I didn’t post a trip report last year. Why not? Hard to say.
It was a great trip. We did a lot of our old familiar things, and had a lot of our old, familiar fun. But I got home after that trip underwhelmed by our collective experience. It was, if this is possible, awesomely ordinary. And for me, part of the reason to write a trip report is to re-live (from my desk at work) the highest highs (and occasionally lowest lows) that only a weekend in Vegas can deliver. Last year’s trip, then, was the greatest experience I didn’t bother to recap.
This year, baby, was a different story!
We began our journey, as we begin so many of our journeys, piled into Miles’ truck. Watching the MasterPark valet’s face as we pile out of that thing, like so many clowns exploding out of a VW bug, always sets us off in good humor. Our flight was on time, G-$ procured our rental car, and our check-in was swell.
And then we started to run. After all, we had a tailgate party to throw!
The Washington Huskies would help us kick off this trip with a nationally-televised game in Berkeley, and we would watch it Friday night in a suite at the Plaza, complete with a bathtub full of beer and ice and a bunch of pizzas! If that sounds rather juvenile--that was the target.
The rental car wheels were spinning fast and furious as we collected beer,
(Side note on the beer: The rental car practically paid for itself when you consider: (A) we saved ourselves a cab ride from the airport; (B) The 5 36-packs of Coors Light we purchased for the tailgate ran us $15 apiece or something preposterously cheap like that at the grocery store, instead of the $11 or $13 per half-rack we’d have paid at the ABC store on Fremont St; and (C) We kept the car only one day and dropped it at the Nugget, ensuring we had no extra “drop-off-the-car” trip to the airport.)
chips, and pizza while Mattt, our suite host, checked in and filled the tub with ice. By 3:30, the tub was packed full of ice-cold suds and our tailgate party had started, with all 15 Husky fans (who had put money on the money line, which stood at +160) ready to watch the Dawgs rip Cal.
G-$ summed up our suite experience perfunctorily: “The suite was fantastic. I even thought the running around beforehand was kind of fun. If we ever get the chance to do this again, let’s do it. It’s pretty much everything we wanted: all the guys together, no competing fans or other games on the TV, beer, food, and then after the game we spilled out into the casinos.”
You’d’ve thunk the players were drinking as much as we were, because this sloppy game featured turnovers on 4 straight possessions. But when we did spill out into the Plaza casino, every one of us took a hard left to the sports book desk to collect on that lovely Husky money line (yours truly collected $260 for a tidy profit of $160). After that, we took our winnings across the street to the Go Go Golden Gate, to enjoy the sights and sounds of our home away from home. The blackjack, most of which had gone to 6/5 last year, was paying 3/2 this year, so that was a drastic improvement.
The result was pretty standard: a long, lazy $100 loss. I should note that one of the dealer/dancers recognized me from previous years. In a weird homage, she repeatedly included in her dance moves a pantomime of punching, choking and kicking my ass. I reciprocated. Patrons at my table were confused. This would continue all weekend.
After the long blackjack session, I inexplicably and indefensibly donated a $20 to the GGGG’s lousy video poker inventory. I looked around for the fellas, then decided maybe it was time for a short nap. Sometime later, I found myself in the breakfast buffet line at the Main Street. Armed with our 2-for-1 coupons and an intense desire to drink bad champagne, we 8 golfers and some other fellas enjoyed “movie star” omelets made by our pal Manny. After Miles finished his soft serve sundae, the Rock Star Party Bus picked us up and away we went, on a leisurely ride out to Coyote Springs Golf Course.
Thanks to a Facebook connection between my wife and a long, lost gradeschool chum, the 8 of us were treated to the locals rate of $67 and played as good a course as perhaps I’ve ever played. Maybe it wasn’t quite as pristine as the TPC at Summerlin, or as iconic as the Desert Inn Golf Course, but it was an absolutely fabulous course, in great shape, with tons of character. What a day. It certainly helped that we were in town about 2 weeks earlier than usual, because the weather was awesome!
In fact, there were so many upsides that a nice guy like me can’t mention any downsides. So I’ll let those pricks Jonny Reno and G-$ mention them for me.
