Yeah, here it is almost 3:00 o'clock on the morning, and I should be sleeping. But I just got off of another grueling shift in the poker room (no, the jackpot still hasn't hit. How's about $417,000? That high enough for ya?), and after a quick stop at the grocery store, I'm home, showered, and wide awake--for now--although I'm feeling a little bit like the guy in the picture.I've got a tall glass of Captain & Seven sitting next to me, and instead of just going to bed and blowing off my website updates for yet another day, I hope you folks understand just what kind of sacrifices I'm making for your reading enjoyment. But I don't care how raggedy I'm feeling, I've got to do some writing before all the details of my whereabouts of the past several days are lost in the haze.
Let's see here, where did I leave off? Well, this past Thursday was a helluva day--I met reader 'Paul' from L.A. for dinner after work. We actually met up at the Diamond Lounge at Harrah's for pre-dinner drinks, and wouldn't you know it, the Evil Empire doesn't stock Bombay Sapphire. F*cking Cretins. I guess their target demographic prefers rotgut and Coke. Oh wait, they don't serve Coke either. So my first drink was a regular Bombay martini with the worst, most unripe olives I've ever had the displeasure to drown in icy cold gin. Luckily, the price was right, and we didn't punish our waitress for the poor quality of the drinks. Round two was much better--they atoned for their sins by offering Amber Bock in a frosted glass, and once again, all was right with the world.
Anyhow, Paul and I had a great conversation, and the time passed very quickly. Before we knew it, it was time to head on down to the restaurant for our 8:00 pm reservation at The Range. I'd never eaten at The Range before, but it was on the list, and Paul offered up dinner there due to Loveman & Company's generosity.
We were seated immediately, and I was impressed right from the start--I liked the restaurant for it's aesthetics; it was large, yet quiet, comfortable, and had a wonderful view of the Strip outside the windows.
Instead of cocktails, we just went with water to begin our culinary adventure, but I kept the wine list handy, just in case.
We started off the meal with an order of crabcakes, which were very good. There was also a basket of assorted warm breads on the table, along with some whipped butter. I can't go to a restaurant in this town, it seems, without trying the French Onion soup. I don't know why--in a world were everyone wants the lobster bisque, I want the French onion soup.
The Range version didn't disappoint--it was served in a huge hollowed out onion on a bed of rock salt, filled up, piping hot, with a crisp crouton and melted Gouda. It was delicious and I managed to avoid getting any on my shirt.
For entrees, Paul got the seafood special of the day, which was some sort of lobster dish and veggies. I went with my favorite steak, the bone-in ribeye with a baked potato. Paul also ordered some sides of creamed spinach and sauteed mushrooms. With my meal, I ordered a glass of north coast Pinot.
Of course, the food was very good-to-excellent all around, and Paul couldn't have been a better host. We had a wonderful conversation over dinner, and it turns out that we are a lot alike in a lot of ways--he takes blackjack as serious (or more so!) as I do poker, so we had lots to talk about.
I have no idea what the total tab was, as Paul insisted on covering everything, even the tip, so I didn't even get a glance at the bill. But you can see the entire menu right here, if you're curious about prices and selection.
We lingered a bit after dinner, drinking coffee and such. I honestly can't remember if we had dessert or not--it's been a long week--but when we finally pushed back from the table a couple hours later, we were more than satisfied.
We said our goodbyes down in the hotel lobby and parted company for the evening. I'd had a very long day and couldn't wait to get home and go to bed. I think Paul was itching to hit the high-limit room and do some damage to Harrah's bottom line, so we called it a night.
I got home a bit after eleven, and went straight to bed. Unfortunately, the dinner didn't sit well with me, and I couldn't sleep at all. I was up and down all night, and finally around 3:00 am, I got a huge glass of water and a handful of Tums to settle my stomach, and I was fine after that.
I've already written that I missed the phone call the next morning, so I missed out on a day of work, but I was ok with it--I was just too damn tired. I ran errands and relaxed that day preparing for my evening out with the boys.
