"Bro, how do you screw up a high five?"



Wednesday May 27th, 2015


My alarm was set to go off at 4:00, but due to the wife's insane snoring, it would be an early start for me.  My buddy Rob picks me up in the cold early morning, and we make our way to the airport.


After neglecting to put my cash on the x-ray machine, one TSA personnel asked me "what's that in your pocket?!"  I looked at him and said "CASH!"  Guess they didn't believe me, and still rifled through my spending money.  Fuck you TSA.

While on the plane I took advantage of some Southwest drink coupons and ordered a round of bloody Mary's.  Rob opted for one, and I went for two.  It seems in my hasty order, the flight attendant thought I wanted a double instead.  Oh well, guess I'm in for a strong one on the flight.  We had managed to polish off another round before landing.


We bolt off the plane, and I tell Rob he'll have to guess as to which limo driver from Presidential is ours.  As we're going down the escalator, there are of course, none to be seen.  We walk towards the luggage conveyor belt for our flight and see a driver walking our way (with no signage).  I take a guess and say "Are you here for us?"  He confirms the last name, and then turns his iPad towards Rob to display the "Sexy Beast" name I had requested.  Off we go.


The "champagne" is poured, and we're off.  We make a quick stop at a near by liquor store to buy some (very) over priced staples for our rooms, and a bottle of needed sunscreen.  I think my bottle of Captain Morgan was $26 alone.  And not for a 1.75 liter bottle.  Rob takes some vodka for his hotel, and we hop back into the limo. 

As we're cruising along, Rob finishes a glass of the cheap stuff, and attempts to put it into the flute holder.  Only his old eyes neglected to notice he wasn't actually putting the glass through an appropriately sized holder, and the glass falls straight through, and produces an almost seductive sounding snap and crash as the distinctive sound of breaking glass fills the air.  You stupid bastard...


Bags are dropped off at our respective hotels, and we wander into the Bellagio at this fine early hour.  We play a few hands at pai gow while the limits are nice and low.  I order an Old Fashioned since I've never had one, and frankly, I don't think I'll ever have one again.  That drink isn't particularly "me."  I make the move over to Pai Gow tiles at their $25 table, and try my luck.  The dealer was awesome, and was more than willing to help me brush up on my hand rankings strategy.  I missed a few Wongs here and there, and she was great in pointing out my dumb ass errors in hand setting.  I actually won a few hands which made up for my brief losses at the previous pai gow poker table.  Time for food, so we decide to trek to Bouchon for breakfast.


After hearing "how much farther?" from Rob about 13 times, we stroll into Bouchon on the 2nd floor of Venetian.  Since it was a Wednesday, their chicken and waffles offering wasn't on the menu.  I opted for the standard eggs, toast,
spuds, etc.  Rob went with their omelette option.  It was the first real sustenance of the trip, and very welcomed.  I don't know why I opted to take a coffee to go, since it was scorching hot.  And when I say "scorching hot" I mean we're talking 1994-McDonald's-coffee-lawsuit-hot.  In any case, since it didn't cool down in the next 30 minutes (at all) I tossed it in the closest trash can. 


We opted to tour through the new Linq, and check out the casino while Rob checked in, as this was his home for the next few nights.  As we're wandering through the casino, I think I see a familiar face....  Then yes...  Yes, I'm sure I do.  I tell Rob "Hey man, you see that Asian guy over there?  Did you read my last trip report?  The one where the guy wanted Cory and I to be his drug smuggling Midwest contacts that we met when we were playing Pai Gow at Bellagio in the early morning?  That looks like THAT guy."  I tell Rob "If that dude's name is "M" (to protect the "innocent") it's totally him."  And in my early morning buzz/haste, I wander/stumble over there, and sure as shit....  His name is indeed "M" (again to protect the innocent).  "Holy shit!" I think to myself.  I wander over to his pit area, and call him over.  I say "hey man, do you ever play Pai Gow at Bellagio?"  He looks me up and down and says "Bellagio?  Do you mean Aria?"  I say "No, I mean Bellagio.  About this time last year, you were there early in the morning really bombed, saying how you had to pick up your NFL buddy at the airport and you were wearing a suit?"  He says "Na man, you're probably thinking of someone else.  Us Asians all look alike."  That's when I pounced!  I said "See, that's EXACTLY the kind of jokes we were making when we were playing Pai Gow.  You said you're a bad driver, and I asked if you were good at math....that's when you said you were indeed a bad driver due to your DUI, etc."  I then decided to press the issue.  I called him to my side and in a hushed tone said "You also asked me if I'd like to be your 'contact' in the Midwest with regards to your pot smuggling business."  He looks me up and down again with that "who the fuck are you, and how do you know anything about my personal life" look.  I just nodded and said "Yeah man, I know you.  It's cool."  And wandered off.  HE'S A FUCKING PIT BOSS AT THE LINQ!  Holy shit, how long has that been happening?  In any case, I wander off, and meet Rob who's almost done with the check-in process.  We opt to part ways and settle into our rooms for the next few hours or so.

Now a little background on why we're all in Vegas.  My buddy Phil (Rob's brother) is my friend from the 3rd grade.  We had a few Vegas trips together when we were in our rambunctious twenties.  However, throughout the years, his fondness of the city deteriorated while mine continued to grow.  But.............  Phil has grown fond of the card game "Magic" and there happened to be a large convention in town this year.  Now, I've razzed Phil as much as I can (I'm a nerd at heart too), and he totally owns up to his Magic addiction hobby, and in turn I appreciate his honesty.  He likes his nerd card game, and I needle him a little, and it's all good.  In any case, a few months prior to our trip, Phil mentioned the large convention, and I hardly need an excuse to go to Vegas with my buddies.  So that's why we're all here. 

Phil's flight finally makes it into town, and I receive an odd call from him via Face Time.  Seems he locked his phone and basically disabled it (dumb ass).  He eventually called Apple support and they were able to help him get back into his phone.  He, Rob and I had agreed to met up the strip at Excalibur later that evening. 


As our agreed upon time is creeping closer, I leave the room a little early and grab a snickers gelato downstairs.  Pretty damn good stuff.  I wander over to Petrossian and settle in there all while texting Rob and letting him know where to meet me.  I indulge in trying the vodka & caviar pairings.  It was good, but despite seeing numerous pictures of the offering before, I was a little surprised at how small the samplings really were.  Rob eventually finds me and shares some finger foods while I work on polishing off the 4.5 ounces of cold vodka in front of me.  Despite my numerous attempts, Rob didn't help me out with the alcohol consumption (bastard).  But he was more than willing to polish off the almonds that were at the table.  And I must say, those almonds are damn good.  Not sure what they put on 'em, but they were fantastic.  In any case, we're off to Excalibur!


