Las Vegas Part 3: Insomnia, Intoxication, Income, and In Transit

This post is long because it encompasses everything I did on my last days in Vegas. I'd apologize for the length but this is an epic and it's f*ck*ng awesome.

What are the two things I will do on every vacation I take? Sleep and drink. I don't have an addictive personality and do not consider myself an alcoholic, however I will sleep in every chance I get.

Imagine my surprise, then, when I was awoken on the Sunday morning to a clearly startled Marty frantically getting his things into his bag. It takes me a while to get my bearings (as it does every mornings when I zombie walk to the pantry for the cereal and usually trip over something) so I didn't really understand what was going on. Marty had intended to wake up to go join Tom, Ross, Newman, and Matt to go watch Mark try to indoor skydive. He had set his alarm for this purpose but I slept through that. I inquired why he was in a rush and if he intended on joining Tom to spectate a large man flopping around in an attempt to float in the air. Marty informed me that he in fact had misread his departure time for his flight (he believed to be 5pm Vegas time, that was in fact the time his connecting flight left for London from some sh*th*l* in Ohio) and only had an hour to get to the airport. I paused briefly to laugh and wish him luck before rolling back over.

As I laid there contemplating my weekend thus far and thinking about Cass (don't think I'm getting too gushy, I made up for this later) I heard Marty leave and the room became that eerie sort of quiet dark that only happens in hotel rooms. I laid there for some time pausing to shift uncomfortably and check the time. I noticed Zach was still out and possibly dead. I noticed I had only gotten three and a half hours of sleep thus far. I noticed a distinct lack of anything interesting happening. I also noticed a distinct lack of my ability to fall asleep. I don't know why this was; I should have been unconscious the second I rolled back over and I closed my eyes (this is my SOP) but I wasn't. I laid in this aggravating state for forty minutes before I decided it was enough and I arose and took a shower, but not before flipping off the bed and thinking it was funny thing to do.

After my shower I realized it was still a little early for me to get ahold of people, with the exception of those already at the indoor skydiving place but that was across town. Everyone else was still asleep. I left voicemails for people telling them to get ahold of me as soon as they were around. I then ate some popcorn and cleaned up my bag. Cass had bought me some Garrett's popcorn for my trip. This had spilled partially into my backpack (thankfully it wasn't in my clothing bag). I ate the few handfuls in the bottom of the bag and threw away the crumbs. My book and travel kit required some light dusting but otherwise everything was intact. Now that I had successfully killed fifteen minutes by doing chores, I realized I needed to find something to do.

I decided my best bet was to go watch some sports at a sportsbook. It seemed as good an option as any since it was something I could do while rested without losing money. I headed to the MGM since I was familiar with it and plopped myself down in a chair. I watched some sports for a good hour at least before I finally got a call from someone.

Jay and Tom called me about the same time so we decided to rally the troops together to get breakfast/lunch. It was about 45 minutes before we could all gather since people needed showers and to get back from the skydiving place. Once we were all together, we made the decision to head to the Orleans to hit that buffet. Jay and I had visited Vegas about four years prior with our buddy Denny. Denny had a friend Scott who lived in Vegas and at the time was a dealer at the Orleans. Scott put us up in his apartment and showed us around. We spent most of our time gambling at the Orleans since it was Scott's home turf and it is a pretty fun casino despite it being about two to three miles from the strip. The buffet there was good then so we were hoping it would be still good and cheap.

I was starving by this point since it had been about eighteen hours since my last meal and I had only gotten 3 1/2 hours of sleep. Jay makes the genius decision of walking to the Orleans. We knew it was off the strip I just couldn't remember how far, probably because last time I was in Vegas we either drove or drunk stumbled everywhere. A good hour walk later we finally arrived. In Jay's defense it was nice to be walking outside in good weather compared to the Midwest in February. In Jay's offense he is a bastard.

We went to the buffet and it was as good as we remember and only sixteen bucks. Zach had awoken by this time and cabbed it over to join us for lunch. I was starving but managed to eat reasonably healthy (for a buffet anyway) by getting a fruit plate and plenty of veggies in my make-it-myself burritos. Jay had a plate of fried food and ribs. The juxtaposition of those two sentences should have hit you by now.

