We pulled our last bag off the carousel and promptly engaged in the age-old debate: 2 cabs or a limo? To answer the question, we sent G-$ out one side to see how many people were in the cab line, and we sent Miles out the other side to talk to a limo driver. They returned from their scouting expedition. G-$ told us the cab line was basically non-existent; Miles reported that it would be around $18 apiece for a ride in the stretch.
Five minutes later, we were in the dreaded tunnel. But we didn’t care, because we had negotiated our price for the limo ride already. Heck, he could have driven us past the Hoover Dam for all we cared!
Well, I exaggerate. Going out to the Dam would have cost us some serious drinking time.
Most of us checked in at the Golden Nugget thanks to some sweet internet room rates. A few guys decided to stay down at the Main Street Station, prudent because they had some comps coming, and because we always do a lot of eating and gambling down there. Sure enough, Main Street Station was our unofficial home base for the weekend.
After checking in and doing a half-assed unpacking job, we rendezvoused at Binion’s Snack Bar for a burger and a beer. Oh baby, that burger still rocks. Rich got himself an order of nachos. What an idiot.
With a few semi-full bellies, we wandered up to the Main Street to play a bit of video poker before dinner. And it was there that I caught just a little bit of lightning in a bottle. After a short and unsuccessful run back at the 8/5 Bonus machines (-$20), I wandered to the front of the casino to take a second look at the Super Times Pay machines. They were still occupied. Rob and G-$, not known for their patience, sat down at a couple of surrounding machines, essentially challenging me to either sit my ass down or wander my ass back to the other fellas.
I sat down at the nickel 5-hand Triple Double Bonus, expecting a short stay but hoping to last long enough to out-last the Super Times Pay Players and steal a seat. I got neither. My game kept me interested and even for quite a while, even as the STP players plugged on and on. Sighing, I hit “bet max” once again.
And at approximately 4:44 pm Pacific time (honest, the photo we sent to my e-mail arrived at 4:45), I took a look at a pretty nice dealt 4 of-a-kind: A-2-2-2-2. With that Ace kicker, that’s 10 thousand nickels, pardner! I sat and started at my $500 payout for quite a while. Bought a round of shots. Some fellas came over to congratulate me. It was sweet. That $500 ended up helping to keep me in the black, including all expenses, through to the end of the day Saturday.
Drunk on success--oh, who am I kidding, I was just drunk--I led the charge back to Benny’s Bullpen to take in the $10 pizza and pitchers deal highlighted in multiple LVA Top 10 lists.
Oh, baby, it’s there for a reason! For 10 bucks, we all left the place stuffed and (more) drunk. And the pizza was a solid B--not the best ever, but perfectly serviceable. My dinner tab was quite a bit higher than 10 bucks unfortunately, as I parked it with G-$ and a couple other guys at the blackjack tables located conveniently at the end of the bar. I got smoked for $153, exceeding my loss-limit for the table because, naturally, I was dealt a pair against a dealer bust card on my first walk-away bet. Crap.
The Go Go Golden Gate is becoming our Las Vegas home away from home. Not only are the dealers sexy as heck, they’re engaged and funny. I tell ya, that place is freaking great. This is year # 3 of that place occupying 3+ nights of our company. Eventually, someone will kill it. But until then...well…they’ll probably keep beating me like they did Friday night (-$100).
That old adage--“the worst day golfing is better than the best day working”--was put to a severe test on Saturday. It was cold. And those 2 inches of annual rainfall you get in Vegas? It fell on Saturday. I don't know whether to write this off as a fluke or to write last year's beautiful weather off as a fluke. I guess I'll find out next year.
But the bottom line is, we had fun. I was in a foursome with my 3 favorite people (excluding my girls of course): Jonny, Miles and G-$. And although we scrambled our way to a decent -1 for the day (including a scorching -2 on the back), we lost both sides and the total to the group of Hanley, Byers, Rich and Jon. Those suckers cheated though: not only did one of them (reportedly Byers) not drink his shot immediately upon receipt, but they finished with beer in their bag! Unacceptable! I don’t know how they sleep at night.
