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Laid Back Vegas Newbies - Vintage TR March 2nd - March 9th

Discussion in 'Vegas Trip Reports' started by letired, Dec 3, 2014.

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  1. letired

    letired Tourist

    Joined:
    Dec 3, 2014
    Messages:
    45
    Location:
    Seattle
    Trips to Las Vegas:
    2

    My Trip Report

    I posted this on another forum a while back, but wanted to share it with some new folks.

    I'd enjoyed reading people's tips, trip reports, and so forth before my trip, so I figured I'd recap as best I could our trip. We took it pretty easy compared to lots of you, but it was fucking perfect. I'm writing it down as much for myself as for you all, so yes, it's a bit of a marathon report. If you don't wanna read it, stop now.

    The cast:
    Me: dude, late twenties, tech company employee in Seattle.
    Girlfriend: lady, late twenties, Ph.D student in Michigan.

    We are scumbag low-rollers, but like fancy rooms. :ssst:

    Seeing as we rarely get to spend extended amounts of time together, girlfriend's spring break was the ideal time for a vacation. We had initially planned on heading to New York City to visit my sisters and friends, but New York City is fucking cold in March. Hotel rooms are expensive (think $300+ a night for something decent), and sleeping on the floor of your friend's very nice, but very small apartment is not the best place to get naked with your significant other, whom you haven't seen in over a month.

    I booked through Expedia and got an AMAZING package deal for my flight, hotel, and rental car. We stayed at the Venetian, and if you count the flight as around $300 and the car around $200, the hotel averaged $110 a night, (plus that fucking resort fee, but whatever, it was still an AMAZING deal).

    The prep work:
    I love prepping for vacation. Whenever I go someplace I spend hours reading about it (usually at work. shh, don't tell) to figure out what I want to do, what I want to see, where I want to eat, where I want to party, and in Vegas I got the added bonus of figuring out where I wanted to gamble! I spent hours learning how to play video poker on the internet, identify full-pay machines, and use vpfree2. (If you don't know what that is, check it out. It's fun. Yes, I'm a nerd.) I printed out Jacks-or-Better helper sheets to give to my girlfriend. I bought the American Casino Guide 2013 to use the coupons in the back for match play. I learned how to play craps, blackjack, baccarat, and ultimate texas hold'em. I researched clubs, looked at show schedules, and investigated hosts on JC. I got hooked up on the XS guest list thanks to Arman for Diplo.

    I was excited, but wasn't sure at all if Vegas would be my scene. I was a little worried the clubs would be bros wearing affliction t-shirts with spiked hair screaming at each other while orange girls ground on one another and made out for the amusement of others, that the casinos would be full of old ladies shitting their pants while they waited for their "hot slot" to hit a jackpot, and the whole place would smell like broken dreams.

    Saturday the 2nd:
    I arrive about 2.5 hours before the GF. I walk off the plane. "What the fuck am I doing in Vegas?" I ask myself. I'm a skinny-jeans-wearing, pierced-septum-having, tattooed vegetarian asshole from Seattle. I'm supposed to scowl at all these plebeian monsters and rail against capitalism while I drink my vegan soy latte. I saw slot machines literally one second after walking out of the jetway and smiled. "THEY HAVE FUCKING SLOT MACHINES IN THE AIRPORT?" I think to myself. "This is going to be hilarious. And awesome." And so it was.

    I picked up the rental car, (it smelled like stale farts and cigarette smoke. I took it back and got a SUPAH FANCY HYUNDAI ELANTRA 2013 FANCY NICE CAR), then drove to a gas station to pick up a redbull and wait for the GF to get in. It was gorgeous outside, like 68 degrees and a light breeze. I'm just stoked to not be wearing a raincoat.

    "O hai, I just landed," she texted me, so I swoop her up and we're off to the strip. We take the freeway halfway up, get off at Flamingo. "Cool butt over there," she says. "What?" I reply. "On the billboard you dork!" She's totally right. There's a really cool butt on that billboard. I mean, no wonder people fucking crash into the bumper in front of them all the time, there was literally a fucking volcano going off next to me as we pull up the strip towards the Venetian, and there are flashing lights and cool butts everywhere!

    I'm nervous to try the sandwich trick. I'd read about it beforehand, but was worried I'd get shit or something. Nice young dude in his mid-twenties calls us forward. I try my best to look presentable (aka, I look like a fucking scumbag who shouldn't be staying in the Venetian), and slip him the sandwich and ask about any complimentary upgrades. He finds my reservation right away, clacks away at the keyboard for half a second, then offers us a room in the Venezia tower, just renovated. I was hoping for the Pallazzo, but he assures me that this room was renovated literally 1 month ago, more recently than anywhere in the hotel, the tower is reserved for "concierge guests only" and is accessed by a special elevator, and he can offer us a strip view on a high floor.

    view.jpg

    The room is fucking gorgeous. We get a little lost, on the way, but Jesus Christ this is the nicest hotel room I've ever stayed in. We pull back the curtains and see the Mirage front and center, Caesars to the left, and TI to the right. It's pretty amazing. Two huge flat-screens. Fancy bathtub. We're both glad I booked the Venetian and get busy in front of the huge window after watching the "Volcano".

    We eat at some bullshit in the food court, head to Casino Royale like the scumbags we are, and sign up for the players club. Pound two Michelobs each waiting for the craps table to open up. No dice (har har), it's a Saturday night and both tables are packed. Girlfriend is tired as it's now 2am (5am east coast time), and we remember that we're going to be in Vegas for another WEEK, and we're on vacation.

    Sunday the 3rd:
    We wake up at like, fuck, I don't know. Late. It's awesome. I take like 10 billion showers in the really fancy shower. We go downtown to "eat." - it reminds me of every other pretty decent restaurant in Seattle. The wait is too long to justify the quality of the food, but I wanted to check it out and am stoked to have "eat."en. We stop at a Walgreens and grab a bottle of whiskey for the room, snacks, other random bullshit. No mixers. "Why do you need mixers when you can drink whiskey on the rocks!?" we decide, because my girlfriend rules. Jesus booze is cheap here!

