From the time we got off the plane, until the time I passed out that night, Friday was a shitshow. In good ways and bad ways.
Our flight pulled away from the gate on-time and arrived in Las Vegas just ahead of schedule. We collected our bags and then proceeded over to the rental car arena to pick up our Payless rental car.
And now I know why you pay less.
The rental agreement took way too long as the agent tried to sell G-$ on a variety of upgrades and other garbage. And then they gave us the wrong set of keys! Another agreement and another half-hour later, we were on our way to check in at the 4 Queens.
For the last time.
The room was fine—but in order to use the word “fine,” you’ll have to take liberties. For instance, you’d have to be able to say the Plaza rooms were fine before the remodel. Or that the Las Vegas Club rooms were fine when you could still stay there. Or that the old Tangiers Tower rooms at the Sahara were fine. I’ll let Miles sum it up for me:
“Can we not stay at the 4 Queens ever again? My clothes and suitcase had a distinct orange odor for 2 days until I got everything washed. We never play there. I like the location, just not the smell or the warm temperature.”
So there ya go.
But we shrugged it off, and by the time we hit the video poker bar at the good ol’ Main Street Station, we were ready to rock ‘n’ roll. The rest of the gang was already up there, so we were now a full group of 13. I hammered away at some 9/6 JoB until I lost $60, then grabbed Miles, Rob, G-$ and Doug and headed over to the multi-play and Super Times Pay games in the corner. I broke even there (actually, +$1 with a 4 of-a-kind scratch ticket) while we guzzled beers acquired both from the cocktailer and from the gift shop (our cocktailer was not so fleet-of-foot).
In no time at all, it was time to smudge the glass elevator on the way up to Binion’s Ranch Steakhouse, where our table was set in the south end of the room. Our server was a great guy and our food was terrific—a big step up from last year, when a lot of guys—myself included—were borderline with our reviews. Jonny Reno and G-$ agreed:
- G-$: “My food was great. Please remind me next year to consider the lobster bisque.”
- Jonny Reno: “My cocktail was great. My food was really good. The night was fantastic.”
By the time our check came, with a hefty discount of nearly $300 courtesy of the LVA Coupon, my stomach hurt from the delicious food and laughter.
After a stop at the Million Dollar Photo, we were so ready to play cards that we stayed at Binion’s and played with the cowgirls. I won $40 of my video poker losses back at a 6/5 table with G-$ and a couple other guys. But we soon discovered that the bulk of the gang was already partying it up at the Go Go Golden Gate, so we cashed out, picked up the photos and headed that way ourselves.
(Probably should have made a quick detour to drop off those Million Dollar Photos in my hotel room. Heh. Whoopsie.)
I really don’t know how these things happen, but a short time later, I was playing Pai Gow with G-$ and Miles, and I was pretending to be a tiger. Which would have been fine, except the dealers insisted I was more kitty than tiger. So from time to time, I’d stand in my chair, claws exposed, to show them my ferocity. They would instead pretend to mew, or clean themselves with their itty-bitty paws. This would go on all weekend.
Naturally, casino security approached my chair a couple of times.
In addition to losing my dignity, I lost around $40 at the Pai Gow table, won a bit of it back at one blackjack table, but then left my last table down somewhere in the neighborhood of $100. (Numbers from the evening are imprecise because tigers, apparently, are not so good with the record-keeping.)
The Saturday Morning Hangover was a doozie, creeping up on me while we were in the Main Street Station champagne brunch buffet line, and cresting when I sat down with a hot omelet in front of me. I choked it down along with a token sip of champagne and as much water as I thought prudent, and then headed back to the 4 Queens to get my golf clubs. Without puking. Which was an accomplishment.
Golf on Saturday was brought to us by Angel Park—and what an experience we had. Staying downtown, we love the convenience of The Badlands and Angel Park, both of which are a quick 15- to 20-minute ride from our hotel. In 2010 and 2011, we played at the Badlands, but the staff there could have really given a shit whether we were there or not. So even though it cost us about $20 more to play Angel Park, we decided to splurge.
And the staff alone was worth it. From Scott the reservations guy to Greg the shuttle guy to the staff inside the pro shop, everyone really went out of their way to provide a great experience. In addition, we played a great round of golf, and although my 4-some of G-$, Jonny Reno, Miles and me managed a respectable +3, we got schooled by the even-par round shot by the 3-some of Sims, Jared and Hanley (-$10 each). The fact that Miles and I hit exactly 1 good shot in the first 6 holes, courtesy of the Friday night hangovers, may have had an impact.
And did I mention that shuttle? That’s right, for the low low price of nothing, Angel Park gave us a ride to and from the course! Naturally, we took care of our driver, but the $5 each of the 7 of us paid as a tip was far less than it would have cost to take cabs or a limo.
We hit the Chicago Brewing Co. at the 4 Queens for dinner that night—the “Football Matchup” Free Play Promo was too strong to ignore. Because of the layout of the place, we broke into several small tables, and our server was happy to break our tabs into smaller, sub-$50 checks to ensure we’d maximize the slot play dollars.
Golfing or not, everyone had been drinking all day long, so the pizza, salads and potato skins we devoured rated at least 4 stars. Would they rate that on a sober palate? Who gives a shit?
After dinner, most of us descended to the casino level to get that free play rolling. Jonny Reno and Doug stayed behind to watch the Sounders play the second leg of their MLS playoff match against hated rival Portland. (More on this later.)
