Wake up, wake up, nothing could be worse, oh yeah! -Imarobot
9am came entirely too early on Sunday. I rolled out of bed, eyes bleary and red, face even puffier than normal, hair whipped up in a frenzy like it had self-styled in a tribute to the bride of Frankenstein, mouth like the Sahara (and I suppose it’s possible that at some point during the previous evening I actually DID lick something at the Sahara), and still I needed to get my stuff back in order and get out of the room before eleven. I drifted back and forth across the room, eventually collecting everything together or at least I think I did, stumbled to the elevator, made my way to the ABC store and croaked that I needed water or I was going to die. I then proceeded to chug an entire liter in front of the clerk who I believe attempted not to openly laugh at my clear dysfunctionality.
Semi-rehydrated, I plodded from the tower I was staying in to the front desk, stopping to press a penny along the way, as I cannot pass a penny-pressing machine without checking in every single pocket for the appropriate change or demanding it from the people around me. I have handfuls of elongated pennies and while I have no idea what I will actually do with them besides have them, their procurement is important to me. To this day, I’m disappointed that I didn’t have change when I went to the Oregon Vortex to use their penny machine. That was six years ago.
After checkout, I walked to the monorail and made my way back to Bally’s, where Kirsti and Matt were beginning to stir. Our collective hearts went out to Jason, who must have had enough time after he’d gotten back to his hotel to just sit on his bed for thirty minutes before he had to catch his flight out. The rest of us had a few hours to hang out before my mom was scheduled to come and pick me up, and we spent the majority of it just hanging out in their room, talking. We eventually headed downstairs to the casino to see if there were cheaper blackjack tables, given that it was a Sunday afternoon as opposed to Saturday evening, and lo and behold, we found a $5 minimum table. Matt and I sat down; I’m familiar with blackjack but had never played in a casino before and stumbled through some of the learning process. The dealer was surprisingly patient with me, my hand-motion idiocy, and my inability to add while hungover, even giving me advice when I was about to do something stupid, and I ended up having quite a bit of fun at the table. I even got blackjack two hands in a row!
After we played, it was pretty well time for me to leave, so they both walked me to the pick-up/drop-off area and waited for my mom. On our way to get some food, my mom told me that she was dating a magician and I choked on my snort of laughter. EVERYTHING about that scenario is funny to me. I keep thinking about him pulling scarves out of his wallet when going to pay for a movie, or ‘finding’ money behind my mom’s ear or whipping flowers out of his pants and I just want to die laughing. No one even wants to think about their parents having sex and yet I swear to you throwing a magician in there makes the idea of that funny as well. Seriously, a magician? What, a rodeo clown wasn’t available? No Elvis impersonators on the market?
At the airport, they announced that the flight was completely full and they were offering bumps. I tried to get on the list as I would have liked to spend another day; I didn’t get to spend any time with Frank over the weekend as he was busy with other stuff, and I was hoping to get to go with him to shoot automatic weapons, but it just wasn’t meant to be.
Until next time, Vegas. You stay classy!
they paid you $6 on a $5 blackjack?
The table clearly says 2 to 1.whoops, look closer Sean. Of course insurance pays 2 to 1.But 6:5 blackjack is heresy. 🙁 At least you won!!
Really? What does blackjack typically pay?
You should have gotten $7.50 for blackjack on a $5 bet.
The casinos went to 6 to 5 and cut the number of decks, luring people in to play thinking small deck = better odds for them. The lower payouts trash that.
I went and looked up the odds.
I was guessing at the odds at your table, but I’m thinking it was 4 decks, dealer hits soft 17, resplit up to 4 hands, double on any two cards, you can hit split aces, and resplit split aces.
With those conditions and BJ pays 3:2, the house edge is 0.5% – that is, for every $100 you play with, you could expect to walk away from the table (on average) with $99.50 after one hour of normal deals. This is the best odds you’ll find on anything, anywhere. Even betting red/black on roulette gives the house an edge of over 5%.
With those conditions and BJ pays 6:5, the house edge is 1.88%. Your $100 is $98.12. Still substantially better than most anything else in the casino, but it’s 4 times worse than what it should be.
Somehow I’m just imagining your mom dating GOB.
I’ve heard the machine gun shooting range is a ripoff, too.
Every time he appears on his segway, ‘the final countdown’ mysteriously starts playing in the background…
😀
Just iconning.
No pictures with the ass-statue outside the Riviera?? Or did they take it down or something?
How did I not even SEE that? When I go back, I probably should put my mouth on it for at least one photo opportunity.
Who knows, maybe they’ve removed it? But I did think it was right up your alley!
No, it’s probably still there. I don’t think I ever used the front door, so that might explain it.
Hey, if the magician dude doesn’t work out for her, I gotta friend in Vegas who could hook her up with Carrot Top! 😀
Oh jesus christ I would rather eat a live cat than have Carrot Top as a stepdad.
I, for one, would be entertained by EITHER possibility.
So, you know. Win/win.
Well, hell, who wouldn’t?
I dunno, dude’s got a lot of cash, somehow.
The dealers want you to win. That’s how they get tipped.
That’s a good point. 🙂