    We each have a drink back in the room, and I cut out coupons like an 80-year old grandma, then we hit the strip and walk south, intending on riding the NY-NY roller coaster. It's warm, we've got a buzz and are kinda stoned, and we're in Vegas and haven't even lost any money yet! We gawk at everything, wandering through all sorts of casinos. We're hungry again, and stop at the secret pizza place in the Cosmopolitan. It's really good. We use the 2-for-1 coupon on the NYNY roller coaster. It fucking sucks. Jesus Christ. I have a sore neck and am generally just glad to be alive. They've gotta have paid off some inspector to keep that thing running.

    I figure out there's some full-pay Jacks-or-Better in the NYNY, we sign up for the slot club and I teach the girlfriend how to play. She's good at matching patterns (duh, Ph.D student), wins ten bucks, then quickly drains it all playing too fast for the cocktail waitress to even give us a weak drink. I hit a full house, then a flush and win about twenty, so we're even and cash out.

    We walk south to the Excal and gawk more. We get roped in by a timeshare guy because he's from Seattle. He offers us all sorts of show tickets for half price, or free, and I say "What's the catch?"

    He informs us that we just have to make a quick visit to some property, and a driver will both pick us up and return us to our hotel. I say, "No. I don't want to do that." Girlfriend shakes her head at him.

    He says "Oh, well you can just do it in the morning around 10:30, I mean, what are you going to be doing then anyways?" to which I reply "Sleeping. I'm on vacation. No thanks man."

    We start to walk away, and he says "You really don't want to save over a hundred bucks on these tickets just by spending an hour or so at the property?"

    "No, I'm on vacation, and my time is worth more than $50 an hour. Have a nice night," which shuts him up completely, and I feel like a total badass. Now we know to avoid the jackasses in those uniforms. (Protip: they aren't really ticket representatives).

    We wander to the Luxor, then buy one of those drinks that should come with wheels on the end. I opt for some extra shots, because duh, we're on vacation, and if we're gonna carry around this stupid fucking drink, we goddamn better be drunk. It's tastes kinda strong, but I'm not getting drunk. I realize that I shoulda brought the bottle with us (OH MY GOD I LOVE VEGAS YOU CAN BE A DEGENERATE DRUNK ON THE STREET).

    We decide to walk towards the hotel until we finish this ridiculous drink, then get in a cab if it's still too far. (I wanted to get in a cab with the oxygen-tank style drink, but my girlfriend pointed out that a cab probably wouldn't let us do that. She's probably right.)

    We walk, it's still pretty nice outside, but starting to get chilly. We easily make it up close to the Venetian, where I convince the girlfriend to play some craps with me at Casino Royale. This is my first time at a craps table in Vegas. It's totally awesome, I kinda know how to place my odds bets and the shooter hits a few points, winning me some money. We watch the guys next to us. One dude is rolling in green chips and gives me a $25 chip for my odds bet when my girlfriend steps up to roll, because she's a "virgin shooter". Of course she craps out right away. We have a great time, she's glad we stopped in, and I leave the table up a few bucks and a few drinks drunker. Fortunately, she forgets the almost-empty 4-foot-bong of a drink next to the craps table.

    Monday the 4th:
    I wake up delightfully late. I love sleeping in on vacation. No, you shouldn't feel bad for doing it. It's the best. Girlfriend is already up, dicking around the suite, eating our Walgreens snacks and waiting for me to wake up. Tonight, we're going to see Diplo at XS. My absolute all-time favorite DJ, hers too.

    We decide we want to see the botanical gardens at the Bellagio, then go to the Wynn buffet. Unfortunately the gardens are in the middle of a scenery change and are closed. Bummer. We play a nerdy card game (Netrunner) in the sunshine to kill some time before dinner. I'm a total scumbag cheapskate, so I don't eat anything until 4:00pm, when we arrive at the buffet. We sit inside the buffet from about 4:15 until 6:15. The food is awesome. I stop being vegetarian and eat some seafood. The crab legs and shrimp are so good, and girlfriend says the prime rib is good too. I'm tempted, but know it will probably make me barf. I'm surprised at myself, as I am just comfortably full when we head out to play at the Palms.

    We signed up and got some promo play, but didn't realize we could use the "slot play" on video poker machines. Lesson learned, after we lose it all on fucking penny slots. This is my first time playing slots, ever. I don't understand the appeal at all. We max bet penny slots and hit absolutely zero dollars, betting around $3 a spin (WHAT?) I seriously won nothing, not even half my bet back, for the $20 cash and $10 promo play I put in the machine.

    We go find the 9/6 Jacks or Better machines, do pretty good, are both up around $20, so we decide to wander over to the craps tables. We bet once while the table is $5 minimum and the damn pit boss raises it right up to $10. Oh well, we're at the table, and he makes a good "that's what she said" joke then looks incredibly embarrassed and apologizes profusely while girlfriend and I are laughing our asses off, so we keep playing. This old fucker with the most classy cigar next to us hits quite a few points in a row and is rolling in black chips. I walk away from the table up about $100 after buying in for $100. Girlfriend bought in for $60 and leaves the table with over $250.

    It's getting late, but not quite late enough to warrant heading out. We stop by the Gold Coast and play some more Video Poker and use our free-play coupons, I play through my free play and cash it out.

    We eat the dinner of champions around 10:00, Taco Bell. I fucking love Taco Bell. We felt so classy walking down the marble hallways of the Venetian, carrying our plastic baggies full of food and paper cups. The envy of the world.

    Girlfriend gives me an adderall, we dress up all fancy-like, then down as much whiskey as we possibly can. Being ultra-classy, we fill the paper Taco Bell cup up with whiskey and ice (again, who needs mixer when you've got ice) and catch a cab to XS.

    We get in line, pound the rest of the VERY CLASSY beverage (I hope one of you was at XS on the 4th and saw us) check in for the guestlist. Girlfriend gets in free with two drink tickets. THANK YOU ARMAN FOR THE GUESTLIST.

    XS as a venue is fucking gorgeous. I am very pleasantly surprised to see it is not packed with bros in affliction shirts screaming at each other, and oompa-loompa orange women screaming at said bros. Everyone is pretty classy, there to have a good time, and on vacation, though girlfriend notices it's a pretty big sausage-fest. Bummer, no threesome tonight. We wandered, chatted, used our drink tickets, stood out by the pool, then stood in front of the DJ. It got more crowded, so we decided to just stay up front and wait for Diplo. We're huge fucking fans, and we chatted it up with the other obvious superfans who had staked out spots in the front.