The plan was for dinner at Stack at the Mirage, but we were gonna meet up about an hour earlier than our reservation time and have a few drinks at the bar. I got there first, but since it was Friday Night In Vegas, the bar was packed wall-to-wall with bachelorette parties and Orange County wannabes. Instead, I made my way across the casino to that lounge that sits between the poker room and the sports book, and secured a corner with a couple of cocktail tables. I text messaged the fellas and told them all to meet me there instead of the restaurant. I had about a Captain and a half before they all started showing up--it was Derek and Neil, two of my old Phoenix roomies from the 'frat house', Neil's brother, and another buddy of theirs was also in town. A few minutes later, one of my favorite dining compadres also showed up, the almost-famous Lars Vargas.
I hadn't seen Derek in four years, and Neil in almost five years, so it was great to see them again. The six of us sat around drinking cocktails and laughing it up for about an hour, telling old stories from our days at Schwab and rehashing old Vegas adventures. Derek told me that he still tells one particular story all the time--that I had since forgotten--that makes everyone crack up.
Back around 1999 or 2000 or so, Derek, Eddie B, and I were out here in Vegas doing one of our our usual three-day drunken gamble-fests, and we were playing blackjack at Binion's--this was back in the days before Harrah's hi-jacked the World Series of Poker away from them.
Anyhow, they had a bunch of commemorative $5 chips in play that had pictures of previous WSOP champions on them. As we were playing blackjack, occasionally the dealer would make a payoff that would include one of those limited edition WSOP Champion chips. So whenever we'd get one, we'd make a big deal about it and consider it lucky enough to put on the top of our next bet, staring down the dealer.
Anyhow, we'd been playing for a few hours, and drinking for a couple more than that, so we were feelin' a bit silly in the middle of the night. And the dealer happened to pay me off with a WSOP chip with Johnnie Chan's picture on it.
I swear to god, the first thing out of my mouth was -- Johnnie Chan! I *loved* that guy in Rush Hour!!!
I thought Derek and Eddie were gonna piss themselves and the dealer had to take a moment before he could get the cards out because we were all laughing so hard. And up until this past Friday night at the Mirage, I'd completely forgotten about that. But Derek and Neil retold the story and we all got a kick out of it once again.
Anyhow, after an hour of stories and cocktails, the six of us headed back to Stack for dinner. We didn't have to wait long, and we were seated at a round table in the middle of the restaurant, high rollers that we are.
The menu looked pretty good, and we were pretty hungry. One of the appetizer specials that night was mini lobster tacos, so we asked for two orders of those, and everyone I know has raved about the 'hot rocks' appetizer, so we ordered a couple of those, too.
We really enjoyed the vibe of the restaurant, although it was quite loud, a lot like N9NE over at The Palms. The eye candy was excellent, but it doesn't exactly strike me as a romantic type of place. So it was perfect for all the bachelorette parties on hand, or groups of guys like us who were all about trolling the waters.
In no time at all, the appetizers arrived. The mini lobster tacos were really good, but everyone loved the Hot Rocks. Basically, it was a tray of thin-sliced and marinated sirloin steak, and they brought out these baskets of 800-degree lava rocks to cook them on at the table. We all had chopsticks to hold the meat, and after just a couple of seconds on the rocks per side, the meat was perfectly grilled and tasted amazingly good. We all agreed that we could've easily made a meal out of those hot rocks thingies if they would've just kept bringing the meat.
But we had serious steaks on the way, so the hot rocks were just a happy diversion. Of course, I went with the bone-in cowboy steak, as did several of my dining companions, while some went with the filet. And once we found out that all the steaks could surf for just $20 more, well, we had to get the lobster Thermidor on the side. I mean, who doesn't love lobster? I think Lars actually got his steak Oscar-style, with crab, hollandaise, and bits of asparagus, too, but the majority went with the lobster. Several of us also got a side order of the adult tater tots with bacon and Brie, and I spied some spinach and other potato varieties around the table, too.
