The Thursday gang continues to expand, and every year I think maybe I should think about joining them. Monday morning smacked me upside the head with a reminder that four nights in town is just about right. Monday also granted me a new but probably short-lived nickname, used above in the title.
But there’s a lot of ground to cover before we get to Monday.
With demand skyrocketing and casinos charging whatever the hell they want for rooms, my gang of 18 doofuses (including 1 local) checked into rooms up and down the length of Fremont Street. Miles, G-$, Jonny Reno and I would call The Cal home for the first three nights of this year’s trip—our first time staying in this particular dump.
Ah, I exaggerate: the Cal isn’t a dump. The connecting rooms we occupied were definitely small, but otherwise neat and comfortable.
After checking in, opening the connecting doors and sorting through Miles’s thousand slot club cards for a few that might work, we wandered over to the Go Go Golden Gate to check the progressive meter on the 8/5 Bonus machines. It stood at $1,400 and change, so we decided to sit down and hit it.
About an hour in, David did just that—in style! After he tapped “Deal/Draw” for the [insert approximate and totally wrong number here]th time, the machine dealt him five high spades and locked up! A dealt royal, the first one we’ve ever seen, stared him in the face and announced he'd won the jackpot. A quick handpay followed, and we were off again, this time trying to hit a much smaller reward.
As we were clanging and banging away at the Gate, a smaller group, made up mostly of Thursday guys, was enjoying a classy, quiet drink at the Downtown Cocktail Room. According to Rusty, it’s an “awesome find just as you enter east Fremont. Happy hour nirvana: ‘Secret’ entrance from a dicey-looking alley, $7 fancy cocktails (happy hour), cool music and ambiance. Hot waitresses.”
But all too soon, it was time for the Gate guys to hit “cash out” and for the DCR crew to settle up, because our reservation down at Pizza Rock would not wait. Friday night is usually dedicated to Steak Night, but with our go-to place still closed (Binion’s) and with other options wanting to book us as an event with fixed menu options, we made the reluctant decision to impose a one-year hiatus on Steak Night.
That’s not a knock on The Rock—it was a great dinner. Among the 14 of us, we enjoyed three Caesar salads, two orders of calamari and a couple orders of wings to start, followed by two Detroit pizzas, two New Yorkers and one more pie. We had just one slice left over—a huge improvement over previous ordering fiascos at Pizza Rock which had resulted in multiple to-go boxes, distributed faithfully by Jase to nearby homeless people. Food, service and drinks were all terrific, so while we will absolutely reinstate Steak Night in 2022, we will also return to Pizza Rock for another fun and filling future affair.
After dinner, we made the short commute into the Downtown Grand to see what fortunes await. Not any, as it turns out. A short (or possibly long) session of blackjack was followed by a long (or possibly short) session of bartop video poker, neither of which was particularly notable or profitable.
Eager to turn the tides, we walked back up the street to the Go Go Golden Gate. Along the way, we picked up Jonny Reno, just arriving to town after a long commute from Mexico. After some hugs and banter, we recommenced our hike to the Gate, but with all of the $15 tables full and none of us super-psyched about sitting down to the quarter tables, we exited, stepping instead into the Plaza. As Jonny ventured over to Pop-Up Pizza for a couple slices, Miles, G-$ and I opened the shorty, sit-down blackjack table for $15 (or possibly even $10) a hand. With the players club already closed, I wasn’t able to redeem my matchplay coupon, unfortunate because it may have been able to help out with the two separate beatings I received. Thankfully though, I split the sessions with a quick hit of 4 3’s on a nearby $1 8/5 Bonus machine, essentially taking $100 out of the video poker machine to deposit right back into the box on the blackjack table.
Eventually, I mostly lost track of Miles and G-$. Back home at The Cal, David and I looked for them—allegedly they were playing slots somewhere—but eventually gave up, settling instead for a little 50-cent video poker before bed.
Jonny Reno and I woke up bright-ish and early-ish on Saturday morning, walking first over to the cash machine and then over to Starbucks for sandwiches and coffees for ourselves and the other residents of our quad. When we returned, G-$ and Miles were sort of stirring—spurred along by our texts announcing an imminent arrival with caffeine and sausage. When everyone was finally vertical, we headed to Binion’s in search of some multi-hand video poker. Why there and why that? Why ask those kinds of questions?