Down in the casino, the lucky fellas who had paid the tabs upstairs filed into the slot club line and were warmly greeted with grins and free play, as well as $10 matchplays. A few extra matchplays were handed out as well, to those of us along for the ride.
Everyone destroyed it. I think maybe one guy may have ended his free play session down a few bucks, but from Rusty to Mattt to Sims to Miles, the refrain I heard over and over was, “Up for video poker, won my matchplay.” So yeah, the 4 Queens paid us to eat dinner there on Saturday night. Boo-yah!
For my part, I let G-$ pick up our tab, and sure enough, when all was said and done, he left the cashier cage ahead of the game. Having eaten for free, I exchanged my LVA POV free play coupon and came out $15 up, but lost the $10 blackjack matchplay coupon (scored at the slot club window) to finish up a mere $5.
Still, it was a fantastic promotion.
Shin-guards-deep in soccer, and with a dangerous case of drunken anger (heretofore known as “dranger”) rising, Jonny Reno and Doug skipped our subsequent trip down to the Downtown Grand.
Too bad for them, because we had a heckuva time!
As with so many things downtown, it took us a while to join the slot club ($5 in free play for each of us), and it took us a while to find a machine (quarter pay schedules were, in fact, pretty dismal), and it took us a while to obtain the all-important first cocktail. But once Amanda from Rhode Island got to know us she was quick on the draw with the beers and the shots.
We hammered away at the three machines, listening intently to the periodic announcements made for winners of free play. We didn’t hear our names called. But presently, a slot hostess and a gal with a microphone walked towards us. G-$ was the only one of us who saw them approach.
“Did somebody win something?”
“Yeah…you!” the gal replied.
Miles and I pulled our heads out of our machines and looked around, a bit confused by a non-cocktail-related interruption. Just in time to see the slot hostess and microphone gal had G-$ a certificate for $100 cash!
After verifying that G-$ was the same G-$ who had a slot card in the machine, microphone gal prepared to make the announcement to the rest of the casino. Luckily for her, Wilner arrived just in time to lean in close and help her announce that G-$ won the award for the smallest penis in the casino. Microphone gal leaned away.
The rest of the gang arrived by then, Jonny Reno still seething about the Sounders early exit from the playoffs. After hearing more about his in-game shenanigans, we determined that he scored a 4.8 on the Drangrometer due mostly to loudly swearing and cursing while 10 feet away from a wedding reception. Amanda brought us a farewell round of shots, and we departed, about half of the guys heading back towards the Go Go Golden Gate and the other half of us down to the El Cortez for a visit.
I visited the slot club to cash my $10 in Free Play coupon from the POV. By the time I found an eligible machine, tried to play, returned to the slot club, got the free play actually loaded on the card this time, returned to the machine, and lost the $10, my friends were parked on opposite sides of the casino—Jonny and Rob at the video poker bar, Miles and G-$ getting reamed at the blackjack table. They were more than ready to leave and return to the friendly confines, so we ditched Drangry Jonny and headed back to the Go Go Golden Gate.
Our pals, of course, were enjoying their environs. At the bar, Rusty was nursing an absurdly large frozen beverage in a curvaceous souvenir cup, kibitzing with Hanley and Jared. My dealer later told me that Rusty was creeping her out. Nice.
The good tables were jammed, so we did the only sensible thing—sat down to have some Super Fun. Our dealer, one of the delightful gals from the previous evening, greeted me with a “mew” and showed her tiny claws. I shook my head, once again reliving my foolishness.
Ya know, in the short run, even the chumpiest games can be profitable.
With some really terrific luck on most of my many $20 bets, I left the table up $213 for a couple-hour session. Just a few of those $20 bets resulted in some Aces to split, one of which I got to double; a tasty pair split with a 3-card double; and finally, late in the evening, I got another $20 double out there. My 11 was awarded with a 4 or a 5, with our dealer showing a 7. She offered me the chance to surrender and escape the mess, reminding me that just 15 minutes earlier, she had advised Miles (correctly) to do the same thing when his double card went south on him.
She leaned in close to me at 3rd base. “Just wave it off, and I’ll give you half your money back.”
I glanced at her and winked. “We got this.”
“Look,” she said again. “You need to surrender this.”
I winked again.
She sighed, telling me with a look that she was already sorry for the hurt she was about to put on my $20 double. Then she flipped a beautiful 9 to go with that 7, and busted it with a face. I twinkled my eyes, collected my chips, and slid a tip out to the top of my betting circle.
But, up over $200, I soon put the brakes on, telling the table it was time to head next door to use up some food comps and get some soast. Wilner was all over it. G-$ wanted to keep going, as he was also ahead, but Miles was ready to call it—poor Miles was the single schumuck doing poorly at our hot table.
Wilner ordered a shake and two breakfasts because he couldn’t decide on pancakes or steak ‘n’ eggs. I went with some delightful hash ‘n’ eggs and helped G-$ finish his giant stack. Our tab, after two comps, was still way too high. Eh.
Back on Fremont Street, the party was winding down, so most fellas took a right and shuffled off to bed. Miles and I weren’t done, though, and took a left, speeding up to the bar at the Main Street Station to hit a late-night (or early-morning?) Royal.
$20 later, there were no Royals, so we called it.