Anyhow, when the steaks arrived, the conversation pretty much stopped except for a few satisfying grunts of approval. I can speak for all six of us when I say that the steaks were fantastic. Neil went so far as to say that his was the best he'd ever had. That's a bold statement that I'm not going to make, but I'd say it was right up there in the top five meals I've ever had. Yeah, it was that good. Everything was just fantastic--the steaks were tender and flavorful--and so juicy, cooked to perfection. The tater tots were almost decadent, and of course everyone loved the hot rocks. And the lobster Thermidor was also a big hit. All the guys loved it, and I'm sure I'll be going back again--Stack is a great restaurant, and it's getting a high spot on my favorites list.
The bill worked out to just about $100 apiece before tip (and surprisingly, they didn't add an automatic 18% on to our tab), so we each coughed up a hundred and twenty, and walked away very happy. I earned a pat on the back from all my dinner companions for picking the restaurant.
After dinner, we wandered the casino a bit. There was talk of all six of us getting into a single table sit-n-go over in the Mirage poker room, but the rest of the crew accused me of being a ringer and didn't wanna
We ordered a few drinks, but it was pretty much a bloodbath for those guys. Derek was the only one who came out ahead, while the rest of the guys took it in the shorts. Lars left before it turned too ugly--he had a full belly and a good woman waiting for him back at the house, to he ditched us after waiting an appropriately long enough time. But I also had to get some sleep--my weeks of working like a slave, coupled with a rich meal, had caught up to me and I couldn't stop yawning. My boys had other Vegas adventures to attend to, so after a visit to the cage, I said my goodbyes and headed back to the valet.
I got home around midnight and just collapsed into bed, exhausted.
Not two hours later, my phone was ringing. Yep, you guessed it, there was a poker emergency down at the casino, and they needed my mad skillz ASAP. I got there by 3:00 am, more tired than you can possibly imagine, and did eight hours of dealing. I wasn't exactly the happiest guy in the casino when I got there, but I had a little help from my new friend, a 15 oz can of Starbucks DoubleShot Energy drink. Normally, I refuse to partake of any energy drinks--I'm convinced they'll eventually kill you, and I think shiat like Red Bull tastes like Ass in a Can, but in this case I had to make an exception. And you know what? I *really* liked it. It didn't give me a huge buzz or make me twitch or anything like that, but I was awake and alert and managed to make it through a shift that I thought would grind me to a pulp. And it actually tasted good, too, unlike most other liquid drugs on the market.
Anyhow, I was a complete zombie when I finally shuffled out of there around noon the next day. I got home, took a shower, and went straight to bed. I called T-Rev and cancelled our dinner plans at Grimaldi's, and even had to cancel out on meeting up with Derek again on Saturday night--I was just too tired, and they told me at work that they were gonna need me again in the middle of the night on Saturday night/Sunday morning. Ugh.
Of course, no afternoon nap on the weekend would be complete without phone calls from random members of my family, just checking in to see how I was doin'. Gotta love 'em for that. Once I woke up around 6 or so, I called Derek again, just to see what was up, but his boys wanted to play craps at Casino Royale with Cheese, while Derek wanted to lay waste to the blackjack tables at Bellagio. I was still pretty tired and neither option really appealed to me, so we said our goodbyes for the weekend and made some tentative plans to get together again soon. I went back to bed for a few hours, confident that the phone was going to wake me up sooner rather that later.
I was right--I had to be back in at 5 am, but luckily I had gotten some sleep. But it was a loooong day in the poker room, and they needed me to stick around and do the overtime. I worked ten or eleven hours on Sunday--I don't quite remember--but I pocketed a ton of cash for my efforts. Again, I felt like I'd gone about 12 rounds in a cage match with one of those angry tattoo-covered kids I see around here all the time.
Instead of going straight home and falling asleep, I was pretty hungry, so I headed down to Grimaldi's for some dinner. I tell you what--a Peroni on tap is pretty good for what ails ya, and if one is good, two must be better. That, and a big damn pepperoni and mushroom coal-fired pizza of love.