We take the tram to Monte Carlo, and then decide we're really tired of walking, so we take a cab a few short blocks down the strip.  We adequately tip the driver, as I'm sure he was grumbling on the inside of the fare's distance.  We wander into the shithole of a casino and meet up with Phil.  I guess the plan tonight was to check out the Tournament of Kings show.  Saw it years and years ago with my now wife, and Phil and his girlfriend at the time.  Back then we were probably a little louder than most in the crowd, and this night was going to be no exception. 

Ticket prices were a bit hefty ($75 each) and we were seated in the "Hungary" section.  We cheered as loudly as we could when our knight would come around, and despite the stacked odds, he actually made it to the finale in the tournament.  I like to think that was due to in part, our awesome cheering at his dexterous sword skills, and magical mullet.  We're given some basic tomato soup, in combination with a small chicken, a biscuit, and two sprigs of broccoli.  When drink orders were taken, I'd hope one of us would have pulled out a line from the awesomely bad movie, Cable Guy and blurt out:  "Dos thus have thou a mug of ale for me and me mate, for he hath been pitched in battle for a fortnight and has the king's thirst for the frosty brew dos thou might have for thus!"  But instead we just said "two buckets of beer, please."  The show is what it is.  It was entertaining enough, and we wrapped up in short order to hit the craps table upstairs at the conclusion.


We had to wait a while before another table would open up, and they initially put it at a $10 minimum.  I used my magnetic charisma and asked if they'd lower it to a $5 minimum.  Which they did.  Phil would bet the dark side, while Rob and I would try to nail those points.  Whenever a point was made, I was more than happy to gloat to Phil and point out the errors of his logic.  During my one roll I happened to toss the dice a little higher in the air than normal.  The short craps dealer told me to toss 'em at eye level.  "Your eye level, or my eye level?" I asked.  I guess she meant at her eye level.  Losses were had, and we decided to stumble towards Luxor.

I played a few hands of pai gow, while the guys were sitting up at the bar taking it easy.  I took a slight loss and joined them.  Rob was razzing Phil about paying for a beer when Rob slid in a $20 in the bar-top VP machine and got a complimentary gin and tonic.  Phil gave me a look that said "just wait."  We were chit chatting and pretty soon Rob's $20 dwindled down to $0.  Phil let out a well timed "how much was your drink, again?"


We took advantage of their specials and got a few more beers, served in a classy plastic bucket.  After Phil unsuccessfully tried to explain to me what a hernia really is, we take a cab and head to Planet Hollywood as it's the closest between our three properties (Phil's staying at the Elara Hilton timeshare).  We've all been up for a while and call it quits for the evening. 


Just as I'm crossing the street to get to Bellagio, I snap the pictures above.  I had been trying to educate Phil and Rob as to the difference between the "sluts" and "hookers" are in Vegas.   IE, the hookers are the ones that maintain eye contact with just about anyone with a dick, and the sluts are all the other girls who dress up for the part.  They all look the same.  In any case, I sent Phil a phone pic of the girl here and said "this is a hooker."  Sure enough my theory was proven correct (in my mind) as when we were crossing the street, we were all nearly mowed down by a late turning car.  I said something about it being "his world, we're just living in it."  She heard me, and let out a very insincere laugh.  I didn't keep up the contact, and made it to my room, exhausted.




Thursday May 28th, 2015


Woke up at 7:30, tossed and turned until 8:00, and then said "fuck this shit!" and got out of bed to get ready for another day in Vegas. 

I meander downstairs to the pai gow table, and start playing after texting Rob where I'm at.  He and I both have shaving appointments this morning.  He's first at 9:30, and then myself at 10:30.  I believe I ordered one screwdriver, but mainly held fast in my inebriation efforts.  I mainly stuck to water or plain orange juice.  Rob leaves for his appointment, and currently I'm the only one at the table.  The dealer was a friendly familiar face I got to know when Cory and I had our "marathon" sessions last year at the same table.  She says she remembers my face, but is bad with names, and then promptly asks me if I'm playing in the World Series of Poker this year (a conversation topic we discussed last year).  As time goes on, she offers to let me bank at the table since it's just the two of us.  I shake the dice in the tin while I take the opportunity to bank every other hand.  It really didn't matter, as I took a small loss before leaving for my appointment.

I make my way into the salon, and shortly after I see Rob emerge and walking towards the door.  Today we were both going to have the pleasure of having a shave from Johnny, and I couldn't be more pleased.  Johnny had given me my first professional shave back in 2006.  Since then I was hooked on the experience.  We talked a little bit about his dismantled barber shop which was located behind the now SLS casino.  We also exchanged pleasant yet brief chit chat while allowing me to soak into the barber's chair (or "throne" as Johnny calls it).  I told Johnny I've had shaves from everywhere in town, and  yet, he's still the best.  If you have the chance, I'd highly recommend trying to get him as your barber.  He's been with Bellagio for 10 years, and I hope he's with them as long as he'd like to be.  I'll definitely try to book him again on future visits.

Rob and I decide to hit up Noodles for lunch today since we're both now charming looking sons-of-bitches!  Phil is off at his Magic convention, so the two of us settle in for some eats.  We ordered a round of chicken wings, and pot stickers for appetizers, and I threw in a bottle of sake to start the day off right.  My menu selection was the spicy shrimp noodles, and I forgot what Rob ordered.  The restaurant was rather busy, and the service was unfortunately, lackluster.  I picked up the tab, and we were out the door in short order. 


We decided to head over to Rio to check out the World Series of Poker.  One quick cab ride and we were wandering through the maze of the casino.  With more effort than should have been required, we found the various convention halls.  Most were in some various state of disarray with poker tables and chairs as far as the eye could see.  I snapped a few pics, and found the "stage" where most of the final tables were going to be filmed and streamed online.  I ran into Dutch Boyd who was playing in an Omaha event, and I chatted briefly with his girlfriend about their Twitch stream.  She snapped a pic of Dutch and I and later posted it on his FaceBook wall.  Aside from a few hundred players grinding it out in various events, it was pretty quiet.  Our time spent at Rio was short, and after exchanging texts with Phil we landed on meeting over at Bally's.


Rob and I were wandering throughout Bally's waiting for Phil to make the trek via monorail from the convention center to where we were.  Eventually we all meet up (and Phil's wearing his nifty little man purse, complete with Magic cards).  We scanned over the near by poker tournaments that were starting up, and decided to just settle down at Bally's for their offered tournament.  Phil and I actually ended up being assigned to the same table.  I apologized ahead of time for busting him.  He was in the 10 seat, and I was in the 7.