When I arrived back to my room, I discovered that Hurricane Jonny had touched down. The light and fan were blasting away in the bathroom, the TV was blaring, the A/C was jacked to its coolest setting, and a mostly-clothed Jonny Reno lay on top of his bed, snoring loudly amidst a pile of his crap, looking as if he and our room had been tossed. I shut down the room, took my vitamins, and closed my eyes, sleeping the sleep of a man who had enjoyed a free day in Las Vegas.
I felt pretty good Sunday morning, so good in fact that I took a quick shower and left Jonny and his mound of shit to some extra sleep. I wandered south down Fremont Street, enjoying a conference call home to the girls. After that, I bought a couple souvenirs for them.
Hanging up, I decided it was still too early for a coffee delivery. Then it hit me—it was time for a POV coupon run up Fremont Street!
And it was a nearly perfect run too, a matchplay loss at the LVC the only blemish on the morning:
- Binion’s: Turned $10 in free play into $15 cash
- LVC: Turned $5 in free play into $10 cash, but lost the $5 matchplay
- Plaza: Turned $5 in free play into $5 in cash, and hit the $10 matchplay for a $25 profit
- Total: $45 in cash just for walking into 3 casinos!
Giddy with my early-morning, small-stakes success, I strolled with spring in my step over to Starbucks to collect the usuals: a grande drip for G-$, a quad grande nonfat vanilla latte for Miles and a tall nonfat latte for me.
I texted the room next door to say I was on my way, waking G-$ and Miles. By the time I got there, they were ready to begin the day, especially as it began with coffee delivery. I recounted my glorious exploits on Fremont Street as they got ready to head on over to the Palms for dim sum.
And ya know, that food is good…but our big group got seated in the main room instead of the tiny Fortunes section in the back, and out there, it seems as if they’ve never served dim sum before. Miles put it best:
“I don't know what our discount was at the Palms, but I don't care. I would rather have dim sum served by people across the street at Ping Pang Pong who give a shit about serving us food.”
Jonny Reno agreed, saying, “I wouldn’t be against trying Ping Pang Pong, because the food is damn good. The question will be, what’s the dim sum cost over there?”
G-$ continued the thought: “I would be okay with trying out Ping Pang Pong. Even though he made up that racist name for it, it sounds like the food is pretty good. The deal at the Palms is really good with the Club prices and the $50 coupon. If we stay at the Palms, we definitely need to get in that back room, even if we have to be in two groups. I was disappointed in the lack of dim sum this year.”
So even though we had two of those beautiful $50 Comp coupons from the POV, it was almost not worth it. And as Miles concluded, “I'd rather spend $8 more per person for good dim sum and forgo the $100 coupon.”
Out on the casino floor, G-$ and Miles had once again organized a birthday video poker tourney between Jonny Reno and me, with a few improvements on last year’s tourney. Teams would compete in two rounds, but instead of one team playing round 1 and the other team playing round 2, each team would have a group in each round, eliminating the potential slow play advantage in having an entire team go second. The new format was a hit.
My squad included Doug, Sergent, Mattt and Wilner, while Jonny countered with Jared, Hanley, Sims and Rob. I sent my top two players, Doug and Sergent, into the first round to square off against Hanley and Jared. Because Hanley busted out, my squad enjoyed a $40 lead heading into Round 2.
Jonny carried his team for half of the 15 minutes of the round, hitting an amazing straight flush (his first non-Royal SF) after Mattt had hit what looked a game-winning Quad. For the next few minutes, the teams alternated with some conservative slow play, each trying to let the other team play down their credits into a deficit and a loss.
It soon became obvious that Jonny’s straight flush and his team’s slow play would likely defeat us if we also continued with conservative play. So I called the game as any offensive-minded coach would.
“What should we do? What do you want, boss?” asked Mattt.
“Touchdowns! Let’s go for touchdowns! No more field goals!”
And a touchdown we got! Less than 2 minutes after we cranked our play speed back up, with Team Jonny sitting on its credit total, Mattt lined up 4 Aces (on our 8/5 Bonus machines) to take an insurmountable lead. Jonny got his troops back into action, but they would not hit another 4 OAK and didn’t close the gap create by Mattt’s brilliant hit. Team Gimbl went on to win its second straight Battle in the Desert by a margin of $60 or so.
We stayed put at those very 8/5 Bonus machines for the next few hours, with Jonny and Mattt both continuing their red-hot runs throughout the afternoon. I very slowly sunk, finally surrendering after a fairly modest $60 loss. With the multi strike and super times pay machines full, I decided to call it, hanging with Jonny and Sims to watch the end of the Seahawks game—a game we were lucky to win by the slimmest of parlay-busting margins.
11am dim sum + many beers + tequila shots = early dinner.
I’m going to say that dinner on Sunday night was a bust—partially because it was, and partially because any review of Twin Peaks must by law include the word “bust.” Jonny and I kept the location’s identity a secret until we arrived at the breastaurant, hoping to have a little fun with the guys. We achieved many goals, but a satisfying meal was not one of them. The portions were small, and the food was bland.
Jonny Reno agreed with that assessment: “I liked the concept and scenery, but thought the food was fair at best.” But G-$ disagreed: “I really liked the Twin Peaks. Aside from the obvious, it seemed to fit our needs perfectly: not that busy, good food, large table.”
Our servers varied from enthusiastic-and-hot to bored-and-hot, but luckily, the most enthusiastic was at the table when Miles foolishly claimed that he would drink more beer if only his 40oz frosty souvenir mug were taped to his hand. While they didn’t have any duct tape, they did have a big roll of scotch tape, and—presto!—Miles strolled up to the New York New York Captain Hook-style, with a brand-new appendage on the end of his left arm.