Jonny Reno stayed behind to take care of a little business, so G-$, Miles and I found an acceptable bank and started in. Our cocktailer was a treat—she brought us a starter round, and after receiving appropriate compensation, she returned rapidly a few more times before shifting to a different section. Upon one of her returns, however, G-$ did not order a beer, so she told him to hold up his bottle for an inspection.
“Yep, you don’t need one…you need a nipple for that bottle?”
Miles and I reacted as we should, instantly turning against our friend to side with the cocktailer, laughing and high-fiving at his expense. When G-$ later cashed out of his machine to find some slots, we asked the cocktailer to track him down and mock him some more. As it turns out, I joined the hunt for G-$ soon enough, abandoning my cooling machine and ultimately finding him planted in front of the Treasure Lounge. As soon as I arrived, he hit some sort of bonus round and ended up with $300 or so in Tiki-themed winnings. Miles one-upped him a few minutes later, visiting The Simpsons and extracting $600 from Homer and the gang.
The Las Vegas-area Husky Alumni group has changed its home base again, so we would watch the Huskies take on Oregon State up at Sagos Tavern Saturday evening. On the way, I thought it would be fun to have lunch and do some gambling at Red Rock Resort, but we had one stop to make before jumping in our Uber.
I took the gang up to Circa to make our money line wagers. Whipping a winning ticket from the Arkansas State game two weeks earlier out of my pocket, I told the agent that I’d “let it ride” on the Huskies. (Fun, but dorky. Just like me.) G-$ and Miles also placed wagers, although those chumps had to use cash. And, as it turns out, lose cash.
We lunched on the terrace at Red Rock’s fancy coffee shop, the Lucky Penny. Service was earnest and the food was pretty good, though nothing special.
Out on the gambling floor, things progressed for me as they had for much of this trip already—losing a few bucks on $1 8/5 Bonus, then losing a few more dollars in some video poker variants and such. Miles and G-$--and even Jonny Reno—stayed on the slots for most of the afternoon.
We arrived to Sagos just before kickoff to find the back room packed full of Husky fans. We high-fived a few, ordered some drinks from our server—clearly the game’s MVP for her hustle—and the game began. The first half showed us the same stubborn plays we’ve seen most of this season, and the Beavs stymied us as if they—gasp—had watched film on us.
The frustration of the game was significantly offset by the arrival of Wilner. As soon as he entered, it was like a switch was flipped—no, not on the stupid game, on the server! She went from fast and accurate to fast, accurate and full of attitude just for Wilner. Within seconds of his arrival, she had called him out for his drink order, his food order, his shirt and probably his haircut too. It was just awesome.
The game, however, was not. The stupid-ass Huskies did turn dejection into ecstasy early in the 4th quarter—prompting a round of shots bought by none other than Wilner, goaded into it by the server (duh) and the chanting of an entire room (“Dave! Dave! Dave!”)—but their pathetic run defense turned ecstasy into scorn and dejection.
Damon looked swell in the tank top he won though.
It took a long while to get all of us Ubered back downtown, but having a destination event—the annual Duel in the Desert video poker tourney—kept attrition at zero. We wandered around a bit, but finally found a perfect home for the competition: the 2nd floor of the Cal’s casino, inhabited at the time by just a couple snoozing slot players. We immediately turned the volume all the way to 11 as G-$ and Miles divided us into teams and we let the cards fly. The first round was rough; I feel lucky that my squad of Rob, Rusty, David and Hanley managed one win and one tie given the beating they took at their machines.
Down 2-1, with just 3 players going in round 2, I felt dejected, but confident. We’d swept this second round before, and gone 2-1 many times before, so although Jonny’s team had a good lead, this thing wasn’t over. Sims got hot and we stopped him early, pretty confident he’d be ahead of his opponent. Jase didn’t fare as well—and we thought his opponent would manage a win. Which meant I needed to beat Jonny to force a sudden-death round.
When Jonny celebrated an obvious 4-of-a-kind (the machine’s loud counter was the tell, not the hollering fools on the other side of the bank), I knew we were in trouble. Big trouble. Need a 4-of-a-kind just to force overtime trouble. Jonny stopped playing, confident his credits were plenty unless I found a miracle.