As the cards were put into the air, I made a few position raises and stole the blinds.  One had actually went to the flop, and I hit total air.  But my continuation bet brought the pot my way.  Phil gave me the look that said "I totally know what you're doing, fucker."  I had to chuckle on the inside since I knew what he was conveying.  He and I grew up playing cards together since we were about 13, so I wasn't surprised he had an idea of what was going on.  As time continues I'm dealt pocket queens and nines, which brought small pots my way.  Eventually I'm dealt pocket sevens and I see a 10-5-2 flop with another player.  My opponent bets, and I raise.  He re-raises all in, and I contemplate my options for a brief second.  I figured he didn't have a 10 in his hand, so I made what I'd consider a hero call for most of my stack.  Indeed he did not have a 10 in his hand, but the two fives he DID HAVE went well with the one on the flop.  I didn't improve and most of my lovely chips went his way.

I was now down to about 13 big blinds, so I had just enough chips to make a pre-flop all in bet a little uncomfortable to call without premium hands.  So, I was just waiting for a hand to race with so I could double up.  I didn't have to wait too long before I held an off suite AK.  I figured "this is it" and pushed my chips into the middle.  It's folded all the way around, and I get one caller.  I figured I have him crushed, or it's going to be a 50/50 type of hand.  He turns up a dismal A-9 off suite (really?) and I feel good about the hand.  I get kicked in the dick by the poker gods as he flops a 9.  I failed to improve and I was busted from the tournament.  Now, I feel a boil of rage starting to fester, and I was THIIIIIIS close to blurting out "good hand, shit head!" but I held fast.  I humbly wander out of the room while giving Phil a glance that proclaimed "ARE-YOU-FUCKING-KIDDING-ME-DID-YOU-SEE-THAT-SHIT?!"  Ugh.

I meander around the corner and make a quick call home while the boys continue in the tournament.  From the rail I see Rob is put into a position for all of his chips against two other players that have him covered.  From what I could see (and remember) he held two over cards against his opponents, and was a statistical favorite to triple up.  His call wasn't a bad one in my opinion, but he failed to take the win, and was also busted from the tournament.  Phil was our last hope for one of us to cash.  To console each other, Rob and I head to the near by bar, and start playing video poker and drowning our poker sorrows in the free beers that came our way.  I'm not a big video poker player by any means, and I actually hit my first quads ever.  I was pretty stoked.  The other hand of interest that I simply MUST call out is when Rob was dealt a full house, and he thought he only had two pair.  It was a slow motion scene from a movie where I was saying "Nooooooooooooooo....!" as his hand was slamming down on the deal button.  He tossed his boat for a measly two pair.  To soothe his feelings I said "okay, give me your best 'I'm-a-dumb ass' face!"  and then snapped the picture below.


Our time at Bally's is concluded when Phil unfortunately busted on the bubble in the poker tournament when his K-10 of diamonds was called off by a Q-3 of clubs and found a queen on the flop.  At one point, the majority of the final table suggested cutting up the money at that point, but the chip leader had other plans, and declined.  Phil was a little beat up.  But hey....we all won the same amount of money!

There really wasn't a plan at this point in time, so we decided to stop off at our different hotels together so we could reload on cash, and drop a few things off.  The closest stop was Rob's room at the Linq.  We wander that way, and eventually find the set of elevators leading up to his room.  A group of about 4 college age guys get on, and they seem fairly buzzed at this point.  One of them holds up a near full 275 milliliter bottle of Fireball and says to his buddies "okay, this needs to be empty by the time we get to our floor."  About two of them take a drink from the bottle.  It's in my general vicinity, so I playfully grab it from the guy, and take a swig myself.  They erupt in laughter and debauchery cheering.  Rob takes a (small) drink as well.  The elevator comes to rest on Rob's floor and as we're departing, I give the kid closest to me a high five before my exit.  I turn back around, and hear "It was a high five dude, how do you mess that up?"  I guess Rob's coordination and timing was well off with his high five delivery and it was just a little bit awkward. 

We hang out in Rob's room and soak in the view (ahem).  We pour a few drinks from the bottle of vodka he had purchased with me at the convenience store on our way from McCarren.  Phil displays his prestigious collection of Magic cards, and we continue to rib him a little bit on his nerdy obsession.  In any case, a few drinks later, we're wandering out the door and heading to Bellagio so I can reload on cash.


We make it to Bellagio without much effort, and again pour some stiff drinks in my room.  I let the boys soak in the view, and we all hang out for a bit.  I reload on cash, and not soon after, the fountain show starts up.  While we're mesmerized by the dancing fountains and accompanying music which I have playing via the TV, Phil let's out an insightful "I wonder how many people are being pick pocketed right now." referring to the crowd watching the same show from the sidewalk 23 floors below.  We make one more drink for the road before departing and strolling through the casino towards the front exit.


We make it through the Miracle Mile shops in Planet Hollywood and finally find Phil's room up in the Elara Hilton Grand Vacations building.  His floor to ceiling windows actually offer a really great view of the strip.  I was impressed.

In short order, we wander out with that inevitable "what do you wanna do?"  "I dunno, what do YOU want to do?" bullshit.  It was decided that food would be the best option at this time of night and as we're wandering through the Miracle Mile area the unavoidable "where do you wanna eat?"  "I dunno, where do YOU want to eat?" surfaced.  In the end we settled in at the closest place that's open. I can't seem to recall the name.  Phil imparted the fact that he was really starting to feel the effects of the mass binge boozing we did not long ago at our respective rooms.  I opted for some sort of burger selection, Phil went with the salmon (I know, right?), and Rob....well, I forgot what he ordered.  In a display of generosity, Rob picks up the bill while Phil and I chime in for the tip. 


At the conclusion of the meal, the general consensus was that it was time to call it a night.  Phil was woozy, and Rob and I wander outside of Planet Hollywood.  He heads towards Linq while I cross the street and return home at Bellagio.  I scan through the bustling property and there's massive amounts of money being spent tonight.  Most tables were full, and I saw one gentlemen playing blackjack with about $30,000 in purple chips.  I can only imagine what happens in the high limit area. 

In any case, nothing is drawing my attention, and I decided to focus my attention on getting a decent night's rest. 

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz....




Friday May 29th, 2015


What?  Can't sleep in again?  Time to get up, fucker! 

