Eight days of pandemic Vegas

As soon as work lifted the travel ban in June, I immediately booked a conference at Mandalay Bay. I've found ILTAcon to be easily pay for itself in the advice I find and tricks I learn to make my job easier, but you're not here to read about that, so I'll skip over the information you don't care about, and I'll jump right into the Vegas content.

Sunday, August 22:

Pro tip: If you can find a cheap rate on Southwest for a time that you're willing to fly, even if it's painfully inconvenient, book it months in advance if you can. When they change their schedule, which they seem to frequently do about 45 days out, you're allowed to rebook on any of their flights between the same two points, +/- 14 days. Book a 5:30 AM departure, they change the flight time by 5 minutes, and "oh, that just won't work for me," and I'm on the much nicer 9:45 AM plane to Vegas.

The rental car center had a LOT more cars this time than they did in my early June trip. No issues there. My wife and I stopped at Target for water and a few other necessities, then headed south. In a small strip mall roughly halfway between South Point and M Resort is celebrity chef Jet Tila's Dragon Tiger Noodle. Pick some veggies, pick a protein, pick a broth from the tap, and you get a cheap, delicious, spicy, fast soup. I'd recommend it if you're in the area, but I don't think it's worth a special trip.

Knowing how far away the parking garage is from Mandalay Bay's front desk, I made the rare choice to valet the car. Car's gone, bags are whisked away, and I wander to the lobby.

Although MGM pushes their mobile app for check in, it doesn't work when you've book with your work e-mail address through the convention's contracted hotel agency. Sure, my personal NYNY reservation for later in the week is in the app, but it has no idea my Mandalay reservation is tied to the same human. 

At left, the failure towers.
At center on the dark asphalt, Janet Airlines.
At right, near a billboard, Speed: The Scrap Metal.

I figured that because it was 3:00 PM exactly, the line for check-in would be brutal. But no, no big deal. It's Sunday, and the check-in line had maybe five people in front of me. The front desk got my accounts tied together, and asked if I wanted a low floor strip view or a high floor mountain view. Higher the better, I said, so we ended up three floors below the Foundation Room, looking at "mountains." Of more interest than the hills, it's a view of the SkyVue failure towers (which one bartender told a conference vendor were actually built as a monument to the Route 91 shooting victims. sigh.), Janet Airlines, and the remnants of Speed: The Ride.

Conference stuff happened, and really all I have to say is that the attendance was maybe 25% of their previous conferences. A lot of the conference was virtual, including several sessions with 100% virtual presenters, which was frustrating, but in these continuing times of extreme fuckery, you roll with what you get.

A vendor I'd never heard of, and likely never will again, invited conventioneers up to Skyfall lounge, so I put in a few minutes there, drank a free drink, took the obligatory evening photos, and politely excused myself. It's my first tightly packed maskless crowd of the trip, which is slightly weird, slightly a risky adrenaline rush, and quickly easy to forget that things should be different. Many more of these tight packed eating and drinking experiences will happen the next seven days. Despite my reckless behaviour, I somehow managed to not catch the 'rona, but post-trip, I've put myself in a 10-day modified quarantine, just to keep the rest of my friends and neighbors safe. Enough forced socializing. Vegas awaits.

One row, +$200

The epic Video Poker Primer thread on Vegas Message Board listed a moderately crappy 6/5 Bonus Poker machine just outside the high limit room. That was to become my home base of gambling for the next four days. It certainly helped that less than 30 minutes into my first session of the trip, I was dealt quad aces for $200. Too bad the rest of the trip went downhill from there.

Around 10 PM, I caught the tram to Excalibur (when was the last time both trams were functioning? 2005?) wandered around there looking for a $5 table, gave up, donated some money to the slot machine gods, gave some more up to a random crappy video poker machine, then caught the last tram back to Mandalay to call it a night. I've actually got work and conference stuff to do this week, so no late nights, I promise.

Monday, August 23:

Let's flashback to an e-mail thread from the Wednesday before:

Vendor, 12:54 PM: Have you ever been to Best Friend or Hell’s Kitchen?

Me, 2:28 PM: I’ve not yet been able to snag a reservation at Hell’s Kitchen – my wife and I have tried unsuccessfully our last two trips. It seems you’ve gotta reserve months in advance. 

Best Friend is one of my favorites. I never thought I’d love eggplant, but Chef Choi’s was so smooth and melty. Yum

Vendor, 2:31 PM: If I cannot get Hell’s Kitchen would you like to show me Choi’s with your wife?  My treat?

Me, 2:36 PM: That would be wonderful! Company ethics rules are that I’d have to pay for my wife’s dinner, but I can happily accept your offer for myself.

Vendor, 3:28 PM: Just sent you an invite…Monday, 12:30…Hell’s Kitchen lunch!!

Seared scallops, Beef Wellington, and sticky toffee pudding, on a vendor's expense account? Oh, Vegas, you keep giving. Only issue: I've got a session ending at 12:30 and another one starting at 2:30. I can leave the first session a little early, but I don't want to miss the 2:30 one. Can I make it?

OK, so the plan is for the wife to get the car from Mandalay's valet at 12:10 while I leave the session at 12:05. It's a 15 minute walk from the convention center to the valet, meaning the car and I should arrive around the same time, 12:20. We drive to Caesars, throw the keys at the valet there, and rush into the restaurant right on time.

Well, that's the plan. It turns out the Mandalay valet is backed up. The car doesn't arrive until 12:25. I zip over to Caesars, and... 

No valet here. No cars allowed.
(📸JamesInLasVegas)

I knew better, but forgot.

I throw my wife out of the car despite the security guards' mumbled protests, then zip back to the new "official" valet area, which, by the time I get there, I realize it's so far back, I might as well park in the Caesars garage myself. I run through the casino and arrive at lunch around 12:45, disheveled. My wife is patiently waiting in the entryway, the vendor's already got a table, and I'm soon tucking in to tasty, tasty scallops and beef. It's as good as GR Steak at Paris used to be.

We chat and eat and eat and chat, and at 2:00 realize, well crap, I've got to be in a session at the back of Mandalay Bay in less than 30 minutes. Check, please! Sticky toffee pudding to go, please!

So if I plod all the way back to the parking garage, there's no way I'll make the session in time. However, in the front of the parking lot, in the spot where on the eve of New Years 1968 Evel Knievel launched himself into the pavement, Caesars currently has a taxi stand. We left the car in Caesars garage, and cabbed back to Mandalay, where I made it to the session just in time.

At the end of the conference day, after a vendor dinner event, I headed up to the room, ate a room-temperature Sticky Toffee Pudding (still good, just not great), then wander north with loose plans of getting the car. I want a $5 craps table on a Monday night. Is that too much to ask?

It is. It's $15 at Luxor, NYNY, Park MGM. $10 at Excalibur. I don't even remember if Aria, Bellagio, or Cosmo had it below $25; I doubt it. Caesars sure didn't, but I remembered that I wanted to chase their "Quest for Rewards" this trip, so burned $40 in a slot chasing 25 tier credits. For what? I dunno.