After golf, for the second year in a row, the Badlands did not serve us any food. Last year, it was a wedding party that kept us from even visiting the 19th hole. This year, we were informed by the friendly waitress that the kitchen was on winter hours and had closed 30 minutes before we arrived. Next year…well…I’m thinking we’ll just go ahead and not visit the Badlands.
A little piece of history died on Saturday night: for me and my posse, Battista's is done. (If you’re not familiar, do a search of the restaurant name and come back. We’ll still be here.) For years, I’ve been a staunch and sometimes lonely supporter of this place. Because it has had a place in our own personal tradition. But this year was the absolute capper. Between the ice-cold food and the hurry-up-and-get-out service, I'm just not feeling it. We've spent more than $10 grand in that place as a group over the years and the experience gets worse every year. Don't think me bitter. It's been a great place for us and the launching pad for many great Vegas stories. But it's played out.
After dinner, I took a few fellas on a walking tour of the City Center while most of the group cabbed up to the NYNY. It was a chilly, blustery night, but I think my guests enjoyed the walk. I know a nice walk always helps me rally after guzzling a carafe of bad table wine.
The group separated in the casino: a few table game players parked it in the pit, and the rest of us--about 4 guys and I--headed back to the 9/6 & 8/5 video poker machines near hotel registration. I played some 8/5 Bonus, managing to hit quad 10’s but losing $40 over the next couple hours. But by the time I had lost $40, our cocktailer was properly primed and was bringing drinks to everybody in the group, playing or not. People, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: tip your cocktailer.
Most of the guys had left by this time--they had an itch only the Go Go Golden Gate could scratch. So Miles, G-$, David and I kept drinking and playing video poker. As the evening wound down, Miles, in an attempt to run his credits down to a cash-out level, hit a bundle of 4’s of a kind and cashed out ahead (as usual). We ended the evening at the Coffee Shop at Go Go Golden Gate, where the hash ‘n’ eggs really hit the spot. I ordered for Miles, who could neither read nor speak coherently.
Sunday morning started slowly and pleasantly enough with a stroll down Fremont St and a quick call home to check up on the girls. After the call, I picked up some coffees and woke up Miles and G-$. They looked like they’d been hit by a truck. A refrigerator truck. Full of Coors Light.
And eventually, everybody met downstairs to head on over to the Palms for Margarita brunch. In the aftermath of our Battista’s debacle, this has officially replaced Battista's as the best free-booze meal of the weekend. I think their food is great--and one could get blasted on the Margaritas if one wanted to. Oh, wait, I did. Oh, wait, most of us did. Except for Rusty, who took a power nap at the table. We sent photos home to a no-doubt proud wife.
Sunday gambling at the Palms was a big fat loss for me, but after 2 straight years of winners, I guess I'll take it. I played a bunch of nickel multi-hand Super Times Pay in a row with Doug, Miles and G-$, but slowly and surely was ground down to another loss (-$80). But our amenable cocktailer kept bringing those Coors Lights and we sure kept drinkin ‘em.
Suddenly, in an unanticipated move, I found myself playing Megabucks with Miles. We agreed to split any and all proceeds. We lost the whole $200 stake. Big surprise. At one point, each machine was up $70-$80 or so, but never simultaneously and therefore never at our cash-out threshold. (Trust me, it made sense at the time. Maybe that’s why we lost 200 bucks.)
But while all this ass-kicking was happening at the machines, the worst division in the NFL was coming through for me--a 2-team anti-NFC West parlay paid me a handsome $52 on my $20 wager. (It paid G-$ the same amount because he was smart enough to mumble “Mmmm” from his bed when I asked him if wanted in on the bet.) I just wish I had thrown the Seahawks on for a 3-teamer, but Arizona and San Francisco came through for me with their monumental suckiness.
After a long day of drinking and gambling, we returned downtown to freshen up a bit before the First Annual Steak Night. We selected The Steakhouse @ Circus Circus for this experiment, and it was a rousing success. I regret that I didn't prepare everybody on the team (especially my ultra-low-rollers) for a little bit of Sticker Shock when the tab came, but the food was really good and the service was terrific. It was nice to have a classy dinner amid the chaos of the weekend. It was also nice to be able to have a conversation with the guys at the other end of the table. So there will absolutely be a next time for Steak Night. Just don't know if it will be at the Circus Circus or if I might try to move the location around.