We ran a go route to the VPFree2-highlighted full-pay quarter machines at the NYNY, and although a few guys made a buttonhook right back downtown, those of us who stayed on the machines had a great time, highlighted by some extremely superior cocktail service. Miles poured his Coors Lights into his handy mug, having promised our server he’d keep the mug there until midnight. Any discomfort he felt was probably off-set by his machine-side massage, a luxury none of the rest of us splurged on.
My single twenty marched along happily for a couple hours, treading water on the 8/5 Bonus schedule but not rewarding me with a quad. Until of course it was time for us to head back downtown. Determined to hit a hand or play back down to my original buy-in, I lined up those beautiful Aces for a $107 profit on the machine, cashed out immediately, and jumped in a cab headed to the Downtown Grand. The fabulous Amanda was not working Sunday evening, but that night’s cocktailer was efficient in her own right, and in no time I was $60 down and a few drinks in.
Off to the Go Go Golden Gate, where a few stragglers were still having some fun. Playing a mixture of Pai Gow and blackjack, I managed to shred $100 before calling it a night. At least two dealers meowed and cleaned their cute little kitten faces for me. Aye.
Monday morning arrived, and by 8am I was in Miles and G-$’s room, coffees in hand and itching to check out and move on. Today, we’d play the 5th edition of our famous Chug ‘N’ Putt Gamblepalooza on the Cloud Nine over at Angel Park, and this year, we decided to simplify things by staying out at the Suncoast that evening.
Some packing, moving, craziness and breakfast later, I was all checked in and seated at my favorite video poker game, Multi Strike Super Times Pay. This is some good action. In about 20 minutes or so, I hit a couple hands to finish up $20 on the short session.
And then we crossed the street for CNPGP5! Our annual competition starts with a shot and finishes with a six-pack. In between, of course, are 12 par-3 holes of intense betting and mostly terrible but occasionally brilliant golf. This year, for the first time, the title was decided with a sudden death putt-off on the practice green, as Wilner and G-$ tied for low net. Wilner drained his first putt, G-$ didn’t match him, and our 2013 Champ was crowned.
I personally won $10 on the day, with a KP and team competition win helping offset a few disaster holes that torpedoed any chance I had at winning the individual crown.
Back across the street, I headed upstairs for a quick shower break—which made our move to Suncoast worth it all by itself—before stumbling back downstairs to enjoy the buffet dinner. While Miles is always underwhelmed by dinner buffets, I thought it tasty again this year, and will happily visit again.
After stuffing ourselves, we headed…
…up to the bowling alley?
Sure enough, we capped off CNPGP5 with some bowling. Miles donated a pair of $50 prizes to the individual winners (Doug on lane 1 and me on lane 2), and the “private school” kids of me, Rob and Hanley destroyed the “public school” kids of Miles, Sergent, Doug and Gavin. Looks like next year’s version of the CNPGP will include bowling!
A gallon of hand sanitizer later, we headed down to the roulette wheel to pay off a few bets. All year long, we make bets on lots of stupid things—who sang what song, the Pro Bowl, you know, lots of really stupid shit—with the caveat being, the winner has to bet his winnings on a longshot (usually a single number). Jonny Reno played the numbers for his winning Holmes Harbor golf group, and sure enough, hit $5 numbers twice in a row to win his 3-some a cool $100 each (after reinvesting some more cash and coming up short). Nice work Jonny!
Having come up empty on my own longshot bets, I decided to take a sure thing, so me and Miles trotted over to Megagbucks. We used the standard system: play as a team, splitting the jackpot, and if we double our money, cash and walk. Miles busted, but I saw 1 Megabucks symbol for a $200 hit and a $14.50 profit (after splittling with Miles).
See what I said? Sure thing.
With the clock now reaching late night hours, we decided to end the trip with a bit more video poker. The Suncoast’s nearly limitless inventory of great pay schedules led us to a little corridor just off the bar—and because of some absolutely terrible cocktail service, we bought a round at the bar and a half-rack at the nearby gift shop.
Eventually, a lackadaisical cocktailer wandered by. We ordered shots, tipped well, and eventually wore down her defenses to such a point that she visited us frequently, though reluctantly.
I upgraded to $1 8/5 Bonus, but after a quick $60 loss, downgraded to the quarter level. As the clock turned from late night to early morning, and as the Monday night cocktailer gave way to the Tuesday graveyard cocktailer—a much cheerier and speedier gal—we began to lose steam.
We lost Jonny, and then Doug, but then G-$, Miles and I decided to try some cards. On the way, Miles and I were derailed by our discovery of another video poker variant. This space-themed machine had a Bonus feature that made sense at the time, and a $20 profit caused my genius at chump games to continue unabated.
Having lost G-$ somewhere, we decided to call it. Miles and I said our good nights, and I closed the door to my room.
Ten seconds later, a knock.
“He’s not in the room. Come on.”
Shit. Glorious sleep had been oh-so-close.
Back on the casino floor, we found G-$ at the card table. But $60 later I was done with cards for the trip. Not wanting to bring down the mojo, I quietly checked out, leaving Miles and G-$ to keep trying.
In the morning, we packed things up, checked out, and decided to have a quick run at the Hard Rock on the way to the airport. Playing nickel 5-play, I made a quick $20, and decided, heck, now those golf clubs would be checked courtesy of the Hard Rock! Thanks Hard Rock!