Still, I want a $5 craps table. I also need to hit a grocery store for some drink mixer we forgot to get at Target, so I head east on Flamingo to Albertsons, and on my way back, I'm like "Silver Sevens? That dive has to have a $5 table." Nope. Despite the fact that their craps table likely doesn't even have a changeable sign, the pit boss had scrawled the $10 limit on a piece of paper like the ad for a kid's lemonade stand and taped it to the table limit sign. Nobody was playing. I checked the VPFree2 video poker listing, and despite having several good games listed, they all seemed to be gone as well. I donated more than I should've to Silver Seven's slots (those room offers are gonna be rolling in again!), and headed back to the car. Hmm. Ellis Island or Rio should have a $5 table, right? Which one?

As I drove west on Flamingo, I missed the turn on Koval to Ellis Island. So Rio it is.

What a dark, empty den of sadness.

Vegas is back?

I wandered for a bit, seethed at discovering this empty dive also had $10 craps tables, burned through $80 chasing 25 tier credits there, and left. I don't think I'll be back until the new owners gut and revive it. (Spoiler: I'm wrong.)

Tuesday, August 24:

It's mostly conference stuff, all day and into the night. Vendor drinks and snacks in a conference room at 5:00. Another vendor party at Rí Rá at 6:00 (free snacks and Guiness). A brief break where I go to Luxor to lose $40 on slots but win $50 on bubble craps ($5 limit, c'mon, press the button!), then back to Mandalay's center bar/club Eyecandy. 

A vendor there has an open bar for us and all the tacos you can eat. The thumping's good, the closeness of the crowd is not, so I excuse myself to my very nearby home base video poker machine, which isn't nearly as kind as it was on day 1, taking my Benjamin in about an hour.

Wednesday, August 25:

The view from the Foundation Room.
It's no Skyfall, but it's close.

After the conference day is over, I finally have time for dinner with my wife. She picks Wolfgang Puck's Lupo and their ravioli. I have the chicken parm. Both are very good. We part ways and I head up to a vendor event in the Foundation Room. It's the same vendor who treated me to Hell's Kitchen, and at the party, he asks my thoughts on Best Friend.

It's outstanding, I said, but it really should be experienced with several people so that you can share dishes. I cautioned that I found it difficult to get reservations for a group of any size. He rounded up his co-workers, asked if they wanted to try for tonight, and they all said yes. He asked me if I wanted to join him, but having just had dinner, I had to decline.

No matter, he couldn't get reservations for tonight anyway. But tomorrow? He asks me again. Sure, I'm in.

Back in the room, she's tired, so I decide it's gonna be the night to go to Fremont. I only know of one place down there that will give me free parking, so at around 8:30 PM I flash my card and get waved into the El Cortez parking garage. VPFree2 had just reported the arrival of eight new 98.98% Double Double Bonus Poker machines, so I played through a hundred bucks on one of those, all the while surrounded by people who, judging by their masks, believe they breathe out of their chins. Maybe they do. I mean, it's the El Cortez, which has the most oxygen tanks per dealer of any casino in Nevada. 

Fremont on a Wednesday night.

I get it in my mind that I should play at every joint on Fremont Street, just to make sure I keep my players card points alive. Never mind that most of my players card point balances down there are zero, it's a goal. I also promise myself that I'll be back in the car by midnight so I can be responsible and work tomorrow.

First mistake: on the way out of El Cortez, I decide to toss $20 in a slot machine. It becomes 60¢ quickly. I look for a machine to burn a 60¢ ticket in, and instead find the Madonna:Express Yourself slot machine. I put $20.60 in. It becomes a few cents. I put another $20 in. It becomes a few cents. I reach for another $20, but all I've got is a $100. It goes in. I promise myself I'll stop when it's down to $50. 

It's down to $5 and I still haven't hit a single bonus on this thing. Then, as if the Material Girl felt sorry for me, it finally hit one of the small bonuses that brought me back up to $50. I run away, down Fremont to The D.

Sticking with the theme, I play the Britney slot machine, which puts out a lot more bonus rounds. I leave up 18¢, then pick some random slots at Four Queens, Golden Nugget, and the Fremont before I run out of time and have to drive back to Mandalay. The street was a little crowded, the circle performers were displaying their wares, the band was rocking covers of something, and masks were clearly optional.

Thursday, August 26:

Is it really a trip to Vegas if you
don't have one of Chef Andrés' 
Salt Air Margaritas? I think not.

It's the final day of the conference, and the final session ends up being one whose advice might just pay for this whole shebang several times over. I take a long lunch with my wife at China Poblano at Cosmo, where I upgrade my players card one level above the base tier for the first time ever (thanks, expensive June room). The food at China Poblano is good, as always, and I feel even better knowing some of my money is going to Chef José Andrés and his World Central Kitchen charity, which, if you're not aware of it, can be summed up in his two latest retweets:

@NateMook: While we’ve been non-stop in Louisiana, I just learned that #ChefsForAfghans expanded to Philly. @WCKitchen got the call late at night for meals for 40 Afghan refugees at Philadelphia Airport. Our local team at @baology delivered these halal meals from Healthy Picks restaurant

@WCKitchen: With power still out across much of Louisiana, we began handing out solar lights Electric light bulb along with dinner tonight. In Houma, a community hit incredibly hard by Hurricane #Ida, the team served plates of pasta yesterday and cajun chicken stew tonight! #ChefsForLouisiana

On the way back to the car, I place my once-a-trip roulette bet: $100 on a single number on a single-zero wheel. It loses, but one of these days I'll be on a Vegas trip and suddenly have an extra $3600 to spend (or, more likely, save for my next trip. Yes, really).

I skip the closing keynote (it doesn't apply to my work) and the closing reception (pajama party? really?). Overnight, I re-listened to Mark and Dr. Mike's episode 237, Low Rolling at High-Limit Craps, so before dinner at Best Friend, I check out Luxor's craps table. $10. I pull out $100 and a players card, but as I hand it over, I see the sign had changed to $15. 

"Never mind," I say. 

"$10?" asks the pit boss, "I'll grandfather you in." 

I've said it before, but Luxor seems to have the craps crew with the best customer service on the strip. I mean, it also helped that I doubled up quickly merely with a pass line bet and placing the 6 and 8, but they're good folk.

My wife and I arrived early for dinner, so burned some time playing video poker at the sportsbook bar. It's very quiet on an August Thursday evening. Vegas is by no means back. Dinner with the vendor's team at Best Friend was outstanding yet again. Because I'd been there three times before, they basically handed me the menu and said "order for all of us." Perfect. Dishes included the eggplant schnitzel, the kimchi fried rice, the street corn, the korean wings, all so good. Perhaps only the ramen-dusted fries disappointed, not because they were bad, only because they weren't excessively over-the-top good like the rest of it.

I drove back to Mandalay Bay, and while my wife is ready to call it a night, I'm feeling like exploring somewhere I've never been. I think about it for a bit, and it hits me: Palace Station. (Once I returned home, I discover in my notes that I briefly visited there on April 20, 2013 to lose $20 on slots and walk away with a coin-counting piggy bank, which I promptly gave to my daughter, where it rolled around in her room for a few years before going to Goodwill.) Video poker is bad to me. Face Up Pai Gow is bad but in a slow pushy kind of way, like you'd expect. Still no $5 craps table. I'm there much longer than I expected, but tomorrow's a vacation day, so I can sleep in.

