What happens in Vegas…
…ends up here, in a woefully incomplete and scattered recap of my second ever voyage to Sin City. To wit:
*Stopped in several sportsbooks around town to check out the futures bets for the Sox n Pats. The best I could find for the Sox was 9 to 2 to win it all again (Yanks and Cards both in the 3 to 1, 5 to 2 area). Pats topped out at 5 to 2 in Caesars, showing scant 2 to 1 odds in most books. No one else was closer than 4 to 1 (Philly). It is truly good to be the champs.
Strangely, at all the sports books I stopped at, I couldn’t for the life of me find the REAL money bets: weather futures.
*H and I were treated to a stage show that may have rewritten the rules of the Unintentional Comedy Scale as we know it. If you are in Vegas, have a couple of bills to burn, want to laugh, cringe and throw up in your mouth simultaneously and happen to kinda like Queen, PLEASE see this show. Just do it.
*Two words: Bikini Blackjack. Let me repeat that. Bikini. Blackjack. ‘Nuff said.
(Vegas, baby! Vegas!)
*I only managed to drop a few bills all weekend, if you can imagine that. My biggest win, I am sad to report, came thanks to lightsaber duel won by Obi Wan Kenobi (over Darth Vader) on the Star Wars penny slots, which I was playing at 3 bucks a pull. You laugh, but the Force netted me 120 bucks, which H and I then promptly lost at the blackjack table when the lovely Tram gave way to a closer from the bullpen that cleared us out in 10 minutes flat. Needless to say, I lived up to my nickname “Mr. 14.”
*For my money, nothing Steve Wynn or Donald Trump and throw at me beats the decadence of Caesars Palace. After all these years, it’s still the class of the strip. And apparently they have Celine Dion locked in a cage in the basement, feeding her only leftovers from the Legs n Eggs breakfast buffet and releasing her for six weekly regurgitations of her “greatest hits” in the amphitheatre.
*After 8 or 9 drinks, singing along to Irish drinking songs is remarkably easy—especially if you don’t know the words. Where the fuck IS Alice anyway?
*Amazing Travel Tidbit that May Only Interest Me: my Hyundai station wagon lurched over 90,000 miles during this trip. 90K!!! A Hyundai!!! The Draggin’ Wagon rolls on, baby!
*Unless you call ahead and pretend to be the assistant to an extremely important Hollywood publicist and insist that you are confirming a prior reservation for her +4 on the VIP guest list, don’t bother with Coyote Ugly. You can see girls in short skirts pouring drinks on each other just about anywhere in Vegas without paying 20 bucks a head and waiting in line for an hour. If, however, you DO decide to call ahead and pretend to be the assistant to an extremely important Hollywood publicist and insist that you are confirming a prior reservation for her +4 on the VIP guest list, make sure you bring along H’s mom to play the part of the publicist. She’s good. Real good.
All said, it was quite a trip, and one that I plan to make again as soon as I save up some money, score some good ‘ludes and get rid of this damn rash.
Mahalo.
b
*Stopped in several sportsbooks around town to check out the futures bets for the Sox n Pats. The best I could find for the Sox was 9 to 2 to win it all again (Yanks and Cards both in the 3 to 1, 5 to 2 area). Pats topped out at 5 to 2 in Caesars, showing scant 2 to 1 odds in most books. No one else was closer than 4 to 1 (Philly). It is truly good to be the champs.
Strangely, at all the sports books I stopped at, I couldn’t for the life of me find the REAL money bets: weather futures.
*H and I were treated to a stage show that may have rewritten the rules of the Unintentional Comedy Scale as we know it. If you are in Vegas, have a couple of bills to burn, want to laugh, cringe and throw up in your mouth simultaneously and happen to kinda like Queen, PLEASE see this show. Just do it.
*Two words: Bikini Blackjack. Let me repeat that. Bikini. Blackjack. ‘Nuff said.
(Vegas, baby! Vegas!)
*I only managed to drop a few bills all weekend, if you can imagine that. My biggest win, I am sad to report, came thanks to lightsaber duel won by Obi Wan Kenobi (over Darth Vader) on the Star Wars penny slots, which I was playing at 3 bucks a pull. You laugh, but the Force netted me 120 bucks, which H and I then promptly lost at the blackjack table when the lovely Tram gave way to a closer from the bullpen that cleared us out in 10 minutes flat. Needless to say, I lived up to my nickname “Mr. 14.”
*For my money, nothing Steve Wynn or Donald Trump and throw at me beats the decadence of Caesars Palace. After all these years, it’s still the class of the strip. And apparently they have Celine Dion locked in a cage in the basement, feeding her only leftovers from the Legs n Eggs breakfast buffet and releasing her for six weekly regurgitations of her “greatest hits” in the amphitheatre.
*After 8 or 9 drinks, singing along to Irish drinking songs is remarkably easy—especially if you don’t know the words. Where the fuck IS Alice anyway?
*Amazing Travel Tidbit that May Only Interest Me: my Hyundai station wagon lurched over 90,000 miles during this trip. 90K!!! A Hyundai!!! The Draggin’ Wagon rolls on, baby!
*Unless you call ahead and pretend to be the assistant to an extremely important Hollywood publicist and insist that you are confirming a prior reservation for her +4 on the VIP guest list, don’t bother with Coyote Ugly. You can see girls in short skirts pouring drinks on each other just about anywhere in Vegas without paying 20 bucks a head and waiting in line for an hour. If, however, you DO decide to call ahead and pretend to be the assistant to an extremely important Hollywood publicist and insist that you are confirming a prior reservation for her +4 on the VIP guest list, make sure you bring along H’s mom to play the part of the publicist. She’s good. Real good.
All said, it was quite a trip, and one that I plan to make again as soon as I save up some money, score some good ‘ludes and get rid of this damn rash.
Mahalo.
b
posted by bd @ 6/01/2005 06:32:00 PM
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