As time wound down, my machine stayed pretty warm, giving me a full house here and a straight there to keep me swinging. And then, lo and behold…4 8’s! Boom! Maybe—just maybe—those 8’s would be enough. My squad celebrated heartily, and between their yelling and my machine’s own loud counter, Jonny figured he was behind, and fired back up.
Time wound down. Jonny kept playing.
G-$ started to count down the last 10 seconds: “5…4…3…2…”
A gasp from across the way.
G-$ called “time.” But Jonny’s machine had dealt one last hand before the buzzer: 4 to a club straight flush.
He paused, letting the tension build. On my side of the bank, we were calling shenanigans.
BOOM! The straight flush filled and Jonny’s crew went bananas. Sure enough, they beat us 2-1 in the second round to take the title! What a finish.
Yogi Berra famously said that sometimes it gets late early (or something like that). Saturday night, it got late late. After the Duel in the Desert, Wilner was eager to play some cards. Having been shut out of the Go Go Golden Gate on Friday, we gave it another shot and found a table. Anticipating their use the previous night, I’d already acquired my giant, novelty-size Free Play chip and redeemed my Match Play coupon, so I was ready with 50 bonus buckeroos and sat down with Wilner to see what mayhem we could cause. As it turns out, not much. I think I won on the free bet, but the match play didn’t come in…or vice versa. In any case, between the free dough and my own dough, I managed a nice long session at the table. Some time later, G-$ and Miles finally arrived and opened up a table across the pit. Their table was much hotter than ours, so at some point I joined them, just in time for it to cool off. Or maybe there was a cause and effect.
Nah.
The good news is, between both tables, I lost just $40, and on this particular trip, that was a real good run. So naturally we celebrated with some Fortune Cup racing. I think I was a little too sober this time to play correct Fortune Cup Strategy, so although we had some laughs, I didn’t cash. Naturally, Miles did, displaying perfect basic strategy (starting with Rule #1: be drunk).
Seems like I hit the hay around 3am Sunday morning, which wasn’t too bad until I woke up a little after 6, wide awake due to an uncomfortable but not quite epic hangover and a violent need to pee. I tried to get back to sleep, but by 7am I gave up and pulled some clothes on. During my stroll to Starbucks, I called home for a visit with the girls, and by the time I got back to the duplex it was actually time to roust the fellas for the long ride out to Primm Valley Golf Club.
We picked up Wilner at the Aria on the way, which was a treat for everyone because he’s a real morning person. One of the trip’s many highlights, comedically speaking, was a text exchange Wilner narrated to us between his wife and himself. He described how today we’d drive down into California (just across the border) to play golf at this cool course.
“That sounds stupid,” replied Brenda.
That sums up so many things I hardly know where to begin.
Golf was in fact not stupid. Okay, it was kinda stupid. Fine, it was mostly stupid. But that’s only because of us. Our newly-local buddy Craig and the friendly folks at Primm Valley extended the locals rate to all 10 of us golfers and the course was really fun. Personally, my game continued to struggle, particularly off the tee, but we bought plenty of rounds from the cocktail wagon, and a late-in-the-round visit from Doctor Fireball helped me pull things together enough to get in one final drive on #17. I did smack at least 2 delectable 2-irons, my favorite from the tee box of a 202-yard, uphill par 3 with water to the right and sand to the left. The ball ended up a little shy of pin-high, maybe 20 or 30 feet or so from the pin. The shot even elicited a “wow” from Byers as his group drove around and away from the green!
But the 4-some of me, G-$, Miles and Wilner was no match for the mighty 3-some of Craig, Sims and Mattt. We did manage a tie against the group of Byers, Jared and Pat though, so all was not lost. The drive back to downtown Las Vegas seemed shorter than the morning’s commute, probably because Wilner kept up his non-stop banter, or maybe because we stopped at the Primm Valley casino for a round of beers and to settle up the post-golf bets.
Speeding along I-15, I fired up the text-machine to get the rest of the fellas moving towards Le Thai. Mattt and Byers were able to herd most of the cats, and when Damon ambled to the entrance, our group of 14 was complete.