Friday, August 27:

It's moving day, so just before 11 AM, we roll out of Mandalay Bay with luggage in the trunk and breakfast on our minds. Eat, down on east Fremont? We're kinda tired of it, going there every trip. Mon Ami Gabi? Same. How about Peppermill? We drive the length of the strip, only to discover it's a 2 hour wait for breakfast. It's almost lunch time, so maybe a lunch spot? How about Bobby's Burger Palace. We drive most of the way back down the strip and park in Aria's garage. I pull up their Google entry... to find that they'd closed. 

Frustrated and hangry, we decide to just park the car at NYNY, where we'll be staying for the next two nights, and find something there. Tom's Urban? Fine. I kick my wife out of the car in the porte cochère so she can grab a table while I park. We meet up, and the food is good. Not great, but good. We briefly considered giving Bruxie a second chance (I mean, it's a waffle place and we're looking for breakfast), but memories of the May 31, 2019 metal shaving in her egg sandwich flooded back with a bit of nausea.

The room is ready, and the MGM app tells us where it is, how to get there, and how to use an electronic key to open the door. It's a novelty the first time, but gets old quick. I mean, what's faster here:

1) Pull out your phone 2) Unlock it 3) Start the app 4) Tap to open the key 5) Tap it on the lock.

OR

1) Pull out the key card 2) Tap it on the lock.

Shoes, shined.

While my wife rested, I made two trips to the car to get the luggage. Both times, the shoeshine guy tried to convince me to use his services. I really did need to, and had eyed the stand at McCarran ($10) and Mandalay ($10) earlier in the week. I came back downstairs, and got the first shoeshine of my life. He's a better conversationalist than most bartenders in town. It seems that early in the pandemic, shoeshiners were brought back as "essential personnel" at the insistence of a particular VP. A few days later, the VP gets a shoeshine... and he's never gotten one since.

I'm very happy with the results and head back upstairs to catch up on the goings of the world. By now, it's dinner time, and somehow, my wife and I agree that Guy Fieri's Trash Can Nachos (as featured on Vegas Chef Prizefight episode 2) are what we want for dinner. Why? Well, nachos. And during the pandemic, Fieri showed he's not the bombastic dude-bro I thought he was. Among his other work, he's raised more than $25 million for restaurant workers during the pandemic. We figured we should give his restaurant some love.

Unfortunately, the restaurant didn't love us back. First, there should have been a little bit of a presentation upon delivery. No, these were just nachos on a plate. Next, the carne asada tasted... off? Like, as I joked, they were destined for the trash can until we ordered them. And then, when the waiter asked how it was, and I said "the chips are fine, but the beef is a little off," he replied "OK, enjoy!", much the same way I face-palmingly reply to "have a nice flight" with "you too!" I assume he just couldn't face us after that. I spent the rest of the meal closely examining black morsels of protein in the cheese to determine if they were beans (eat them) or beef (to hang out on the edge of my plate).

As I write this nearly a week later, I learned we could've gotten the same dish, although likely not as Rio-bad, at his joint at The Linq. Now I know. I don't think I'll be back to Rio until the new owners gut and revive it. For real this time.

Back to the hotel, my wife's gonna call it a night. I, on the other hand, need to come up with a plan for my evening. After thinking about it a bit, I decide I'm going to try and get a "Quest for Rewards" badge at every Caesars property in town. I've already hit Caesars and Rio, so that leaves seven more for tonight. The prize? 1600 tier credits, which are worth... nothing, really. I've got Caesars credit card, and a modest amount of spend on it will get me to the same tier level. But who cares? It's Friday night and I've got time.

Harmon Tower at sunset.
Are they actually building something,
or just rearranging dirt?

Spoiler: I lose an average of $35 for each casino I visited tonight. Maybe I'll get better room offers? But then I'll have to stay in a Caesars property, so there's no upside. Anyway. I mosey up the west side of the strip from NYNY to Cosmo, then cross over to Planet Hollywood. I try and never walk the east side here -- it's all shopping and junk, more crowded than fun sightseeing. At Planet Ho, I set myself in front of a video poker machine near the escalator for 45 minutes, do the same at Paris on a 100-play machine in the high limit room, then hang out at the video poker bar in the old Indigo Lounge space at Bally's for an hour.

Over to Cromwell, but their good VP has been a victim of the pandemic, so I illogically play slots for an hour (and lose). Then next door to Flamingo, where I spend a lot of time looking for a good VP machine that I fear has disappeared, and instead end up playing slots (where I illogically win). Next door again to The Linq, where I misread a paytable at the Catalyst bar and end up playing 94% Double Double Bonus for an hour. Finally, it's one more stop at Harrah's where I wander, play slots, and fail to be surprised that the disturbing Winnie statue is still missing a finger, as it has been for years now. They may have remodeled the rooms, but haven't spent a dime on remodeling the creepy couple.

Achievement unlocked.

It's now coming up on 2 AM, so I begin the trek back to NYNY, again spending most of the southern half on the west side of the strip. Tonight's adventure is over, right? At Park MGM, I realize that my wife might like something. "Gatorade, please." I hop across the skybridge, only to discover the ABC Store and Target are closed for the night. Walgreens is there for me, though.

Walgreens at 2:00 on a Saturday morning on the Vegas strip is always an adventure. Tonight, though, it was remarkably dull, except for the couple arguing loudly over what their roommates wanted. 

Back out on the strip with my Gatorade, I head south towards the pedestrian overpass. As I walk past a couple security guards at the alley between Target and Walgreens, one of them says "Whoa. Look at that." A group of three yout's coming the other way had run up on a fourth yout', jumped him, and began to beat on him. I high tailed it out of there, but when I was about halfway to the overpass, I heard a grunt and breaking glass. I kept moving away from the scene, but dared a look over my shoulder. The guy who'd been attacked was crumpled on the ground in the right lane of Las Vegas Boulevard. I figure he got nailed with a bottle. His assailants had already disappeared, as a cop car jetted past me, sirens blaring. I guess tonight's adventure wasn't over.

Saturday, August 28:

It's a pretty uneventful morning. We sleep in, grab breakfast at Nine Fine Irishmen, wander and tram up to Mandalay Bay to cash in a forgotten slot ticket, and wander and tram back to NYNY. It's nap time for my wife, so I hop in the car and head to Resorts World. It's 108° out, and although I know better, I still figure that parking in the parking garage is a good idea. It's a brutal, unshaded, 800-foot walk from the garage to the casino. What were they thinking?

Click into this one. Wow. Even a blind squirrel takes a good photo once in a while. No filters. No photoshopping. The colors just pop. Taken from the parking garage, the view is mostly of the welcome pit out front. In addition to the Hilton, Conrad, and Crockfords towers (dammit, Mike E., I have to look up the spelling every time now), this will be the site of the new Sarlacc tower.