From Jonny Reno: “I liked the course. Beautiful and well maintained. I think the minuses for most will be not necessarily the ride out there, but the fact that we saw the cocktailer only twice in 18 holes and there isn’t somewhere to grab a bite at the turn.”
G-$ had similar thoughts: “The course was great. The price was amazing. Lack of hot dogs (or other snacks besides pre-made sandwiches) was disappointing. I didn’t really mind the drive that much. If we can get a similar deal next year, I don’t think we can do better.”
The ride home seemed shorter than the ride out, but we arrived back to the Main Street with less than an hour before a small, group-within-the-group Happy Hour was supposed to begin up at Binion’s Steakhouse. G-$ and I got ready in short order, and left Jonny Reno and Miles behind. But instead of getting right into the elevators, we stopped at some video poker machines for a quick hit of Double Double Bonus.
It was a good thing we did, because after about 10 minutes or so, I lined up the Aces (no kicker)! Can you say, “Free Dinner!”? Thought ya could.
The girls--Jonny Reno and Miles--arrived shortly thereafter, ensuring I wouldn’t pour “Free Dinner” back into that machine (up $160), and we headed upstairs for a quiet drink before the rest of the gang arrived. But somehow they sensed we “Four Founders” of the trip were trying to have a quiet moment, and most of them arrived a few minutes before our stated reservation. Bastards.
Dinner was 4 stars out of 5. Great meal, great table, great service. Specifically, my iceberg wedge salad was once again awesome. In a slight complaint, I’ll say that my filet was not as good as last year. But all in all, a terrific experience, and with the amazing 25% off coupon from the POV, our bill came down by almost 200 bucks! If we get that LVA coupon again next year, I think we pretty much have to go again next year, because we’re not going to get as good an all-in experience (venue, service + food) for $60 per person. Reviews from the fellas:
Jonny Reno: “My steak was better than last year, but I switched cuts. I don’t think Rob enjoyed his food all that much. There was a sign that we saw on Monday for the Rosewood Grill(e) at the Cal. $39 (or less, I can’t recall the exact price) for a 3 course Porterhouse special. That, or the Flame at the Bling are likely the only other viable options for a discounted offering.”
G-$: “I think with the coupon it is still the place. Without the coupon, it still seems like a good deal, but I would want to consider a different place. I didn’t like my steak as much this year. But, I think the atmosphere is great for us and the service is very good.”
After a leisurely and mostly delicious dinner, we headed down Fremont to The Doug (just “The D” to those of you who don’t have a Doug) to check out the second floor. Crowded, smoky, and the Sigma Derby machine had no available seats. Crap. Some fellas hit the tables while a few of us played some video poker. I tried my luck at the 8/5 Bonus Bartop, lining up nothing and leaving after 2 $21 Coors Lights. Back up at the GGGG, I lost another hundy. Crap.
The cure for Sunday’s hangover was Dim Sum up at Fortunes at the Palms. What a choice! We used the POV $50 comp and got the slot member discounts, so for $11 each, my table of 7 enjoyed all the terrific Dim Sum we could handle.
An afternoon of video poker and (somewhat slower this year) cocktail service awaited us in the casino, but Miles and G-$ had a surprise to kick it off: A Birthday Video Poker Tournament for me and Jonny Reno!
We divided the gang into two teams, selected some nickel multi-hand games, laid out a few rules, and we were off! Jonny’s team would prove to be pretty easy to beat--only a couple of lucky 4s of a kind for them, hit while we mercilessly heckled them. My team had much better luck, and on the final hand, with really nothing at stake, I found a straight flush to put the icing on the cake (+$26.50). Jonny Reno took that opportunity to take a page from Mike Leach’s book and call out his team of “rotting corpses” right in the center of the casino. Truly a special post-game speech from Jonny.
The rest of the Palms video poker was less successful: I lost $120 in a combination of regular pokies and Multi-Strike. But we did manage to have several beers and a few shots, so when it was time to stumble on down the road to dinner, we did so admirably.