Dinner was just superb. Our main server, Jordan, provided an exceptional experience, from his banter to his recommendations to his sincerity. And the chow tasted phenomenal, with our choices including several orders of Crab Rangoon—one of which Wilner ordered for just himself, then went ballistic when it was delivered to our end of the table—the Waterfall Beef, the delicious Tom Kha soup, the subtly terrific chicken pad thai, the pad kee mo wide noodles, the Ga Pow stir fry, the 3-color curry and two duck dishes not on the menu—a dynamite duck curry and a yummy duck fried rice. I washed the meal down with a few Mai Thais, made with 2 kinds or rum and a house-made peanut orgeat. Directly across from me, Miles pulled off a rare triple-fist, enjoying some beer, wine and cocktails. G-$ provided invaluable assistance on the table orders, and when I checked in with the far end of the table, Jase and Rob gave the meal high marks. I’d give the whole experience 8 stars on a 1 to 5 scale.
During dinner, we randomly selected the teams for the next day’s Chug ‘N’ Putt Gamblepalooza. By 9:00, Sims had released his thoughts on each team’s odds of winning: “Team Mattt is a -600 favorite and Team Sergent is a +500 underdog.” Whether this was his real opinion, or a bit of gamesmanship (Sims was of Team Sergent), is a question without answer.
Craig replied with his thoughts: “Just looks to me like you need to be on top of making sure team Mattt’s guys always have a drink in their hand tonight.” Spoiler alert: I would be stupid enough to follow this advice.
After dinner, we made the short trek across Fremont Street to The Bling. I made an orbit of the casino with a couple fellas before cashing my free play coupon, receiving the minimum of $10. I plugged the dough into a $1 8/5 Bonus machine and hit a full house on the first hand, leaving the machine up $45 in real money some 74 seconds after sitting down.
I took the easy money over to a blackjack table, joining Wilner, Byers, Pat and Drummond, where over the course of the next couple hours, I drank a gob of beer, got funnier and funnier, and earned the whopping sum of $2. It would be my best blackjack session of the trip.
The Mai Thais and the bottles consumed from the Bling’s beer pit caught up to me at the Downtown Grand, where after pulling up a rickety barstool around the corner from Miles and G-$, I offered to spell for the bartender as she went on a brief break. She was getting along famously with my pals, so I thought this pithy one-liner would put me in their company instantly. Nope. The bartender didn’t like me. I am sure I was obnoxious, but her instant dislike of me was palpable and off-putting. I was so off-balance, in fact, that I tipped and swayed in my barstool. A lot. People claim I went over. I say, show me the security camera footage.
After being set upright, I recalled Craig’s advice and insisted 4-of-a-kind shots be delivered to Miles, G-$ and me. What. An. Idiot.
For about the first hour of the day on Monday, I felt swell. But a waking hangover started to take over, and soon I had to don sunglasses and start to move slowly. So slowly, in fact, that when they weren’t ignoring me, my friends were referring to me as “Bernie.” I crescendoed in the lobby at the Suncoast, thinking myself leisurely reclined in a comfy chair near the check-in desk, but probably looking more like a vagrant.
Soon enough, we were upstairs, then back downstairs, then across the street for CNPGP 13. Mattt had revealed the head-to-head matchups to us in a text:
- Byers and I would face off on #4, where, as Mattt described, my round last year “fell apart on the rocks,” and #10 (in his last CNPGP appearance, Byers flushed his tee shot into the bog);
- Sims and Miles would face off on #2, where Miles has previously been insulted by a passing pickup truck, and #12, repeating last year’s popular finish into a hostile gallery;
- When Damon dropped out, fearing he might miss his flight home due to golf, Jared was assigned to pick up the slack and play 4 head-to-head holes, two against 3-time champ Jase and two more against Jonny Reno;
- Pat and Mattt would face off on back-to-back holes (7 & 8);
- And finally, Wilner vs G-$ would hilariously kick things off with a head-to-head battle on #1.