I wander a bit, get a players card, and spend most of my time playing 25-play VP in the high limit room, most of which was spent chatting with a trio playing $50/hand about who among them is the most lucky. I also play some solo bubble craps ($15 tables on a Saturday are no surprise), have a rare winning slots session, and head out after a couple of hours. My impression? After the newness wears off, I don't know what's going to get people in here. This feels a lot like a larger version of Lucky Dragon, or M Resort north. The ongoing construction is already on my nerves. They should've done better, done something more unique, done something Vegas, not something that would be expected in a greatly successful tribal casino.

Sunset behind T-Mobile Arena, with Allegiant
Stadium at center left

No call from the wife yet, so I stop at Treasure Island for a few minutes. Still no craps table under $15. Thankfully, she called just after I got my players card, and I meet her for dinner at an off-my-radar Italian place in NYNY, Il Fornaio. I make it a rule to never eat at a major chain restaurant in Vegas, but can I be forgiven if I didn't know Il Fornaio was a SoCal chain? We start the meal with a smoked salmon bruschetta, which was pretty good, although my first bite of salmon was a little tougher than I expected. Still kinda full from breakfast, we decide to split a grilled chicken breast "served with spicy peperoncino sauce". It was very good, with the spiciness of the sauce slightly muted by the kick of lemon and gentleness of the herbs. For dessert, we split tiramisu, which might be one of the best I've had. So it's a chain. So what?

We head back upstairs, and I cement my evening plan: it's Saturday night, it's my last night in town, and I'm going to be spending it at Chandelier. Knowing how good the drinks are there, I choose to Uber instead of drive, and unlike my rideshare trips in June, the driver arrives quickly with no surge pricing.

The city. Kinda old feeling, kinda gritty.

While the rest of the week has been pandemic-suppressed, even with a bit more crowd on Friday, Saturday night at Cosmo is, as it has been for several months now, a place where the only indication of the pandemic is the masks. It's busy. I'm lucky enough to get a seat at the end of the main Chandelier bar, and start my video poker for the night. I start with a gin and tonic, and wait for two drink tickets to spit out so I can get something fancy off their menu.

The place is jumping. A marriage proposal happens in the main walkway (she said yes). A container of cocktail olives is knocked to the floor (and thrown away, not salvaged, thank goodness). A drunk twentysomething whose shirt is miraculously defying gravity's demand that it fall off is talking to everyone as if they're all her new best friend. Bros are bro-ing. My second drink ticket arrives, so I ask for a "Becky with the Good Hair."

"Sorry, we don't have the ingredients for that any more."

I'm crestfallen. "Can I take a look at the drink menu?" 

"Sorry, they took away our drink menus. But you like mezcal drinks? I can make you something similar."

"Somewhat fruity and citrusy? Sure!"

Quads and the dregs of my drink.

Salting the rim with taijin salt, and mixing five different bottles of something in a shaker, she presents me with the drink. I taste it. I savor it, knowing that I'm unlikely to get this recipe ever again after tonight. It's very, very good, with a bit of a bite. "That's jalapeno," she says.

I lose and lose and lose, and I'm down to my last $3 in the machine. I'm gonna be leaving sooner than I want to. No more citrusy mezcal jalapeno drinks? But the poker gods smile, and I'm dealt quad 4's for $100. I'm back to even. Two more tickets for another one of those, please.

I'm good for three hours and four drinks until the credits end up at $0. It was a good run. I'll wander for a bit. I'd seen a $10 High Card Flush table on the way in, and when I played it back in October 2015 and October 2019, I remembered that a good strategy would keep the house edge to around 2.5%. Sure enough, I check WizardOfOdds and find that playing T-8-6 or higher keeps the house edge at 2.71%, but the element of risk is only 1.58%, as you can raise more on really good hands.

I figured there was no chance that table will still be at $10 at 11 PM on a Saturday, but shockingly, it was. After an hour of play at $10, I'd been up $80, down $20, and was roughly back at my starting stack. A guy sat down to my left with three bananas and a purple ($3500) and exchanged them for $100 chips. He proceeded to bet the table max of $500 on every hand, with an additional $200 on each of the two side bets (7% and 13% house edge). Over the next hour, he was down and up and down and eventually got felted... at which point he reaches into his bag and pulls out a disorganized handful of 53 $100 bills. He bets it all away in the next 30 minutes. Yeah, the cards were running bad, but those side bets just kill you.

I had to have frustrated him just a little bit on one particular hand, where I was dealt a 6-card flush, including a four card straight flush. If I'd had $10 on each of the side bets, that would've paid $1600 100-to-1 and 60-to-1. I don't play those high edge bets, so I only won $40 back. If I hadn't been playing, my hand would've been his hand, and his $200 would have been $32,000. But, as he reminded me, if I'd been playing the side bets, I wouldn't have had enough money to still be at the table when that hand hit.

Finally, three hours after sitting at the table and six hours after arriving at Cosmo, I cashed out ahead $5. Great night at Cosmo? Yup. Best night at Cosmo? Jury's still out on that one. With the mezcal drinks now mostly out of my system, I wandered back up the west side of the strip back to NYNY. 

Sunday, August 29:

We made the most of every last minute of our 11 AM check out time, with plans to grab a leisurely breakfast, then fill the tank, drop off the rental car, and wander onto our 2 PM flight. I figured we'd try Blueberry Hill, which other Vegas folks have raved about. The location nearest the strip on Flamingo? Full. Every parking spot was taken. Their location two miles further east on Flamingo? There's a 30 minute wait. Gah. Let's just eat at the airport.

Again, there's no wait at the TSA PreCheck line to speak of, so we have plenty of time for breakfast. Sammy's Beach Bar and Grill hadn't disappointed on my two previous visits, but this time, like a lot of places, the menu was limited and the staff was uncaring. There's no way my quesadilla was prepared for me and on my table three minutes after ordering, and sure enough, it was room-temperature cold in the middle. In a rarity for me, I sent it back. A warmer quesadilla arrived about 8 minutes later.

After that, there's not much more to say. An uneventful flight. A quick ride home. That's that. The numbers and my wallet show that I left 60% of my bankroll in Vegas, which isn't too bad. On a pure dollar level, it's the most I've ever lost on a trip, but this was also the 4th-longest trip in my 29 visits. Slots are still the leak in my bankroll; video poker was cruel this trip as well, with only four quads all week, and only two of them paying $100 or more.

Epilogue:

One more side note about parking: parking for me is free at Caesars and MGM properties (because I have the Caesars credit card and hit minimum hotel spend at Mandalay to get Pearl level.) But man, the payment gates are such a hassle. On Monday, I exchanged my old MLife card for a new one with a 2022 expiration date. It failed to open the parking gate, so the operator had to ring me through. I exchanged it. Same thing the next time. I exchanged it. The mag strip wouldn't read on any gaming machines. I exchanged it. It failed to open the parking gate. Finally, one of the operators told me that it takes 72 hours from the issuance of a new card for it to register for parking, and to ask the MLife desk to activate it sooner. I did so. They issued me a new card. It failed to open the parking gate. Sigh.

The meadows

Also, as I implied above, the parking areas at Mandalay Bay and Caesars are literally thousands of steps from almost anywhere you'd want to go. Now that rideshare doesn't seem to be a problem any more, I might opt for that next time I'm staying at Mandalay. Running the numbers, the cost would have been a wash, just with no trunk to stuff our luggage in during the stops to and from the airport. If I'd had to pay for parking anywhere, rideshare would be the winning option.

