RM's specialty roll menu.	Straight ahead from my perspective.	The kitchen scene at RM.	To the upper area.	A view out towards Mandalay Place.	The shot and a roll. Delicious!
A better forward shot.	Another view to the left.	"We came..."	"We saw...."	"We kicked its ass!"

The rolls were more filling than I anticipated.  They were rich and delicious.  I'm glad I didn't order any other seafood or sushi rolls to go along with them.  By the time my bill was settled, I was now able to find a vacant seat at a $1 / $2 no limit table.  I buy in and find myself seated next to a younger kid and his girlfriend who's behind him.  He's of course a wanna-be professional poker player.  It's just the attitude he exuded.  You know, the guy that can never make an easy lay down....has to try to eloquently flip his cards into the muck, and thinks his chip tricks (or lack there of) are flashier than they really are.  He of course was winning. 

I puttered along for about half an hour, while sending text messages to BeeeJay between hands.  My session came to an end when my pocket kings were called down by pocket aces before the flop.  We also had another player making the call with a dismal queen-ten.  Not sure what that guy was thinking, but ultimately I was busted and dejected.  I hate poker.

I did have some luck making back my previous losses from Bellagio at Mandalay Bay's blackjack tables.  I'll take any win I can at this point. 

Time is flying by, and before too long, I'm on my way over to MGM to meet up with BeeeJay and Mr. Scotch at the Mansion.  The three of us sat there for a good while exchanging stories and just talking up a storm.  Mr. Scotch had one of his signature libations in his hand, while BeeeJay and I go for the Grey Goose orange as our primary alcoholic source.  The room had some players seated, but nothing staggering.  Time passes, and Mr. Scotch is soon met by his son, and son's girlfriend.  Time for them to head out to dinner. 

BeeeJay and I wander through MGM to see if we can both find an available seat at one of their poker tables.  Of course they're full and despite the waiting list with 13 names on it already, there's apparently no table opening anytime soon.  Instead of hanging around we venture to New York New York and one short escalator trip later, we're at a roulette table.  I think in the matter of 10 spins, we each hit only a single number.  BeeeJay soon busted and we parted ways.  I was holding my own at the table, and took my meager profits and ran.  I did notice that Leah was still working as a waitress, but man....the years haven't been as kind as they should have been.   She now has some black highlights in her hair, which matched the dark circles under her eyes.  Plus I think she's too young to have significant wrinkles around the corners of her eyes, and mouth.  I didn't ask for a picture this time around.

I wander back towards Mandalay Bay and just take my time scanning over the casino.  I eventually come across a $100 minimum roulette table (double zero) and see a chubby fellow who appeared to have a severe Napoleon complex.  He had easily $5,000 in purple chips in front of him in addition to a few barrels of roulette chips each worth $25.  He was a real prick to the dealers since he was obviously losing.  It seemed after every two or three spins, he'd as for a color change regarding his $25 chips.  I texted BeeeJay after watching Mr. Napoleon put $1,000 straight up on seventeen.  It missed.   

The waitress came by, and he snapped at he that he wanted "Mandalay Bay's best Pinot Noir!"  He then turned his affection back towards the dealers.  "I blanket the entire board, and you can't hit one number?  Not one!?"  Yeah, he was a prick. 

When his wine came back, he gave the waitress one of his roulette chips, and was more than willing to display his generousness by explaining "that's a $25 chip!"  I'd see him offer up his autograph time and time again further extending his markers.  The comedy of errors before my eyes came to an end when he had eventually experienced enough.  He cashed out his last six grand, and mumbled something about his thirty thousand dollar losses.  Karma's a bitch, ain't it, buddy?

I figured now was as good a time as any to check out rumjungle for something to eat.  I remember being curious about them on my first visit to Vegas.  My how times have changed.  The place had one other table with people eating, and I think there was maybe one person at the bar.  Hopefully the place picks up as the hours creep into the night.  I landed on trying out the Rodizio Fire Pit despite not having the hunger of a bear heading into hibernation. 

I also opted for a 23 year old Zacapa rum that wouldn't break the bank.  It was okay.  Thick and syrupy however.

My server (also named Kevin) was great, but the food just wasn't anything special.  Half of the meats were tough to get through, chewy and lacking flavor.  I felt I could do the same thing on my grill at home.  My favorite two items were the bacon wrapped chicken and the fire roasted chorizo.  The rest were easily forgettable.

Rodizio Fire Pit menu at Mandalay Bay's rumjungle.	Some sort of anchovie and oil product. "think of it as ketchup" my waiter said.	The water wall in front of me.	Chicken and chorizo.	Corn, beans and sweet rice. Way too much food.	My sipping rum.
Blah...	All that was left behind.	Another rum picture.	The bar on my left.	Another bar shot.	Checking out the legs on the drink.

Their rum menu is rather impressive, so I was glad to try something out.  Their other 20+ aged rum is about $125 an ounce.  (but hey, for an extra $3, you can make it two ounces!)  I skipped over that one, and went with the next best thing.  It was just too much food, and it wasn't anything to brag about.  I may head back there someday for a drink, but nothing more.  Meal status:  Fail.

From this point on, I head back to the poker room for session two of the day.  It was a fairly friendly crowd, but I couldn't catch much in the way of cards.  At one point, I was involved with an older gentleman who seemed to exude confidence.  I was forced to move all in when a flop came out as 8-8-9, and two clubs.  I held the jack ten of clubs and didn't think twice about my decision to make a move.  He makes the call and turns up a J-8.  He says to me "you play such horrible cards..."  As the river produces my badly needed seven (not clubs, damn it) I say "yeah, but sometimes you win with horrible cards."  He seems to think he's retorting back when he says in a snotty 'I told you so' type of tone:  "And sometimes you don't."  It took the dealer shoving the chips my way for him to realize he didn't win the hand.  Ha!

