Tuesday, October 27, 2009

What Happens In Vegas....

....Ends up getting blogged about.

Now I'm not going to sit here and throw up some insanely long post detailing every mundane detail of our trip. But I did want to give you at least a recap that might be worth a chuckle. This is especially true if you know any of the participants.

Also, I wanted to throw up some insanely long post with mundane details.

The co-stars are: Myself, Sports Bottle, Twinkie, a dude named Jim, and a dude named Spensley.


I arrive at Sports Bottle's around midnight. Sit around not doing much. His dog tried to rape me with his nose. We go to bed with a 4:00 am wakeup call.


Holy fuck is 4 am early. Especially when you aren't sleeping in your own bed. And especially when a cat is getting violated by a fucking bat or something outside your window at 3 am. SportsBottle's lovely girlfriend drove us to the airport in the sweetest Buick ever. I shun the idea of paying $15 to Midwest Airlines and carry all my shit onto the plane. And I had to cram that motherfucker into the overhead compartment. And I didn't care, because I saved $15. Somehow in the 8 foot walk to the bookstore to get a water, I managed to lose my boarding pass. Jim and I win the lottery by being the only two people on the plane to have nobody sitting next to us. It doesn't really make the flight that much more comfortable, but at least I didn't have to worry about somebody's fat roll laying on my lap or anything. No cookies because there is some bullshit rule about not cooking them before 10am or something. Turbulence was bad enough that the flight attendant actually said "This is bad." To the other one.

Finally we arrive in Vegas about 8:30 local time. We get to Bally's via taxi. (For reference, the ride took twice as long and was a 1/4 the price of a cab ride in Green Bay, which is fucking bullshit, and proves my point of bitching. But I digress). Sports Bottle and Jim go to check in while Spensley and I covertly pretend we aren't with them and go to try to scam a free drink. Of course, the dick at the bar is uninterested, even though he knows full well that there is a rule that if you put a $20 in the video poker machine, he is obligated to give you a free drink. There are alot of fucking assholes that work in Vegas as dealers and bartenders. It is a fact. Some people there are just fucking miserable about their lives. Probably because they know that they are going to spend their entire paychecks, and their sizable tips (unless Twinkie is buying your drinks) on gambling and crack. I think Vegas is probably like Hollywood, without the possibility of acting. People get addicted to the fun (which wouldn't be that hard if you are winning) or the glamour, and decide to move there to live it. And usually, it doesn't work out that well. You end up bartending or dealing, which isn't that bad, but it is the best case scenario for these people. Most end up dead, disappeared, or laying on their backs with their legs spread.

Where was I? Oh, so we check in, and decide to walk around a little bit, checking out random sportsbooks, and trying to get free drinks. None really had that option. Oh, and we drank the whole time we walked around. Stopped at the random liquor stores that we passed. Drank as much as possible. Eventually we decide that the deal at Bally's is the best. A bucket of 5 Miller Lite pint bottles for $20. Not really that great of a deal, but we were thirsty. Sat there and watched Game 5, waited for Twinkie to show up.