It's fairly early, so I head to the pai gow table downstairs and settle in.  The waitress comes around, and I slowly rejuvenate myself with a few cups of coffee.  I later switch to plain orange juice, and I must say.  Bellagio has some damn good coffee and juice.  I shouldn't have been as impressed with their orange juice as I was, but damn.  Must be the real deal...no concentrate, no added sugar, etc.  I couldn't gulp 'em down fast enough. 

In between my slow grinding losses, I'm texting Rob to see if he's awake.  He is indeed, and I told him I'd meet him over at Linq in short order and we'd find some breakfast somewhere.  As I'm wandering through the shops of Bellagio I see a fellow in full military fatigues walking around a dog.  I walk up to him and politely ask him what basically amounts to "hey man, what the hell is with all these dogs?"  I saw one at Rio, Bally's, and now one at Bellagio.  He just grumbles to me and says "It's been this way for the last 8 years."  I leave it alone at that, but I wanted to say "Ummmm.............bullshit?!"  In my many visits to Vegas, this is the first time I've seen military and security types walking around with (bomb-sniffing?) some furry canine American friends.  If it were at one property I probably wouldn't have thought twice about it.  But they seemed to be in nearly every place I visited.  The conspiracy theorist in me  considers there was probably some semi-credible threat against Vegas that was intercepted somewhere...  Oh well.

I ultimately find Rob sitting at some ambiguous table game near Linq's sports book.  Rob always has a way of winning at these carny games, and I have no idea how he does it.  Three card poker, Mississippi Stud, Caribbean Stud (when it was around), you name it, he somehow manages to come out in the black.  He tells me that after we parted ways last night, he hit a rather decent bonus payout at 3 card poker.  Really? 

The game he's sitting at now is some sort of "make a flush" game where you're dealt 7 cards.  You have to make a 4 card flush to make some money, and there are all sorts of obscure bonus and side bets you can make.  Somehow Rob is raking in the chips at this game too.  I buy a water across the way and just sit down at the almost empty table to watch and take it in.  As one player leaves, Rob encourages me to sit down to play, which I decline.  He of course ridicules my choice, as if I were to have sat down, he would have been dealt a different hand than the one he was, and would have won a carny bet that paid off something like a bazillion to one.  He still manages to take his profits and walk away, as Phil eventually turns up, and we all opt for breakfast at the near by Guy Fieri's Kitchen and Bar restaurant.

Despite the jam-packed crowd, we were seated quickly.  After scanning the menu I opt to start off with one of their signature bloody mary's.  I went with a heat level of 4, and marked which ridiculous additions I wanted.  Once it came out, Rob elected to try one out as well.  I'm sure he went with the pussy heat level of -2 since he's a Sally when it comes to spicy food and drink.  I ordered the Chicken Fried Bacon Biscuits & Gravy, Phil went with the Big Burrito, and again.....I forgot what Rob ordered. Phil razzes me a little bit about taking pictures of my food, so in return, I take a picture of HIM eating HIS food.  Take THAT, biatch!  I can't say I was impressed with the end result.  Phil liked his selection, but mine just left me with that "really?" feeling.  Service was slow to take our money, but after wrapping that up, we venture next door to Harrah's.


Another poker tournament is about to start up, and since we had nothing better planned for the afternoon all three of us sign up.  Again Phil is assigned to my table.  He's in the three seat, while I'm in the 10.  The only other character I remember at the table was in the 6 seat, and he's a kid I'll refer to as "Jabba-The-Hut."  Just the way he wore his snug-fitting hood halfway over his head made him look like everyone's favorite ill fated slug looking Star Wars villain. 

Before too long I have an off suite J-10, and see a flop.  It brings out promise showing a rainbow 8-9-10.  I've flopped top pair, and have an open ended straight draw.  I bet, and have one opponent come along for the turn.  It was a queen, which improved my hand to the straight I was hoping for.  I bet, but am raised.  I only call and the river provided the brick of a card I was looking for.  I contemplate moving all in but instead check.  My opponent bets, and I decide to only call.  He shows the better end of the straight with a J-K giving him a king high straight to my queen high.  Arggggh, that one hurt. 

As the tournament progresses, Phil ends up moving all in pre-flop against Jabba the Hut while holding pocket kings.  Jabba turns up pocket tens, which made me cock my head a little bit.  Phil was playing tight aggressive, and I certainly thought he had tens crushed before the cards were turned up.  I guess Jabba didn't.  In any case, one of the damn remaining two tens hit the flop, and most of Phil's stack was shifted to the middle of the table.  Phil and I are both now short stacks at the table. 

Phil continues to play extremely tight, and before too long is forced to move all in with a measly few big blinds.  A call is made behind him, and Phil's abysmal K-5 is up against pocket aces.  The flop brings out promise showing king high.  The turn sends a gasp around the table, as another king is laid down.  The river is a blank, and Phil was able to gain some traction with a lucky draw.  A little while later, it was my turn to give the all in move a try with my A-J.  I was called down by a K-J (same guy that made the straight against me).  My hand held up and again I had to think a little bit on that one saying to myself "really?"

A few hands later I was dealt pocket tens, and had one short stack move all in.  I thought this was going to be a great spot for me to try to pick up more "sitting duck" chips.  But then another player after him goes all in.  Of course this guy was new to the table, so I had no idea how he played.  He needles me a little bit saying since I didn't snap call, he must be ahead in the hand.  I lean up and ask him "really???" and eventually I make a hesitant call.  I made the right decision as it was A-7, and A-Q against my pocket pair.  I won the hand, and a healthy dose of chips made their way to my stack.

The blinds were at $200/$400 and I look at the dealer's structure sheet.  I ask her "Is that right, the next level is $400/$800?"  She says "Yep, get ready to play some Bingo!"  Great....  The last hand before break came between the one seat, and Jabba.  The flop comes out bringing a 6-7-8 all hearts.  Player one moves all in, and I swear I could have heard the kid say "Ho-ho-ho-ho...." in that Jabba The Hut laughter, and makes a quick call.  It was the K-5 of hearts up against the 9-2 of hearts.  Both had flushes, but the one seat was well ahead.  At first we all say, "ah, he's open ended for the straight flush too" but then we say "Nope, he's got one of your two outs with that 5."  Well, a damn lightning bolt of bad luck came and struck the table, as the single card that could have helped Jabba take the pot did indeed turn up.  The 10 of hearts, giving him a straight flush.  The one seat let out a frustrated, passionate, and well deserved "God damn it!  I hate this game!"  Jabba says "Hey man, I'm sorry, I truly feel bad for that one."  The one seat says "No, it's not you, it's just my damn luck!" as he storms out of the card room.  Yeah, that was a tough one.  At this point we're on break, and we meander over to where Rob is playing whatever carny game he was at.  He had busted in the tournament, and Phil and I were reliving some of the more interesting hands.