And thanks for reading.
Our flight pulled away from the gate on-time and arrived in Las Vegas just ahead of schedule. We collected our bags and then proceeded over to the rental car arena to pick up our Payless rental car.
And now I know why you pay less.
The rental agreement took way too long as the agent tried to sell G-$ on a variety of upgrades and other garbage. And then they gave us the wrong set of keys! Another agreement and another half-hour later, we were on our way to check in at the 4 Queens.
For the last time.
The room was fine—but in order to use the word “fine,” you’ll have to take liberties. For instance, you’d have to be able to say the Plaza rooms were fine before the remodel. Or that the Las Vegas Club rooms were fine when you could still stay there. Or that the old Tangiers Tower rooms at the Sahara were fine. I’ll let Miles sum it up for me:
“Can we not stay at the 4 Queens ever again? My clothes and suitcase had a distinct orange odor for 2 days until I got everything washed. We never play there. I like the location, just not the smell or the warm temperature.”
So there ya go.
But we shrugged it off, and by the time we hit the video poker bar at the good ol’ Main Street Station, we were ready to rock ‘n’ roll. The rest of the gang was already up there, so we were now a full group of 13. I hammered away at some 9/6 JoB until I lost $60, then grabbed Miles, Rob, G-$ and Doug and headed over to the multi-play and Super Times Pay games in the corner. I broke even there (actually, +$1 with a 4 of-a-kind scratch ticket) while we guzzled beers acquired both from the cocktailer and from the gift shop (our cocktailer was not so fleet-of-foot).
In no time at all, it was time to smudge the glass elevator on the way up to Binion’s Ranch Steakhouse, where our table was set in the south end of the room. Our server was a great guy and our food was terrific—a big step up from last year, when a lot of guys—myself included—were borderline with our reviews. Jonny Reno and G-$ agreed:
- G-$: “My food was great. Please remind me next year to consider the lobster bisque.”
- Jonny Reno: “My cocktail was great. My food was really good. The night was fantastic.”
By the time our check came, with a hefty discount of nearly $300 courtesy of the LVA Coupon, my stomach hurt from the delicious food and laughter.
After a stop at the Million Dollar Photo, we were so ready to play cards that we stayed at Binion’s and played with the cowgirls. I won $40 of my video poker losses back at a 6/5 table with G-$ and a couple other guys. But we soon discovered that the bulk of the gang was already partying it up at the Go Go Golden Gate, so we cashed out, picked up the photos and headed that way ourselves.
(Probably should have made a quick detour to drop off those Million Dollar Photos in my hotel room. Heh. Whoopsie.)
I really don’t know how these things happen, but a short time later, I was playing Pai Gow with G-$ and Miles, and I was pretending to be a tiger. Which would have been fine, except the dealers insisted I was more kitty than tiger. So from time to time, I’d stand in my chair, claws exposed, to show them my ferocity. They would instead pretend to mew, or clean themselves with their itty-bitty paws. This would go on all weekend.
Naturally, casino security approached my chair a couple of times.
In addition to losing my dignity, I lost around $40 at the Pai Gow table, won a bit of it back at one blackjack table, but then left my last table down somewhere in the neighborhood of $100. (Numbers from the evening are imprecise because tigers, apparently, are not so good with the record-keeping.)
The Saturday Morning Hangover was a doozie, creeping up on me while we were in the Main Street Station champagne brunch buffet line, and cresting when I sat down with a hot omelet in front of me. I choked it down along with a token sip of champagne and as much water as I thought prudent, and then headed back to the 4 Queens to get my golf clubs. Without puking. Which was an accomplishment.
Golf on Saturday was brought to us by Angel Park—and what an experience we had. Staying downtown, we love the convenience of The Badlands and Angel Park, both of which are a quick 15- to 20-minute ride from our hotel. In 2010 and 2011, we played at the Badlands, but the staff there could have really given a shit whether we were there or not. So even though it cost us about $20 more to play Angel Park, we decided to splurge.
And the staff alone was worth it. From Scott the reservations guy to Greg the shuttle guy to the staff inside the pro shop, everyone really went out of their way to provide a great experience. In addition, we played a great round of golf, and although my 4-some of G-$, Jonny Reno, Miles and me managed a respectable +3, we got schooled by the even-par round shot by the 3-some of Sims, Jared and Hanley (-$10 each). The fact that Miles and I hit exactly 1 good shot in the first 6 holes, courtesy of the Friday night hangovers, may have had an impact.
And did I mention that shuttle? That’s right, for the low low price of nothing, Angel Park gave us a ride to and from the course! Naturally, we took care of our driver, but the $5 each of the 7 of us paid as a tip was far less than it would have cost to take cabs or a limo.
We hit the Chicago Brewing Co. at the 4 Queens for dinner that night—the “Football Matchup” Free Play Promo was too strong to ignore. Because of the layout of the place, we broke into several small tables, and our server was happy to break our tabs into smaller, sub-$50 checks to ensure we’d maximize the slot play dollars.
Golfing or not, everyone had been drinking all day long, so the pizza, salads and potato skins we devoured rated at least 4 stars. Would they rate that on a sober palate? Who gives a shit?
After dinner, most of us descended to the casino level to get that free play rolling. Jonny Reno and Doug stayed behind to watch the Sounders play the second leg of their MLS playoff match against hated rival Portland. (More on this later.)