My end came shortly after when I see a flop while holding pocket jacks.  It's a dismal board of 6-9-2 with two spades, and I'm thinking I'm way ahead.  I move in, and for the second session in a row, again receive two callers.  One was my new buddy who held pocket queens, and another player holding two spades, which of course hit on the river.  Argh, bounced again.  I hate poker....

A short while later I'm back at a blackjack table, and running in place.  Mr. Scotch sends me a text that he's in the area and we meet up at the table.  I stand up after yet another losing session, and give him my seat.  Not too much longer BeeeJay finds us and settles in for a round as well.  They fared better than I did, so at least someone was making some money.  We venture around Mandalay Bay for a few minutes noticing how dead the place was.  Half the slots were without power, and the crowds were non-existent.  Even the high limit area was completely empty.  I'm not meaning no one was playing, but I mean deserted!  Not a soul to be found.  No players, dealers, pit bosses, bartenders....hell not even a cleaning lady was to be found. 

BeeeJay was able to move over into his Sky Suite at Aria a day early due to many unfortunate service screw-ups, so it was a gain for him.  We decided it'd be best to move all of Tuesday night's party supplies over early, and a chance to give Mr. Scotch and myself our first glimpses inside City Center. 

We're walking out towards THE Hotel's parking garage, when I notice a very good looking blonde (mostly) standing by herself, holding a martini glass, whose pink contents I can only assume was some sort of cosmo.  She heads straight for us and says "there are too many guys in this party."  BeeeJay was nice enough to put his arm around her and charmingly says "I like your cocktail."  Her response was a precious "Did somebody say cock?  Come on, let's go..."  as she's trying to steer BeeeJay in her direction.  I loop my arm around him from the other side, and attempt to pull him away.  I tell our new found friend that "he's mine" and manage to pry the two apart.  She didn't believe it, but it was the best I could come up with on the spot.  (her mom must be so proud)

Fast forward one quick ride and we're getting the bellman to load up the contents of Mr. Scotch's trunk.  Scotch, cigars, Cristal....glassware....we send it all away.

BeeeJay gives us a tour of the suite and we note the finer things City Center has to offer.  I mean, how many properties supply free styrofoam in their cabinets, or offer up an original sign to the construction workers who built your room?  Classy, I know!

Would we be charged if we took the styrofoam?	Don't adjust the dampers or you're gone!	Tub from one bathroom.	Shower and toilet.	Walk in closet.	Bedroom number one.	TV in bedroom number one.	Living area.
Table and sitting area.	Bedroom number two.	Another bathroom. (no despackle setting on the bidet)	Sitting area towards the bar area.	Aria light switch.	Tomorrow's prize....	Sitting area again.	TV in the sitting area, facing the bar and dining room.
Fancy schmancy.	Another table view.	Other bathroom.

Once everything shows up, and is put away in a mostly organized manner, we venture downstairs.  On the way out BeeeJay hands each of us a room key to the suite, which we both thought was rather generous on his part.  Once downstairs BeeeJay and Mr. Scotch settle in at a $25 a hand blackjack table with a dealer named something along the lines of "Igor."  Maybe it was "Vladimir" but it was something cool sounding (my guess was it was Ukrainian).  Through his thick accent he tells us he's from Louisiana.  Riiiight.... 

Mr. Scotch is taking advantage of the Macallan being served on the floor, and I was sitting out this session.  My eyes were already starting to feel heavy.  Mr. Scotch at one point is dealt a 66.  As the dealer is going for a card, he asks to turn his hand into a straight.  I'm not sure how that's possible, so we had to razz him a little bit. 

The rules are better for those opting to play $25 a hand as opposed to all us other peons who can only shell out $10 a hand.  The dealer stands on all seventeen's, and it's a hand shuffled shoe.  No CSM's at that level of play.  All blackjack tables pay out 3:2 for a blackjack. 

It was about 3:00 AM at the point everyone decided to wrap it up and call it a night.  Mr. Scotch was feeling almost bullet proof and "volunteered" me up to drive his car back to THE Hotel as that's where he was staying as well.  It was no bother for me, since it'd save me on a taxi as well.  We stopped at not one, but two different valet stations.  As it turns out we were on an entirely different floor and opposite direction we needed to be at one point.  One valet attendant offered to contact their counterpart on the opposite side of the hotel to let them know we're on our way and to have the car ready.  That was cool of him.

We do find the appropriate valet stand and of course the car is no where to be seen.  A few minutes later it makes its appearance.  For the first time in my more than a dozen trips, I'm driving in Vegas.  Traffic was light so the trip back to THE Hotel was quickly concluded.  No drunk good looking hookers met us as we made our way to the bank of elevator's.  Mr. Scotch and I parted ways for the evening.

After a quick bathroom break in the room, I venture back downstairs to snap a few pics of the deserted casino.  There was hardly any power in the place.  The dealers nor pit bosses didn't seem to have any idea what the outage was for, but they knew it'd last until approximately 5:00 AM.  Great communication.

It felt like a scene out of The Crow.....	Complete darkness

I chatted up with what appeared to be two metro officers for a moment who were standing by the end of the dark and vacant sports book.  They didn't know what the outage was about either.  Conspiracy theory anyone.....?

Back up to the 20th floor, and I was out for the evening.

Index     |     To Day Two     |