    Oh my god. Diplo knows how to DJ. We were as close as you could get. The lightshow was incredible. Everyone was dancing their asses off. I was drunk. Girlfriend got some serious twerk on during "Express Yourself" to the delight of the dudes behind me when the bottom of her dress was pretty much up around her boobs. They of course encouraged me ever so politely to "spank that ass" and I mean, you gotta do what you gotta do, right?

    At one point, the girl next to me has both legs up over the railing and is handstanding while booty shaking, the guys behind me are screaming with their hands on my shoulders while we all jump up and down, and girlfriend is standing on the bottom rung of the divider screaming back and forth at Diplo and Ms. Booty-Shaker's ass. It was honestly one of the best shows I have ever been to, and one of the most fun nights out I've ever had.

    When Diplo left the stage, we left XS. Cabbed back to the fancy hotel room, and passed out.

    Nothing else happened on the trip.

    Kidding. I'll write it later.
     
    Last edited: Dec 10, 2014
  2. tringlomane

    tringlomane STP Addicted Beer Snob

    Joined:
    Jan 21, 2013
    Messages:
    9,890
    Location:
    Missouri
    Trips to Las Vegas:
    15
    Awesome start and welcome to the forum! :beer:
     
  3. breanna61

    breanna61 Super Moderator

    Joined:
    Aug 6, 2008
    Messages:
    5,906
    Location:
    Ontario, Canada
    Trips to Las Vegas:
    106
    Off to a great start!
     
  4. massiets

    massiets Tourist

    Joined:
    Jan 28, 2014
    Messages:
    66
    Trips to Las Vegas:
    12
    Great start to your TR and what a great memory!!! I will awaiting the next installment.
     
  5. Hershey

    Hershey Tourist

    Joined:
    Aug 2, 2014
    Messages:
    34
    Location:
    St. Augustine, FL
    Trips to Las Vegas:
    19
    Awesome. :beer:
     
  6. vegas_runner

    vegas_runner Low-Roller

    Joined:
    Sep 22, 2009
    Messages:
    163
    Trips to Las Vegas:
    40
    Looking forward to chapter 2!
     
  7. Royal Flusher

    Royal Flusher Savvy Gambler

    Joined:
    Feb 18, 2008
    Messages:
    5,509
    Location:
    Flusherville, Canada
    Trips to Las Vegas:
    57
    More, please.
     
  8. letired

    letired Tourist

    Joined:
    Dec 3, 2014
    Messages:
    45
    Location:
    Seattle
    Trips to Las Vegas:
    2
    Tuesday the 5th:
    Jesus, fuck. Where am I?

    Ok good. My hotel room.

    Am I naked? Yep.

    Is there anyone else in our hotel room? Nope? Damn. I guess we got too drunk to spit some game and make this a better story.

    Did we really split almost that entire bottle of whiskey before even making it to XS last night, then finish the rest when we got back?

    Nice.

    Noooo, that clock has to be off, it's not really TWO PM.

    Yep. It's really 2-fucking-PM.

    Praise be to the awesome blackout curtains I guess. I, stunningly, wake up before girlfriend and open the curtains. She doesn't move. Gentle shake gets me a, "huuuuuh." I'm reaching for some painkillers, and manage to knock over the fancy wine goblet we had filled full of whiskey and ice. It, of course, hits the edge of the bedside table and shatters. She doesn't wake up. I eat a granola bar, and drink a shitload of water. The really fancy shower is amazing, and I probably spend $20 worth of precious desert water trying to wash away the hangover, but it doesn't really work.

    Girlfriend finally wakes up, joins me. She claims she awoke around 10am, tried to wake me up, and I just said "No." Eehhh, sounds like me. I think she was still drunk when she woke up, because she still smells like booze at 2pm. We piece together the remnants of the night - jumping up and down in the Venetian elevator, making it into our room before we got naked, finishing the bottle of whiskey, me trying to convince her to take a bath "because we have a fancy tub!", then finally crashing around Five or Six. Kid stuff, really, but a great night.

    We decide on Rani's World Foods, a cheap Indian place kinda deep on Sahara, as it's rated extremely high on yelp. If you've got a rental car, definitely check this place out. It's half weirdo grocery store, half Indian cafeteria, and a huge plate of food is fucking incredible, delicious, and $7.99. I ask the cute young girl behind the counter to pick her favorite things and just give them to me, as the entire place is vegetarian only. (I promise, even if you eat meat, this is still really good Indian food.) The curried cauliflower is so, so good.

    Girlfriend is really hurting, bad. She half peps up after some food, and then it's getting close to 3:30-4:00pm. I decide we're going out to Red Rocks Conservation area to see some nature, because that's the surefire cure to a hangover, right? (I mean of course I suggested we go get another bottle of whiskey. This is why scumbag drunk me likes Vegas so much, you're allowed, even encouraged, to just be a scumbag drunk all the time. She said she'd puke if we did that. I don't really want puke all over me, so I acquiesce.)

    Seriously though, if you want a break from the clubs, constant drinking and general craziness of the Strip, this area is incredibly beautiful, and only 30-40 minutes away. Also, you can see most of the amazing scenery right from the comfort of your SUPAH FANCY HYUNDAI ELANTRA 2013 FANCY NICE CAR.

    We stay on the scenic loop, pulling off at viewpoints, until the sun goes down.

    Dinner at the Grand Lux, low key. I'm pleasantly surprised with the food, I was expecting my meal to taste like it had been thrown in a microwave, then plated. Girlfriend wants to go to bed early. She's tired, hungover, and wants to get up early to study. Isn't this the most exciting trip report ever?! That's why you're on this forum right!?

    Seriously though, she tells me "Go out gambling. Go get drunk. Check out some babes for me. I'm feeling awful and I know sleep will help, and you should definitely go out."

    I love this girl, she's the best.

    She heads for the room from the Grand Lux, and I head to Casino Royale to continue my sleazy low-rolling. I've got fucking $300 in my pocket, dammit! The craps table is packed, so I go to TI where they have solid video poker. I'm up and down. And UP and WHERE THE FUCK IS THE COCKTAIL WAITRESS and DOWN and JESUS CHRIST, I'VE ALMOST LOST $200 ON THIS .50C VIDEO POKER MACHINE AND YOU HAVEN'T COME BY ONCE and then I hit a 4OAK for $60ish and I'm slightly closer to even, and she shows up.