You’ll no doubt be shocked to learn that after stuffing ourselves silly, we headed back to the Go Go Golden Gate. Not right away, though. First we wandered through the Circus Circus casino, then the Sahara casino, trying to find a decent blackjack game. None were available, so we beat feet back downtown.
I had a terrific run at the Go Go Golden Gate, but couldn’t quite get to my win goal of +$100. My high point for the long session was +$80, but I just couldn’t break through. The hand that really put me on my way was a $20 initial bet, followed by a split, a split and a double on the last hand. I stood up to relieve a little of my tension. When the dealer busted, I exhaled, sat down, gave her a much-deserved high five, and slid a $5 bet out for her. Whew.
But like I said, I couldn’t quite hit my win goal, and eventually slid all the way back down to even. Because of all the tips for the dealer and cocktailer, I ended up with $3 in silver that I’m classifying as profit. I think I skipped late-night breakfast on Sunday night, but I don’t really remember.
Monday began like Sunday did, with a stroll, call home and coffee delivery across the hall. Because I had mis-counted our football winnings and underpaid him, G-$ was treated to a coffee and a 20-dollar-bill. Good morning to you!
After way too much Abbott-and-Costello style arguing about who’s driving, we chartered a limo to take us to the Second Annual Chug 'N' Putt Gamblepalooza at the Angel Park Cloud 9 short course. Building on last year, we modified the rules to add a shot to the 6 beers and a couple of additional betting opportunities. The end result was the same, with everybody getting pretty ripped and Rob winning some dough. I managed to save the scorecard this year, so we’ll be able to handicap the event next year; maybe somebody will be able to take Rob down.
We stayed downtown for Monday Night Football, and I’m going to go ahead and pat myself on the back for that decision. Although we could have found a livelier party at the South Point or elsewhere, after 4 long days in town, it’s best for us to be a bit closer to home. Me personally, I felt my eyelids getting droopy during the third quarter. And while I ended up finishing strong, it was nice to have the option of calling it a night after football and crashing. (Nobody did, but it sure beat the heck out of being a long way from home at the end of the game.)
I lost $10 on the game, going a sweet 0-for-2 on my parlay as Denver and the under came in. But, I rebounded quickly with a $26 win on the Washington Husky hoops team--and folks, going 2-for-3 in sports betting is for me a bonafide hot streak.
While the Huskies were demolishing Virginia in hoops, I was getting beat up by my old friends, the quarter 8/5 Bonus machines.
My notes say that I flushed another $20 playing Multi-strike. It was not a memorable experience. And by this time I do remember I was starting to feel a little punchy. Yep…it must be Monday night in Vegas.
So we decided to head over to the Cal to do something Jonny had been wanting to do all trip. We got a bunch (maybe 10?) of us together, each with $10, and we planned to place 10 single numbers, splitting the winnings if a number hit. As Jonny collected the cash, we rode the escalator down to the waiting wheel.
Rob arrived first, and with no fanfare or advance warning, bought in for 3 black chips. He placed one on 13. And missed it. Placed another on 13. And hit it! $3,500 in mostly black chips was pushed his way. Did Rob check out? Heck no! He put another black chip on the 16. And hit it! Are you kidding me? The dealers needed more chips to pay him, so after a short wait, he collected his chips, tipped the dealer, colored up and cashed out.
Rob's roulette bet was just an incredible, weird thing. The weirdest part was, Rob was so calm about the whole thing. He obviously had a plan heading into the fateful spins. He had $300 and was going to bet $100 on a single number, 3 times in a row, hit or quit. Now, if it were me, I would have hyped that freaking thing all weekend. It would have been a complete publicity stunt. $300! On 3 numbers! How daring! But Rob just plunked down his three singles, got his three black chips, and put one on the 13.
After he left the table, I guess he reluctantly returned high fives, but I don't really remember any fanfare. It's a smart move--you don't want to advertise that you just won 7 grand at the Cal--but still, it was very subdued. Even at breakfast, he was pretty quiet about the whole thing. But what a hit!