As I checked the time, I told Phil I might have to end up dumping chips his way, as the tournament could last a few more hours, and I have a dinner reservation that evening that I can't afford to miss.  We settle on the secret "signal" and stroll back to the poker room.  Well, no need for signals as Phil moved all in early in the next level with an A-K only to be called down by, as Phil fondly says; "a dipshit old Limey" who was holding a measly 3-4 of spades, which of course found a 3 on the flop.  Phil and I both later agreed that he didn't want to be there.  It looked like he was trying to bust for whatever reason. 

I now had about $20,000 in chips, and started to loosen up a bit.  The next two hands I played involved an unsuccessful chase at an open ended straight draw, and a badly timed bluff.  I made another stab at doubling up when I moved all in with pocket 9's, only to be called by a player holding pocket queens.  I told him I apologize for the bad beat he was about to take, but it didn't happen.  I wander out and meet Phil and Rob at the same table we had been at moments earlier.

Rob, again, is somehow winning at this horrible carnival game table and Phil and I are trying to goad him into betting more.  This is the point in the session where the dealer stops, and asks to see my ID.  I was taken aback at the request, but gladly obliged.  She studies it for a moment, and then hands it back commenting on how young I look.  I wouldn't say that I look less than 21, THAT'S for sure...  Rob manages to leave his carny session well ahead, and we cross the street back to Linq.  The plan at this time was to retire to our respective rooms and rest up.  I had a dinner reservation at e' and we all were going to meet up at Caesars Palace later in the evening. 

I take advantage of the pocket of time to rest up back in my room, and attempt to deal with the quarter sized blisters forming on both of my feet.  When the time comes, I take my golden ticket and walk next door to Cosmopolitan.  I tell the hostess at Jaleo I'm here with a reservation at e' and after confirming my name, she has me take a seat with other waiting patrons.

Presently it's a couple, and myself waiting when a server (Brian) comes over to offer me a drink.  I opt just for a water for the time being, and he explains to us some of the options in tonight's dinner.  He runs through the two wine pairing options, and also advises a few of the courses come with the optional addition of shaved truffles.  For me, truffles are "eh, whatev" so I decline.  They taste just like any other mushroom I've ever had, so for the additional $60, I opt out.  I tell Brian I'll be going with the lesser expensive wine pairings tonight instead of the more lavish $300 offering. 

I get to know the couple sitting next to me as we strike up an easy and pleasant conversation.  This was Andre and Una from New York and I would say they were probably close to my parents' age.  They're foodies as well, and we talk about the reservation process we all went through, and discussed how we came across e' to begin with.  Conversation leads itself to various other topics, and I come to find out Andre is in the jewelry business.  He comments on Warren Buffet's store in Omaha, Borsheim's, which he seems to be familiar with (and that I drive by everyday).  We continue to gossip, and I find that Andre is a dedicated and strictly craps player, due to the low house advantage based upon the mathematical odds offered.  The thought of "I wonder what this guy would say to Rob about his carny game play" ran through my mind.  Una is easy to talk with and her Russian accent is refreshing to my ears.

To my surprise there was another table directly behind us waiting as well, which I had neglected to notice.  We're all lead back into the "restaurant within a restaurant" and take our various seats.  Since I'm left handed, I sit on the far left with Una on my right, followed by Andre.  Next to him is a couple from the mid west.  The husband is a doctor dealing primarily with neuroscience. Continuing to the right, next to the doctor, was an attractive blonde girl and her husband.  Then, another couple rounding out the table, with what I'll only describe as an airhead girl, next to her handsome Greek husband.  Turns out the blonde and airhead are sisters. 

To start the dinner, we were given a chilled sangria ice cream for a lack of a better description.  The dish certainly had kick you'd expect.  It was explained to us that the center pieces were edible, and made out of sesame and cacao nibs.  Interesting.


The Foie Gras doughnut was an interesting course, and packed a lot of flavor in a small package.  The potato glass was "eh, okay?" but the anchovy butter was what brought it to life.  To my surprise, I'd eat nearly anything with anchovy butter on it.


The cheese cracker was "hey look, a cheese cracker!" but still good.  Just nothing mind blowing.  The beet gazpacho "soup" was odd for me.  It reminded me of an ice cream sandwich and the "bread" pieces, I believe were made out of cotton candy.  Not my favorite, as I'm not a fan of that circus staple.  The clams were covered in an orange foam, and to my surprise I was left with a "that's it?" feeling.  I wanted to like the dish more, but I guess it was lost on me.


The next courses included some razor clams and another cheese course with "hazelnut caviar" on the side.  When biting into the cheese component, you're getting a burst of pleasantly funky, strong, and earthy flavor.  I wish I could recall the type of cheese used, as it's something I hadn't tasted before.  We all were given, what reminded me of a jello shot, only in a round presentation.  Frankly, I wasn't expecting it to taste like alcohol, so I apparently neglected to fully listen to the chef as it was being presented.  Soon after we were given a chickpea soup.  For some reason, the chef decided to cover mine (and many other plates) with truffles, despite my earlier decision to withhold from the addition.  In any case, it was "meh, chickpea soup...  tastes like every other chickpea I've ever had."


Squid with a rosemary foam was served next, and I found it to be a little on the chewy side.  I almost expected as much, but I was hoping my expectations would be wrong.  Eh, it was squid....okay.  Another fish course made its way out, and this time it was fluke with squid ink "caviar."  It was a nice fish, but nothing too insane.  I feel I could have cooked the same fish at home.  

Not long after the Wagyu beef made it's appearance.  Again, as it's being plated, the chef covers all of the plates in black truffle.  This time I say tell him I've opted out of the truffle addition, and asked if  that was going to be a problem.  He looks at me, shrugs his shoulders and says "It's not going to be a problem for me!"  Okay, good enough.  The accompanying potato gnocchi were actually my favorite part of the dish.  Coming from Nebraska, a well cooked piece of moo meat doesn't often impress me.  I still inhaled it.

Following was the cotton candy empanada.  Again, I really don't like cotton candy, so this one was "eh" for me as well.  I neglected to remember what was inside of it, but it was crunchy and reminded me of peanut butter.  Along came another cheese course which had seeds that were made from re-frozen pomegranate juice.  It was pleasant and I can't really think of a negative with it.  One of my favorite drinks of the evening was the burnt rum coffee.  A cauldron type of dish is put to my left, and its contents are set on fire.  This continues through a few courses, and come to find out it was a bowl of rum burning off the extra alcohol.  Everyone was given a random and distinct tea cup and was filled with the rum/coffee drink.  It was a really cool way begin the closure of the meal. 