    I pound my whiskey rocks in one sip, and decide to wander the casino. It's a Tuesday, dead, and the minimums are still $10 everywhere. I don't wanna play $10 minimum craps at a dead table in the fucking TI with shitty cocktail service, dammit! Back to Casino Royale it is.

    On the walk back, I see the most fantastic sight I've seen all trip. This is Vegas. A very short, very fat, white, grey-haired businessman, walking arm-in-arm with a very tall, very thin, gorgeous, black young woman, awkwardly making small talk. She was quite literally over a foot-and-a-half taller than him wearing her heels, and half his age. His face was at perfect motorboating level. Apparently money can buy you death by Snu Snu. Or maybe he was just really funny, or charming, or something. Right? That's probably it, right guys?

    Casino Royale's table is still crowded, but less so. I grab two Michelobs from the bar and pound them, waiting for a spot. Nothing. Of course, I grab two more, right as a roller craps out and opens up a bunch of spots for the cheap assholes (myself included), waiting around the table. I'm annoyed for a split-second, then remember I paid a whopping $2 + $2 tip for these Michelobs, and they can sit under the rack until I'm ready for them.

    I buy in for my remaining $140, and see the second most hilariously amazing sight of the trip. The cocktail waitress at Casino Royale covering the craps table is a late-forties, early-fifties bleached-blonde woman with some of the largest fake breasts I had ever seen. She calls me "honey" and "baby". I ask for Jameson rocks, and she comes back within 5 minutes.

    I give her $5, and from then on out my glass is never empty. (Thank you to the internets, so much, for the tip about a good place to get floored while gambling.) Now, I may be a cheap, scumbag, degenerate alcoholic sometimes, but I know how to tip. Before tech industry, I worked service, and I know what it's like. I saw a great quote on tipping, something along the lines of:

    "If you don't think it's worth it, please don't tip. I will. I know it's worth it."

    I'm drowning in fucking whiskey. Every time I finish a drink, I hold the glass above my head, and she's somehow magically there. She says "another one, honey?" At some point I ask her if "I can put a chip in your boobs." Somehow she manages to deflect it, without letting me put a chip in her tits. Dammit. (Upon later reflection, I'm a charming drunk, and don't get kicked out.)

    I'm losing like crazy. Who cares, I'm drunk and on vacation and that cocktail waitress has ridiculously hilarious boobs. BUT THEN! SPAZZED-OUT-HANDS roller steps up to the plate. I don't know what the deal is with this lady. I'm going to refrain from making fun of her, because she was probably disabled, but at one point she hits me square in the chest with a die. As in, the die didn't even hit the table first, just straight into me. I don't give a shit, because this lady seriously cannot lose. She's knocking over stacks of chips with the dice. Hitting everyone on my side of the table. Hitting the dealers. Hitting everything but the back wall. They warn her multiple times to keep it on the table.

    Now that I'm winning, it's even more of an excuse to drink heavily, right?! CELEBRATE. I pound a Michelob when she hits a point. The guys next to me have been counting her rolls, and she goes for 36 without sevening out. I make back everything I've lost, both Michelob's are somehow gone, and I am very deep into that swimming pool full of whiskey the booby lady keeps bringing me.

    I chat up a cute girl from Texas who joins the table, then realize she's standing next to her mom (to picture the mother figure here, think Grandma. Don't think hot Vegas Mother/Daughter outing. I'm at the Casino Royale, remember?). So of course I start chatting with her mom too.

    "Oh yes, Harrah's is a great casino, and I'm sure you're right, the slots must be really loose!" (I've never been into Harrah's, and I'm sure the slots are tight because we're on the fucking Strip.)

    "Oh you're from Houston? I've heard it's very pleasant there!" (Houston, from what I've heard, is a shithole.)

    Girl tells me she "just" turned thirty. Her mom reminds her in a completely oblivious way that she actually just turned thirty-one, but her birthday was in October, "so it was actually a little while ago, not just." COVER. BLOWN.

    I knock over my Michelob, but it's empty. I get yelled at for having my drink in the rack. I bet for the dealers, $5 hard 8. Four people follow my lead. There's at least $20 on the hard 8 for the dealers, and of course the next roll is a hard 8. Point is made. I color up and cash out. Cocktail waitress offers me one more as I walk by, because she already had it ready. What, am I supposed to turn that down?

    I don't remember the rest of the night.

    Wednesday the 6th:

    I'm surprisingly not hungover. I actually wake up and know where I am. What!? And it's only noon!

    The sound of the door opening wakes me up.

    "I got the tickets!" she says when she hears me rustling around.

    "You got tickets to what?" I reply.

    "To Absinthe!" she says. "Wait, were you that drunk? Do you seriously not remember this!? Hahahaha"

    If I managed to talk her into a show, I really should have been able to talk my way into flipping white chips in the cleavage of that waitress. I mean, I guess I already knew this, but I'm really good at pretending to be more sober than I am, which includes blacked out me having in-depth conversations, where people can't tell I'm more than two drinks deep. I think that's probably a bad sign anywhere but Vegas.

    So we've got tickets to Absinthe on Thursday night at 7:30. Nice!

    Yep. I'm that dickhead dude in your group who makes you all go see a show, just like your buddy's annoying girlfriend.

    I take another delightful shower. Girlfriend has apparently been up for hours in the living area of the suite, studying, and has gotten all her work done, and bought tickets to a show. Good day so far. I decide now is the perfect time to hit Oyster Bar at the Palace Station after reading about it on Yelp. We head out there, and get seated immediately - pretty much the reason I wanted to go in the middle of the day, as the reviews said the wait can be up to two hours in the evening.

    The food is fucking delicious, we each get the pan roast with all sorts of goodies. I'm a dumbass, and am trying to cut a piece of lobster in half with the edge of my spoon against the edge of the bowl. Of course, the fucking spoon slips and I manage to fling scalding hot soup across half the casino floor, my girlfriend, the counter and even a tiny bit on the lady next to her. I'm going to blame the two sips of a Budweiser, because the story makes me sound like less of an idiot if I'm drunk. Or maybe even more of an idiot. Girlfriend, being the sweet angel she is, manages to laugh it off and sets to work getting the stain out of her tights and shirt. I feel awful until she explains that the tights are a super high-roller special, $5.99 from Target. The shirt is a metal band tee with dicks all over it. She should thank me for adding some grease stains.

