Vegas Trip Report, Part I

[samsonite2100]

My girlfriend has a real job that required her to go to Vegas this last weekend for a bunch of meetings. Did I want to go, she asked. Does the pope sh*t in the woods? Does a bear run the Catholic church? Free nice hotel, all I had to do was pay for airfare. Done and done.

We leave Friday afternoon from our smallish, eastern seaboard airport. As per usual, I'm sitting in the plane, white-knuckling it, imagining the moment of impact when our US Airways jet plows into the ground at 500 miles an hour and we're all reduced to fine pink mists. Yes, I know it's irrational--whatever. I hate flying. The moment we're in the air, also as usual, I'm knocking back bloody mary after bloody mary. To distract myself, I decide to watch the inflight movie. Unfortunately, it's "Hail to the Chief," or whatever that Robin Williams POS is where he becomes president. I make it about halfway through before the sheer unfunniness of it overwhelms me, and I go back to thinking about plane crashes, although drunkenly this time.

After five hours, two catnaps, three panic attacks, and a small lake of V8 and Stoli, we land at McCarran Int'l. Me and my girlfriend walk out of the plane laugh about how you can't walk ten feet in Vegas before getting assaulted by the bleeping of slot machines. We get the car, get stuck on the Strip in a line of retards cruising, and eventually make it to our hotel. At this point it's about three AM our time, and I'm getting hungover and hungry, so we elect to not go out, and instead order an incredibly expensive room service burger that turns out to be very good and approximately the size of a frisbee.

7 AM the following morning, my girlfriend has to go to her meetings. I lay in bed for thirty minutes, but visions of nut flushes dancing in my head prevent me from going back to sleep, so I get up and shower. At the ungodly hour of 7:30 AM, Venti Starbucks in my paw, I am on the street in Vegas. Let me tell you, if you've never been up sober on a Saturday morning in Sin City, which you probably haven't, it's pretty entertaining. Basically, you're catching the desperate tail end of about ten thousand booze and cocaine-fuelled bachelor parties. As I walk by the Barbary Coast, three dudes stagger out into the daylight clutching Miller Lites.

Dude 1: "I can't feel my feet. I can't feel my feet."

Dude 2: "Oh no."

Dude 3 (looking at his watch and slurring): "Guess what time is it. I mean, guess what time is it. SH*T!! Gues what time it is!"

Etc. I elect to stroll through the Bellagio in an effort to waste time. Boy, is the Bellagio boring. The Bellagio's design looks like the couch in my grandomther's den that no one's sat on in thirty years. Only notable action seems to be occuring in the Baccarat room and involves a bunch of drunk Asians excited about something.

Onward. I walk down the strip. More funny random drunkenness. Best moment: Pissed-off looking slutty girl walking ahead of her bummed-out boyfriend who looked like he'd been put through the wringer all night.

Girl (screaming in front of a crowd of people): "If I never see you again it'll be too f**king soon!"

I stop to get a bottle of water a bit further down the strip, come out of the store, and notice that the girl's boyfriend has managed to get himself trapped in a barbed-wire construction site and is sitting in the dirt crying. Good stuff.

I go to the MGM Grand, where I hear the action is good for Busto types, such as myself. I walk by the poker room and peer in, but am too much of a p**sy to play. Note: I have played live poker once, but it was at 3 in the morning, when I was raving drunk and had no idea what I was doing. I am, to say the least, a little nervous about playing.

Instead, I elect to go into the adjacent Sportsbook and drink a lot while watching college basketball. I win all the games I bet on, b/c I'm awesome (or maybe lucky). I also get to see a crowd of obnoxious young UCLA fans get all bummed when WV handles their team. Sowwy Bwuins. Fortified by a belly full of Sierra Nevada (inexplicably cheaper than Budweiser), I put my name on the list, and am sat at a 1/2 NL game.

The game is full of a bunch of non-descript dudes. I am the only player at the table drinking. Wimps. Although it is only about ten in the morning at this point...Anyway, notable hands:

1) I get one guy all-in with AT on an AAK2 board. He has A4. River Q means we split, which sucks.

Actually, that's the only notable hand. The rest of the session involved me spewing off large amounts of chips in an effort to push the table around, as if I were playing online 6max. Apparently bottom pair in live 1/2 has the same equivalent value as, say, top set in online play. You can't lay that sh*t down!

In about two hours I lose my buy-in. I don't feel too bad, as I've probably consumed roughly $200 of Maker's Mark while losing, so it's probably a wash. In search of cigarettes (even though I don't smoke), I stagger out of the MGM and somehow find myself in the middle of a novelty lingerie store called (I think) the Bunny Boutique. Feeling like a rapist, I'm helpfully led out of this store and finally find a place to buy some $8 Marlboros. Mmmm. I take a trip to flavor country.

I then take a trip to the Tropicana for some $5 blackjack. Let me tell you: if there is a worse, more unlucky blackjack player in the world, I'd like to know who they are. Blackjack is like the abusive spouse that regularly beats me up, but I can't leave them because (sob) they don't mean to and I love them so much! Anyway, I sit and proceed to standardly lose a lot of money--for $5 blackjack, anyway. But then, as I get down to the end of my stack, I am dealt 99 against the dealer's 6. Split. Another 9. Split again. Another 9. I am dealt 2's on two of my 4 9's and have to rebuy to double down. I hit 21 on both and the dealer bust, so I make my stack back plus a little. Now up a little bit, I extravagantly tip $10 and leave the table feeling lucky. And also feeling incredibly drunk for 3 in the afternoon. My girlfriend is getting done with her work at 7, so I wisely forgo the "yard of margarita" on the trudge back to my hotel. I take 4 aspirin, drink a lot of water, and get in bed.

[Benal]

Part deux?

[A_C_Slater]

One of the best reports I've ever read.

[StevieG]

Yeah, this is great stuff, samsonite. Don't pull a 2+2 wannabe, you need to finish this report.

[punkass]

Nothing special really happens in this trip report. You walk the strip, visit some casinos while drinking and betting.

And yet, I love it. Vegas is awesome. Can't wait until I'm there in 11 days.

[Ken_AA]

I'm leaving for vegas on sunday and am looking forward to writting my own trip report.

Can't wait.

Ken

[Seputro]

You are a great writer.

Nothing extravagantly exciting really happened in your trip so far, but yet, you make me wanna go. NOW.

Part Two!!!!

[knicknut]

How do you watch and win CBB games and go to the poker table and it's still only 10AM? How are the games over by 1 ET?

[context]

[ QUOTE ]
Don't pull a 2+2 wannabe, you need to finish this report.

[/ QUOTE ]

2+2 has such long, bitter, memories [img]/images/graemlins/wink.gif[/img],


PS. great report, nicely written.

[bav]

[ QUOTE ]
[ QUOTE ]
Don't pull a 2+2 wannabe, you need to finish this report.

[/ QUOTE ]

2+2 has such long, bitter, memories [img]/images/graemlins/wink.gif[/img]

[/ QUOTE ]
Not so long given that it was all refreshed for us on BBV by a single new installment and further promises of "more on Friday" as Friday after Friday has ticked away on the calendar. The Price is Right may have slowrolled Wannabe, but Wannabe is slowrolling 2+2.