As Rob collected piles and piles of chips, Jonny put the high-roller money on the table. We won. I got $20 for my efforts. Somehow, it seemed small. So I went to bed.
And woke up the next day in Seattle.
Thanks for reading.
Five minutes later, we were in the dreaded tunnel. But we didn’t care, because we had negotiated our price for the limo ride already. Heck, he could have driven us past the Hoover Dam for all we cared!
Well, I exaggerate. Going out to the Dam would have cost us some serious drinking time.
Most of us checked in at the Golden Nugget thanks to some sweet internet room rates. A few guys decided to stay down at the Main Street Station, prudent because they had some comps coming, and because we always do a lot of eating and gambling down there. Sure enough, Main Street Station was our unofficial home base for the weekend.
After checking in and doing a half-assed unpacking job, we rendezvoused at Binion’s Snack Bar for a burger and a beer. Oh baby, that burger still rocks. Rich got himself an order of nachos. What an idiot.
With a few semi-full bellies, we wandered up to the Main Street to play a bit of video poker before dinner. And it was there that I caught just a little bit of lightning in a bottle. After a short and unsuccessful run back at the 8/5 Bonus machines (-$20), I wandered to the front of the casino to take a second look at the Super Times Pay machines. They were still occupied. Rob and G-$, not known for their patience, sat down at a couple of surrounding machines, essentially challenging me to either sit my ass down or wander my ass back to the other fellas.
I sat down at the nickel 5-hand Triple Double Bonus, expecting a short stay but hoping to last long enough to out-last the Super Times Pay Players and steal a seat. I got neither. My game kept me interested and even for quite a while, even as the STP players plugged on and on. Sighing, I hit “bet max” once again.
And at approximately 4:44 pm Pacific time (honest, the photo we sent to my e-mail arrived at 4:45), I took a look at a pretty nice dealt 4 of-a-kind: A-2-2-2-2. With that Ace kicker, that’s 10 thousand nickels, pardner! I sat and started at my $500 payout for quite a while. Bought a round of shots. Some fellas came over to congratulate me. It was sweet. That $500 ended up helping to keep me in the black, including all expenses, through to the end of the day Saturday.
Drunk on success--oh, who am I kidding, I was just drunk--I led the charge back to Benny’s Bullpen to take in the $10 pizza and pitchers deal highlighted in multiple LVA Top 10 lists.
Oh, baby, it’s there for a reason! For 10 bucks, we all left the place stuffed and (more) drunk. And the pizza was a solid B--not the best ever, but perfectly serviceable. My dinner tab was quite a bit higher than 10 bucks unfortunately, as I parked it with G-$ and a couple other guys at the blackjack tables located conveniently at the end of the bar. I got smoked for $153, exceeding my loss-limit for the table because, naturally, I was dealt a pair against a dealer bust card on my first walk-away bet. Crap.
The Go Go Golden Gate is becoming our Las Vegas home away from home. Not only are the dealers sexy as heck, they’re engaged and funny. I tell ya, that place is freaking great. This is year # 3 of that place occupying 3+ nights of our company. Eventually, someone will kill it. But until then...well…they’ll probably keep beating me like they did Friday night (-$100).
That old adage--“the worst day golfing is better than the best day working”--was put to a severe test on Saturday. It was cold. And those 2 inches of annual rainfall you get in Vegas? It fell on Saturday. I don't know whether to write this off as a fluke or to write last year's beautiful weather off as a fluke. I guess I'll find out next year.
But the bottom line is, we had fun. I was in a foursome with my 3 favorite people (excluding my girls of course): Jonny, Miles and G-$. And although we scrambled our way to a decent -1 for the day (including a scorching -2 on the back), we lost both sides and the total to the group of Hanley, Byers, Rich and Jon. Those suckers cheated though: not only did one of them (reportedly Byers) not drink his shot immediately upon receipt, but they finished with beer in their bag! Unacceptable! I don’t know how they sleep at night.
After golf, for the second year in a row, the Badlands did not serve us any food. Last year, it was a wedding party that kept us from even visiting the 19th hole. This year, we were informed by the friendly waitress that the kitchen was on winter hours and had closed 30 minutes before we arrived. Next year…well…I’m thinking we’ll just go ahead and not visit the Badlands.