    So now we're here in the Palace Station, my Girlfriend smells like delicious lobster, and we're up about $200 over the course of the trip. What else should we do other than gamble? If you answered "GAMBLE AND DRINK YOU FUCKS," you're right.

    We sign up for the players club and get our usual 'scam' on - play through the free slot play they give you on some full-pay video poker, then cash it out immediately. 95% of the time it's like somebody has just handed you a bunch of free money. Girlfriend gets to saying "Hello, I would like my free money please!" every time we go to a new casino.

    We do pretty well on the Jacks or Better machines, and decide it's time to scout around for craps. They've got $5 minimums here, with 10x odds. We find a table that looks like there are a reasonable amount of people having fun, and buy in for $100 each.

    Shout-out to the daytime dealers at Palace Station. Guy and Kenneth are fucking hilarious and amazing. The station casinos, I've learned, cater to locals as much as they do tourists, so they have a particular incentive to make sure everyone has a good time.

    Kenneth starts out on the stick and doesn't shut up the entire time. In his words: "They don't pay me enough to be miserable, so I'm not gonna shut up." He's cracking dirty jokes, getting every bit of innuendo he can out of come bets, and making us laugh. We're doing okay, then girlfriend is handed the dice to roll.

    Guy gives her the tip: "Just think about baseball! It makes you last longer," while looking directly at me. I can't stop laughing. I like these guys.

    Girlfriend goes on a fucking ROLL. She's obviously thinking about baseball, because she hits point after point and saves her sevens for come out rolls. The craps table when you're winning is truly a thing of beauty. People are screaming, jumping up and down, and high-fiving one another. She hits two elevens, back to back. The dude on the far end of the table makes $150 bucks in two rolls and is literally jumping up and down, he was feeling that yo-leven and let it ride. I know $150 may seem like nothing to you guys, but remember, we're scumbag low-rollers.

    When she finally sevens out, we're both up over $200. We cash out and head back to the hotel.

    She changes out of her lobster outfit, and we decide to use our 2-for-1 admission to Madame Tussaud's wax museum after grabbing a drink. If you haven't done it before, it's not worth $26 each. It's kinda dingy, and pretty shitty. It is worth $26 for two people, but I would have felt seriously ripped off if I had paid $52 for the both of us.

    Like most things in life, the museum is more fun you've been drinking. We hang with Obama and make a few important calls on the red phone. Most of my humor involves picking up objects and using them as a fake telephone, so this works well for me.

    We head back to the room, girlfriend crashes on me while I watch Dredd on the pay-per-view. Girlfriend suggested TSA Strip Down, a neato gay porn, but I opted for Dredd.

    We head to Grimaldi's Pizzeria for dinner and it's seriously incredible. I love me a good wedge of cheese, and this delivers. Go there. You won't regret it.

    That evening, we decide to take our CLASSIFIED INFORMATION and walk the strip. I'm not sure where this forum stands on drug use, but let's just say staring at the lights on strip from the 25th floor while you're VERY HAPPY TIME CENSORED is one of the better experiences I've ever had. No, you should not be a fucking idiot and buy drugs from that random dude on the street. Gross. In fact, you shouldn't do drugs at all. Or drink. It's bad for you. The More You Know™

    We take a bath when we get back from watching the volcano explode, enjoy the cold glass of the window, the really smooth sheets, then watch Air Bud 2: Golden Receiver. I'm so fucking stoked. That dog rules. He really knows how to play football! It's 5am and we crash.
     
  9. letired

    letired Tourist

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    Think I gotta get approved by a Mod for posting more, probably because I'm brand new! We'll see if it shows up...
     
  10. Iamrice

    Iamrice High-Roller

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    Hell of a good start!
     
  11. breanna61

    breanna61 Super Moderator

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    Keep it coming
     
  12. mrem3200

    mrem3200 High-Roller

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    Absolutely fantastic report. Thanks for sharing.
     
  13. letired

    letired Tourist

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    Thursday the 7th:

    For having REDACTED our asses off last night, we wake up at the surprisingly reasonable hour of 1pm. We eat some snack food, enjoy the amazing rich-person shower, then hang out in the hotel room doing adult things you shouldn't hear about on the internet. Or maybe that's what the internet was invented for. I can't remember, it's one of the two. Or as Dad used to say, "Go ask your Mom, I don't want to talk about it right now."

    I insist on McDonald's fries, because we've been fucking staring at that Golden Arch for the entire time we've been in the hotel room, and we're on fucking vacation goddammit. I'm supposed to be eating whatever the fuck I want, whenever I want.

    Before we head out to Achieve My Dreams (crisp, delicious fries), I remember to flip through my Grandma-style coupon book I've brought to Vegas. (If you're interested in my spinster coupon-cutting ways, it's called the American Casino Guide, you can buy it on Amazon for like 11 dollars, and I think it's definitely worth it for a first timer to Vegas.) I see a coupon for the "Mac King Comedy Magic Show" at Harrah's, right next to the McDonald's, and remember I saw that show rated very highly on Tripadvisor.

    In fact, the show is rated higher than most of the Cirque shows. The coupon gave us "2 tickets with the purchase of a drink (gratuity not included)", and I don't like many things in life more than booze and cheap deals, so I informed the Girlfriend we were going to see a Comedy Magic Show at 3pm.

    "Seriously?" she asks, "I mean, I love you and will do what you want to do, but a comedy magic show?"

    "It's rated really high on Tripadvisor! I swear! Also John Smith would be so proud of me for seeing a cheesy Vegas magician!" I reply.

    Yes, that is a true statement. No, no, you idiot, my father isn't really named "John Smith." But my father really would be proud of me for seeing a Vegas magician. If that doesn't give you some insight into why I am the dickhead in the group who forces everyone to go see some sort of musical theater or acrobatic show...

