Yeah so, I spent around 5,760 minutes out in Vegas this month. This is how it happened:
We dropped the kids off with a wonderful aunt and uncle and took the early morning flight in. I saw Hoover Dam from the plane, and it sure was a lot of concrete. Yep. Lots of concrete. Whoo baby. We didn't go out to Hoover Dam during our vacation. That would be a foolish thing to do in my estimation.
Hey, here's another foolish thing to do: Pay to take a shuttle from the airport to the Toyota Sienna (otherwise known as the Luxor), which you can actually, you know, see. I was tired. And also, I expected the shuttle to be free and failed to get out of the "take the shuttle" mode when I found out the sad truth. One must always change gears, and I didn't.
Upon entering the obsidian pyramid, we got shanghaied right away in the lobby by people who were far too excited about us and just thought everything was great. I thought they were from a cult but it turned out to be something far more sinister: time-share salesmen. They wanted to take us to an offsite location to rob us of our precious bodily fluids, and in return they would give us . . . half off tickets to Donny and Marie! Being Midwesterners, we politely declined, but by day three, we had discovered the wonders of the well-timed throat-punch.
Here's something I noticed about Vegas casinos: Slot machines. Quick quiz for those of you who have never been to Las Vegas, Nevada. What percentage of the casino would you guess is given over to slot machines (as opposed to table games, roulette, poker, etc.)?
To get the answer, highlight the space after the word "Answer", below.
Answer: One hundred billion percent.
You guessed lower, didn't you? You were wrong! I enjoyed going into the high stakes slots areas and wondering who was losing 100 grand tonight. The Luxor is an enormous hollow pyramid, with the rooms clinging to the inside like inverted barnacles, and as we walked to our rooms, I noticed the low balconies. Not dangerously, low, but if you were so inclined, you could quickly add another body to the Bodies exhibit. Later, after I had discovered high-stakes slots, I came to question the wisdom of those low balconies. After an hour of running cold with ten betting lines a pull at $100 each, a fellow could really start to crave an twelve-story fall for a nightcap. But I digress.
We walked around the casino and then strolled over to the Excalibur, as hungry as Canadians. Sadly, it was eleven thirty AM and everything was closed, showing a thorough disrespect for our hunger. We finally sat down in Dick's (The Shame 'O The Strip) and got burgers. And insults! And paper hats that said "Trailer Trash Hooker." We were officially mega-tourists.
Back to the room. Cris Angel was on our room key. He's so jammin'. He was holding his arms out, partly up, like a tentative apprentice Christ figure, and was peeking at us in a coy sort of way through his girl-bangs. It totally Mindfreaked me. "Somewhere nearby," I thought, "And I don't know where . . . is Carrot Top." For the first time, I wished I'd brought a gun. If you doubt that nightmares occassionaly escape and walk the waking world, I sumit to you my Exhibit A. Carrot Top. The tatooed mascara I think is what terrifies me. That, and the hair. And the steroids. But the mascara is just the crazy cherry on top of the insane sundae. I wonder if he got the same guy who did Cris Angel.
L was tired ("L" is my wife, whose name begins with "L", as far as you know. "L" also moonlights as the 12th letter in the alphabet.) and craving a nap, and there was a poker room right downstairs. The perfect storm. I walked downstairs and bought in. The dealer had a thick Slavic accent and pet eyebrows that crawled around his forehead like feral stoats. I received my very first hand ever of live Vegas poker.
It was the seven of hearts and the two of spades.
I am a blogger indeed.