And So It Begins...

The Madness is officially underway, and I can tell it's going to be epic as everyone was too hung over this morning to get down to the sports book and get any bets placed on the early games. As I write this, Winthrop is only down by a point to Tennessee about midway through the second half of the game, and the spread was -8, so I'm kicking myself for drinking too much last night. Oh well, what can ya do?

After I posted yesterday, I left the house and washed the Ghetto Sled before hitting the airport and picking up Angy.


I have a jar full of quarters and half-dollars acquired from dozens of hours at the pai gow table, so I used a few of them at the local carwash to blast about five pounds of bird shiat off of the sled and give it a clean and shiny look for all of the valet guys that get the ultimate pleasure of parking it this week.

Angy's flight was on time, and I didn't wait long before finding her and her huge-ass over-the-weight-limit suitcase jamming up the chute at the baggage claim carousel. We scooted out of the airport and made our way over to our first stop of the day, Lee's Discount Liquor Warehouse on Sunset. Angy is hosting a party on Friday night in her 'Penthouse Suite' over at the Venereal Palace, and we needed to stock up. So we spent about a half hour in there and loaded up to the tune of almost three Benjamins. But we got some good stuff, and nobody is going to go thirsty tomorrow night.

Behind those two cases of Pacifico, you'll find a case of Red Bull and another of Labatt's Blue, two bottles of Crown Royal, two bottles of vodka, two bottles of rum, and various other goodies that will of course be enjoyed in moderation...

Once we got everything loaded into the trunk of the Sled, it was off to lunch at Metro Pizza on Tropicana. They only serve beer and wine, no liquor at their bar, so we put the Captain on hold for a little while and just had plain old Coke with our large pepperoni & sausage pie. The 'large' was much larger than I remembered--I usually just get the 9-inch individual pizzas--so we had plenty of leftovers which I'm munching on as I write this.

After lunch, we still had plenty of time to kill before having to go back to the airport and pick up my sister Cyndi, whose flight landed at 2pm. So we came back to my house to kick it for an hour or so while we waited. Of course I had a bottle of the Captain Silver on hand, along with some diet Coke, so we fixed ourselves the first cocktail of the Madness while answering all of our text messages and voicemails from everyone either on their way to Vegas, or jealous of those who were already here.

Angy checks her messages while we relax on my balcony that overlooks the Virgin Islands

Before long, it was 2pm and we were on our way back to the airport. Cyndi's flight was delayed about a half hour, but she finally made it down to the baggage claim, but not before we made friends with a local limo driver and got his card--we may be utilizing his services before the weekend is up. But she was good and ready to get her Vegas on, having travelled on three different planes to get here from the eastern Caribbean.

Once we got Cyndi and her luggage loaded up--she had two suitcases, one full of clothes, the other full of duty-free booze from St. Croix--we were on our way to our next stop, the grocery store to get snacks and mixables. With all three of us, the luggage, and all of the booze, the Sled was a low-rider once again. Yet we managed to get another cartful of groceries squeezed in before heading to the Strip.

While I was trying to squeeze more groceries into the trunk there in the Von's parking lot, Angy and Cyndi were playing a lot of grabass with me, making me jump and bump my head on the underside of the trunk lid while they laughed hysterically. I guess a guy driving by in a red Cadillac thought it was pretty funny too because he stopped and rolled down his window. Cyndi turned to him and said "Hey, I bet you didn't expect to see that when you came to the grocery store today".

He replied with "I know that guy--he deals at xxxxxx!" and then he waved and drove off. Then Cyndi and Angy rolled their eyes and asked "Jesus dude, is there anybody in this town who doesn't know you yet???"

But we finally got everything loaded up and squared away and made our way down to the Imperial Palace to drop off Angy and half the junk in my trunk. The bellman about shit when he saw all of the booze we were unloading, so Angy invited him to the party. For some reason, I don't think he's gonna make it. After dropping her off, Cyndi and I headed for downtown to get checked into our luxurious accomodations at the Plaza.

She booked a petite suite, which ended up being on the fourth floor of the north tower, directly behind the Center Stage dome. Still a decent view, but they had a lock on the balcony doors, trying to discourage us from going outside. The room was fairly crummy, smelling of stale cigarettes and showing it's age, but it was good enough for it purpose this week--a place to party and crash.

Cyndi was hosting a small get-together last night, justifying the suitcase full of duty-free booze. So we unloaded everthing and got settled in. She also had small gifts for several folks who were attending, and gave me my stuff first--my own bottle of vanilla rum, a couple of shot glasses, a palm-tree drink stirrer, some bourbon-vanilla cigars, and a skull-and-bones baseball cap that said 'Surrender the Booty'. Arrrgh...makes me want to go a-plunderin'.

Although we were a bit tired and could've easily used a nap, we couldn't stay long. We had to go back and get Angy and then head to dinner at Mon Ami Gabi.

We had reservations at 6:30, and by the time we drove back up to the Strip, got Angy down from her penthouse in the world's slowest elevators, and left the Sled in the capable hands of the Paris' valet, it was 6:25. I stopped to use the men's room, and while I was in there Cyndi put $10 in a slot machine and turned it into $50.

We were seated immediately, but we opted to stay indoors because it was pretty chilly out. Even so, we still had a nice view of the Bellagio fountains. We didn't order appetizers, but the baguettes and onion soup were enough of a starter. Angy had the fish of the day--red snapper, while Cyndi had the filet and I had the NY Steak in a merlot sauce and a glass of that Latour Pinot I like so much. Of course the food was excellent, but even Angy said that as good as it was, it still wasn't as good as our dinner at Ortanique last October--we both agree that that one was the best meal we've ever had in Vegas. But we have absolutely no complaints about Mon Ami Gabi--it's a fantastic meal and the service is some of the best in all of Las Vegas.