As things are wrapping up, we were presented with various dessert courses, all of which offered their unique twist on a sweet closure to this dining novel.

With regards to the total experience, the audience was rather engaged with the chefs and each other.  At one point, the "airhead" started steering the conversation into some obscure book she read, "that was written by a doctor" saying something stupid like vaccines cause epilepsy or "insert-whatever-medical-condition-here."  She turns to the neuro doctor seated in the middle of the table an asks for his opinion.  He eloquently says "Well, I find it troublesome and dangerous if you base your opinion solely on a singular publication or paper that hasn't been scrutinized or reviewed by others in the medical field."  BOOM!  I smiled at that one.

Una and I discuss various topics from the food being presented to us, travel, to their other dining plans for their trip this time around.  Turns out she's an activist that has traveled to Uganda and other parts of Africa in an attempt to help save the dwindling chimpanzee and other primate populations that are unfortunately, on the decline.  She shows me her various pictures on her phone from her last visit.  I thought that was interesting. 


As we begin to approach the last few courses, the airhead seems to find an interest in me for some reason.  She initially seems to think Una is my mother, and if that's the case, well then Andre MUST be my father.  All three of us got a huge laugh out of that, and we had to correct her assumption by stating we had met just an hour earlier.  I did look at Andre and let out a "Thanks for dinner tonight, Dad!"  I then had to explain I was accompanying friends to Vegas, one of whom was competing in the huge Magic tournament.  The doctor turns to me and says "is that the one being held at the convention center?"  I guess people on his flight out were discussing it. 

The experience was fun and I can check it off my bucket list.  I don't see myself going back to e' anytime soon, but I'm glad I did it.  I had a great time with my fellow diners and despite the gal sitting opposite of me being a bit of a "valley girl" we all had a great time.  I gave Una a light hug and gave Andre a handshake before telling them I hope to run into them the next evening when they're dining at Michael Mina in Bellagio.  After paying (with no truffle charge!), I finish off the last sips of the Jose Andres gin and tonic in front of me, and made my way out.

Final note on e':  You can actually make reservations 90 days in advance.  It's no longer limited to 30.

My first item of business was to stop in my room to change out of these damn dress shoes I had neglected to fully break in before my trip.  Next item on my list was to meet Rob and Phil next door at Caesars.  Without too much trouble, we manage to find each other and take a cab downtown.  We observe the overhead light display to various Bon Jovi tunes.  As we're standing around and watching the "spray paint guy" do his thing, someone was shining a light across which displayed a message reading something to the effect of "The Nevada Health Commission found body fluids on bed linens at The Fremont."  Big shocker.  I'm sure it's just isolated to The Fremont, right? 


Anyway, we didn't hang around too long, and wandered down towards the El Cortez.  Once inside, I decide to hit up the $.50 roulette table.  Damn Friday night limit increases...  Rob joins me for a few spins and we both pretty much run in place.  No major losses just yet.  Phil and Rob wander over to the craps table while I continue my up and down session.  I join them in short order, and Phil again is on my right betting the dark side.  I yell down to Rob at the opposite end of table "Rob, let's just win, okay?  That's all I want you to do.  Just win, okay? (shoulder shrug here)"  Rob did manage to hit a point which cost Phil his bet, but rewarded the rest of us degenerates at the table.  This happened off and on a few times at the same table, yet somehow we all managed to end up with some decent losses.  Damn it! 

I make an attempt to stop the bleeding and sit down at their 3:2 single deck blackjack game.  The hands were going fast, and the pit boss was rather chatty for some reason after swiping my player's card.  She starts talking to me about Omaha and Jackie Gaughan, and asks if I come to the El Cortez often.  I'm a little taken aback, but I tell her I try to stop in at least once on every trip.  Not sure what that was about.  In any case, Saturday was going to be Phil's "main event" tournament, so he needed to call it a relatively early night.  I buy Rob and myself a 60 ounce football of rum and coke before hailing a cab.
Phil abandons us, and Rob and I continue with our night on the town.  We move from Bellagio over to the Linq.  At this point in the night, the drinks from El Cortez and the footballs were starting to take effect.  And frankly, I was feeling goooooood.  Rob convinces me to play in his stupid "4 card flush" game, and it took about 1.5 hands before I lost my buy in.  I was down to the felt in record time, while that silly bastard continued to rake in the wins.  I took advantage of the drink service, just to help maintain (okay, propel) the current buzz I had. 


As we're strolling through the casino, a girl with a short mowhawk (and I assume her girlfriend) comes up to us and says "Hey, it's my birthday, but I wanted to give this to YOU!"  Rob and I are like "huh?" and we take the card that was handed to us, as they disappear into the sea of people behind us.  The card was nice, but the fake money was a dick move in my opinion....


Rob continues his run at the carny games, while I crash and burn.  I want to say he was playing 3 card poker when a masseuse came by offering massages.  I bought him ten dollars worth, which was probably a 5 minute massage.  At the conclusion of that we decided to check out the happenings outside.

We wander through Linq and are on our way outside when an obviously obliterated girl comes slowly stumbling up to us.  Per Rob's recollection, the conversation went roughly something like this:

Drunk Girl:  Where am I? 
Kevin:  You're at the Linq.
Drunk Girl:  I'm hungry.....
Kevin:  I have a cockmeat sandwich if you want it.  No bread though...
Drunk Girl:  Really?  Where?

She was totally out of it, and had no wits about her, and obviously didn't get my joke.  We asked her if she had friends in the area, but she was teetering on the drunken stage where language doesn't compute any longer.  To help her along we pointed her towards the cashier, which had security in the area.  That's about the best we could do. 

Now here's where things became interesting.  We were photo bombing people taking pictures on the kiosks in the middle of the walkway between Flamingo and Linq.  We snapped a few creative ones of our own, but it seems in our drunken states we weren't able to correctly type in our email addresses to send them. 

We started wandering through Flamingo for some reason, and I randomly gave a stranger a high five.  Then it turned into a competition between Rob and I.  And when I say "turned into a competition" I mean I was more willing to make an ass of myself than Rob was.  Then it became a game, that needed rules and points assigned to it.  Every new person I gave a high five to would seemingly just add to the hilarity of the "game" in my mind, which further cemented the need for a formal structure.  Point values would need to be assigned to each person you give a high five to.  Perhaps a single point per high five, but the more rare the individual, the more points assigned to it.  For example, a high five from a pit boss would be worth more points than, say a random drunk guy.  Then it just got out of hand...  Girl with a full leg tattoo high five!  Security guard high five!  Cashier high five!  Group of 3 drunk girls in slutty dresses high five! Five high fives in a row from a group of random strangers, high five!  Dude in a wheel chair with a broken leg high five!  Midget high five!  Prostitute high five!  Girl holding a drink with a neck strap, high five!  Dude with an eye patch high five! 