We cabbed over to the Strip to Gilley’s, and here’s a surprise: I thought the food was freaking awesome. Jonny Reno and G-$ reported that their brisket was overdone, and I wish our server had been a hot chick, but it was still awesome. We probably could have eaten in the bar with the hotties, but we would’ve been at several small tables instead of our 1 big table. I think the 1 table was worth not having a hottie…right?
The centerpiece of Sunday’s evening meal was the selection of teams for Chug ‘N’ Putt Gamblepalooza 4, our annual golf and gambling extravaganza which would take place the next day. Our non-golfers, Mattt and Sergent, selected their teams at the table, grade-school style, with Sergent choosing first.
After much banter, laughter and a few tears from those last chosen, we had our teams: Team Mattt--consisting of tourney favorite Craig, plus me, Doug, Miles, Hanley and Jase--would square off against Team Sergent, with 2-time champ Rob and 2011 champ G-$ joined by Jonny Reno and event rookies Sims, Wilner and Byers. After some final heckling, we spilled into the casino.
And…um…the TI casino was a friggin library. And yeah, I was sloshed, but I think I got shush-ed at one point. If I hadn’t quit the table up $104, I’d have been really pissed! Talk about rotting corpses--they’ve got nothing on the dealers and patrons at the TI. Grow a personality people!
By the time I had won that hundred smackers, it was waaaaaay past time to get the hell out of the TI. Most of the fellas were already back at the GGGG, so we collected Miles and G-$ from another table, and away we went.
Back at the GGGG, I let G-$ talk me into rolling some bones. The only thing I like less than flushing $80 down the toilet is watching and listening to the adjoining craps table go crazy as red hot dice show point after point. Whoops. Instead of losing the whole hundred, I joined Craig, Archie, Hanley and a few other fellas for more blackjack. That $20 lasted for another 4 hours before I was busted to the felt. It was a solid run: at one point, I had almost got back to even, but couldn’t quite get there.
So I went and bugged Miles and G-$. But G-$ was rolling fat in a hot shoe, and Miles, ever the superstitious one, stayed off the table until the ride seemed over. But then they sat for another shuffle, so I shuffled down the street to the MSS to play some video poker. Instead of our usual bartop game, I played the adjacent $1 8/5 Bonus game. 4 Kings later, I had a scratch ticket and had wiped out the craps and cards losses with a $160 profit! Eager to not put that coin back into the machine, I wandered back up the street to find Miles and G-$. They were finally stumbling back to the Main St, so I turned around and we played some of that swell bartop. I played $20 down to its doom before running out of gas on the night (which was now morning).
In retrospect, it seems like I shoulda been a shitload more hungover as we walked down Fremont St to grab breakfast (and the LVA-recommended bloody marys) at Hennessey’s. But I wasn’t too bad off, and the vitamins and minerals in the aforementioned (and super-tasty) drink put the zing back into my step. The breakfast was nothing special--cold eggs and powdered hollandaise for me, similar crap for the rest of the table.
And then it was off to the course for CNPGP4. We arrived more than 30 minutes before our scheduled tee-off, which would have been perfect, except for the fact that we’re so fucking stupid. First off, while those of us with clubs had already taken care of stashing our beer away, most of the rest of the fools were scrambling to hide, sequester and otherwise smuggle their beer onto the course. Normally a control freak about helping everyone handle this sort of thing, this year I decided on a more Darwinian approach: I filled my bag with enough beer for me and Rob to play within the CNPGP rules, and took off for the clubhouse.
It worked out fine, as the bag jockeys were not out front hustling, the clubhouse attendants couldn’t give a crap, and the starter waved us past with barely a look.
We arrived at the first tee and proceeded to line up for the pre-tourney photo, when it dawned on us: where the fuck were Craig and Byers? Oh, hitting practice balls, of course.
Yeah, I get it. You pros like to limber up and all that happy crappy. But seriously, who needs to warm up for an event in which the rules stipulate we have a pre-first-hole shot and that you must finish a beer every other hole--oh, and that you have to shotgun a beer for your first 3-putt? Does this sound like a serious event to you?
Oh, well. We collected the serious golfers, had our photo and our shot, and away we went.
I played fantastic, even though I did have to shotgun a beer on the 3rd hole, ending my chances at a remarkable repeat of last year’s no-shotgun. My favorite moment: draining a tricky little putt on the last hole to tie Rob and save my team captain a $5 side bet.