After eating some of the boys wanted to stick around and spend some time on the casino floor. We decided this was worthy because free drinks and gambling with friends always sounds like a good time but also George Carlin had a show that night at the Orleans so we could stick around and possibly go see him. Initially Ross, Tom, Newman and I checked to see if a good movie was playing to pass the time (no In Bruges unfortunately) but were unable to find anything worthwhile. So alcohol, gambling and cocktail waitresses it was.

One of the reasons I wanted to take the boys to the Orleans was because I had described to them the ridiculousness of the uniforms that the Orleans casino cocktail waitresses wear. I hoped they hadn't changed. They fortunately hadn't. Basically the outfit looks like management told the girls to dress up in lingerie for their boyfriends and then come in to work. You can see more than 70% of the ass in these through the sheer nylons (I did measure using my trusty calipers). This has two fortunate effects: 1) it is awesome getting drinks, and 2) the girls at the Orleans tend to be very attractive. At other casinos with more modest uniforms there tend to be older waitresses with less polish. At the Orleans it takes a degree of confidence and tone to be able to wear that uniform around so the ones that do it are the ones that look good. In conclusion, the Orleans is a nice place to bring your family.

After a little bit of craps ($40 lost for me) and a few drinks we sidled up as a group to the Paigow tables. Paigow poker is a type of poker in which you make two hands. The house has to beat both or you have to beat both of the house's hands or else it is a push. Basically you can play Paigow for a long time and drink for free. We played for a while with us constituting one and a half tables so it was a lot of fun joking with friends, drinking, and not losing that much money. At some point we decided to give each other Vegas names, that is fake names we can use when we are going to get into trouble or just for fun. Mine was Clint. Taking the cake, by far, was Ross who chose NewMexico Explosion as his name. There are pornstars who would be too embarrassed to use that name. We all became very intoxicated by this point, especially Ross. Our dealers changed and an attractive Asian girl with dyed blond hair sits down. Ross, obviously drunk and obviously hitting on her, says "Wow, you're the first non-Asian I've had dealing this game." She, along with the rest of us just stare at him for a moment. She then rejoins "I'm from Thailand." We gave her the name Sylvia Goldenrod.

More drinks and gambling abounded for the next several hours. We were having a great time and missed seeing George Carlin but none of us were too concerned. We then decided to head back to the strip, but not before grabbing dinner (it was about 8pm) at In-and-Out Burger. This choice proved costly later. While there Ross was drunk and beligerent enough to loudly insist that Sylvia Goldenrod was not Asian. We then cabbed it back to our hotel to regroup.

I don't remember the next three hours.

We then ended up at the Luxor. Along the way we had lost Tom, Newman, and Phil due to stomach problems that they attributed to In-and-Out Burger but don't believe their lies (In-and-Out Burger is awesome). This left myself, Jay, Ross, Uriah, and Zach to continue partying. I had been dying to hit the poker tables again with renewed confidence so I headed there immediately despite no one wanting to join me. Luckily there were two full tables ($1/$2 no limit) going strong.

I already told you about Vegas poker players (they suck) and their strategies (they suck). I won't go into it again or bore you with details of individual pots won or how awesome I am since you already know that if you have been reading this for this long. I will be succinct and say this: there was no getting accustomed to the table/players period, I just started pwning the table immediately and identified my marks (including a guy with a long neckbeard, too funny). At about 4:30am I walked away from the table up $275 which immediately went up my nose. Not really but that seemed like an awesome way to end that sentence.

Again, I kept drinking while playing poker despite being the only one at the table doing so. I was really drunk as I walked over to New York New York to meet up with the rest of the boys. I was still jacked from my poker winnings, which basically put me at even for the weekend so I wasn't feeling tired at all. When I got there, the boys were relaxing by the slots chatting with Amy, a cool cocktail waitress Jay had met two nights earlier. She was really fun and nice and wanted to go out drinking with us when her shift ended. Her shift ended at 8am. That would mean staying up for a while and basically mean that I would not be getting any sleep before going to the airport. I debated the options for about twelve seconds before being told to man up by Jay. I called his bluff and ordered a round of Jaegermeister shots. "Who's manning up now, biatch?" is what I tacitly exclaimed.

