...Although, last night was *much* more mellow than Tuesday night. And we weren't beating the hookers off with a stick, either.
After I posted that epic report of Tuesday night's activities yesterday morning and answered all of the emails and phone calls I'd gotten, I finally got to bed around 10:00 am in the morning. And I was completely wiped out. (Yeah, it took me almost three hours to write yesterday's post!)
But Lars was still hoping to talk me into Grimaldi's for lunch, but I had to tell him that lunch was out of the question--I needed my sleep. In the meantime, CoolP had gotten a few hour's sleep, packed up his gear from the Tropicana, and checked into the Augustus Tower at Caesars Palace. He had his blackberry with him and was sending me messages, trying to get me to come out and have another dose of drunk and stupid. I finally wrote him back and said I was going to bed and I'd call him at 3:00 pm, once I got some sleep.
It felt like I had my eyes closed for maybe five minutes when my alarm went off again, so I woke up and called him. I said I'd pick him up and we'd drive down to Grimaldi's for dinner, but he made a counter-offer. Since I had to drive down to Ceasars anyways, why not just hang out there and have dinner at Rao's. Apparently, he had some comps that he needed to burn. Sure--why not? I had no problem with having two great meals this week. But I told him to make the reservation for 7:30 so that 1) rush hour would be mostly over by then, and 2) it would give me an extra hour to sleep.
As soon as I hung up, I went back to sleep, setting my alarm for 6:00 pm. Finally, it felt like I was able to catch up and get some proper rest. I was still a little groggy, but I showered and got dressed, heading out the door a half hour later, stopping to hit the ATM and buy a can of that Starbuck's espresso stuff just to make sure I was awake.
Of course, the Strip was crowded, and the driveway at Caesars was a zoo, as usual. But I pulled right up in front of the main entrance, made a show of fumbling around for a few bucks, and the valet guy couldn't get there fast enough--he gave me one of the plastic VIP valet cards that looks like a room key and gives you the illusion of priority service, and my parking business was settled before the rest of the unwashed masses lined up and huddling around the entrance.
I sent CoolP a text that said I had arrived, and he showed up about two minutes later--unshaven and wearing the same shirt from the night before. Nice! He said to give him ten minutes as he had to run upstairs and change. So I hung out in the pit for a few minutes, watching the action at the $50 dice tables, and then hit the sundries shop for a bottle of that vitamin water stuff (I kinda had an idea of how the night was likely to end up).
CoolP was back, sporting a clean shirt and a new pair of jeans just a few minutes later, and we headed over to Rao's. The restaurant was packed to the gills but they said they could seat us in the bar at 7:45 once the crowd left and headed over to the Colosseum to see the Divine Miss M. We had no problem with that, and were seated immediately--in the bar, but still at a table along the wall.
The bar menu isn't quite as extensive as the regular dinner menu, but there was still plenty to choose from. I opted for one of the evening's specials, the veal marsala with mashed potatoes, and CoolP ordered a plate of Italian comfort food--potato gnocchi. I also deferred to his wine expertise and he ordered us another fantastic bottle of fermented Italian grape juice. I can't remember the winery or the vintage, but it was, as they say in the business, "the good stuff".
The meal started with the requisite crusty Tuscan bread dipped in olive oil and freshly ground pepper, but we skipped appetizers and salads. The previous night's dinner and breakfast were still with us, and we didn't want to get stuffed, which is fairly easy to do at an Italian restaurant. We didn't have to wait long for our meals, and the food was wonderful. I had two generous portions of veal, pounded thin and covered in mushrooms and wine sauce, with a large helping of mashed potatoes. CoolP's gnocchi was also a generous portion, and we both remarked that he'd be lucky to finish half of what they brought--for those that have never had potato gnocchi in meat sauce, it is a heavy meal.
I tried a bite of his gnocchi, and I thought it was very good. But I liked my veal much better. We skipped dessert, and I have no idea what the total tab was--I ordered one of the specials not listed on the menu, and I'm pretty sure that our bottle of wine was more than the food itself. But it was all comped, so there was no damage done to the bankroll.
After dinner, we wandered over to the Seahorse bar for some video poker. We both put a hundy into the machines, and the bartender told us that anything we wanted was on the house. CoolP went with his favorite pear-flavored Grey Goose and soda, while I asked for a Captain and Seven. The bartender said Are you sure you want Captain? You can have any booze we got! So I asked for a sample of his best rum, and he poured me a snifter of some new Dominican spirit that I'd never heard of. One sip was enough for me, and I had him pour me a glass on the rocks with soda and a twist of lime. It was damn tasty. But I limited myself to one, after having half a bottle of wine with dinner, because I knew that I'd have to drive--we weren't planning on hanging out at Caesars all night.
But we hung out there for awhile, and of course we had our first hooker sighting. We were sitting at the bar, and CoolP had an open seat next to him, with a conventioneer at the next seat beyond that. Well, just a few minutes later, Miss Hoochie Mama in the low-cut top, high heels, and a lotta leg showing sat down in the empty seat. Thinking the conventioneer sitting by himself was the easier mark, she initiated the conversation.
CoolP, without even looking up, started in like he was announcing a baseball game. Here's the wind-up... and the pitch... Ooooh, swing and a miss! I don't know if she brought her A-game with her to the ballpark tonight... I was cracking up, and we were getting a kick out of watching her approach, acting like she didn't know what video poker was or how to play it. But what made it even funnier was that the guy was totally clueless that he was being worked by a hooker. CoolP about lost it when the guy asked "So, you're from Vegas? Where do you work?"