Down in the casino, the lucky fellas who had paid the tabs upstairs filed into the slot club line and were warmly greeted with grins and free play, as well as $10 matchplays. A few extra matchplays were handed out as well, to those of us along for the ride.
Everyone destroyed it. I think maybe one guy may have ended his free play session down a few bucks, but from Rusty to Mattt to Sims to Miles, the refrain I heard over and over was, “Up for video poker, won my matchplay.” So yeah, the 4 Queens paid us to eat dinner there on Saturday night. Boo-yah!
For my part, I let G-$ pick up our tab, and sure enough, when all was said and done, he left the cashier cage ahead of the game. Having eaten for free, I exchanged my LVA POV free play coupon and came out $15 up, but lost the $10 blackjack matchplay coupon (scored at the slot club window) to finish up a mere $5.
Still, it was a fantastic promotion.
Shin-guards-deep in soccer, and with a dangerous case of drunken anger (heretofore known as “dranger”) rising, Jonny Reno and Doug skipped our subsequent trip down to the Downtown Grand.
Too bad for them, because we had a heckuva time!
As with so many things downtown, it took us a while to join the slot club ($5 in free play for each of us), and it took us a while to find a machine (quarter pay schedules were, in fact, pretty dismal), and it took us a while to obtain the all-important first cocktail. But once Amanda from Rhode Island got to know us she was quick on the draw with the beers and the shots.
We hammered away at the three machines, listening intently to the periodic announcements made for winners of free play. We didn’t hear our names called. But presently, a slot hostess and a gal with a microphone walked towards us. G-$ was the only one of us who saw them approach.
“Did somebody win something?”
“Yeah…you!” the gal replied.
Miles and I pulled our heads out of our machines and looked around, a bit confused by a non-cocktail-related interruption. Just in time to see the slot hostess and microphone gal had G-$ a certificate for $100 cash!
After verifying that G-$ was the same G-$ who had a slot card in the machine, microphone gal prepared to make the announcement to the rest of the casino. Luckily for her, Wilner arrived just in time to lean in close and help her announce that G-$ won the award for the smallest penis in the casino. Microphone gal leaned away.
The rest of the gang arrived by then, Jonny Reno still seething about the Sounders early exit from the playoffs. After hearing more about his in-game shenanigans, we determined that he scored a 4.8 on the Drangrometer due mostly to loudly swearing and cursing while 10 feet away from a wedding reception. Amanda brought us a farewell round of shots, and we departed, about half of the guys heading back towards the Go Go Golden Gate and the other half of us down to the El Cortez for a visit.
I visited the slot club to cash my $10 in Free Play coupon from the POV. By the time I found an eligible machine, tried to play, returned to the slot club, got the free play actually loaded on the card this time, returned to the machine, and lost the $10, my friends were parked on opposite sides of the casino—Jonny and Rob at the video poker bar, Miles and G-$ getting reamed at the blackjack table. They were more than ready to leave and return to the friendly confines, so we ditched Drangry Jonny and headed back to the Go Go Golden Gate.
Our pals, of course, were enjoying their environs. At the bar, Rusty was nursing an absurdly large frozen beverage in a curvaceous souvenir cup, kibitzing with Hanley and Jared. My dealer later told me that Rusty was creeping her out. Nice.
The good tables were jammed, so we did the only sensible thing—sat down to have some Super Fun. Our dealer, one of the delightful gals from the previous evening, greeted me with a “mew” and showed her tiny claws. I shook my head, once again reliving my foolishness.
Ya know, in the short run, even the chumpiest games can be profitable.
With some really terrific luck on most of my many $20 bets, I left the table up $213 for a couple-hour session. Just a few of those $20 bets resulted in some Aces to split, one of which I got to double; a tasty pair split with a 3-card double; and finally, late in the evening, I got another $20 double out there. My 11 was awarded with a 4 or a 5, with our dealer showing a 7. She offered me the chance to surrender and escape the mess, reminding me that just 15 minutes earlier, she had advised Miles (correctly) to do the same thing when his double card went south on him.
She leaned in close to me at 3rd base. “Just wave it off, and I’ll give you half your money back.”
I glanced at her and winked. “We got this.”
“Look,” she said again. “You need to surrender this.”
I winked again.
She sighed, telling me with a look that she was already sorry for the hurt she was about to put on my $20 double. Then she flipped a beautiful 9 to go with that 7, and busted it with a face. I twinkled my eyes, collected my chips, and slid a tip out to the top of my betting circle.
But, up over $200, I soon put the brakes on, telling the table it was time to head next door to use up some food comps and get some soast. Wilner was all over it. G-$ wanted to keep going, as he was also ahead, but Miles was ready to call it—poor Miles was the single schumuck doing poorly at our hot table.
Wilner ordered a shake and two breakfasts because he couldn’t decide on pancakes or steak ‘n’ eggs. I went with some delightful hash ‘n’ eggs and helped G-$ finish his giant stack. Our tab, after two comps, was still way too high. Eh.
Back on Fremont Street, the party was winding down, so most fellas took a right and shuffled off to bed. Miles and I weren’t done, though, and took a left, speeding up to the bar at the Main Street Station to hit a late-night (or early-morning?) Royal.
$20 later, there were no Royals, so we called it.
When I arrived back to my room, I discovered that Hurricane Jonny had touched down. The light and fan were blasting away in the bathroom, the TV was blaring, the A/C was jacked to its coolest setting, and a mostly-clothed Jonny Reno lay on top of his bed, snoring loudly amidst a pile of his crap, looking as if he and our room had been tossed. I shut down the room, took my vitamins, and closed my eyes, sleeping the sleep of a man who had enjoyed a free day in Las Vegas.
