Viva Rad Vegas pt 2 electric boogaloo
10/21/2003 9:56 AM
Kendra finally makes it town. Its great to see her, I can't believe all she’s done. I'll never thank her properly. It’s even more so because she's spent 4 hours driving through the desert from Death Valley to get here. She comes with a couple of co-workers who are also spending a day or more in Sin City. They all seem pretty beat from the drive so we decide to grab a bite...walk the strip and maybe hit the happiest little casino in the world. Slots-a-fun...It advertises $1 blackjack tables. Now when you hear tables you would expect plural...multiple...many...more than one. You would be wrong. When they say tables...they mean one...un...uno...just a hair better than zero. We have been there many times and every time its been the same table...I wouldn't be surprised if it was the same people playing it either. But I'm ahead of myself. Let me set the Slots-A-Fun scene...In the land of high-rise, plush, security driven casinos Slots flies in the face of all of it. One story...seedy and open air doors. The only things it has in common with the corporate temples on the Strip is that its a building, there IS gambling inside of it and they hand out free booze. The booze seems to come a little more frequently than the big boys and that helps in shoving down the grimy repulsion you get from the place. The SINGLE $1 blackjack tables are easy enough to spot from the room...its mostly full and at nights there is a line of people behind the players. The "bullpen" as Kendra and I have called it. Where the players waiting to get in the game wait. It’s almost like the scene out of MASH. Some people watching the play on the table. Chatting back and forth. Others reading or leafing through a "What’s Happenin' " magazine. The ever-present cigarette smoke hangs in the air. You'd think with 2 open sides the place would be a little more "airy". But then you thought "tables" was plural too. The key to sitting in the bullpen is patience. The more anxious you get the worse off it seems. Because once you actually get to the table you are going to sit for the long haul why expect anything else from someone else. Plus a majority of the crowd playing the table is of a geriatric nature...so waiting is in their nature. You wait it out in the bullpen for more than about 20 minutes and you're likely to be at the table. Most people will bail in that time. The moment finally arrives without thinking I'm putting in a 5 dollar bet...you can almost hear the James Bond-esque gasp from the crowd. 5 bucks is an indulgent wager for this table. If you wanted to do that there were plenty of $3 to choose from. But I think your first and last bets should be your boldest. But I strike out drawing a 16 on a very face card light round. The dealer takes a 19. My $5 is gone but there is plenty more disposable income where that came from. Back to $1 wagering and thank god...civilization...the cocktail waitress has arrived with my Heineken. Part of the fun at the dollar table is the crowd because face it no one is here for the cash and most of them are here for the free drinks. On past trips it’s been the source of some of the most fun for Kendra and I. There was the pair of buddies one whose gambling rally cry was "Doggy needs a new knee!!!” In reference to the $3000 bucks he had to shell out for a leg operation on his dog when he got home. This time there is some sot sitting next to me who basically tells me the same things over and over...

-"The last time I was in Vegas Elvis was here...that tells you how often I come"
-"I have been sitting here since 8 am...I have had 6 of these (raising beer bottle)...7-8-9-10"
-"Last night I split 2 tens...that should tell you how I gamble."

Over and freaking over...It got to a point where I said, "I know...Elvis!" Finally his wife dragged him away. Kendra was fighting her own war with some one she was wedged into some nutty art teacher from Chicago. Who can stop rambling on. Kendra does what she does best. Puts on a pretty face and smiles her way through it. Then this woman sucks me in... She some how gets it interpreted that I'm a principal of a high school. And she’s rambling at me. Oh lord. Finally after a few more beers my mood is lifted and I am able to place my mind in a far better place. Vegas...it can be tricky mistress.