I stayed up with them, doing a small amount of gambling (slots) but mostly just drinking and hanging out. It seemed to take forever for Amy to get done with work, especially when she disappeared for an hour around 6:30 am for her break. (Why would one get a break that shortly before leaving? Are business practices in casinos really this bizarre? They make enough money to give away booze yet have lacking personnel policies.) Regardless, we headed over to the MGM bar for a drink. Zach (who shared the room with Marty and I if you remember) had to leave shortly for his flight, which was scheduled to leave shortly after 11am. It was now nearing 10am. As I stood there I realized since my flight left shortly before 2pm and checkout time was 11am anyway I might as well checkout with Zach and head to the airport with him. We said our goodbyes (unfortunately missing Tom, Newman, and Phil) and rushed over to the airport.

We both printed our tickets and made our way to the security check. We were greeted with a line that stretched from one end of the terminal to the other despite winding aisles at the actual security stations. It actually took us a full ten minutes of walking to reach the end of the line. It looked like some bizarre exodus of glitzy refugees that all shop at Old Navy. Regardless, we waited the requisite time in line and made it through no problem.

We grabbed a bite to eat at an overpriced sandwich shop, a practice that should be illegal. Raising prices beyond the security gate is one of the more bastardly moves made at the airport, which is saying something. Zach had made it in time for his flight but it was delayed due to weather in Chicago. We waited on the seats together since our gates were within spitting distance. I tried to listen to music and sleep but could not as the designer who ideated airport chairs was a sadist. Despite the blizzard in Chicago my flight left on time, before Zach's in fact. Southwest will fly through anything. I did manage to sleep on the flight and awoke as we descended. I was greeted at the airport by a happy Cass and Charlie.

The trip overall was a blast and those that missed out missed out big time. I enjoyed myself although I can't say that I would recommend Vegas for everyone. I learned that my friends at home are better at poker than everyone else in Vegas and that sometimes it is worth flying across the country just to drink and party with friends.

Las Vegas Part 2: Crappy Sports, Cow Parts and Cowboys

The next day began for me shortly before noon. I awoke and stumbled to the bathroom to shower myself awake. While giving myself a good once over and was in the middle of giving myself another over when I heard Zach stumble into the room. Zach had promised to stay up all night and he certainly lived up to his word. Although I wasn't completely certain, through the mists of the hotel shower it sounded as though Zach was having a disagreement with Marty over Marty's perceived need to sleep. It should be noted that prior to going to bed at around seven in the morning Marty had been up for a good 30 hours. Zach was undeterred and insisted that Marty was only tired to mess with him. Eventually Marty convinced him otherwise and Zach eventually went down to a different room presumably to have the same argument with a more interested party.

I went down to the lobby to join Tom, Newman, and Ross in their quest to find a place to eat and watch the Illini "game." The ESPNZone is located inside New York New York Casino, just across the way from our hotel. We decided to head over there to check if it was playing. It was not. The WWL deems you not worthy, Illini. Also, there was a line. We headed back to our hotel to take in the buffet for breakfast/lunch and catch the end of the game afterward.

Saying that the buffet at the Tropicana is unimpressive would be accurate. Saying it is the worst meal I ate in a weekend that included dinner at In and Out Burger would also be accurate. Saying I would rather eat the betting chips from the Tropicana Casino makes me wonder what betting chips taste like (plastic, probably). It isn't entirely accurate but that aside, the buffet at the Tropicana is terrible. We did recount our nights to each other at the table and it was there that I found out that Phil had haggled with a prostitute on the Las Vegas strip. It went something like this:

Hoochie: Hey baby, you have nice hair. (lying)
Phil: Thank you.
Hoochie: I'll make all your dreams come true for $300.
Phil: $300? I have $50.
Hoochie: I'm worth more than $50, honey (lying).
Phil: /laughs and walks away

Our meal at Satan's buffet line got over soon enough that the Illini "game" was not completed and so we hurried over to the MGM sportsbook to catch most of the second half. I went with despite my only marginal interest in the game itself. Let me just say that the Illini and Wolverines played as if only three members of each team knew that they were supposed to be playing basketball, and those players were on the bench. I entertained myself by alternately watching various other athletic events (hockey, soccer chief among them) and trying to fight off a headache induced by sitting in front of seventy televisions. Also, the jokes about being able to bet on anything in Vegas are true. I think I saw spreads on cricket matches.