I held it together okay on the front six, shooting just +2 with 4 pars and a pair of bogeys. But I didn’t have a whole lot of momentum, as potential birdie putts lipped out on #1 and rebounded off the pin on #5. And let’s face it: it probably didn’t matter a whole lot in the end, because after drinking a punishment shot from Byers on the #4 tee, we peeled off the #7 green to have obligatory back-6 shots. In a disastrous bit of serendipity, the cocktail wagon rolled up at that moment, so I let Byers by a round of mixed drinks. Wait, did I mention that I 3-putted the #7 green? So yeah, I had to chug a beer coming off that green. Predictably, my back six was a crooked mess, with no pars and just one bogey. Byers similarly imploded, though far less spectacularly.
Your winner on the day was Mattt, following up his 2019 personal best with another personal best. His score of 30 was a remarkable 9 strokes better than his prior low mark. Yowza. Perhaps more incredibly, Hanley finished second, with a personal best of 35 powered by the first 2 birdies of his illustrious career—the first of which he drained on the birdie bounty hole for a $51 bonus. Bravo.
Other notable achievements:
- There were 6 birdies on the day, tying the 2019 record. In addition to Pat’s pair, Mattt, Wilner, Jase and Jared all rolled in a birdie.
- Money was flying all over the course—for the first time, players had to match their coaches’ head-to-head action, with all players agreeing that ties would be pushed to the next hole (either for the same $5 or for $5 more, increasing until a winner was crowned).
- Jonny Reno rolled in a personal best 31 and Jase tied his personal best with a 35, but both were overshadowed by the brilliant rounds from Hanley and Mattt.
At the post-event celebration, Sims threw a little shade on the scores, giving the event chairman an earful about handicaps. I feel obligated to mention here that the event chairman also had to endure a half-hour from Wilner Sunday at dinner, as well as months of pre-trip guidance from Sims and Doug regarding their handicaps. It’s likely the event chairman will be subjected to additional discussions on handicaps in the ensuing months and is therefore considering a few options to end the endless:
- A CNPGP hiatus! Why not take a break?
- A CNPGP road trip to the Las Vegas Golf Center, featuring a lighted 9-hole par-3 layout. Why not mix it up?
- Creating a CNPGP Competition Committee—a mixture of low- and high-handicappers who will make recommendations on 2022 handicaps and/or adjustments. Why not have some help?
After tallying the scores and running through a quick shower, I hustled downstairs to officially congratulate the winners and distribute the cash prizes. Then, it was off to the casino floor for our final full evening of gambling. As is typical, it was a kind of quiet night for me. Miles talked me into some Multi-Strike Super Times Pay and we had a mellow blast—or maybe it was a thrilling break. Either way, after slowly losing for a couple hours, I hit 4 Aces on the second line—with a 2x bonus multiplier too!—that brought me all the way back to even—and then some.
Jonny, Jared and a couple other guys were enjoying some face-up Pai Gow while G-$ was trying to crush the blackjack table, but I didn’t feel it. Something about the beating I’d taken in previous runs at the card tables. So I wandered between G-$ at the table and Miles and David back at the Wonder Woman machine for a while, ordering beers from whichever cocktailer would serve me. (Turns out, they all would.)
There were just 4 of us returning home on Tuesday’s final flight of the day, so after breakfast at Du-Par’s, we spent an enjoyable day back downtown, starting with The Simpsons at the Doug. Because there was just one machine, we played sequentially, with G-$, myself and Miles taking turns on a shot at Homer’s money while David chomped on some White Castle and looked on. Next, we re-visited the lucky bank of video poker machines at the Go Go Golden Gate to see if we could catch a second bolt of lightning. Cocktail service was stellar (again), and the straight flush progressive crept over $300 while we sat there, but we were unable to crack either that jackpot or the $1,200 RF jackpot.
With time starting to run out on us, we crossed the street to hit Megabucks. This year, David would join the dynamic duo of Miles and me, meaning each of us would feed a c-note into the machine, retiring either when we became instant millionaires, hit $0, or as soon as we tripled our stake. Turns out, after Miles, then David busted out, I somehow hit something, landing about $390 and cashing each of us out for a $30 profit on the play. After rescuing G-$ from a slot machine, it was time to grab the Canyonero from the Lady Luck parking garage and roll on over to the airport.
It was a great weekend, even for Jared, who complained to all of us after a post-trip inspection of his car: “Thanks to all, except for you Hanley. My backseat is covered in sunscreen. Will send the bill.”
Payable, hopefully, in casino chips next year.