    We chow down on our fries, and head to the Harrah's box office. It's got quite a line for a show at 3pm, and we squeeze in right at 2:55. With the spinster coupon (I've heard you can get the same deal by asking at the players club desk), they charge you for the drinks in advance, then hand you two drink tickets with your show tickets. We were seated by a very nice young man (aka, someone my age), who pointed out the direction of the bar. The theater is small enough that pretty much every seat offers a reasonable view of the stage, though if you're feeling like a high roller, you can either get there early, or splurge for the $5 per seat VIP upgrade. Stunningly expensive, I know.

    I scurry over to the bar to get our drinks before the show starts. I may love my father, but there's no way I'm watching a comedy magic show without a drink in hand. I hand the bartender $2 with my two drink tickets right away.

    I realize now why they say "gratuity not included" on the coupon. People using coupons in Vegas are some seriously cheap motherfuckers. Not a single other person at the bar tipped with their drink ticket. I've said it before - I'm a cheap-ass motherfucking scumbag, but I still know how to tip. Please, if you don't think tipping is worth it, don't do it and save yourself the few bucks. I'll do it and reap the benefits.

    "What kind of whiskey do you want in those whiskey sodas?" the bartender asks.

    "Do I even have a choice with the drink tickets?" I say.

    "Suuuuure!" he says, "YOU can have Well Whiskey, Jack, Jameson or Crown!"

    "Uhh, Crown please!" I reply.

    "Do you want me to make it a double?" he says as he starts pouring.

    "Uhh, I mean..." I start to stammer as the bartender says, "Hey, the more I give away, the less I have to put away!" while he pours me two double Crown and Sodas at 3pm for a comedy magic show at Harrah's.

    I don't point out that the booze came out of a fountain gun, so he really doesn't have to put away anything if he pours me more booze, he just has to put away the spigot back onto it's little spigot holder, or whatever you call a spigot-holding thing. In retrospect, he was probably bullshitting me on the whiskey choice, because who the fuck puts Crown in a fountain gun?! Butttt who gives a fuck. Maybe they do in Vegas? A strong drink is a strong drink, and I did watch the brown-colored-booze-pouring part of it.

    The show is fucking fantastic. I'm not just saying that because I got a bit more cheap-ass booze from the friendly bartender, it really is. Mac King is incredibly funny and a very skilled magician. His jokes are hilarious and dirty in an "over-the-heads-of-the-children-in-the-audience" way that leaves Girlfriend laughing so hard she's wheezing. (Though admittedly she was laughing the hardest at the part where Mac is pretending to be invisible while wearing a bright yellow poncho. She might be 8 years old. It's fine, I swear.)

    I highly, highly recommend the show if you're in Vegas and have a break in the afternoon. He works hard and does fantastic work. He calls people up out of the audience, and rolls with the punches when they write their names on the back of a card instead of the front (yes, a lady actually wrote her name on the back of a fucking card, when he asked her to write down her name on a card).

    So here we are, it's 4:30 pm, and we've got nothing to do until Absinthe at 7:30. Of course we decide to hit up LVH (now the Westgate or something?) for the shitty decaying Vegas flavor and solid Video Poker offerings. I'd heard about the downfall of the LVH through various forums and had to check it out for myself. We show up, sign up for the players club, and enjoy the "stuck in the mid 90's high-roller" ambiance. For a city that revamps itself every 10 years, the LVH is delightfully out of date. The former Star Trek experience looks like it's been converted into some sort of abandoned weird bar area, and check-in line snaking for over 100ft through the casino floor shows a severe lack of management.

    That severe lack of management doesn't stop girlfriend and I from scamming on the free slot-play bonuses that the LVH offers. We each get $20 in free play with zero coupons, simply for signing up, and find some solid poker machines.

    We walk out of the casino $40 richer (we actually did play for quite a while inside, but cashed out when we were up), and decide to celebrate with a meal at our favorite local restaurant, Taco Bell. This time, we opt to eat inside the exquisite dining area, and get to observe some of Las Vegas' finest locals, including a woman who locks herself in the bathroom for the entire duration of our visit until an employee is banging on the door threatening to call the cops.

    We head for Caesar's before the cops arrive, as the day has been weird enough already. I don't really want to watch them pull a junkie out of a Taco Bell bathroom.

    Absinthe is another fantastic show. It's more expensive than Mac King's Comedy Magic Show, but delivers quite intensely. The MC, aka "the Gazillionaire" is as offensive as possible to the folks sitting in the front of the row, just as the reviews had promised, and the acrobats are unbelievable. The Gazillionaire rags on the "two gay mexicans" for sitting next to the "obviously in-the-closet republican white guy" because he "probably is wondering why you aren't mowing his lawn." It's cheaper than a Cirque show, there isn't a bad seat in the house, and I don't really see how acrobatics can get more impressive, so you'd be hard-pressed to find a better show in Vegas. I've seen Cirque on tour, and it's quite impressive, but if you're in the mood for just one show in Vegas, see Absinthe. Did I mention they encourage you to get drunk during the show?

    We decide to head downtown after the performance, because we haven't done the whole "Fremont Street Experience" yet and haven't even fucked around in the downtown casinos. I bring my trusty packet of coupons with us. Duh.

    WOW, this part of Vegas is skeezy. Like, you've heard me talk shit throughout this trip report. I thought I really liked skeezy things. I guess I like being the skeeziest person in a classy joint - NOT the most classy skeezeball in a crowd full of drunk white trash, who are rocking out to the worst Poison cover band I've ever heard. While I was standing there worrying about when that dude muttering to himself in the corner might decide to stab me looking for my gambling winnings, Girlfriend leads the way into the throng.

    I was a mouse click away from booking our stay in one of the fancier rooms at the Golden Nugget, so we decide to wander in and at least check out the Shark Tank Pool. It definitely is the classiest part of downtown. We're both INCREDIBLY glad I booked the Venetian, and that we got placed in the classy, quiet Venezia tower. A week of this 80's nostalgia Fremont Experience bullshit and we both would have been driven insane.

    We find ourselves at the Four Queens across the street to play some Video Poker. They have some deal at the players club where if you play through 20 points worth of credit, (around $40?), they will give you $10 free-play. Of course we sign up, and set to work getting our free money. Girlfriend plays through her $40 first because she's a pattern-recognizing freak and has quickly surpassed my video poker skills, and ends up with around $48. She cashes out quickly and goes to grab her promo credit after we've flagged down a cocktail waitress. I get up to go do the same.

    "Remember to tip the cocktail waitress really well so we get quicker booze!"