After the Illini got done sucking slightly more than the Wolverines, Tom, Newman, Marty (up and about by 3pm, just before the over/under line), and Ross went to meet Tom's brothers for indoor skydiving. While intrigued by the concept, I did not have a desire to spend the money on it nor to wait in line for the opportunity to lay on a fan. I took the opportunity for the afternoon lull to go catch a nap in the hotel room.

I awoke when they returned from their medium-flying adventure. It sounded amusing, particularly the part about Tom's brother Mark being too large to partake. He said he would try the following day anyway. Those of us who were hungry ventured to the other end of the strip to take advantage of a nice price on steak at Bill's Casino. If you have never heard of Bill's Casino, congratulations, you are not a compulsive gambler. It is a dive. But they had steak for $17 so we were there. The steaks were surprisingly decent, including Marty's steak on bread aka the steak sandwich. It was literally steak on bread.

After dinner, some of the boys who had never seen Vegas before wanted to tour the big casino's to take in the views. Honestly, casino floors all look the same, but if you are in Vegas you might as well check out some of the cooler casinos anyway. We took in Caesar's which end to end measures half the state of Nevada. Afterwards we gambled a bit at Bill's, which was a ripoff since I lost quickly and they bring you glasses of beer (about 8 oz.) instead of a bottle. Unsatisfied as one could be without being my girlfriend, we headed back to familiar grounds.

Marty and I had been itching to get to the poker tables for some time. I remembered the last time in Vegas the poker tables were the only place I made money. It is a bit more satisfying not losing all your money to the house regardless of luck so I recommend this game. We went to the Tropicana to find seats available on $1/$2 no limit tables. This was ideal for the cheap gambler ready to pounce on the meager pots. We saddled up to the table just shy of midnight, ready to mow down some yokels and tourists, Marty playing Butch Cassidy and yours truly playing Sundance.

A quick treatment of the poker players in Vegas: there are a lot of stupid people playing poker in Vegas. Everyone watches the World Series of Boredom on TV and reads a book then heads to the tables with their system. They practice their poker face and learn the odds of everything. The problems with this are myriad. First, you are at the $1/$2 no limit table in the Tropicana. You aren't fooling anyone into thinking you are a gamer. Second, it is pointless to bet according to a system when the dollar values don't mean anything. Three times the big blind is only $6, the numerical value is more important. When I bet against your $6 with $15, I'm not betting 7.5 times the big blind, I'm betting $15. Thanks for folding, by the way. Last, everyone there is pretty easy to read when they bet according to systems or check bet into everything and slow play all their hands (p.s. it just means you don't have a hand killer enough to steal the pot).

If you couldn't tell we did pretty well at the table. It took me a while to make sure I realized exactly how easy the table was which cost me a few pots early on. Eventually I found a groove and started betting people out of pots. I was up $80 before playing one or two stupid hands cost me and finished the night down only $11. I deferred at least one $40 pot to Marty (which I would have won). Marty finished out up $82, having taken most of his winnings from two suckers, one of whom kept coming back for more. It was a good night for him since he had spent most of his vacation to that point losing but being wasted, which he can blame for playing one very stupid hand that cost him $125. We were the only ones at the table drinking and I had at least seven beers.

We turned in around 6:30 in the morning. The best story actually comes from the table next to us. Around 3am a guy from the adjacent table (only two going at this hour) left (presumably only for a break) while up $500. He disappeared for two hours. Everyone wondered where he went during this time until he showed up two hours later to retrieve his coat. He claimed he forgot that he had $500 at the table and was up $3700 in blackjack. At first I didn't believe it but eventually it became apparent that he was a player. He sat down with the intention of losing his money and getting back to blackjack, including by offering anyone to go head to head with him for $500 on a coin toss (no takers). Everyone at the table started salivating and lost focus on anything other than this guys stack that he apparently intended to disperse to the crowd. Rufus, the only other decent player at our table, was aching to move tables but couldn't because theirs was full and ours was short. Eventually, this man went all in against two people after the flop for a pot of nigh $1200. Both other gentlemen had top pair and a flush draw but Playboy McPlaysalot had trips, and then flops the fourth on the river. The other two gentlemen were beside themselves after getting over their shock. Let that be a lesson, don't try to play a player and when someone is on a hot streak get out of the way.

After Marty and I returned to our room to find Zach very much in the middle of a coma (in retrospect we should have checked if he was alive) we settled in for bed. Marty set his alarm to go watch Mark skydive and we turned in on another good night in Sin City.