From about six feet away, looking straight ahead, I answered in my best hoochie-girl voice I could muster, You're sitting in my office, daddy!
CoolP was laughing so hard that I was afraid he was gonna satchel his wares right there on the spot. I think the wine might've had something to do with it, but we were obviously the two funniest guys ever to give play-by-play and color commentary while a hooker was trolling for business. But I think she became exasperated by the guy's cluelessness, and eventually moved on to greener pastures. Luckily she didn't approach us, because our anti-hooker Kung Fu was pretty strong after the previous night's adventures. And she didn't want any part of the Laurel and Hardy comedy team that was sitting there playing video poker.
At some point during the silliness, I caught four of a kind for a hundy, and CoolP hit four of a kind with Aces for $400, so we cashed out once we both got to nice round numbers. We'd been talking about Red Rock and Green Valley Ranch over the course of his visit, and he thought he'd like to check them out and see if maybe his wife would be interested in staying there for a future visit. So while redeeming our tickets, we decided to drive down to Henderson and play a bit at GVR.
About a half hour later, we were driving through The District, making our way to the valet. But the Henderson cops had half of the vehicles on the force restricting traffic right there between the casino entrance and the Elephant Bar, and we saw that some ill-mannered lout was on the receiving end of some pepper spray and zip-ties, getting tossed in the backseat of a cruiser like an overstuffed duffelbag. Just another night at the casino!
We parked the truck, and immediately went up the escalator to the main floor of the casino. Whoa... They had completely changed the layout of the pit. It was no longer in a circle around the Drop Bar, but instead all of the games were in four long rows in the area between the cage and the poker room. It was a much better setup if you ask me, and I'm glad they changed it. I really don't like having the bar in the middle of all the games--it's confusing to players and tourists, sometimes the music is too loud, and it's hard to find your friends at other tables without wandering around. So I really liked the new setup. Of course, the downer was the fact that they removed my favorite dollar slot machine--the one that I'd never lost on.
Anyhow, we bought in at a $10 Pai Gow game, ordered some drinks, and settled in for the balance of the evening. I started out on a hot streak, getting the joker and/or a bonus every hand for the first five or six hands. CoolP was getting his ass handed to him. I was up about a hundy before the wheels fell off, and I went on a 45 minute stretch where I only won two, yes, two hands. It was brutal. CoolP bought in for another $200, but I got down to my last $25 chip before making the Mother of All Comebacks. Just as the cards were heading up, CoolP got a straight flush for a $250 bonus, and within an hour or so, I had almost quadrupled up from my original buy-in.
Instead of staying one hand too long, like I always seem to do, I colored up on a winning $30 hand. CoolP said that he wanted to ride the streak, but I jogged my chubby little ass over to the cage as fast as I could, knowing that if I was holding chips, they'd find their way back into the game. I wasn't going to give back any of the money I'd worked so hard to win, so I was content to just sit there enjoying my coffee and Kahlua and watch the action.
At that time, CoolP was up about $250, so he said he'd play a $75 hand until it lost and then color up. Well, I immediately felt like a jackass for getting out of the game because the dealer went on a cold streak like I'd never seen. Out of the next five hands, brothaman won four and pushed one, collecting an extra $300. On the sixth hand, the dealer turned over a full-house, wiping out everyone, and letting us know that it was time to call it a night.
While CoolP was coloring up for something in the neighborhood of a banana chip, the floorman was kind enough to write us a comp ticket for breakfast in the coffee shop. After our visit to the cage, it was off to breakfast.
Actually, it was breakfast for me--I don't know why, but I just *love* eating breakfast in the coffeeshop after an all-nighter of gambling and drinking debauchery. Granted, we toned it down a level or two from the previous night, but still, it was one of those nights. Anyhow, I went with the hamsteak special--ham, eggs, hashbrowns, toast, coffee, while CoolP decided on having a pattymelt and an Amstel light.
Our waitress was very friendly, and since we had such a good night at the tables, CoolP said Hey man, let's make this chick's night. So when the meal was winding down and she presented the check, he pulled out a $50 bill and said This is for you!
She was stunned of course, because our tab came to like $26, and it was all comped anyways. She gathered her thoughts and asked us why, and I told her We got lucky tonight, so it's your lucky night too...
She was more than appreciative, and we got a little charge out of it, knowing that it not only made her night, but that she'd be bragging about it for days to come. Feeling pretty damn good about the entire evening's experiences, we headed for the valet. Once we got the truck back, I gave CoolP a quick tour of the area, pointing out a few places to check out when he brought his wife out in a few months. Then it was back to Caesars Palace.
It was funny, because as we were driving back, I could literally see the moment when CoolP hit the wall. Head-bob city, slurred speech, I was seeing the effects of the past 48 hours of buffoonery crashing down on his head like a ton of bricks. We got back to the hotel without incident, and said our farewells. He promised that next year his March trip will coincide with the Madness, and made plans for our next outrageous dinner to be at Guy Savoy.
I was in much better shape than he was, having drunk quite a bit less and gotten a few more hours of sleep, so my weekend didn't come to such a crashing halt. Oh yeah, I'm pretty tired as I write this, but I've got all day to sleep. But I've got to tell you, I've had more fun in the past two days than I've had in months. We laughed our asses off like old buddies, gambled like fools, and acted like complete buffoons. But we also enjoyed two very good meals, a couple of fine Cuban cigars, and some of the best wine I've ever had. I crammed a lot into the past two days, and I'm sure I'll go to work tonight wishing I'd slept more.
But as they say, the juice was worth the squeeze. I can't wait to do it again.
Mikey
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