Basically I was looking to categorize anyone that would return my high five efforts, and "incorporate" them into the game.  To my pleasant surprise the vast majority of people were willing to "play" the game with me and offered up their reciprocation.  I think I stopped keeping score when it was something like an obscene 35 to 4.  Rob wasn't "going for it!" like he should have.  That's why he lost.  Maybe next time, fella.  Looking back at it now, it seems rather stupid, but oh my god, my gut was hurting from laughing the entire time. 

We make our way outside, and are now standing just by the entrance to Cromwell.  Rob and I were concluding our night, and were going to be parting ways.  For some reason which escapes me at the moment, he hands me a $5 bill and says "get a picture with a hot chick."  CHALLENGE ACCEPTED!

Just before we separate, a working girl comes up to me and puts on her game face.  She starts chatting me up, asking me where I'm staying, and if I was looking for a date, etc...  Now, I relax my body language and start returning the chit-chat as if to give her hope of a quick score.  She asks if I'm interested in having a good time, and I tell her "Well, I'm not....but my buddy over here is."  I point her in the direction of Rob (standing about 5 feet behind me) and then I take off like a bat out of hell running up the near by escalator just outside of the hotel.  Once I get up to the top in record time, I turn around only to see Rob waiving her off as he turns his back and wanders back to his hotel.  I was snickering at that one for a while.  According to my phone text history, I sent him a message at 3:45 AM asking him only "Did that work?" meaning did my dump-and-run tactic work.  He didn't respond.....

I give a few people between Bally's and Bellagio a random high five, again, most of which were returned.  I finally make it to my hotel and as I'm walking through the shops towards the casino I see a dude standing by himself leaning against the wall, near the restrooms in that area.  I extend my hand up high for another high five, and he returns the favor.  Only this one was a little bit different...  As our hands gently collide in the air I hear him mumble "I have cocaine."  Sure enough, he put, what I guess was an eight ball, into my hand.  I look down, and there's a neatly wrapped ball of white in my palm.  I didn't really know how to process the situation, and I started to hand it back to the guy saying "na, man, that's a little bit more than what I'm used to."  He says "I don't want it back" matter of factually and refused to take it.  Now, in my stupid state, I ask "How much?"  I don't know if it was curiosity or something else....  BUT....for those reading this report who are a little less intelligent than myself...  THAT IS NOT A FUCKING QUESTION YOU ASK A DRUG DEALER WHILE HOLDING HIS PRODUCT IF YOU'RE REALLY NOT INTERESTED IN BUYING.  He tells me "$500."  I again try to back pedal and get out of the situation and say "Na, man, I know you're working here, and I don't want to take up your time from you doing your thing, so here ya go."  Again, he refuses and tells me I'm not wasting his time, since I "wanted" to buy it from him.  I think by now he's frustrated and says "tell ya, what.  I'll give it to you for $100."  After taking mental note of how fast he was willing to cut the price by 80%, my knee jerk reaction was to say "Really?  How do I know it's even real?"  Again.....  NOT THE RIGHT FUCKING THING TO ASK!  He says "You can do it right here, if you want."  If I did, I wouldn't know if it was real or baking soda, as, like I've mentioned, that experience is filed under "Never-done-that-before!" in my file cabinet of a life.  About now is when I become more adamant, and I try to politely tell him again I don't intend to waste his time, I forcefully hand it back to him, and I turn and get the hell out of that hallway. 

Feeling my own little "high" from the experience I text my mom who was working in the ER back home of how proud she would be of me for handling the situation the way I did.  Of course she responds only with a "Well, what would you have done if a police officer came up to you when you were holding it?"  My only response was "Well, I probably would have been arrested, DUH!" 

I feel safer as I wander into the casino at this desolate hour figuring the chance of getting shot in the back is likely pretty minimal at this point.  To make good on Rob's "get a picture with a hot girl" challenge, I wander up to the only semi attractive female in the area and ask her for a selfie picture.  I tell her I'll bribe her $5 for it.  At first she says "you don't need to pay me for that" and gladly obliges.  After my camera goes "click" I hand her the $5 anyway, and walk off in an opposite direction of her while we share a parting laugh. 


I venture back to my room, and at 4:22 AM send Rob a less than flattering picture of me violating his sunglasses in an unnatural way.  Speaking of which, I need to delete that picture from my phone......




Saturday May 30th, 2015


I wake up around 9:30 this morning, and take my sweet-ass time getting moving.  I wasn't hung over, just very tired.  The trip was starting to catch up to me. 

I setup camp at a pai gow poker table, and before too long Rob is texting.  He eventually makes his way over and we begin to review the previous night's shenanigans.  "Thanks for leaving me hanging with that hooker, ya bastard" he says to me.  Oh yeah!  That did happen last night, didn't it?  I had to relay the "I-HELD-COCAINE!" story to bring him up to speed on how I was almost stabbed in the dick by a slighted drug dealer.  Rob is feeling a little less go-go-go today as well.  We both had flights leaving the next day so I needed to get souvenir shopping done and out of the way today.  My flight the next day was scheduled to leave at 9:30 AM, and Rob was leaving at 7:00 PM.  We decide to separate while I take care of my errands and he was going to kill time playing some no limit hold'em at Bellagio.  Okay, fine.


I needed to get something to eat, so I make one more quick stop at Cafe Gelato, and get the closest thing to a breakfast sandwich that I could find.  It met the need.  Once that was demolished, I grabbed another cup of gelato for the road.  This time it was the main stream cookies and cream.  Rob says the waiting list for 1/3 hold'em is over 100 people deep and he used the words "fuck that" to describe how thrilled he was.  He said he would just kill time playing VP while I did some quick shopping.  I make my way over to the nearest Walgreens and quickly dropped about $100 on souvenirs that were worth more like $15 on the family back home.  I meet up with Rob at a bank of video poker machines, and we drop off the souvenirs in my room before heading out. 

We were both feeling like being as NOT active as possible.  We decided to take a cab over to MGM and check out the scene there.  When we arrived, the casino was rather packed.  Saturday early evening has descended upon Vegas.  There would be no luck in finding a pai gow table with anything lower than a $50 limit, which was outside of the comfort zone of my bankroll.  We venture over to the "carny" game section of the floor, and Rob found a Texas Shoot-Out table that caught his eye.  Alright.....I buy in and we sit down.