A little piece of history died on Saturday night: for me and my posse, Battista's is done. (If you’re not familiar, do a search of the restaurant name and come back. We’ll still be here.) For years, I’ve been a staunch and sometimes lonely supporter of this place. Because it has had a place in our own personal tradition. But this year was the absolute capper. Between the ice-cold food and the hurry-up-and-get-out service, I'm just not feeling it. We've spent more than $10 grand in that place as a group over the years and the experience gets worse every year. Don't think me bitter. It's been a great place for us and the launching pad for many great Vegas stories. But it's played out.
After dinner, I took a few fellas on a walking tour of the City Center while most of the group cabbed up to the NYNY. It was a chilly, blustery night, but I think my guests enjoyed the walk. I know a nice walk always helps me rally after guzzling a carafe of bad table wine.
The group separated in the casino: a few table game players parked it in the pit, and the rest of us--about 4 guys and I--headed back to the 9/6 & 8/5 video poker machines near hotel registration. I played some 8/5 Bonus, managing to hit quad 10’s but losing $40 over the next couple hours. But by the time I had lost $40, our cocktailer was properly primed and was bringing drinks to everybody in the group, playing or not. People, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: tip your cocktailer.
Most of the guys had left by this time--they had an itch only the Go Go Golden Gate could scratch. So Miles, G-$, David and I kept drinking and playing video poker. As the evening wound down, Miles, in an attempt to run his credits down to a cash-out level, hit a bundle of 4’s of a kind and cashed out ahead (as usual). We ended the evening at the Coffee Shop at Go Go Golden Gate, where the hash ‘n’ eggs really hit the spot. I ordered for Miles, who could neither read nor speak coherently.
Sunday morning started slowly and pleasantly enough with a stroll down Fremont St and a quick call home to check up on the girls. After the call, I picked up some coffees and woke up Miles and G-$. They looked like they’d been hit by a truck. A refrigerator truck. Full of Coors Light.
And eventually, everybody met downstairs to head on over to the Palms for Margarita brunch. In the aftermath of our Battista’s debacle, this has officially replaced Battista's as the best free-booze meal of the weekend. I think their food is great--and one could get blasted on the Margaritas if one wanted to. Oh, wait, I did. Oh, wait, most of us did. Except for Rusty, who took a power nap at the table. We sent photos home to a no-doubt proud wife.
Sunday gambling at the Palms was a big fat loss for me, but after 2 straight years of winners, I guess I'll take it. I played a bunch of nickel multi-hand Super Times Pay in a row with Doug, Miles and G-$, but slowly and surely was ground down to another loss (-$80). But our amenable cocktailer kept bringing those Coors Lights and we sure kept drinkin ‘em.
Suddenly, in an unanticipated move, I found myself playing Megabucks with Miles. We agreed to split any and all proceeds. We lost the whole $200 stake. Big surprise. At one point, each machine was up $70-$80 or so, but never simultaneously and therefore never at our cash-out threshold. (Trust me, it made sense at the time. Maybe that’s why we lost 200 bucks.)
But while all this ass-kicking was happening at the machines, the worst division in the NFL was coming through for me--a 2-team anti-NFC West parlay paid me a handsome $52 on my $20 wager. (It paid G-$ the same amount because he was smart enough to mumble “Mmmm” from his bed when I asked him if wanted in on the bet.) I just wish I had thrown the Seahawks on for a 3-teamer, but Arizona and San Francisco came through for me with their monumental suckiness.
After a long day of drinking and gambling, we returned downtown to freshen up a bit before the First Annual Steak Night. We selected The Steakhouse @ Circus Circus for this experiment, and it was a rousing success. I regret that I didn't prepare everybody on the team (especially my ultra-low-rollers) for a little bit of Sticker Shock when the tab came, but the food was really good and the service was terrific. It was nice to have a classy dinner amid the chaos of the weekend. It was also nice to be able to have a conversation with the guys at the other end of the table. So there will absolutely be a next time for Steak Night. Just don't know if it will be at the Circus Circus or if I might try to move the location around.
