Finally we’re back home, sweet home. Well, not back exactly. After arriving in Vegas midnight Fri/Sat (Otis got there a half day earlier) we were now ACTUALLY CHECKING IN to the hotel at…
Saturday 5:00 PM (Vegas Time)
8th floor, Tower one, Excalibur. The glory of just checking slot hoki in was Otis and I could get dibs on the room’s two beds. Tough titties to BadBlood and CJ. Otis was Gone in 60 Seconds, I showered, dozed and then…
Sunday 5:00 AM (Vegas Time)
As Lili Von Shtupp told sheriff Bart, “I feel we-fweshed”! 12 hours of unconscious bliss and it’s again GAME-ON! I slid into my only other clean pants and the one back-up shirt and headed straight to the tables.
The room ain’t busy but awfully familiar. At the 1-3 spread game I find Otis in the 2 seat, Iggy in the 4, Little Willy in the 7 and Marty VIII..sitting in 9. With an open seat next to Iggy, I was ready to roll.
The room smells stale at 5AM. The late night gamblers have left their half finished cocktails on scattered, and the half naked chubbies in dark ages robes haven’t been too diligent. . The dealer says he’s the former basketball coach at West Virginia and a half drunk Albanian who looks like Golem in Soveit-bloc chic is to my left. Behind Iggy I quickly spy a half eaten box of Krispy Kreme (Al’s?), but am advised against its contents. No food. It must be southern comfort for breakfast and only a double shot will do. Good morning Vegas! Game-ON!
1-3 ran well. As well as can be expected. Iggy didn’t stay long once Grubby dropped by and the long parade of fish dropped in and out of his now-vacant chair. But the man of the hour was “Albania”. I’m not actually sure that was where he was from, but he weren’t from around these parts and he was AWFUL at cards. He was also, by the way, awful pissed about the way things were going.
More than anyone, Marty had his number. Every hand, pre and post-flop, on every street…”Al-BAY-NE-UH!!”. It was like a Daryly Strawberry nightmare but with more booze and less blow. Each chant another ant under his fairly dirty skin.
“Why you ALWAYS raise?”
“awww…AL-BAY-NE-UH….i must have the hammer!”
“What is hammer?”
“You’re about to find out”
Albania folds. Poor bastard. I love Marty the VIIIth though. He’ll figure prominently in a later tale.
After about 3 or 4 hours of Albania taunting and hammer bashing BadBlood and CJ drop in on the way to the sports book for some fabulous NFL action. I already knew where my money was. Bengals, with their high-scoring offense an 11 point dog at New England. Easy call. One bill. I also dropped 10 bucks on the mandatory..what the hell…3 team parlay sucker bet. And now here’s a lesson friends…remember this:
On the way from the Excal to meet our friends at Mandalay, I asked Blood where his money went. He’s a smart man that Blood, and I respect his opinion. He had smart money on the Giants and Ravens. The over/under was 35 points! With these two teams, that’s a no brainer! I rushed back, dropped $40 on the under and headed to Mandalay. I later turns out Blood also picked the Pats. He’s George Costanza folks, learn his instinct and do the opposite.
So now at Mandalay, the gang’s all here. The bloogers grabbed the best seat in the house…a full table..with a view of the big screen…4 steps from the bar. I love these guys.
Super Chargers…and Super Hookers.
Ok the hookers weren’t SUPER….but damn they were interesting.