine mazes and dingdingdingding and identical hand sanitizer machines make everything look and sound exactly the same. Thank god the poker chips have the casino name written on them because we've swtiched casinos and I don't remember riding the stinky buses anywhere.
We wander up some stairs and across a catwalk and down some stairs and past the smell of vomit to the Golden Nugget and see the 1st attractive cocktail waitresses of the entire trip. They're young! And cute! And have russian accents! Or maybe I'm hammered and horny. At any rate, they bring me drinks that are really strong compared to the last 4 casinos. Unfortunately its really bright inside. Its like they're trying to make it look classy or make me forget that its 2am.
Holy fuck, Its 2am, and I realize that I haven't eaten anything but ice since noon, and I haven't drank anything but orange juice and vodka. 14 hours of drinking, and I'm also up almost four hundred dollars. Coincidence?
Two dudes just offered their suite to us to stay in. You know what you should never do? Accept a free suite from two strange dudes in a casino at 3:00 in the morning. Unless you like having naked pictures of you being posted on the internet or being gang-banged by two strange dudes from Salt Lake City. No thank you good sirs.
Holy god, these pillows are huge.
It's 12:15. Hello complimentary screwdriver.
Lately I've been on a hunt to find Crystal Head Vodka. Dan Akroyd endorses it and it comes inside a bottle shaped like a skull. Dan Fucking Akroyd. You know that a ghostbuster drinks good vodka. Also Jon informs me that its filtered through "herkazoid diamonds". Fuck yes. One of the bars has a bottle, and the night before a bartender informed us that they sell it at a local liquor store.
We step outside our casino and can see the liquor store. I'm not sure if its the desire to purchase vodka in a skull shaped bottle, or the vodka in my stomach, or the giant liquor store sign, but the store looks really close. Jon and I decide to walk there. Poor decision. Its like a mile away. And I'm fat and lazy. And they were sold out of the Crystal Skull. Fuckballs. I need another drink, luckily there is another casino close that will give me a free one.
The bible in Jons room is awesome.
Exhibit A: the back two blank pages have a handwritten letter from a woman named Monica saying how she's leaving her husband Robert. It has "to the left, to the left" written in big letters with a lipstick kiss next to them, and it ends with "ps: dont kill yourself. pps: lose some weight. ppps: be nice to your friends". Classy
Exhibit B: the front of the bible has a picture of an crematory urn, and someone has written "your mom is in here" on it.
Poker here is easy money. Or I'm an amazing poker player. Or I'm drunk and overly confident and pushing people around. I'm up a hundo on a 2-5 no limit game after about an hour and 4 screwdrivers. I hate it when strangers know my name. But apparently thats common procedure here because all of the dealers know my name even though I've only told it to one person. Fuck that shit.
Meet up with Becki and Jon to start the heavy drinking. Jon waits in a giant line to try to win a Lexus. I know there's no way I'll win a new car, and I am fat and lazy and don't want to stand in line, also the elderly unattractive migrant cocktail waitresses won't give us free booze for standing in line, so Becki and I sit at a slot machine. I hate slot machines. That dingdingdingdingding noise makes me want to shoot things. But as much as I hate video poker and slot machines, I tend to get lucky with them. I get on a 15 minute streak where my slot machine essentially plays itself and continually dings up bonus plays and I watch it while praying that the waitress brings me the fucking drink so I can cash out and go find a craps table.
Come line. Six on the six. Hard 8. Niner giner. Craps is awesome. Professional casino staff will not care if you constantly bet on niner giners or occasionally slur your words a little. Good god where is that cocktail waitress?? Does she not know my cup is half empty and I require constant beverage intake to maintain my winning streak??
I have had a perfect moment: I'm winning money at craps, staring at a gorgeous Indian girl playing roulette across the pit, drinking a free screwdriver, and listening to an all girl band sing Journey covers.
I momentarily lose track of where we are. The neon and mirrors and screwdrivers and slot machine mazes and dingdingdingding and identical hand sanitizer machines make everything look and sound exactly the same. Thank god the poker chips have the casino name written on them because we've swtiched casinos and I don't remember riding the stinky buses anywhere.
We wander up some stairs and across a catwalk and down some stairs and past the smell of vomit to the Golden Nugget and see the 1st attractive cocktail waitresses of the entire trip. They're young! And cute! And have russian accents! Or maybe I'm hammered and horny. At any rate, they bring me drinks that are really strong compared to the last 4 casinos. Unfortunately its really bright inside. Its like they're trying to make it look classy or make me forget that its 2am.
Holy fuck, Its 2am, and I realize that I haven't eaten anything but ice since noon, and I haven't drank anything but orange juice and vodka. 14 hours of drinking, and I'm also up almost four hundred dollars. Coincidence?
Two dudes just offered their suite to us to stay in. You know what you should never do? Accept a free suite from two strange dudes in a casino at 3:00 in the morning. Unless you like having naked pictures of you being posted on the internet or being gang-banged by two strange dudes from Salt Lake City. No thank you good sirs.
Holy god, these pillows are huge.