This was definitely the best CNPGP ever. The team captain concept was a winner and because our non-golfers were with us, we had the flexibility to go somewhere immediately afterwards, saving us a trip back downtown (where, let’s face it, we would have stayed) and allowed us to experience a new place.
After that round of golf, we hit the Suncoast for buffet dinner and some gambling in a new joint. What a swell place! Buffet was solid, table games and VP options were terrific. Cocktail service was easily as fast as I’ve ever had. And the drink specials (specifically $2 shots) during the game were also awesome--in fact, between the lightening-fast cocktailer and the $2 shots, it’s no wonder Miles and I looked to our right and saw G-$ trying to fight off a coma. Poor bastard. I’ve hit the Monday Night Wall before--it sucks.
In the man’s own words: “I loved this place. Even with the four shots and the ensuing stroke. I really liked the buffet, even without all you can drink beer. The gambling was good. It was nice to be able to walk in and immediately sit down together at a table.” Good joint. We’ll be back.
Of course, winning always helps--and while whining about being hungry, I won $40 at the blackjack table before dinner. And then while whining about being too full, I won another $50 playing some more $1 8/5 Bonus poker, all the while enjoying that fantastic cocktail service.
At some point, it because obvious that we could continue trying to fix G-$’s coma with more shots--and end up giving him mouth-to-mouth--or we could get him home to bed. We opted to take him home. As we reached the Main Street lobby and separated from the main group, I promised to come back downstairs.
I meant it. I really did.
But as I got into my room, I looked at the clock, and realized my flight would leave in 6 hours. “Hmm,” I thought to myself, “Why don’t I help myself out and pack these golf clubs before I go back downstairs. That sure will help in the morning.”
So I packed the clubs. Then I sat on the bed.
You know the rest. The good news is, my gambling winnings--a remarkable +$150 for the entire trip--stayed in my pocket. The bad news is that my friends think I was once again lying to them about coming back downstairs. It will make escaping that much tougher next year.
But I’ll find a way. I always do.
It was a great trip. We did a lot of our old familiar things, and had a lot of our old, familiar fun. But I got home after that trip underwhelmed by our collective experience. It was, if this is possible, awesomely ordinary. And for me, part of the reason to write a trip report is to re-live (from my desk at work) the highest highs (and occasionally lowest lows) that only a weekend in Vegas can deliver. Last year’s trip, then, was the greatest experience I didn’t bother to recap.
This year, baby, was a different story!
We began our journey, as we begin so many of our journeys, piled into Miles’ truck. Watching the MasterPark valet’s face as we pile out of that thing, like so many clowns exploding out of a VW bug, always sets us off in good humor. Our flight was on time, G-$ procured our rental car, and our check-in was swell.
And then we started to run. After all, we had a tailgate party to throw!
The Washington Huskies would help us kick off this trip with a nationally-televised game in Berkeley, and we would watch it Friday night in a suite at the Plaza, complete with a bathtub full of beer and ice and a bunch of pizzas! If that sounds rather juvenile--that was the target.
The rental car wheels were spinning fast and furious as we collected beer,
(Side note on the beer: The rental car practically paid for itself when you consider: (A) we saved ourselves a cab ride from the airport; (B) The 5 36-packs of Coors Light we purchased for the tailgate ran us $15 apiece or something preposterously cheap like that at the grocery store, instead of the $11 or $13 per half-rack we’d have paid at the ABC store on Fremont St; and (C) We kept the car only one day and dropped it at the Nugget, ensuring we had no extra “drop-off-the-car” trip to the airport.)
chips, and pizza while Mattt, our suite host, checked in and filled the tub with ice. By 3:30, the tub was packed full of ice-cold suds and our tailgate party had started, with all 15 Husky fans (who had put money on the money line, which stood at +160) ready to watch the Dawgs rip Cal.
G-$ summed up our suite experience perfunctorily: “The suite was fantastic. I even thought the running around beforehand was kind of fun. If we ever get the chance to do this again, let’s do it. It’s pretty much everything we wanted: all the guys together, no competing fans or other games on the TV, beer, food, and then after the game we spilled out into the casinos.”