Thanks for reading this far. It was a long, educational, tasty, frustrating, memorable, fun trip. The next one might be in October or might be next spring. Here's hoping it's soon.

My belated 50th

After twice rescheduling my 50th birthday party in Vegas, I was finally vaxxed and ready to go. I invited several of my friends from both my home circle and my Vegas nerd circle. Seven days of food and folly begin!

Wednesday, June 2

It's the Wednesday after Memorial Day and it's one day after the state of Nevada went "gah, COVID is so '19" and dropped nearly all restrictions for the vaccinated. We called our Uber driver after collecting our bags from the carousel and he was literally one minute away, beating us to the new pick-up point. Masks are still required at the airport and in rideshares, but as our driver said, "after you get out of the car, you can forget about masks until you return." This is unlike Seattle, where masks are still generally required for everyone in most businesses until at least June 30.

Arrows show the long route to the cab stand and
the longer route to the rideshare parking garage
pick up area.

Getting out of the car, removing our masks, and walking across the iconic Caesars porte cochère was freeing, as if the weight of the last 15 months of the pandemic had been lifted. People were chatting and smiling, and you could see their smiles. Counting the first 75 tourists I passed, around 15% remained masked, and that percentage seemed to drop as the week continued. Most resort staff remained masked.

I'd booked a room in the Octavius tower, where I'd stayed in September 2019 for a conference. I should've known better, but it's a long way from everything. It's a long walk from the lobby, and Caesars has removed it's front rideshare pickup areas, so the only place to catch an Uber is in the parking garage, far, far from where we were.

The fish pots are on the left. Stare 'em down
and show them who's boss.

My wife and I managed to score dinner reservations at the recently-opened Amalfi, Bobby Flay's Italian coastal replacement for his Mesa Grill. The meal was amazingly good, which set the tone for the entire week. We started with the crispy squash blossoms, which remained my wife's favorite food item for the entire week. We also had roasted butterflied prawns, and shared a filleted branzino with a lemon caper sauce. When ordering the fish, the waitress walked me over to a set of mediterranean blue ice-filled pots where the fish monger (OK, maybe he was a fish sommelier) described each of the fish selections and let me pick out the individual who spoke to me. "You, sir, are a fish." I said to my branzino. And then I ate him a short time later. 

They're still new and working out a few kinks—our waitress forgot to click "send" on our order, causing a delay of no consequence—but it's a very good choice for seafood among many in this town.

While my wife headed up to the room, I headed out to get bottled water and Coke. We might be living bigger than normal this trip, but that doesn't mean I'm spending $6.50 a pop on the minibar. Temperatures during the day hit near record 108°, but it's 9 PM, so it's certainly cooled down, right?

Wrong.

I've visited Las Vegas in June, August, and September three times each, and I've never experienced it as hot as this. With the sun down, the pavement radiated out the heat it had collected during the day. The walk to Stage Door and back, even with a shortcut through the air conditioned Cromwell, was miserable. I ain't doing that again. Hit the minibar, hon.

I dropped off the drinks in the room, toweled off my face, and headed downstairs to catch the end of the Golden Knights game at the sportsbook bar for a "free" drink. They lost. I hit quads once, and still lost, too.

Thursday, June 3

My daughter and boyfriend are flying in this morning, expected to be wheels down at 9 AM. We're meeting at Mon Ami Gabi for breakfast, they've first got to collect their luggage from baggage claim, so I figure it will be 10:30 or so before they arrive. At 9:45, we get a call: "we're at Paris, get here soon". We scramble to get ready, and that's when we discovered how far away the rideshare pickup area is.

On top of that, there's still a bit of a ride share shortage. The state removed its surge pricing restriction a few days before, but demand still seems to be outpacing supply. I won't mention it again for the rest of this report (except for the Golden Tiki pickup failure on Friday), but nearly every pick-up seemed to be 20+ minutes, or it would say "5 minutes" then assign a driver 20 minutes away—with surge pricing. In many cases, including this one, cabs were a better option. It's the first cab I've taken in Las Vegas since rideshare launched in 2015.

Breakfast was great, as always. We Ubered back to Caesars so the kids could drop off their bags, then they Ubered to the north Outlet Collection while I continued on to Circa. Me, going to an outdoor mall on what ended up being a record setting high temperature day? How about no.

Beautiful.

Circa is everything you've heard. From the time you cross the air conditioned umbilical hallway from Garage Mahal, everything is new and blue and shiny. This is unlike anything you've seen on Fremont, and would certainly not be out of place on the Strip. After a short delay at the sportsbook setting up my online account (and getting a free Circa t-shirt), I met up with Gregg who showed me his basic room (gorgeous). 

Dinner reservations for late tonight were at Andiamo's, and getting a final count of seven of us, I updated the reservations and pushed it later, because we'd certainly still be full at 7:00 after the meal we eat at 4:00. I mentioned this to Gregg, who said he'd also try the automated concierge text bot to get us into Barry's Prime. I'd been watching OpenTable for weeks unsuccessfully.

He then invited me for a drink at Vegas Vickie's. Nobody was at the bar other than us, but service was top notch. I ordered a Captain and Coke and Gregg ordered a Pimm's Cup. I'd never heard of it, so the bartender gave me a sip: gin-based citrusy goodness. Gregg said it might have been the best drink of the trip. I'll be getting one next time. 

The wife and kids returned from their sweaty shopping trip; we met up with Gregg, Michelle, and Becky to chow down at 8 East's happy hour. We shared everything around the table, but I fondly remember the tasty chicken skins, beef satay skewers, ginger chicken dumplings, and of course the brisket fried rice. Gregg spots David, Circa's head of food and beverage, who spots me at the same time. "Travis!" he says, "good to see you again." I'm dumbfounded. With everyone he sees daily, how does he remember me. I can't even remember family members sometimes. There are handshakes, introductions, and other niceties, and "anything I can do for you?" No, we assure him, we're all set, yet as soon as he leaves, we kick ourselves. Reservations at Barry's would've been nice. Ah well.

Back to Caesars to get the kids' bags, then a quick Lyft (except for the Caesars Appian March to the Forum Garage) to Mandalay Bay to get them checked in. While we're freshening up and resting, a message from Gregg: Maybe David came through for us without even being asked. We've got reservations at Barry's. Sorry, Andiamos, but you're cancelled. A few hours later, all fresh-faced and rested, we all re-convened back at Circa (via cab for us) for dinner.

Steaks around, except for me. I ordered the scallops and risotto and don't regret it for a moment. Perfectly cooked. For his drink, Gregg ordered the tableside cart-made Old Fashioned, which was close-up theatrical magic involving an ice sphere, an orange, sassafras wood, a handheld torch, and a hookah-like smoke infuser.

Oh, it's you again. Looks like you
got some Chuck on your boot.