As good as the steaks were, I think the highlight of the evening were the Espresso Martinis. They were sooooo good. Cyndi had one, I had two, and Angy had three. Not quite a bargain at $10.50 a pop, but it's an indulgence I'll gladly pay for.

We didn't linger too long--we had plans to meet everyone down at the Keno bar at the Plaza for drinks at 8:30, so we had to scoot. I think dinner for the three of us came to almost exactly $200, and since Cyndi is now The Boss down there at her tough gig in St. Croix, she let the expense account cover it.

We scooted out of there, fetched the Sled and headed north. First of all, we swung by the Mirage and picked up our friend Sin, and the four of us made our way downtown. We strolled into the Keno bar and the party was just getting started. In attendance was Don D. and his lovely bride Jennifer, Keno and his wife Emily, Illinois Marty and sidekick Derek, Patti from Ontario, Kikky, Chef, and a few minutes later my favorite girl Andrea showed up to join us. Don had plenty of drink comp tickets, so the stories and the booze were flowing, along with random buffoonery. And of course no gathering of these freaks would be complete without spontaneous nudity, and some very disturbing photos were taken.

Two of my favorite slices of bread used to make the classic Mikey sandwich

Cyndi and Angy made friends with an old gent a few feet away in the Keno lounge, so they brightened his trip by giving him a free lapdance. We laughed it up there for over an hour before deciding to move the party upstairs to Cyndi's suite.

The Ipod was set to all-party music and plugged into the speakers, we filled up a laundry bag full of ice, and had housekeeping bring up a load of plastic cups. And the party was on. Derek and Chef picked the lock on the balcony door giving us a little more space, and Cyndi put on her bartender hat.

Much laughing, dancing, and drinking ensued for the next several hours. At some point there was a knock at the door and Vegas Jer showed up carrying a duffelbag and the lines for the morning games.

Angy and Emily demonstrate how Brokeback Mountain could've been a commercial success as well as a critical one. Cowgirls instead of cowboys...

Derek and Cyndi mug for the camera. Notice Derek, the longtime March Madness veteran, has learned from long experience to write his room number on the back of his hand, just in case...

I captured the moment we first found out that Blackjack had arrived at the airport. So I made the obligatory announcement--The Monkey Has Landed!

A threesome times two

Andrea shows the proper way to carry an invisible tray full of drinks

After the party wound down, it was decided that we needed to do some gambling, so the whole caravan headed over to the LV Club. I said my goodbyes to Andrea, who had to work early this morning, and joined the crowd across the street. We couldn't find any tables right away, but before too long Angy and I squeezed into their only Pai Gow table, while others found happiness at blackjack or the penny slots.

Angy played one hand before deciding to head back down to the Strip, courtesy of Chef's taxi, so she left me her red chips and the following instructions: Clark, here's two dollars--go win our money back! I played for quite awhile, building up a $90 profit, but then the dealer went on one of those unheard of streaks where they won seven in a row from me, pounding my chip stack into submission. By then, it was around 2:30 in the morning and pretty much everyone had headed back to bed, so I played one last $80 adrenalin hand for Angy. I got a pair of queens with an ace-king up top, feeling pretty good about my chances, but the dealer showed a pair of deuces on top and aces on the bottom, taking me out for good.

I got back to the room and found Derek and Cyndi on her laptop trying to get brackets submitted, so we told stories from our night in the casino while I wrestled with the rollaway bed. It seems that the fancy rollaway beds at the Plaza are about thirty years old, my particular model featuring a tied-up trash bag used to hold it together.

I untied and set the thing up, and hopped on to give it a try. I couldn't stop laughing because it was easily the worst rollaway bed in the history of rollaway beds. The support bars came right through the mattress, which was full of oddball springs pointing in various directions, and it sagged terribly right in the middle.

I got up and told Derek to give it a try, he wouldn't believe how bad it was. He laid down and tried a few positions, and the only thing he said was Holy shit what a crummy bed!

Of course about thirty seconds later, he started snoring so we just left him there. Luckily the loveseat had a pop-out bed in it, which was slightly more comfortable, so I just crashed there while Cyndi turned off all the lights and climbed into the queen sized bed. But we giggled for a few minutes at Derek snoring away on the rollaway.


He finally woke up around 6:30 this morning, stumbled around confused for a few minutes, looked at his hand, and headed out the door and toward his own room. And we laughed at him again. We finally got up sometime after eleven and killed a few bottles of water before we were anything close to functional. I finally gathered a few things and put my clothes on, leaving Cyndi there in bed half awake.

While waiting for the Sled from the valet, I ran into Marty and the boys, heading out to the golf course. I stopped at Walmart on the way home to pick up a cooler for Angy's party tomorrow, then got home to see a huge box sitting on the porch that Angy had shipped me last week. It's full of Girl Scout cookies and Mardi Gras beads, although there were no instructions enclosed.

Somehow, I'll figure it out.

I've got enough time to grab a quick nap this afternoon, but then I have to go to work. Apparently, the whole gang is going to happy hour for drinking and dancing at Mix this evening, but word is that later on they're going to find their way out to the casino and kidnap me after playing a few hands at my table.

If I ever escape my captors, I'll post another full report.

Mikey