You’d’ve thunk the players were drinking as much as we were, because this sloppy game featured turnovers on 4 straight possessions. But when we did spill out into the Plaza casino, every one of us took a hard left to the sports book desk to collect on that lovely Husky money line (yours truly collected $260 for a tidy profit of $160). After that, we took our winnings across the street to the Go Go Golden Gate, to enjoy the sights and sounds of our home away from home. The blackjack, most of which had gone to 6/5 last year, was paying 3/2 this year, so that was a drastic improvement.
The result was pretty standard: a long, lazy $100 loss. I should note that one of the dealer/dancers recognized me from previous years. In a weird homage, she repeatedly included in her dance moves a pantomime of punching, choking and kicking my ass. I reciprocated. Patrons at my table were confused. This would continue all weekend.
After the long blackjack session, I inexplicably and indefensibly donated a $20 to the GGGG’s lousy video poker inventory. I looked around for the fellas, then decided maybe it was time for a short nap. Sometime later, I found myself in the breakfast buffet line at the Main Street. Armed with our 2-for-1 coupons and an intense desire to drink bad champagne, we 8 golfers and some other fellas enjoyed “movie star” omelets made by our pal Manny. After Miles finished his soft serve sundae, the Rock Star Party Bus picked us up and away we went, on a leisurely ride out to Coyote Springs Golf Course.
Thanks to a Facebook connection between my wife and a long, lost gradeschool chum, the 8 of us were treated to the locals rate of $67 and played as good a course as perhaps I’ve ever played. Maybe it wasn’t quite as pristine as the TPC at Summerlin, or as iconic as the Desert Inn Golf Course, but it was an absolutely fabulous course, in great shape, with tons of character. What a day. It certainly helped that we were in town about 2 weeks earlier than usual, because the weather was awesome!
In fact, there were so many upsides that a nice guy like me can’t mention any downsides. So I’ll let those pricks Jonny Reno and G-$ mention them for me.
From Jonny Reno: “I liked the course. Beautiful and well maintained. I think the minuses for most will be not necessarily the ride out there, but the fact that we saw the cocktailer only twice in 18 holes and there isn’t somewhere to grab a bite at the turn.”
G-$ had similar thoughts: “The course was great. The price was amazing. Lack of hot dogs (or other snacks besides pre-made sandwiches) was disappointing. I didn’t really mind the drive that much. If we can get a similar deal next year, I don’t think we can do better.”
The ride home seemed shorter than the ride out, but we arrived back to the Main Street with less than an hour before a small, group-within-the-group Happy Hour was supposed to begin up at Binion’s Steakhouse. G-$ and I got ready in short order, and left Jonny Reno and Miles behind. But instead of getting right into the elevators, we stopped at some video poker machines for a quick hit of Double Double Bonus.
It was a good thing we did, because after about 10 minutes or so, I lined up the Aces (no kicker)! Can you say, “Free Dinner!”? Thought ya could.
The girls--Jonny Reno and Miles--arrived shortly thereafter, ensuring I wouldn’t pour “Free Dinner” back into that machine (up $160), and we headed upstairs for a quiet drink before the rest of the gang arrived. But somehow they sensed we “Four Founders” of the trip were trying to have a quiet moment, and most of them arrived a few minutes before our stated reservation. Bastards.
Dinner was 4 stars out of 5. Great meal, great table, great service. Specifically, my iceberg wedge salad was once again awesome. In a slight complaint, I’ll say that my filet was not as good as last year. But all in all, a terrific experience, and with the amazing 25% off coupon from the POV, our bill came down by almost 200 bucks! If we get that LVA coupon again next year, I think we pretty much have to go again next year, because we’re not going to get as good an all-in experience (venue, service + food) for $60 per person. Reviews from the fellas:
Jonny Reno: “My steak was better than last year, but I switched cuts. I don’t think Rob enjoyed his food all that much. There was a sign that we saw on Monday for the Rosewood Grill(e) at the Cal. $39 (or less, I can’t recall the exact price) for a 3 course Porterhouse special. That, or the Flame at the Bling are likely the only other viable options for a discounted offering.”