Frankly, I don't know why I even try......  It took next to no time for me to get knocked down and bounced from this game as well.  Argh....  But to support Rob, I remained at the near empty table and continued to watch him play (and took advantage of the drink service when I could).  During one hand, Rob had $5 out on the long shot carny side bet, and was dealt pocket aces.  That alone paid 30-1, which was good for $150.  Now there's an additional payout that if the dealer has pocket aces during that same hand, it's an additional payout of $1000-1.  The only other player at the table confirmed he didn't have an ace in his hand before folding.  Then the 5 cards are laid out on the board, and there's no ace to be seen.  To make it more dramatic, the dealer flips her first card and lo-and-behold it's an ace!  Our blood starts pumping a little bit, and in an almost teasingly manner she reaches for the last card, and suddenly flips it over.  It's an ACE!  No wait....that's a four!  Sonofabitch!  Rob looks up at me and says "if that would have hit, I would have paid for your lap dances at the Rhino."  Arrrrrgh!

Rob bounces from carny game to carny game, and lands up at some other Texas Hold'em spin off.  It's basically a combination of Texas Shoot-out and 3 card poker.  Different betting involved, but it had a $160,000+ bonus payout for some obscure hand that's never dealt.  During one point, some guy buys in who we both assume is a local.  He's a complete prick the dealer, taking every chance he can to chastise her.  He hands the pit boss his ID so she can print off a new players card for him.  It didn't take much time for him to bust, and he abruptly takes off from the cold table.  He neglected to realize the pit boss still had his ID.  For the rest of the duration of our time there, we never saw him come back for it.  I guess Karma is a bitch, eh?  In between Rob's table hopping, I buy myself a $14 martini at the closest bar.

When he concludes his current (positive money) session, we play some VP at the bar, and get a drink or two for our efforts.  We stagger throughout MGM, and the thought of food comes to both of us and seems like a great idea.  "Where do you wanna eat?"  "I dunno, where do YOU wanna eat" goes back and forth.  Eventually I just pull up the MGM Grand app on my phone, scroll through the restaurant offerings, and The Grand Wok and Sushi Bar is the place for us tonight.  It was pretty much a mutual understanding that we'd be having a decent meal as this was likely our last "real" food in Vegas.  To start things off, I ordered us a 10 ounce bottle of cold sake.  When the orders are taken, Rob throws out an order of California rolls, and some pot stickers.  We both landed on trying their "Grand Wok Special Combination" which was any 2 rolls, and 2 orders of sushi.  I believe we landed on the spicy tuna rolls, and sea dragon selections. 

Just before she's about to leave the table, I tell her to add the barbecue combination special which was honey glazed barbecued pork and roasted duck.


Things were inhaled, and about halfway through the meal we start to slow down.  We ordered the perfect amount of food, and we shared a few laughs about the trip, all while receiving text updates about Phil and his tournament.  In the end, before any taxes or tip, we had ordered about $135 worth of food and drink.  Damn over priced $35 bottle of sake.  In the end, when we're trying to figure out the bill, I tell Rob "just give me $100 and we'll be even."  He was up from all the damn odd-ball games he was winning, so I didn't feel too bad about splitting the bill down the middle.

With full, fat and happy stomachs we venture towards the monorail and get off at the Bally's exit.  We were both at that point of "eh, I don't want to do a damn thing right now."  My buddy Duster was in town for the WSOP and other events, and he and I had been texting back and forth about meeting up at some point.  I felt like a total douche when I finally sent him a text telling him that I have to pussy out for tonight, and wouldn't be able to meet him for some grey water drinking later in the evening. 

Rob and I visit Cafe Gelato one more time, and this time I got two scoops.  And let's talk about those two scoops.  It's a much better price than just a singular selection.  One scoop is $6, and two scoops is $7.  Wish I would have known that earlier in the trip.  I landed on tiramisu and peanut butter.  The tiramisu was "eh, that's it?" but dayuummmm...  The peanut butter was the best of the trip.  This is another one of those "I wish I had found that earlier" type of thing.  Just in front of the elevators was a massive collection of Asian visitors, most of whom were well dressed.  I made the assumption that they all came in together on the same flight.  After we pass, I tell Rob "just imagine all the mathematical computing capacity standing in the hallway right now!"  Yeah yeah....bad joke #328 for the trip, check.


As we conclude our last overindulgence dessert for the trip, we head back to my room for some mansex, er I mean, fountain watching.  We reminisce on the trip as a whole, and discuss what was awesome, or take note of some things we missed this time around.  It's about this time in the evening Phil texts both of us saying he's lost his last match of the day putting his record at 6-3.  Unfortunately for him, that third loss would be preventing him from continuing on in the tournament on Sunday.  In any case, I was done for the evening, and had an early wake up call.  I bid Rob adieu, and after completing some preliminary packing, I was out like a light. 




Sunday May 31st, 2015


I somehow manage to wake up thirty minutes before my wake up call was scheduled.  Eh...okay, whatever. 

I pack up the remainder of my belongings, and called down to the front desk to see if there was anything that could be taken off my bill.  In the end, I had $12 in comps which she removed.  Significant, I know! 

After heading outside to wait for my driver, I check my email and sure enough have a notification that he's been dispatched.  I call the number in the email and he picks up.  I tell him I'm ready a little bit early.  He says "no problem" and pulls around.  This time it would be the stretch SUV taking me back to the airport in a lonely somber ride. 

This time around I had my baggage checked.  I had "bribed" the maids everyday to leave me some shaving gel, as I love Bellagio's shave gel.  And the math was on my side.  A $5 tip every day for two bottles of shave gel is a decent return, considering Bellagio sells 'em for $4 each on their website.  Security was fine, and my gate was at C-1.  I thought "cool, that'll be right after security."  WRONG.  It was on the opposite end of the airport.  Sonofabitch.... 

My blisters were giving me a nice session of "FUCK YOU" so I hobbled/limped along the best I could without looking like an asshole. 

Flight time came around pretty fast, and I was back home in my own space before I knew it.

Now....that evening, as I'm getting ready to get into bed, I get a call from Rob.  I answer, wondering why he's calling me at this time in particular as he should be boarding his flight any minute now....  He tells me that his flight was over booked, and he ended up giving up his seat in return for a flight out the next day, in addition to $500 in flight credit from Southwest.  His plan was to stay with Phil in his room for this unplanned night. 



Monday June 1st, 2015



In his words:  "They De Niro'd me." 


"In the casino, the cardinal rule is to keep them playing...
...and keep them coming back.  The longer they play, the more they lose.
In the end, we get it all."











Until next time, Vegas...