Game ends and we head out to walk around and gamble. Things were starting to get a bit hazy by this point. I know we went to a couple of low rent ass places on the strip with cheap drinks. Except for when Jim told me that rails were $2 at Bill's Gamblin' Hall (actual place), and it cost me $6. I guess "rail" doesn't also mean "on tap". That would be my last mixed drink of the night. At this point, I was still worried about my budget, and trying to be as cheap as I could so that I could gamble a little. We ended the night (sort of) at this place called O'Shea's, which was not Irish except for the clovers on the blackjack tables. I didn't play a whole lot, but Twinkie and Sports Bottle both played for about 13 hours. From this point on, Twinkie pretty much had no money at all. Sports Bottle was way up at one point before this stop, and the next morning claimed he was down $400. Which is almost as much as I brought along. Jim and I stood near the beer pong tables (yes, there were beer pong tables in this casino) and drank $2 beer at the bar without gambling. Jim eventually starting working on this chick. And he worked. And he worked. He was bringing the heat. I could tell. He had his best closer shit working. I think I saw him spit on the ball ala Mariano Rivera. Turns out that she was a "Butterface". And a snaggletooth. After O'Shea's, and a six run homer by Butterface, we went to Margaritaville. Which, in retrospect, was a horrible idea. All fucked up already, we order a round of Margaritas that may or may not have had anything but tequilla in them. Sports Bottle dropped his entire drink on a chair. Three of us were hanging over a balcony screaming about Jim's bachelor party, even though he is not getting married. Somehow Spensley ended up with a Corona topped off with Bacardi, which is about as bad of an idea as is possible. Eventually, the bartender refused to serve me another one, although I think they were closing. We go to head back to O'Shea's but Twinkie is nowhere to be found. He calls and starts talking about being lost and being in a kitchen. After about 20 minutes he is being led out of Margaritaville by two angry employees. I believe he had made his way into the kitchen, but we'll never be sure.

From this point, I had to babysit Twinkie back to Bally's because he was a drunken asshole. The night culminated in him somehow losing a contact in front of the main bank of elevators that lead to the hotel room and him crawling on his hands and knees looking for it, and a security guard showing up and not really enjoying it. As he was escorting us to our room (which we did not have a key for mind you) Twinkie tells the security guard "You just hate me because I'm a Jew, you fucking anti-Semite". Twinkie is definitely not Jewish, but it is possible the guard was an anti-Semite. On the belief that Sports Bottle was passed out in the room, we pound on the door for like 10 straight minutes. Twinkie pounds on other random doors. Finally, the security guard comes back to address a complaint, but Sports Bottle shows up with a key. The three of us pass out.


In the morning, I wake up to the sound of Spensley falling out of bed. I go to piss and there is a newspaper on the floor in the bathroom soaked with a mystery liquid, from an unknown person. I crawl back into bed for an hour or so. I open my eyes to see a gigantic wad of chew in bed next to me (not from me). Eventually, we all get up and shower except for Spensley. Spensley is lying on the floor, with a pillow covered in chew spit, and his face covered in chew spit. He is in a coma of some type. Perhaps it was not coming back to the room until 7 am, and then falling asleep with a four finger dip in his cheek. Either way, we leave his dumb ass in the room and head to the Rio Sports Book. It was the sickest shit I've ever seen.

We had heard good things about the Rio, all of which were true. The drinks are free if you ask for one. Or if you've been there ordering drinks for 10 hours and the waitress gets tired of asking, they just keep bringing them. You don't even have to be betting, and if you are Twinkie, you don't even have to tip. Of course, betting is alot more fun, so we started betting random horses, hockey game parlays, CFL games and began to make bets for Saturday's college games.


We also placed a bet on the Rutgers-Army game. We had Rutgers +10 and Under 39. Rutgers goes up 17-3 after the 1st, and it looked like our parlay would be over quickly. Somehow the second quarter was scoreless. And it was a 20-3 lead at the end of the third. The teams quickly traded TDs in the fourth to make it 27-10 Rutgers. Rutgers is driving with about 3 minutes left, and have a first and goal on the 1. AND RUTGERS FUCKING FUMBLED!!! ARMY RECOVERS!!! The four of us are jumping up and down cheering. Some random New Jersyites (?) behind us are cheering too. We turn in our card after time runs out and we win....$56 between the 4 of us. See, we aren't the highest rollers in Vegas per se. Drunkest? Possibly. But cheap? Most definitely. The New Jersey guys thought it was the funniest shit ever that we made such a huge deal over $14 a piece. I think we won like 2 out of 50 horse races. Lost the hockey and CFL.


