Man, that title is so perfect that I'm tempted to use that as the subtitle at the top of the page and take down that Winston Churchill quote altogether.
Seriously, I have a story that's gonna make your jaw drop. And if you were here in person, you'd point at me and laugh... But we'll get to that eventually.
So, in case anyone is wondering, yes, I'm still sick. I worked late Monday/early Tuesday, made a nice little bundle of cash in about four hours, then the games went dead before the sun came up. So the other dealer and I got sent home, and since I was wide awake and hungry, I stopped by one of the local watering holes for some breakfast. I had some amazingly good chicken-fried steak, eggs, home fries, and toast, about a half a pot of coffee, and some good conversation with some other local night-crawlers. And while sitting there waiting for my food, I put $5 into the bartop video blackjack machine and turned it into $25, so my breakfast was not only free, it was slightly profitable.
By the time I got home, the drugs were starting to wear off, so I loaded up again, watched TV for a bit, and then slept all day and most of the night, again waking up only to drink more fruit juice. Now that I'm on graveyard shift, I was wide awake at 2:00 am, so I got up, showered, and got dressed, thinking that since it was about 20 hours since I'd eaten solid food, I should go get something, but my taste buds are only responding to Tabasco sauce this week.
I thought maybe about playing in a middle-of-the-night poker tourney, but those are few and far between, and there are no cash games within five miles of my house going on at that hour either. I would've had to drive down to the Mirage or Bellagio to find a game. I didn't want to do that. But my system is still fighting this bug, and it was easy to fall asleep again.
A few hours later, I woke up this morning to a bright sunny bedroom and a Billy Mays commercial on the TV. At that point, I decided that I *had* to get out and do something. I was really hungry by then, so I figured that I'd cruise over to Green Valley Ranch and hit the Original Pancake House for some breakfast.
I stopped in the gift shop first and coughed up seventy-five cents for a little brain candy--the morning edition of USA Today, the only newspaper I can read from cover-to-cover in less than a half an hour. There was no line in the restaurant, so I was seated immediately.
I ordered a cup of coffee and a large glass of orange juice, took a few pills, and perused the extensive menu. I've eaten there several times in the past, but I wanted to try something new besides the usual ham & eggs or pancakes & bacon. So I went with the 'Eggs Michael'.
Basically, it was a riff on Eggs Benedict, but they use sausage patties on the English muffins instead of the Canadian bacon. The eggs are still poached, but instead of Hollandaise sauce, they use a cream sherry sauce with mushrooms to top the dish. And then they serve four potato pancakes on the side.
It was an interesting dish, I'll admit. Very savory, but the sauce wasn't as hot as it should've been, or maybe it just cooled off too fast because I was a slow eater (I blame the newspaper). And for whatever reason, I didn't like potato pancakes as much as I thought I would, even with sour cream and applesauce. It was a good meal, don't get me wrong, but I probably wouldn't order it again.
After breakfast, I wandered over to the poker room to see what was going on, but it was dead. There was a short-handed 4-8 game going on, but it didn't speak to me. And besides that, the room is ice-cold. That's nice in the summer when it's 110 degrees outside, but when it's breezy and 58 degrees outdoors, and I'm fighting a cold, sitting in a sterile ice-box of a poker room doesn't appeal to me at all.
I decided to check out the sports book, but there was nothing going on in there except for the degenerate chain-smoking horse-gamblers doing their daily ritual, so I decided to just come on back home. I was about halfway across the casino when I realized that I *really* had to use the restroom.
Apparently, my system still can't handle real food quite yet.
So, I picked up the pace and headed to the nearest restroom. I went straight to the back and headed for a nice spacious unoccupied handi-man stall. Thankfully the entire restroom was empty at the time, because I don't really need an audience when I'm motorboating. Besides, I didn't need the karmic payback for all the times when I've been in a casino restroom and I've heard somebody going to town in one of the stalls and I'm the first one to pipe up with the Tom-Arnold-in-Austin-Powers classic line That's right son--You show that turd who's boss!
When I hung up my jacket on the door hook, I remember thinking, Man, when did they start using floral air-freshener in the men's room?
I dropped trou and started to take care of business, and I noticed a little metal flip-down table attached to the wall. I thought that it was a nice touch by the suits at GVR, providing me a place to set my beer while I grunted one out. So while I was sitting there playing my one-note symphony, I heard a few other people come in and start talking, so I tried, unsuccessfully, to tone it down. Oh well. It's the men's room. Much better to make all those disgusting noises in there than out amongst polite company.
Unfortunately, they weren't men's voices that I heard. My first reaction was to call out "Occupado!" but then again, it wasn't Spanish they were speaking, so I realized that it wasn't the usual cleaning crew, so I kept my mouth shut. It was just a couple of old ladies, and I thought Heh--them crazy old women wandered in to the men's room. Boy are they gonna be surprised when I pop out of this stall and say hello!
But I wasn't finished with the task at hand, so my colorful exit would have to wait a few minutes. And then I heard even more female voices. Suddenly, there were like six women in there. Then the embarrassing realization set in. I didn't notice any urinals when I walked in, but then again, I was concentrating on 'getting to the church on time'. And the flowery air freshener? Not very manly.
So that's when it hit me--there I was, sitting there with my drawers at my ankles in the main ladies room at the Green Valley Ranch casino.
How in the hell am I gonna get out of this one with my dignity intact?
Well, assessing the situation, I figured that the first thing to do was finish off my business and get my pants back up and fastened before I got found out and reported to security for being a pervert. That was the easy part, but then I sat back down on the can, trying to figure out how to make my escape. The problem was, these old broads didn't want to leave. They just stood there at the sinks talking about the most inane drivel. In the meantime, I'm trying to keep from coughing (still fighting that cold), because then they'd know there was a dude in their midst. Had they checked under the door, the hairy, sized-13 feet in the sandals would've been a dead giveaway also.
So I was sitting in there, trying to keep quiet, watching through the door cracks, and listening, hoping that those women would finally leave. It was kind of like waiting to run across a freeway--I was hoping for a ten second opening to make my escape where there was either nobody in the restroom, or if so, they were in a stall, so that I could bust open the door and sprint out unseen. Although I was only trapped for like ten minutes, it seemed like an hour.
I was sweating by then, just figuring if I got discovered, there was no talking my way out of it--I'd be arrested, branded as a perv for the rest of my life, and then have to register with the Sheriff's office every time I moved.
Finally, the two lingerers left, and then I heard another flush. A door opening, the water in the sink getting turned on, and a towel being pulled out of the dispenser. Then blessed silence.
It was Go time!
I popped the lock on the door and took off as fast as my chubby ass would move. Just as I got around the corner into the vestibule, another lady came walking in and the only thing I could do was just announce in a loud voice This is *not* the men's room! and I kept on walking, head high, like I knew what I was doing.
I immediately dodged into the real men's room, washed my hands, wiped my brow, elicited an audible Whew! and then headed directly for the exit. Nobody stopped me, but I sure wasn't gonna make eye contact with anyone, either.
That was enough adventure for one day, I think. I'm back here at home now, and I'm not leaving again until I head back to work tonight. At least there, I'm sure of which bathroom is which.
Mikey
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