G-$: “I think with the coupon it is still the place. Without the coupon, it still seems like a good deal, but I would want to consider a different place. I didn’t like my steak as much this year. But, I think the atmosphere is great for us and the service is very good.”
After a leisurely and mostly delicious dinner, we headed down Fremont to The Doug (just “The D” to those of you who don’t have a Doug) to check out the second floor. Crowded, smoky, and the Sigma Derby machine had no available seats. Crap. Some fellas hit the tables while a few of us played some video poker. I tried my luck at the 8/5 Bonus Bartop, lining up nothing and leaving after 2 $21 Coors Lights. Back up at the GGGG, I lost another hundy. Crap.
The cure for Sunday’s hangover was Dim Sum up at Fortunes at the Palms. What a choice! We used the POV $50 comp and got the slot member discounts, so for $11 each, my table of 7 enjoyed all the terrific Dim Sum we could handle.
An afternoon of video poker and (somewhat slower this year) cocktail service awaited us in the casino, but Miles and G-$ had a surprise to kick it off: A Birthday Video Poker Tournament for me and Jonny Reno!
We divided the gang into two teams, selected some nickel multi-hand games, laid out a few rules, and we were off! Jonny’s team would prove to be pretty easy to beat--only a couple of lucky 4s of a kind for them, hit while we mercilessly heckled them. My team had much better luck, and on the final hand, with really nothing at stake, I found a straight flush to put the icing on the cake (+$26.50). Jonny Reno took that opportunity to take a page from Mike Leach’s book and call out his team of “rotting corpses” right in the center of the casino. Truly a special post-game speech from Jonny.
The rest of the Palms video poker was less successful: I lost $120 in a combination of regular pokies and Multi-Strike. But we did manage to have several beers and a few shots, so when it was time to stumble on down the road to dinner, we did so admirably.
We cabbed over to the Strip to Gilley’s, and here’s a surprise: I thought the food was freaking awesome. Jonny Reno and G-$ reported that their brisket was overdone, and I wish our server had been a hot chick, but it was still awesome. We probably could have eaten in the bar with the hotties, but we would’ve been at several small tables instead of our 1 big table. I think the 1 table was worth not having a hottie…right?
The centerpiece of Sunday’s evening meal was the selection of teams for Chug ‘N’ Putt Gamblepalooza 4, our annual golf and gambling extravaganza which would take place the next day. Our non-golfers, Mattt and Sergent, selected their teams at the table, grade-school style, with Sergent choosing first.
After much banter, laughter and a few tears from those last chosen, we had our teams: Team Mattt--consisting of tourney favorite Craig, plus me, Doug, Miles, Hanley and Jase--would square off against Team Sergent, with 2-time champ Rob and 2011 champ G-$ joined by Jonny Reno and event rookies Sims, Wilner and Byers. After some final heckling, we spilled into the casino.
And…um…the TI casino was a friggin library. And yeah, I was sloshed, but I think I got shush-ed at one point. If I hadn’t quit the table up $104, I’d have been really pissed! Talk about rotting corpses--they’ve got nothing on the dealers and patrons at the TI. Grow a personality people!
By the time I had won that hundred smackers, it was waaaaaay past time to get the hell out of the TI. Most of the fellas were already back at the GGGG, so we collected Miles and G-$ from another table, and away we went.
Back at the GGGG, I let G-$ talk me into rolling some bones. The only thing I like less than flushing $80 down the toilet is watching and listening to the adjoining craps table go crazy as red hot dice show point after point. Whoops. Instead of losing the whole hundred, I joined Craig, Archie, Hanley and a few other fellas for more blackjack. That $20 lasted for another 4 hours before I was busted to the felt. It was a solid run: at one point, I had almost got back to even, but couldn’t quite get there.
So I went and bugged Miles and G-$. But G-$ was rolling fat in a hot shoe, and Miles, ever the superstitious one, stayed off the table until the ride seemed over. But then they sat for another shuffle, so I shuffled down the street to the MSS to play some video poker. Instead of our usual bartop game, I played the adjacent $1 8/5 Bonus game. 4 Kings later, I had a scratch ticket and had wiped out the craps and cards losses with a $160 profit! Eager to not put that coin back into the machine, I wandered back up the street to find Miles and G-$. They were finally stumbling back to the Main St, so I turned around and we played some of that swell bartop. I played $20 down to its doom before running out of gas on the night (which was now morning).