    As I'm walking back, I hear a strange blooping sound coming from the direction of our machines.

    royal1.jpg
    royal2.jpg

    Doesn't she have nice teeth? Oh also, that's a Royal Flush for $1,000.

    After jumping up and down, being red faced, and laughing a whole lot, we cash out. This puts Girlfriend up well over $1300 for the trip. She tells me she's going to give me half, as I provided her the $400 initial gambling bankroll. I refuse, she won that fair-and-square on the free money given to her by the casino promo. She can give me the bankroll back when we leave.

    I realize this is setting a bad precedent for Vegas.

    I take my free play and put it in some stupid slot machine because my Girlfriend just won $1,000, and because I've only played about 2 minutes of slots and want to see if I can find the appeal. I hit literally not a single win at 75 cents a spin and the $10 free-play is instantly gone. No wonder the casinos generally refer to it as "slot play" and not "free money after you put it through a video poker machine."

    As we wander back onto Fremont Street, I ask her what was going through her mind when she saw the 4-to-a-royal on the initial deal. She said she was just thinking about the flush draw. A lady after my own heart. "Ooh, I have a 1-in-4 chance for $7.50! Fuck yeah!"

    We dick around on Fremont Street, hitting different casinos for a bit of craps and video poker. We enjoy the drunkest people in the entire world trying to navigate through the crowd, breaking their necks to watch some sort of Queen tribute medley on the LED Screen. Nothing will match the royal flush, of course, so after realizing I'd rather not get stabbed on the walk back to the car with almost $2,000 in cash, we head back to the room. Don't get me wrong, downtown Vegas was a great experience. I loved the old-school casino style, the cheap minimums, and loose video-poker, but I didn't feel as much like I was in a very safe environment the way I did on the strip.

    We get back to the hotel. We fill the bathtub full of ones, call the hottest hookers in the city, and ski down a mountain of drugs before passing out in our new platinum grillz.
     
    Last edited: Dec 4, 2014
  14. tringlomane

    tringlomane STP Addicted Beer Snob

    Joined:
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    What a trip so far!

    And I remember the big boob chick from Casino Royale. She definitely is fast even though those things must weigh 20 pounds..lol

    Great hit for your g/f! She'll be a guaranteed VP addict now!
     
  15. raraavis

    raraavis VIP Whale

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    awesome trip report, love your style of vacationing and writing :thumbsup:
     
  16. RM777

    RM777 Low-Roller

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    Jan 9, 2013
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    Very entertaining trip report!
     
  17. broncofn

    broncofn VIP Whale

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    Wow, what a great tr so far!
     
  18. letired

    letired Tourist

    Joined:
    Dec 3, 2014
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    Seattle
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    Friday the 8th:

    Okay, so maybe we didn't fill the bathtub full of ones, or hire the hottest strippers in town, or even ski down a mountain of drugs.

    We're trying to figure out what to do on our last real day in Vegas, and frankly, we don't really give a shit at this point. The Venetian is starting to really feel like home. I'd move in to that hotel room in a fucking second. It's bigger and nicer than most New York City apartments, and cheaper too.

    Let's go to In-N-Out Burger.

    On the way to the joint, I'm pretty sure Girlfriend made every "That's what she said" joke about In-and-Out Burger that's ever been made. She insisted on hitting the joint, because she just started eating that sweet, sweet, (and disgusting) meat again, and had never experienced the joy of the In-N-Out. Well, other than from me. Or maybe the many other dudes. But we're talking about food here, of course. Not anything dirty.

    She gets a burger, I get a grilled cheese. I tell her if it's the best burger she's ever eaten, I will go order one and try not to puke it up in the parking lot with my delicate flower of a vegetarian stomach.

    She says it's okay. Five Guys is apparently better. Now we know Girlfriend likes Five Guys more than she likes In-N-Out. Understandable, I'd like Five Guys in me more than just one. Wait, what?

    The "Grilled Cheese" is just pretty much a burger without any meat in it, but I guess I'm satisfied.

    Now comes the moment I've been planning the entire trip. We're going to the Pinball Hall of Fame.

    I don't think I made this clear earlier, but the fact that the Pinball Hall of Fame is in Vegas was a major reason I was okay with booking our vacation here. I am a huge, huge! pinball nerd. Like, I have owned multiple machines. I know when different machines were produced and what their current pricing is. I am beyond stoked to visit this place. They supposedly have over 200 machines! They even have a Pinball Circus machine, one of only TWO in existence!

    I was hoping to spend 5-8 hours at the museum playing games, as I usually spend at least 5 hours at the Seattle Pinball Museum whenever I visit. I warned Girlfriend beforehand, so she made sure to get extra stoned.

    We end up leaving after about two.

    I'll explain, and try not to get too nerdtastic on you guys who don't give a flying fuck about pinball. Skip this next section if you don't give a shit.

    The 'rare' and 'exotic' games were definitely cool to see, but games were very poorly maintained and very poorly set up. There were burned-out lightbulbs, weak flippers, broken kickouts, filthy playfields, filthy glass and a credit dot (meaning the electronics of the game have detected a problem) on just about every machine I put money into.

    The lighting in the building was quite dim, which would be great if the lightbulbs on most games was actually looked after. I didn't expect to see this in a pinball museum. It was heartbreaking. Seriously.

    The dealbreaker for me as a huge nerd was the fact that most machines were not leveled, meaning the balls would roll left or right dramatically, just like my balls...

    I know it must be insane to have 200 machines in your collection, but if you're a fucking non-profit devoted to the fucking restoration and preservation of pinball and you're actually making a bit of money, hire some more FUCKING techs to repair your shit! Of course it's very admirable that all of their profit goes to charity; there was a $400,000 check written to the Salvation Army on display, but Jesus H. Christ nailed to the fucking cross, take some more for yourself and ACTUALLY MAKE YOUR VENUE WORTHWHILE.

    OKAY you can start reading again. We leave the pinball museum and I decide it's time to continue our low-rolling. We haven't played a single game of blackjack, and I've heard El Cortez is a great place to learn, with low minimums and friendly dealers.

    We roll up and sit down at an empty $5 single-deck blackjack table. The dealer's name is "David". His nametag says "DAVID from CHINA." Everyone else's nametag says "SCOTT from LITTLE ROCK, ARKANSAS," or "ANDY from BATON ROUGE, LOUISIANA." Apparently, there is one place in China, and it's called CHINA.