I felt pretty good Sunday morning, so good in fact that I took a quick shower and left Jonny and his mound of shit to some extra sleep. I wandered south down Fremont Street, enjoying a conference call home to the girls. After that, I bought a couple souvenirs for them.
Hanging up, I decided it was still too early for a coffee delivery. Then it hit me—it was time for a POV coupon run up Fremont Street!
And it was a nearly perfect run too, a matchplay loss at the LVC the only blemish on the morning:
- Binion’s: Turned $10 in free play into $15 cash
- LVC: Turned $5 in free play into $10 cash, but lost the $5 matchplay
- Plaza: Turned $5 in free play into $5 in cash, and hit the $10 matchplay for a $25 profit
- Total: $45 in cash just for walking into 3 casinos!
Giddy with my early-morning, small-stakes success, I strolled with spring in my step over to Starbucks to collect the usuals: a grande drip for G-$, a quad grande nonfat vanilla latte for Miles and a tall nonfat latte for me.
I texted the room next door to say I was on my way, waking G-$ and Miles. By the time I got there, they were ready to begin the day, especially as it began with coffee delivery. I recounted my glorious exploits on Fremont Street as they got ready to head on over to the Palms for dim sum.
And ya know, that food is good…but our big group got seated in the main room instead of the tiny Fortunes section in the back, and out there, it seems as if they’ve never served dim sum before. Miles put it best:
“I don't know what our discount was at the Palms, but I don't care. I would rather have dim sum served by people across the street at Ping Pang Pong who give a shit about serving us food.”
Jonny Reno agreed, saying, “I wouldn’t be against trying Ping Pang Pong, because the food is damn good. The question will be, what’s the dim sum cost over there?”
G-$ continued the thought: “I would be okay with trying out Ping Pang Pong. Even though he made up that racist name for it, it sounds like the food is pretty good. The deal at the Palms is really good with the Club prices and the $50 coupon. If we stay at the Palms, we definitely need to get in that back room, even if we have to be in two groups. I was disappointed in the lack of dim sum this year.”
So even though we had two of those beautiful $50 Comp coupons from the POV, it was almost not worth it. And as Miles concluded, “I'd rather spend $8 more per person for good dim sum and forgo the $100 coupon.”
Out on the casino floor, G-$ and Miles had once again organized a birthday video poker tourney between Jonny Reno and me, with a few improvements on last year’s tourney. Teams would compete in two rounds, but instead of one team playing round 1 and the other team playing round 2, each team would have a group in each round, eliminating the potential slow play advantage in having an entire team go second. The new format was a hit.
My squad included Doug, Sergent, Mattt and Wilner, while Jonny countered with Jared, Hanley, Sims and Rob. I sent my top two players, Doug and Sergent, into the first round to square off against Hanley and Jared. Because Hanley busted out, my squad enjoyed a $40 lead heading into Round 2.
Jonny carried his team for half of the 15 minutes of the round, hitting an amazing straight flush (his first non-Royal SF) after Mattt had hit what looked a game-winning Quad. For the next few minutes, the teams alternated with some conservative slow play, each trying to let the other team play down their credits into a deficit and a loss.
It soon became obvious that Jonny’s straight flush and his team’s slow play would likely defeat us if we also continued with conservative play. So I called the game as any offensive-minded coach would.
“What should we do? What do you want, boss?” asked Mattt.
“Touchdowns! Let’s go for touchdowns! No more field goals!”
And a touchdown we got! Less than 2 minutes after we cranked our play speed back up, with Team Jonny sitting on its credit total, Mattt lined up 4 Aces (on our 8/5 Bonus machines) to take an insurmountable lead. Jonny got his troops back into action, but they would not hit another 4 OAK and didn’t close the gap create by Mattt’s brilliant hit. Team Gimbl went on to win its second straight Battle in the Desert by a margin of $60 or so.
We stayed put at those very 8/5 Bonus machines for the next few hours, with Jonny and Mattt both continuing their red-hot runs throughout the afternoon. I very slowly sunk, finally surrendering after a fairly modest $60 loss. With the multi strike and super times pay machines full, I decided to call it, hanging with Jonny and Sims to watch the end of the Seahawks game—a game we were lucky to win by the slimmest of parlay-busting margins.
11am dim sum + many beers + tequila shots = early dinner.
I’m going to say that dinner on Sunday night was a bust—partially because it was, and partially because any review of Twin Peaks must by law include the word “bust.” Jonny and I kept the location’s identity a secret until we arrived at the breastaurant, hoping to have a little fun with the guys. We achieved many goals, but a satisfying meal was not one of them. The portions were small, and the food was bland.
Jonny Reno agreed with that assessment: “I liked the concept and scenery, but thought the food was fair at best.” But G-$ disagreed: “I really liked the Twin Peaks. Aside from the obvious, it seemed to fit our needs perfectly: not that busy, good food, large table.”
Our servers varied from enthusiastic-and-hot to bored-and-hot, but luckily, the most enthusiastic was at the table when Miles foolishly claimed that he would drink more beer if only his 40oz frosty souvenir mug were taped to his hand. While they didn’t have any duct tape, they did have a big roll of scotch tape, and—presto!—Miles strolled up to the New York New York Captain Hook-style, with a brand-new appendage on the end of his left arm.