I sat there unwinding for almost an hour, eating my pizza, sipping my beer, reading my magazine. While I was sitting there, the thought struck me that life has turned out pretty good for me out here in Vegas. Three and a half years ago, when my transmission blew out on the Tennessee River bridge, 60 miles west of Nashville, I could've easily turned around and went back. But I didn't. I got off to quite the rocky start--dead car, thieving roommates, no job, and not knowing a soul out here in this town. But all that hard work and uncertainty has started to pay off in spades now. I have shaken off the shackles of debt from the Dark Times of 2001-2002, I've got a good job, I live in a nice home, I drive a nice new truck, and I have lots and lots of great friends. I never run out of things to do or people to see, and I've got a hobby that has turned quite lucrative for me, and I'm starting to put money into the bank every week instead of sweating about how I'm gonna pay the rent or make my truck payment every month.
Granted, this feast in the poker room won't last forever--as soon as this bad beat jackpot finally hits, we'll be dead for another three weeks or so, and I'll be cryin' to my boss about only working three days a week, but the lean times of the past have taught me to save, stock up on the essentials, and weather the storms more easily. Who would've ever thought that living in Las Vegas would have taught me how to *not* spend money? Several years ago, the smart money would've been on me being broke and homeless within six months if I moved to Las Vegas--I'm sure that's exactly the conversations that went on behind my back at the family dinners back in Tennessee--but the exact opposite has happened. Life in Vegas seems to agree with me, and I think I've made the most of my opportunities.
I am truly happy here.
Anyhow, I didn't mean to get all philosophical there, but sometimes you gotta sit back and consider your place in the world, and sometimes you gotta be thankful for it. And I am.
After my introspective dinner at Grimaldi's, I drove home, fiddled with the computer/router/modem long enough to figure out why I was having such bad internet connections again, and I fixed everything just about the time the weekend T2V poker tourney was starting.
I got in just under the wire, and again I outlasted the three other horsemen of the 'apokerlypse', but my pride caught up to me and I bubbled out in fourth place, one spot away from the money. But for $5.50, it was a fun hour or two. Once the tournament was over, I decided to take some cash off the table. I deposited $25 in my dormant PokerStars account a couple weeks ago, and I've since built it up to almost $500. So I had them cut me a check for $350. I don't have any plans for the money--I'm sure something will pop up--but I just don't want to catch an extended bad run of cards and give it all back. So I'll use it to fill up the gas tank, buy some groceries, maybe spend some quality time with one of my ladies (have I mentioned the cute Romanian gal that I've been flirting with for a couple of weeks now? No? Oh well, maybe another time...)
I crashed pretty hard on Sunday night, as you can imagine, but it was a fitful sleep--I was convinced that they were gonna call me again in the middle of the night and tell me to come back in to work. But I got lucky and made it all the way until 11:00 yesterday morning before the phone rang.
Knowing that I had Tuesday off, they told me to come in and work at 8:00 pm on Monday night until 4:00 am. So much for having Tuesday to myself...
But as busy as we were, the room started dying around 1:30 this morning, and I was cut loose at 2:00 am. But I made a good $180 in tokes for my six hours, which ain't too bad, I suppose. I could've brought home more, but I overtipped the floorman for letting me go home early. He could've sent somebody else, but he knew I wanted to get out of there. So after I cashed out for the last time, I gave him the entire take from my last table. (It wasn't that much--it was a shorthanded game that went dead after ten minutes). I made a quick stop at WallyWorld for some coffee and creamer and a few other essentials, and then it was back to my nest.
That brings us to now. I can see the lights of the Strip off in the distance, and the sun is about to come up on Tuesday morning. I'm gonna get a few hours of sleep, then enjoy a nice leisurely pot of coffee. Once I put some shoes on, I'll go and run a few errands--maybe get the truck washed--and then later this afternoon I have my manicure appointment with Beth. I don't know what I'll do tonight--maybe I'll go out and play in a live poker tournament down on the Strip, but I dunno--I'm not feeling it right now. Besides, I'm scheduled to work at 6:00 am on Wednesday, and if this damn jackpot still hasn't hit, well, I can pretty much count on being called in earlier.
As good as life is for me, I'm still the casino's bitch.
Mikey
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