The remainder of the night was interesting. After we polished off our 50th mixed drinks. (About 6 oz., fairly weak, but we were there for about 14 hours, so I don't think I'm exaggerating much). We decided to head over to Gold Coast Casino, which is a little towny joint with cheap table games and strong drinks right near the Rio. Had like 5 pretty strong Limon and Cokes, and made a relatively big dent in the House on $3 Roulette. One dealer was name Ramo and he was from Bosnia, and he kept saying "Easy Money!" in an awesome Eastern European accent. The other dealer was Jose, and he made a bunch of derogatory sexual comments about the drink waitress, including the universal jack off sign. Fun times. We also ran into "Asian Spensley". He was a guy wearing a polo shirt and a hat similar to a Spensley outfit, and was about the same height, only he was Asian and 50. We jump into a cab, and I bum a Skoal pouch from Jim, which was a horrible idea. I get out of the cab back at Bally's with a half full spitter and run face first into the marble wall at full drunk speed. I don't fall but am stunned for a moment, and I have no control over my body. I weave my way through the casino back to the room. Things are spinning about a 1000 miles an hour. Somehow, despite hovering over toilet, I manage not to puke. I pass out face first.

Spensley never made it out. About 2 p.m. we got concerned and joked that we were going to have to rent a car and bury his body in the desert because we hadn't heard anything at all from him. Finally, we got a text that just said "puking" at like 4 pm. He was in bed when we got back.


Somehow, we get up early as shit so that we can get back to the Rio to get a seat for College Football. Twinkie, Spensley and I are fine. Sports Bottle and Jim? No so much. None of us are great, but when I start pounding Miller Lites at 9 a.m., the mere thought made Sports Bottle puke. He and Jim left. Twinkie tried but I wouldn't let him. The three remaining solders go on a historic horse run hitting on 5 of 9 winners, and having a community bank roll of over $35 to make $3 bets, which lasts us almost the rest of the day.


For some reason, we made a whole bunch of group and individual bets, that resulted in a shitload (relatively speaking) of money on Iowa against Michigan St. Perhaps it was familiarity with the Big Ten, or the undefeated record, but based on the outcome of the Iowa game we were all going to make quite a bit (relatively speaking) of money or not. The game was a Pick 'em. We all saw Wisconsin play both teams and believed that Sparty sucked. Sports Bottle finally got back for the start. It wasn't looking good for a while, but when Iowa scored on the last play the entire casino erupted. It was fucking fantastic.


We all stayed until the Boise St. game was over, because we all had money to win on it, then we headed back to Bally's for some drunken roulette and Go Go dancers. Oh, and getting yelled at by the roulette dealer guy because I was too drunk to understand the rules. I ended up winning around $125 on college football, so the day was a success.


Watched all the NFL games at Bally's. Didn't drink. Won like another $150 or so. Flew home around midnight. Almost died driving back to Green Bay from Milwaukee.


Sports Bottle missing a 1,000 to 1 12 team parlay at the end of the afternoon games. Ended up getting 10 I think, which is fairly impossible.


Tired as shit.


Tired as shit.


Tired as shit.


Approx. 105 drinks (and that might be conservative)
2 meals at Sbarro's
2 meals at Nathan's
0 meals enjoyed at either one
2 meals at the Sportsbook Cafe at the Rio
2 drunken, toothless rednecks from Arkansas sitting next to me smoking in the non-smoking sportsbook on Saturday
1 number of division one colleges said toothless redneck from Arkansas thought were in the state of Iowa. (claimed to be a professional gambler)
20 rank of Miami of Ohio according to said toothless redneck from Arkansas
0 dips I will ever drunkenly do again
Cost of trip after gambling winnings, and not including plane ticket $100


Deedub said...

zero pictures of strippers?


Bear said...

Agreed, what happens in Vegas, should be uploaded to public image servers for all of our amusement.

Juicelaw said...

Actually, we spent so much time in the sportsbooks and got so fucking drunk, that the closest thing we got to strippers was Twinkie passing out in a fetal position in his boxers on a chair.