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We went to bed sometime around midnight, and by four my internal clock was telling me it was seven, in every way possible for a regular dude. There was that, and also the rush of the previous night’s sweet run that just wouldn’t leave my mind. I kept replaying it over and over, how we turned $60 into $550, and just wanted to get out there for more. It took the better part of two hours to steal another half-hour of sleep.
When I finally re-opened my eyes near 6.30 and saw that my lovely Mrs. was still fast asleep beside me, I could do nothing else but nudge her, accidentally on purpose, so we could get this day going.
While she woke up, I fired off a quick email to her parents from my work email address, wishing them safe travels on their way to Vegas that night. We were there to surprise them, so an email from my work address would throw them off if they had even the smallest of suspicions, which we later found out they didn’t.
Don’t forget to stop by and take out our garbage was the main message we got in reply. Yeah, ok, uh huh. Sorry, but your garbage is staying in the garage this week!
After getting ready, we made our regular morning stop at the Carson Street CafĂ© for a reprise of the previous morning’s breakfast, but with an added Red Bull for this non-coffee drinker.
Someone’s eyes were bloodshot!
With time to kill before our 11 a.m. check-out, we returned to the scene of the crime to see if Binion’s might still have a few dollars left over for us. No such luck. We hung in there for a bit, but a repeat was not in the cards, so we decided to pack it in, save the gambling budget for later, and head for the Flamingo where we would be spending the next three nights.
After a 30-something dollar cab ride, we were standing in line at the Flamingo, hoping our room would be ready. Here is my only qualm with the Flamingo. No matter the time of day, the check-in line is impossibly long, and impossibly slow. We waited, and waited, and waited, to finally be told that our room was not yet ready but to keep checking throughout the afternoon.
How could we possibly occupy our time, I wondered facetiously. If you can’t find yourself a game-plan in Vegas, Vegas isn’t for you.
With the Mrs. off to the spa for a massage, I had some time to kill, so I moseyed on back over to Bill’s to play some $5 blackjack. Not wanting to blow our gains by any means, I opted for a table that would let me play at least 20 hands, hopefully spread out long enough to have some drinks, and get just goosed enough before meeting up with the Mrs. later.
Well, within about a half-hour I had a couple of beers, maybe three good hands, and a dejected look on my face. Thanks Bill! The casino was not kind to me this trip, and would not be seeing my gambling dollar again, but little did I know, we would be back.
From there, I returned to the Flamingo and gave it a shot at $10 a hand. Another hundo gone in a flash. Well this is fun, I thought to myself, so off I went to check on the room. Still not ready, so I grabbed a seat at the Sports Book and quite easily fought back the urge to hit the tables again.
When finally Mrs. Family Man found me, the beer buzz was wearing off, I was yawning and ready for a nap. Time to check on the room. Mercifully, it was ready, so up we went to the 23rd floor, hoping our GoRoom was as nice as we remembered it from the only other time we stayed at the Flamingo two years ago.
It was, and better, with a sweet view of the Bellagio fountains, though no music to accompany the to-and-fro swaying of Steve Wynn’s gargantuan ode to excess. We watched for awhile, but really, the fountains do nothing for me, with or without Celine wailing in the background, although it is nice to be able to say we had a fountain-view room.
After chilling for a bit, we both were getting hungry and decided to try a new place. Three trips ago I read about The Pub at Monte Carlo, but each time we somehow got sidetracked and never managed to go. Since it was still just the two of us for another few hours, we thought we should take advantage so we walked down to the Monte Carlo for Happy Hour at The Pub.
What a
disappointment.
The service was
slow. So slow that after sitting for ten minutes in a near-empty restaurant
nobody had been by to even offer us a glass of water. That was enough for us,
so we got up to leave.
Long story short, they convinced us to stay. Gave us another table. Sent us a waiter. And let us enjoy our evening. The Happy Hour finger foods were good, but the slow service when we got there doomed them from the start. We will not be back, nor will we be recommending The Pub to anyone else.
Long story short, they convinced us to stay. Gave us another table. Sent us a waiter. And let us enjoy our evening. The Happy Hour finger foods were good, but the slow service when we got there doomed them from the start. We will not be back, nor will we be recommending The Pub to anyone else.
By now it was nearly
7 p.m. Early by Vegas standards, but late by ours. The in-laws would be arriving around midnight. We needed to rest up if we wanted to keep up with them when
they arrived, so off we went, back to The Flamingo against the backdrop of a
fading sun, to catch a few winks before they rolled in.
We turned in at eight and woke up at 11.30. A solid 3.5 hours is a good night’s sleep in Vegas, is it not? A quick check on the in-laws’ flight status revealed that they had landed and would soon be on their way.
We hit the Party Pit to kill some time, and during shuffles I shuffled off to check the lobby. I spotted Mrs. Family Man’s parents, aunt and uncle on my second stealth fly-by. This would be fun.
The original plan was to wait for them in the casino, then grab a seat at their table and wait for the hilarity to ensue when it finally occurred to them that we were actually there.
But the impossibly slow check-in line was still impossibly slow.
I went back at least twice over the next half-hour and still they were in line. Finally, on the third go they were checking in so we changed our plan of attack. With drinks for everyone in hand, we snuck up behind them as they walked to the elevators and began singing happy birthday to the father-in-law who was just now into the first few minutes of his 60th year.
They were shocked. So shocked that the mother-in-law’s first words to me were “F*******k you!” in an “I can’t believe you guys are here!” kind of way.
Priceless.
If they weren’t already excited about being in Vegas, they were now. And they are Vegas veterans.
It was about one a.m. when finally we filtered back down into the casino. We each went off to our own separate tables, choosing to play with the minimum bets that suited our respective budgets. I was done in no time, so in no time was sitting with Mrs. Family Man’s father at his preferred double-deck, $25 minimum table.
Too rich for my blood, unless I’m really feeling it.
That I had no money left for the rest of the night bothered me little. I can have as much fun just watching blackjack as I can playing, though I do much prefer when my piles are going up too.
Before long, Mrs. Family Man had joined us, and the mother-in-law too. We got good and drunk, having a grand old time, when all of a sudden the casino seemed oddly quiet. I can now confirm that the transition from busy night to quiet night happens sometime between 3.30 and 4.15 a.m. Wow. We couldn’t believe we were still up. And we kept going too.
Bud Light.
Captain and Coke.
Caesar.
Whatever.
Just keep them coming.
By five, the in-laws were starting to fade. They were on Eastern time after all. But Mrs. Family Man and I were starving. If we had put our Happy Hour dinner at The Pub to music it would have started a lot like the Don McLean song: “A long, long time ago…”
So we did something that I never thought we would do but am so happy to say that we did.
Steak and eggs at Bill’s for $6.99. Yeah buddy! You may not see my gambling dollar again, Mr. Bill, by your steak and eggs for seven bucks will draw me in every time.
It was 5.15 a.m. and we were rolling in for breakfast before turning in for the night. So proud! Such a Vegas thing to do.
Finally, we crawled into bed at about six a.m., ready for this night to end but eager for the next day to begin.
PART THREE
PART THREE
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Can't wait to go in July. Hopefully, the table gods will be good to me.
ReplyDelete-The sister
Not if you don't hit on 15 when the dealer has 7 and up.
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