We ran a go route to the VPFree2-highlighted full-pay quarter machines at the NYNY, and although a few guys made a buttonhook right back downtown, those of us who stayed on the machines had a great time, highlighted by some extremely superior cocktail service. Miles poured his Coors Lights into his handy mug, having promised our server he’d keep the mug there until midnight. Any discomfort he felt was probably off-set by his machine-side massage, a luxury none of the rest of us splurged on.
My single twenty marched along happily for a couple hours, treading water on the 8/5 Bonus schedule but not rewarding me with a quad. Until of course it was time for us to head back downtown. Determined to hit a hand or play back down to my original buy-in, I lined up those beautiful Aces for a $107 profit on the machine, cashed out immediately, and jumped in a cab headed to the Downtown Grand. The fabulous Amanda was not working Sunday evening, but that night’s cocktailer was efficient in her own right, and in no time I was $60 down and a few drinks in.
Off to the Go Go Golden Gate, where a few stragglers were still having some fun. Playing a mixture of Pai Gow and blackjack, I managed to shred $100 before calling it a night. At least two dealers meowed and cleaned their cute little kitten faces for me. Aye.
Monday morning arrived, and by 8am I was in Miles and G-$’s room, coffees in hand and itching to check out and move on. Today, we’d play the 5th edition of our famous Chug ‘N’ Putt Gamblepalooza on the Cloud Nine over at Angel Park, and this year, we decided to simplify things by staying out at the Suncoast that evening.
Some packing, moving, craziness and breakfast later, I was all checked in and seated at my favorite video poker game, Multi Strike Super Times Pay. This is some good action. In about 20 minutes or so, I hit a couple hands to finish up $20 on the short session.
And then we crossed the street for CNPGP5! Our annual competition starts with a shot and finishes with a six-pack. In between, of course, are 12 par-3 holes of intense betting and mostly terrible but occasionally brilliant golf. This year, for the first time, the title was decided with a sudden death putt-off on the practice green, as Wilner and G-$ tied for low net. Wilner drained his first putt, G-$ didn’t match him, and our 2013 Champ was crowned.
I personally won $10 on the day, with a KP and team competition win helping offset a few disaster holes that torpedoed any chance I had at winning the individual crown.
Back across the street, I headed upstairs for a quick shower break—which made our move to Suncoast worth it all by itself—before stumbling back downstairs to enjoy the buffet dinner. While Miles is always underwhelmed by dinner buffets, I thought it tasty again this year, and will happily visit again.
After stuffing ourselves, we headed…
…up to the bowling alley?
Sure enough, we capped off CNPGP5 with some bowling. Miles donated a pair of $50 prizes to the individual winners (Doug on lane 1 and me on lane 2), and the “private school” kids of me, Rob and Hanley destroyed the “public school” kids of Miles, Sergent, Doug and Gavin. Looks like next year’s version of the CNPGP will include bowling!
A gallon of hand sanitizer later, we headed down to the roulette wheel to pay off a few bets. All year long, we make bets on lots of stupid things—who sang what song, the Pro Bowl, you know, lots of really stupid shit—with the caveat being, the winner has to bet his winnings on a longshot (usually a single number). Jonny Reno played the numbers for his winning Holmes Harbor golf group, and sure enough, hit $5 numbers twice in a row to win his 3-some a cool $100 each (after reinvesting some more cash and coming up short). Nice work Jonny!
Having come up empty on my own longshot bets, I decided to take a sure thing, so me and Miles trotted over to Megagbucks. We used the standard system: play as a team, splitting the jackpot, and if we double our money, cash and walk. Miles busted, but I saw 1 Megabucks symbol for a $200 hit and a $14.50 profit (after splittling with Miles).
See what I said? Sure thing.
With the clock now reaching late night hours, we decided to end the trip with a bit more video poker. The Suncoast’s nearly limitless inventory of great pay schedules led us to a little corridor just off the bar—and because of some absolutely terrible cocktail service, we bought a round at the bar and a half-rack at the nearby gift shop.
Eventually, a lackadaisical cocktailer wandered by. We ordered shots, tipped well, and eventually wore down her defenses to such a point that she visited us frequently, though reluctantly.
I upgraded to $1 8/5 Bonus, but after a quick $60 loss, downgraded to the quarter level. As the clock turned from late night to early morning, and as the Monday night cocktailer gave way to the Tuesday graveyard cocktailer—a much cheerier and speedier gal—we began to lose steam.
We lost Jonny, and then Doug, but then G-$, Miles and I decided to try some cards. On the way, Miles and I were derailed by our discovery of another video poker variant. This space-themed machine had a Bonus feature that made sense at the time, and a $20 profit caused my genius at chump games to continue unabated.
Having lost G-$ somewhere, we decided to call it. Miles and I said our good nights, and I closed the door to my room.
Ten seconds later, a knock.
“He’s not in the room. Come on.”
Shit. Glorious sleep had been oh-so-close.
Back on the casino floor, we found G-$ at the card table. But $60 later I was done with cards for the trip. Not wanting to bring down the mojo, I quietly checked out, leaving Miles and G-$ to keep trying.
In the morning, we packed things up, checked out, and decided to have a quick run at the Hard Rock on the way to the airport. Playing nickel 5-play, I made a quick $20, and decided, heck, now those golf clubs would be checked courtesy of the Hard Rock! Thanks Hard Rock!
And thanks for reading.