In retrospect, it seems like I shoulda been a shitload more hungover as we walked down Fremont St to grab breakfast (and the LVA-recommended bloody marys) at Hennessey’s. But I wasn’t too bad off, and the vitamins and minerals in the aforementioned (and super-tasty) drink put the zing back into my step. The breakfast was nothing special--cold eggs and powdered hollandaise for me, similar crap for the rest of the table.
And then it was off to the course for CNPGP4. We arrived more than 30 minutes before our scheduled tee-off, which would have been perfect, except for the fact that we’re so fucking stupid. First off, while those of us with clubs had already taken care of stashing our beer away, most of the rest of the fools were scrambling to hide, sequester and otherwise smuggle their beer onto the course. Normally a control freak about helping everyone handle this sort of thing, this year I decided on a more Darwinian approach: I filled my bag with enough beer for me and Rob to play within the CNPGP rules, and took off for the clubhouse.
It worked out fine, as the bag jockeys were not out front hustling, the clubhouse attendants couldn’t give a crap, and the starter waved us past with barely a look.
We arrived at the first tee and proceeded to line up for the pre-tourney photo, when it dawned on us: where the fuck were Craig and Byers? Oh, hitting practice balls, of course.
Yeah, I get it. You pros like to limber up and all that happy crappy. But seriously, who needs to warm up for an event in which the rules stipulate we have a pre-first-hole shot and that you must finish a beer every other hole--oh, and that you have to shotgun a beer for your first 3-putt? Does this sound like a serious event to you?
Oh, well. We collected the serious golfers, had our photo and our shot, and away we went.
I played fantastic, even though I did have to shotgun a beer on the 3rd hole, ending my chances at a remarkable repeat of last year’s no-shotgun. My favorite moment: draining a tricky little putt on the last hole to tie Rob and save my team captain a $5 side bet.
This was definitely the best CNPGP ever. The team captain concept was a winner and because our non-golfers were with us, we had the flexibility to go somewhere immediately afterwards, saving us a trip back downtown (where, let’s face it, we would have stayed) and allowed us to experience a new place.
After that round of golf, we hit the Suncoast for buffet dinner and some gambling in a new joint. What a swell place! Buffet was solid, table games and VP options were terrific. Cocktail service was easily as fast as I’ve ever had. And the drink specials (specifically $2 shots) during the game were also awesome--in fact, between the lightening-fast cocktailer and the $2 shots, it’s no wonder Miles and I looked to our right and saw G-$ trying to fight off a coma. Poor bastard. I’ve hit the Monday Night Wall before--it sucks.
In the man’s own words: “I loved this place. Even with the four shots and the ensuing stroke. I really liked the buffet, even without all you can drink beer. The gambling was good. It was nice to be able to walk in and immediately sit down together at a table.” Good joint. We’ll be back.
Of course, winning always helps--and while whining about being hungry, I won $40 at the blackjack table before dinner. And then while whining about being too full, I won another $50 playing some more $1 8/5 Bonus poker, all the while enjoying that fantastic cocktail service.
At some point, it because obvious that we could continue trying to fix G-$’s coma with more shots--and end up giving him mouth-to-mouth--or we could get him home to bed. We opted to take him home. As we reached the Main Street lobby and separated from the main group, I promised to come back downstairs.
I meant it. I really did.
But as I got into my room, I looked at the clock, and realized my flight would leave in 6 hours. “Hmm,” I thought to myself, “Why don’t I help myself out and pack these golf clubs before I go back downstairs. That sure will help in the morning.”
So I packed the clubs. Then I sat on the bed.
You know the rest. The good news is, my gambling winnings--a remarkable +$150 for the entire trip--stayed in my pocket. The bad news is that my friends think I was once again lying to them about coming back downstairs. It will make escaping that much tougher next year.
But I’ll find a way. I always do.