While my wife returned to Caesars, my daughter, her boyfriend and I wandered a very busy Fremont street towards our late-night cocktail destination. It's a Thursday night, but everywhere is jumping. Zowie Bowie is on stage. Freaks are in their performance circles. It may be the busiest mid-week night I've ever experienced in this town. But then we arrive at the Underground at the Mob Museum. We provide the password, the bouncer hesitates and spooks us a little, then we're let in to experience the first roaring '20s. Except for us and the bar staff, the place is empty. My daughter enjoys it, though, as she's just graduated with a degree in fashion merchandising, and the 1920s are one of her favorite design eras. We're seated next to a gorgeous 1920s green velour and mink clad mannequin, and my daughter proceeds to tell us about the outfit, how it's rectangular shape was an indicator of evolving gender roles, and how amazing it was that it was in such great condition. In that moment, she was Dr. Dave of the fashion area. 

Gregg and Craig joined us shortly after we arrived, but as soon as our drinking slowed, it was last call. We shut down the place before midnight, and the kids and I caught a cab to Cosmo where Chandelier was packed but the sportsbook bar was vacant (including bar staff). I taught the boyfriend the basics of video poker. When he was done losing money, we went our separate ways. I strolled back to Caesars past the quiet post-midnight fountains. The heat wasn't as oppressive as it had been the night before, but it was still quite a bit more uncomfortable than I was used to for late night strolling.

Friday, June 4

I've got lots of big plans for the day: Omega Mart, Golden Tiki, and é, all in one 12-hour block. Here we go! (No spoilers.)

You have no idea what's in store.

I arrive at Omega Mart early, so I spend some time exploring the rest of Area 15: Gift shops. Axe throwing, and a Todd English robot-themed restaurant. My daughter and her boyfriend arrive shortly before noon and we head inside.

Two hours later, her head spinning, my daughter has had enough. We're about 75% of the way through the storyline, so while she and her boyfriend head back to Mandalay Bay, I finish up Omega Mart to its conclusion during the next hour. It's about 3:00, Golden Tiki is scheduled for 4:00, and I realize I haven't eaten a thing yet. The giant robot restaurant serves me some fries, a coke, and a USB charge for my phone.

Golden Tiki: what's to be said that hasn't been said already? I arrived before they opened at 4:00, so had to wait outside in the 106° temperatures at the front of the line with some other early arrivals. The security guy was entertained when he discovered both parties at the front of the line were named "Travis".  As the rest of my friends arrived, they tell me he was asking them, "Which Travis? We've got several of them."

I guess I clean up well.

A Dole Whip and a Mai Tai shared in the Dirty Pirate room with friends: how Vegas is that? In attendance: Eddie and his wife, who I was disappointed to miss seeing at Mon Ami Gabi yesterday;  Gregg, Michelle, and Becky; Jeff from Indianapolis; my daughter and her boyfriend... good times. 

The kids left early to make it to game 3 of the NHL second round playoffs (they helped the Golden Knights get the win). I'd planned to be out of here at 6:00 to get ready for dinner, so I scheduled the Uber as I was waiting in line to get in. Although it's true that scheduling the ride ahead of time can keep the price and wait low, it was a failure. The driver arrived at 5:40, and understandably tired of waiting, cancelled and left at 5:50. The next Uber I called was twice the price and took 10 minutes to arrive. Grrr.

Back at Caesars, my wife and I get all fancied up for dinner at é then cab it over to Cosmo. After being pre-seated, us and six other customers are greeted by Mario the sommelier, who offers us a first drink, sets our expectations for the upcoming meal, and covers food restrictions. The only restriction I was aware of in our group was a pregnant woman (vegetarian), and the staff handled her substitutions discretely and professionally.

Cotton candy empanada. Wow.

The food at é: OMFFG. It was magical. From chardonnay suspended in a gelatin raindrop to mussels infused in a vacuum with a vinegar, from liquid-nitrogen granulated sangria to cotton candy empanadas containing foie gras and corn nuts, every bite, every look at each of the 23 plates was unbelievable. This was a bucket list restaurant, and despite the ridiculous cost (I mean, you try staying in business serving eight people twice a night four days a week - that's only 64 covers a week), I'd highly recommend it. (EDIT, June 13: This site has photos of a menu mostly similar to what we ate, although instead of the scallops dish pictured there, we had fluke crusted with dehydrated squid ink in a squid ink sauce.)

"Where once they used to say 'cocaine is God's way of
saying you have too much money,' now, maybe EDM is.
Come ye lords and princelings of douchedom.
Hear my clarion call.
Anointeth thyself with gel and heavenly body spray.
Maketh the sign of the devil horns with thine hands.
Let there be high-fiving and the hugging of many bros,
for this is the kingdom and the power.
Now frolic and maketh it to rain."
- Anthony Bourdain (thanks, John, for reminding me)

Later that night, I really want to wander the strip. It's the first Friday that pandemic restrictions are lifted, so it's going to be crazy town. It's also still uncomfortably hot. The regular line for Omnia is eight people wide, mostly dudes, and stretching past Searsucker, out the doors, down the steps, and back almost to the entryway intersection. The VIP line is a few people wide and stretches the other way, past the sportsbook bar, along two walls of the poker room, nearly to the Coliseum steps. Steve Aoki was playing, and little else was, so it had to have been the hottest ticket in town.

I'd yet to see a $5 table anywhere—not at Fremont, El Cortez, Circa, Caesars, Cosmo, or Mandalay— and Friday night wasn't going to be when it happened. I wandered across to the Linq, Harrah's, and Casino Royale, found a few minor updates to my video poker spreadsheet, and lost a lot more money than I planned to Britney, James Bond, and The Price is Right (cue sad horns). Even the Goonies took my money, despite a guy walking past pointing at Mouth and Mikey on the screen, advising me, "Those [n-words] are gonna win back your money for you, man."

Time to call it a night.

Saturday, June 5

No Vegas trip is complete without a breakfast at Eat, downtown at 7th & Carson. We treat my daughter and her boyfriend. During the pandemic, a reality show helped expand the space into the adjacent garage, but it didn't look any different to me. Somehow, we always seem to get the "I'll see you in the flowers" table, which is fine, because 1) it's adorable, and 2) it commands a great view of the restaurant. The food was amazing, as always.

The kids and wife returned to their hotels, but after a short stop at El Cortez (no $5 tables at noon on a Saturday‽), winning a few bucks at Fremont (♫ Little Shop, Little Shop of Horrors ♫), and a few more bucks at Plaza, I headed up to the bingo room where Jeff, Craig, Michelle, Gregg, Becky, and I guzzled down some "free" Coronas, enjoyed ourselves a little too loudly, played the Bonanza theme song more than we should have, and left down about $40 apiece (except for Becky, who nailed down a $120 win). That's OK. I won it back and more playing video poker downstairs afterwards.

Jeff and I met up again later in the afternoon for the Preakness. The overhang at Circa is one of the best places in town to watch the horses. My $20 in bets netted me $23.50, making it by biggest triple crown win in years. Observing the lack of lineup at the sportsbook window, Jeff pointed out that it was the likely impact of the spread of mobile betting apps. Well spotted!

I take a Lyft back to Caesars to get my wife. We're planning on going to Valley of Fire tomorrow morning, so after a brief wander to and through Bellagio (piano music is back at Petrossian!), we grab a cab to the rental center. Sure, there's been talk of a rental car shortage, high prices, and long lines, but I reserved the car months ago, and despite everything that could have gone wrong, nope, no problems. A short walk to National's Emerald Aisle, bypassing the line, and me and a second customer have our choice of five different cars in the vast, nearly empty parking lot. Not five models. Five. Cars.