You’ll no doubt be shocked to learn that after stuffing ourselves silly, we headed back to the Go Go Golden Gate. Not right away, though. First we wandered through the Circus Circus casino, then the Sahara casino, trying to find a decent blackjack game. None were available, so we beat feet back downtown.
I had a terrific run at the Go Go Golden Gate, but couldn’t quite get to my win goal of +$100. My high point for the long session was +$80, but I just couldn’t break through. The hand that really put me on my way was a $20 initial bet, followed by a split, a split and a double on the last hand. I stood up to relieve a little of my tension. When the dealer busted, I exhaled, sat down, gave her a much-deserved high five, and slid a $5 bet out for her. Whew.
But like I said, I couldn’t quite hit my win goal, and eventually slid all the way back down to even. Because of all the tips for the dealer and cocktailer, I ended up with $3 in silver that I’m classifying as profit. I think I skipped late-night breakfast on Sunday night, but I don’t really remember.
Monday began like Sunday did, with a stroll, call home and coffee delivery across the hall. Because I had mis-counted our football winnings and underpaid him, G-$ was treated to a coffee and a 20-dollar-bill. Good morning to you!
After way too much Abbott-and-Costello style arguing about who’s driving, we chartered a limo to take us to the Second Annual Chug 'N' Putt Gamblepalooza at the Angel Park Cloud 9 short course. Building on last year, we modified the rules to add a shot to the 6 beers and a couple of additional betting opportunities. The end result was the same, with everybody getting pretty ripped and Rob winning some dough. I managed to save the scorecard this year, so we’ll be able to handicap the event next year; maybe somebody will be able to take Rob down.
We stayed downtown for Monday Night Football, and I’m going to go ahead and pat myself on the back for that decision. Although we could have found a livelier party at the South Point or elsewhere, after 4 long days in town, it’s best for us to be a bit closer to home. Me personally, I felt my eyelids getting droopy during the third quarter. And while I ended up finishing strong, it was nice to have the option of calling it a night after football and crashing. (Nobody did, but it sure beat the heck out of being a long way from home at the end of the game.)
I lost $10 on the game, going a sweet 0-for-2 on my parlay as Denver and the under came in. But, I rebounded quickly with a $26 win on the Washington Husky hoops team--and folks, going 2-for-3 in sports betting is for me a bonafide hot streak.
While the Huskies were demolishing Virginia in hoops, I was getting beat up by my old friends, the quarter 8/5 Bonus machines.
My notes say that I flushed another $20 playing Multi-strike. It was not a memorable experience. And by this time I do remember I was starting to feel a little punchy. Yep…it must be Monday night in Vegas.
So we decided to head over to the Cal to do something Jonny had been wanting to do all trip. We got a bunch (maybe 10?) of us together, each with $10, and we planned to place 10 single numbers, splitting the winnings if a number hit. As Jonny collected the cash, we rode the escalator down to the waiting wheel.
Rob arrived first, and with no fanfare or advance warning, bought in for 3 black chips. He placed one on 13. And missed it. Placed another on 13. And hit it! $3,500 in mostly black chips was pushed his way. Did Rob check out? Heck no! He put another black chip on the 16. And hit it! Are you kidding me? The dealers needed more chips to pay him, so after a short wait, he collected his chips, tipped the dealer, colored up and cashed out.
Rob's roulette bet was just an incredible, weird thing. The weirdest part was, Rob was so calm about the whole thing. He obviously had a plan heading into the fateful spins. He had $300 and was going to bet $100 on a single number, 3 times in a row, hit or quit. Now, if it were me, I would have hyped that freaking thing all weekend. It would have been a complete publicity stunt. $300! On 3 numbers! How daring! But Rob just plunked down his three singles, got his three black chips, and put one on the 13.
After he left the table, I guess he reluctantly returned high fives, but I don't really remember any fanfare. It's a smart move--you don't want to advertise that you just won 7 grand at the Cal--but still, it was very subdued. Even at breakfast, he was pretty quiet about the whole thing. But what a hit!
As Rob collected piles and piles of chips, Jonny put the high-roller money on the table. We won. I got $20 for my efforts. Somehow, it seemed small. So I went to bed.
And woke up the next day in Seattle.
Thanks for reading.