    I have a sneaking suspicion David's original birth name is not actually "David," because he can barely speak enough English to tell us how to play at this single-deck table where we're actually allowed to pick up our cards. (I guess at most blackjack tables, you can't pick up your cards?)

    I ask him if it's okay to use our Basic Strategy printout. He looks at it and says something indistinguishable between "yes" and "asasdfaaadflkajsdff". I assume because he starts dealing the cards with our strategy sheet sitting between us, he doesn't have a problem with it.

    I sit at the table with my cards face down.

    David is staring at me.

    I'm staring back at David.

    A few uncomfortable seconds pass.

    "PICK UP CARD." he says.

    "What? I'm allowed to touch the cards?" I reply.

    "YOU PICK UP CARD." he says.

    "Okay, this is okay?" I reply hesitantly.

    I reach for the two facedown cards sitting on the felt and flip them over. I'm not going to bullshit you and pretend I remember what the fuck my hand was, but I do remember consulting the chart and deciding to stand.

    "How do I stand?" I say, as I wave my hands over my cards like I've seen demonstrated in all the 'How to play Blackjack' internet videos I've seen.

    "YOU TUCK CARD," David says, pointing at the chips.

    I tuck my cards face-up underneath my $5 chip, managing to shove it out of the betting circle.

    David looks exasperated, but slightly amused that these two idiots don't even know how to play Blackjack.

    "FLIP CARD OVAH," he says.

    I comply, and flip my chip out of the betting circle again. Jesus.

    He puts the $5 chip back in the circle, tucks my facedown cards underneath it, and points to Girlfriend.

    "Hit" she says.

    I tell her to motion like 'this' with her finger above her cards. I saw it in the internet video, so obviously I'm an expert. She does it.

    "NO YOU MOVE CARD LIKE THIS," says David, looking like he's jerking off an imaginary cock.

    Girlfriend moves cards up and down. It's a familiar motion.

    "NO, NO, YOU RUB CARD. RUB CARD AGAINST TABLE," he says, looking like he's laid the imaginary cock against the table and is stroking it with the bottom of his hand.

    Girlfriend places her cards facedown, then rubs them flat against the table.

    Poor exasperated David sighs and puts his hand on hers as she's holding her cards and says, "NO YOU RUB CARD! RUB CARD AGAINST TABLE!" as he scrapes the bottom half of the two cards against the table.

    "OHHHHHH! I get it! Sorry!" she says as she scrapes her cards against the table, just like he demonstrated.

    He deals her another card. I have no fucking idea what it was, but I know he busted and we both won. Sweet!

    Turns out David was the interim dealer while Scott from Little Rock, Arkansas was on break. David was very, very patient with us, despite the communication barrier, and we try to thank him and tip him when he leaves the table. He has no idea what we're saying and just nods, but totally recognizes the tip.

    Things with Scott go a little more smoothly, simply because he can actually speak English. I really liked David, but it's nice to be able to chat with the dealer. We sit and play $5 blackjack with a $100 buy in for like, three fucking hours. After three fucking hours, we're both up a whopping $10, and have drank the entire bar's supply of Budweiser. Honestly, really really good cheap entertainment. We'd both been down about $30, and up about $30, but have generally stayed very even.

    I also figured out following along with that Basic Strategy chart is worth it, even when some young ******bag kid sits down and thinks he knows how to count cards and starts telling everyone at the table how to play. I opt to ignore him and stick to basic strategy. Kid goes down $20, then gets up and leaves the table. I doubt people who actually count will try to instruct the table how to play. I'm right.

    I realize I'm kinda drunk, and I have to drive us back to the hotel. I contemplate leaving the rental car in the parking lot overnight and continuing to drink, but we're leaving tomorrow morning and that seems like a poor choice. I love making poor choices, but drunk driving is not 'fun' poor choice. It's a 'ruin people's lives' poor choice, even in Vegas. We opt to play some video poker for a while, until I feel comfortable driving, while Girlfriend keeps hammering on those free Budweisers. Admittedly, there is something about Budweiser in a bottle, it just screams "America!" in the best way. I realize how much I love her - she's a total scumbag after my own heart. I'm over here ordering water from the cocktail waitress, and she's fucking pounding back that free booze.

    We get back to the hotel and park, and I am ready to play catch up. Casino Royale! What a better way to finish out Vegas than the craps table where we started!

    We get handed passes to PURE I think, by some dude on the street. It seems like it could be fun, so I stuff them in my back pocket.

    At Casino Royale, Girlfriend sneaks her way into a spot right away, and we start ordering the strongest drinks we can. She makes me drink hers. After this happens a few times, I don't really know what's going on. I think we're winning? I get to buy in and we stand next to each other. Girlfriend loses $50 and says she's done gambling for the trip. She's up and wants to stay that way. I lose $100 and decide we MUST play the Star Wars slot machine, because we're both huge fans.

    I put $40 into the machine. On my LAST spin after seriously hitting NOTHING, not even a little consolation of "here's your initial bet back" (WHY THE FUCK DO PEOPLE PLAY SLOTS?!), I hit a bonus round and cash out $70. I guess that's why? I'm still not sold.

    What time is it? Fuck, it's already past 1am? I guess those PURE passes won't work. I'm still up $200 for the trip.

    After we have an "enjoyable evening" in our last night in the hotel room and Girlfriend passes out, I decide to hit some more video poker because there's no way they're going to let a single dude into PURE at 2:30am, right? I am up $60 on this machine at TI. FUCK YES. I decide to start betting $25 a hand. Yes, I was drunk. No I didn't hit anything cool. No, I don't remember getting back to the hotel.
     
  19. letired

    letired Tourist

    Joined:
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    Location:
    Seattle
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    Saturday the 9th:
    Yes, I do remember having a hangover when we wake up at 11am for our flights home.

    I count my bankroll after Girlfriend returns the initial $400. She's up $1320. I'm down $30, and STOKED.

    Vegas, you'll see us again soon. Maybe we won't be so laid back next time. And we'll probably lose a lot more fucking money.
     
  20. Iamrice

    Iamrice High-Roller

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    Hell yeah!

    Nice trip, thanks for the report.
     
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