Hasn't swung a club in years.
Scored points on almost every shot.

From there, we head to a nearby grocery store to get bottled water and soda for the rest of the trip, especially the drive out to the desert. Then it's on to TopGolf to meet up with the kids and my friends Don and Connie. No reservations were available, but TopGolf's web site promised to have bays open on a walk-in basis.

We walk in. The line is somewhat long but moves quickly. "It'll be a two hour wait. Is that OK?" Yeah, I'm OK with that. We can eat, drink, and reminisce, and the kids are running late anyway. I tell them to take their time. But 45 minutes later, the text bot chirps "Your bay is almost ready. Are you?" We're not; give me 30 minutes, bot. It gives me 50, and the next bay is open. We whack golf balls, eat some outstanding bar food (seriously, food shouldn't be this good at a glorified driving range), and chat away the 75 minutes it takes to finish the round. Don and I tie with 80 points each, which just demands a rematch sometime in the future.

Bellies and hearts full, Don and Connie head back to their place. I offer the kids a ride back to Mandalay, but they want to go to Planet 13 instead. Shrug. We've got pot shops at home, but whatever, that's another thing I can add to my "been there in Vegas" list. For someone who's never been in a pot shop, it's probably pretty amazing. Having been in a few (but never partook), it's nice, but not like the best place ever. Eliminate the stoner references in the artwork in the hallway outside, and it could be indistinguishable from the cheap mall jewelers. Zales. Jared. "He went to Planet 13."

I drop the kids off at Mandalay, and think I'm being smart by dropping the wife off outside the VIP entrance on the north side of Caesars. I'll just continue on, take a right on Frank Sinatra, and park in the garage. Nope. That right turn isn't Sinatra Blvd. It's the onramp to I-15, and I'm committed to the drive up to Sahara. No big deal, as a drive back down the strip at 12:30 AM is nice.

Now that I'm back in the room at Caesars, it's 1:00 AM, and I'm thinking "I need to be up at 5:30 to get to Peppermill by 7:00 to hit the road to Valley of Fire by 8:00, and if I don't, it'll be dangerously hot when we get there." Vegas plans are in pencil, and I toss out the notification that I'm erasing Peppermill and Valley of Fire from the schedule. I'm sleeping in instead.

Sunday, June 6

Top: Mississippi Rob's Octavius tub
Bottom: Mine, same day photo

It's our check-out morning at Caesars. Over the last four days, not only has the Walk-tavius tower worn us down, but we have become really disappointed in the quality. Furniture is scuffed. Carpet is stained. A dresser drawer just falls out instead of sliding. The cabinet light switch does nothing. The tub jets are severely discolored. The closet door and dresser door are both warped and have to be forced. The bathroom cabinet trim is, in several places, missing. When I have a conference here, I'll certainly stay at Caesars again on the company dime, but the three older towers, closer to the action, aren't likely to be worse than this.

The kids are treating us to breakfast at The Henry, and while they and my wife each get the special, I order the oatmeal, remembering how good it was 10 years ago (for my 40th birthday, my only other time staying here), and knowing I'd get leftovers from their plates. The oatmeal was as good as ever, as was my wife's bacon and eggs.

While my wife and the kids explore, I head to the registration desk in hopes of an early check-in. The clerk is new—it's his second day—and although he thinks the room is ready, he's mis-read the housekeeping indicator. His trainer gently reprimands him for revealing that the room is on the 35th floor, but both he and the trainer assure me that yes, it's a wraparound suite with a fountain view, and "it's our best room." Well, no, there's rooms near the top of the tower that are better, but not for commoners like me, so I know that's not right. I'll get a text when the room is ready, they promise.

Scuffs, missing trim, missing knob.
#DeferMaintenanceLikeACaesar

I drive the kids back to Mandalay so the boyfriend can pick up a card he left behind, then we all head out to a Target about two miles east of the strip to get booze, snacks, and other stuff for tonight's party. While at Target, I text Cosmo's chat-bot, Rose, to ask about whether there is still drinkware and silverware in the suite. The bot can't handle it, but hands off to a human who says that glassware and silverware can be sent up from room service, but "personally, I always go to the Walgreens across the skybridge to get plasticware and cups." I should've read between the lines; it turned out that the room service charge is $10 for every six items (12 glasses, 6 forks, $30. Yowch.) 

At 2:56 PM, a good four minutes before official check-in time, we get a text. Room 1901, Chelsea Tower, is ready for us. 19th floor? Like, the real 9th floor? Of Chelsea, the further tower from the fountains? I'm questioning whether I reserved what I thought. Then we get there. 

Check the video. Audio on.

"It's fine," I tell my wife. "I've been known to ask for the loud rooms on Fremont Street. It's not that bad." She googles to find out when the music will stop, and finds this:

The oontz oontz oontz is going to be going until sunrise. That's just not acceptable. I call the front desk and ask to be moved, and they offer to do so, only briefly saying that "well, the room in the Boulevard Tower is going to be closer to the club than you are." No, sir, there are very few rooms in Cosmopolitan that are closer to the oontz than I am, and none of those would be in the other tower. They'll text me when the new room is ready.

Meanwhile, my bags arrive from the bell desk, and I have to ask the bellman to take them back. "You got the loud room, didn't you," he sympathizes, as if he's seen this before. My wife and I head down to the casino, and while I end up with 150% of my daily bankroll, my wife has to sit for a long, long time waiting for a slot attendant. Those damn oompa loompas ate her slot ticket and won't give her proper credit.

For dinner tonight, I tried, I mean really tried, to get a table at Best Friend. It's my favorite mid-range dinner place. But to reserve the private dining room, MGM wanted $100 per person pre-paid, when we didn't know how many people, and when my previous meals there have been about $75 per person. When I responded "how about getting two tables in the restaurant to seat 8 of us?" the response was "please submit the request through the web site." I did. The response was silence.

So, instead, I made reservations for six people at Night + Market, a Thai restaurant at the newly re-skinned Virgin Hotel and Mohegan Sun Casino, formerly the Hard Rock. I was a little worried about the reservation, as we could've ended up with 10 or more people, but in the end it was just seven of us. And in the end, we were one of only two tables being used. This place was empty. No activity in the restaurant. No sound from the casino floor. Rarely did anyone even walk by the restaurant. The food was good, and it was nice to have Jeff, Don, and Connie meet each other before the big party, but there are better options out there. It was so NOT a Vegas vibe.

At 6:20, while we're eating, I get a call. The room is ready. Whew. My wife and I dart out of the Virgin quickly after dinner, get the keys, open the door, and yes, this is much, much better:

Corner view, the entire strip beneath us.

It's party night. The kids arrive. Jeff from Indy is here. Don and Connie. Gregg and Michelle. John and Ute. We're sipping drinks, pointing out different buildings, watching the Bellagio fountains again and again, and feeling the emotion where "we're in Vegas, and this is the top of the world." 

My Vegas playlist is mostly on point, jumping from Sinatra to Hagar to Katy Perry like DJs from three different generations having a throwdown. The Killers "When You Were Young" comes on.

"You know where I've never been? Sam's Town," I say to Gregg. "Never?" he says incredulously. "You have to check out the lame animated animals."

Don has a presentation, where he hands me a few small gifts, and then a USB drive labeled "TRAV @ 50". On that drive is restored video of my 30th birthday party, as well as a parody song he wrote and performed specifically for the occasion. It was wonderful.

More snacks, more drinks, and in the end, we break out a board game, Ricochet Robot, which we play for five quick rounds. Don wins in the point count, but having everyone here with me was a win of its own. Time for bed.

Monday, June 7

It's cabana day. I'm not a pool guy, but my wife and daughter are. The cabana is at Cosmo's Chelsea pool, the quietest of their three pools, and the exact opposite of the oontz pool in the video above. We check in at 10 AM and get our pick. My wife and I order breakfast, and the kids show up as we're eating. They place their order, and I briefly step into the pool. Yeah. Still not a pool guy.

I leave the family to spend the day at the pool, head upstairs and change, and hit the road. One destination in mind: 

It's a longer drive than I expected. If the Sam's Town shuttles can get you anywhere in town for free, you're really going to be paying for it in time wasted.

I wander the property, staring open jawed that is the majesty of the animatronics: a scruffy bear, an eagle  with a lame wing, a couple of mostly motionless wolves, an owl somewhere in the bushes that complains but never shows up. This place does have one advantage, though. It's 1 PM on a Monday, and they've got one $5 table in operation. It's three card poker, but that's good enough for me. My first table game of the trip, and I'm six days in. I leave about 30 minutes later, $24 lighter. I've got a new $1 chip for my collection.

I've gotta head to the Park MGM CVS to pick up a prescription, but they're out; they'd have to order it. The CVS at Paradise and Harmon will have it in an hour, though. Paradise and Harmon? That's Mohegan's corner, and I forgot to get a $1 chip from there last night. I stop by the CVS and confirm the order's in process. At Mohegan, the place is busier than last night: one blackjack table has five players.

No $5 tables. Sigh. I buy in for $40 and grab the dice at a $10 table. The point is 10. I place the 6, hit it twice, and hit the point. The point is 8, I hit a few more place bets and points, and leave with $60 of the Mohegan's money. If they close down, it's probably my fault.

Back to the cabana in my street clothes, I order some lunch and a drink, but despite that, we're nowhere close to our required food and beverage spend. A large fruit platter to go, along with six Red Bull and three Gatorades close the gap to the penny. We all head up to the room; my wife isn't feeling well, and the kids are flying out in a few hours. I pack up a suitcase with leftovers from Sunday's party. I keep a bag of popcorn and a bottle of Old Tub for myself (thanks, John and Ute), but there's a lot in that suitcase. It's full and it's heavy. 

Soon, Jeff arrives, and while the kids head to the airport, Jeff and I head to the final party of the trip: The MTV Real World Suite at the Oasis at Gold Spike. Gregg and Michelle booked it. They ordered Pizza Rock. They got cupcakes from Freed's. It's over the top in a way that Vegas nerds can truly appreciate. 

Pizza Rock in the suite

Cupcakes from Freeds

The monkey guards the parking lot.
He probably isn't good at his job.

Craig, Jeff (Indy), Ute, and John, are all here, and Jeff (Calif.) showed up a little later. We explore every nook and cranny, and at one point, we're looking and mostly agreeing that this top floor used to be separate rooms as well, but "this space here was the elevator lobby, and these beams divided the rooms, and that's why there are so many sliding doors" and so on. Vegas nerdery in effect. There's also a secret room that felt a little like our urban archeology of the Las Vegas Club, not the confessional, but that's all I'm going to say about that.

A few drinks later, and an hour and a few non-alcoholic drinks after that, it's past midnight and time to wrap up. I grab the cupcakes and my empty suitcase, and leave the jackpot of drinks for Gregg and Michelle and whoever is lucky enough to clean the room after they move out. I drop Jeff off at Bally's, head back to Cosmo, and while I'm thinking about walking the strip one last time, it's been an incredibly fun yet exhausting six days. Sleep beckons.

Tuesday, June 8

Maybe they'll paint the balloon
before my next trip.

It's the last day of a seven day trip. My wife and I slowly pack up the room, wistfully look out at the skyline one last time, and bring our bags down to the car.

There's been a severe lack of video poker at Chandelier in my week, so I aim to remedy that while my wife decides to get revenge on some oompa loompas or something. Only one of the two halves of the bar are in operation this early in the day, and like many places this week, service is slow. I get my first drink ticket before my first drink, then get my second one before I finish. In fact, I've been slow-drinking it long enough that my wife is done. "It's 11:30. China Poblano is open."

I finish my drink and we head to lunch. The fried wonton, the siu mai, and the "ants climbing a tree" were as good as always, though I don't remember the ants being quite so soy sauce heavy. We make a slow, moseying trek through Aria, Park MGM, NYNY, to MGM Grand, stopping at a few slots and a few stores along the way. It's kind of a denouement for the trip, wrapping up, flashing back, and checking a few boxes that didn't really need checking. An Uber back to Cosmo, a drive back to the rental car center, and I'm soon sitting at McCarran playing crappy double double bonus waiting for my plane to start boarding.

"Travis, you're such a degenerate," says Jeff from Indy, who spotted me sitting there and came over for one last goodbye. Safe travels, we tell each other. Have a good flight.

Epilogue

For a Las Vegas with very few conventions happening, few shows, few concerts, and little to offer visitors other than gambling, food, pools, and spectacle, the size of the crowds are amazing. There's such a demand right now. The staffing isn't there to support it yet, as evidenced by the closure of some amenities (some bars are closed outside of peak hours, the concierge desk at Caesars is dark), the delayed drink service at slot machines, the slowness of some waitstaff. Strip marquees at MGM properties beg potential employees to "Join the show," and the sign at the Hard Rock Café instructs potential employees how to apply. If you've got a pulse, you can get a job in Vegas today.

There are no $5 tables anywhere in the tourist district. Not at El Cortez or Fremont, not at Plaza, not at Cromwell. There are no table games at all at Casino Royale.

Rideshare delays are isolated yet frustrating. Scheduling in advance helps but isn't a cure-all. Having two competing apps helps, although Lyft tends to over promise wait times.

We didn't make it to Valley of Fire. Among other items that were penciled in and erased when we encountered reality, I didn't make it to Ellis Island for karaoke, to the Millenium Fandom bar in the arts district, to Mayfair Supper Club, nor to Chef Jet Tila's Dragon Tiger Noodle down by South Point. Sadly, although I could see the Fountains of Bellagio repeatedly from my balcony, I never made it down to where I could actually see, hear, and feel them. I try to schedule the fountains' "Con Te Partiro/Time to Say Goodbye" near the end of my trip, but the schedule just didn't work out this time.

I'm so glad I finally got to celebrate with friends in these post-extreme-fuckery times. I returned home with around 75% of my bankroll, had at least a dozen amazing experiences, and even after 28 trips to Vegas, was able to do a whole load of new things. I love this town. If all goes well, I'll be back in August.

Viva. ✨