Vegas musings-part 2

My brother joined me in Vegas on Friday and we shared the luxury accommodations at the Flamingo. The first night he was there the people in the room next to ours started partying at about 5am. My guess is they had started partying elsewhere and had to move the party back to their room. Needless to say I didn’t get a lot of sleep after that. The next night a guy started pounding on a door near ours between 5 and 6am. He was very persistent, and probably very drunk. He finally gave in after beating the crap out of the door for a half hour. My brother was up an about around 9 that morning and he found him passed out in the hallway right outside our door.

I saw a guy walking through a fountain outside Ceasar’s Palace picking up change that had been thrown in it. I got the feeling he wasn’t supposed to be there, especially since he seemed to be avoiding the pennies. I guess the economic downturn is hitting the panhandlers too. That reminds me, I saw a panhandler holding a sign that said “I’m not going to lie, I need a beer.” I wonder if he does better than the average panhandler because of his amazing wit. If so, I know what my next career move will be.
One of my favorite parts of traveling around Vegas is talking to the cabbies. They always have an opinion and they tend to be great storytellers. I was really disappointed this trip. The driver to my hotel didn’t speak very good English and he was more interested in talking on his cell phone. The guy that took me back to the airport was the laziest cabby I’ve ever met. He didn’t put my luggage in the car and he insisted the bellhop put it in the front seat with him. When we arrived at the airport, I had to get the luggage myself as he made no move to assist. Needless to say, I under-tipped him.
All in all, it was a pretty decent trip. I got to hang out with my brother and John while completely focusing on gambling. When I left I thought I was way down, but I hit a couple sports bets and I’m now about even. It wasn’t my cheapest trip ever to Vegas, but it was close. All told including gambling I spent less than $550 for 4 nights. I didn’t exactly eat like a king (although I did eat at Burger King) but I did get to one of my favorite places to eat, Toby Keith’s Bar and Grill. The pulled pork sandwich is very good and they serve beer in mason jars.
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Vegas musings-Part 1

I just finished my 7th trip to Vegas and I’ve gotten to the point where it’s probably no longer necessary to give a blow-by-blow account. I’ll stick to the highlights (and lowlights).

My friend John went to Vegas at the same time as me and it was fairly obvious he was going to have better luck than me. I checked in before John and I was assigned a window seat without getting an option for any other seat. He was offered an exit row seat. On the way back, he checked in an hour later than me and was offered the 6th row. I was placed pretty much in the restroom, next to a couple guys with a gas issue. He won $450 at blackjack, I got my ass handed to me everywhere I went. John was probably due for some good luck, he got divorced last year and got laid off 3 months ago.
The first night we got there was a Thursday. It was the first time I can recall walking down the strip and not seeing any porn slappers (that’s the term used for the people slapping cards with pictures of “escorts” on them. I thought maybe they had a union and had gone on strike. No such luck, they were back the next night. It was also the quietest I have ever seen the Strip. The pedestrian traffic is typically nut-to-butt, that night it was almost eerie how quiet it was.
I had expected to be approached by some ladies of the night since the wife wasn’t with me. No, I wasn’t going to do anything as I’m entirely too cheap to pay for that kind of service. Instead, I wasn’t approached once. Maybe it was because I didn’t shave and I tend to look a little like a homeless person on vacation. Or I’m just not as hot as I think. Meanwhile, John was approached twice. The first time he didn’t realize what was happening until she asked if he was looking for some company.
I spent some time (and money) playing a game called Sigma Derby. I’ve never seen a machine like it before in all my gambling adventures. I’m not sure how old it is, but it probably dates back to the 70’s. It has 5 mechanical horses and the game gives odds on the chances of each 2 horses finishing 1st and 2nd. The odds range from 2-1 to 200-1. The winner is obviously more likely to be the 2-1 odds than 200-1, but that doesn’t stop everyone from betting at least a quarter on the longshot. Anyway, what really makes the game fun is seeing a bunch of fools screaming at mechanical horses.
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Discount movie review-Adventureland

I’m nothing if not a public servant. So for a public service, I would like to warn you about a movie that you might consider watching.
Last weekend Adventureland made it’s way to the top of our Netflix list. It was one of a long line of movies that we had intended to see but never got around to it. Unfortunately, last weekend we got around to it. This movie was falsely advertised. By watching the trailer, one makes the assumption it’s a comedy. If it was trying to be a comedy, it failed miserably. It turned out to be more of a
coming of age” movie, which is Hollywood-ese for “there’s a hopeless male virgin in this movie.”

The fact that it is a coming of age movie isn’t what made this movie suck. For starters, the hopeless virgin somehow manages to have girls chasing him fairly regularly. I’ve been a hopeless virgin, so trust me when I say this doesn’t happen. Secondarily, his father has a drinking problem that is never addressed. It was just thrown into the movie for no apparent reason. Sure, the hopeless resident of Virginia finds his father’s stash in the car and proceeds to get loaded and wreck the car. But that’s all that happens.
The acting in Adventureland is subpar. Kristen Stewart (OMG, I LUV HER IN TWILIGHT) is the love interest of the virgin and I have no idea how she lands acting roles. Apparently someone has told her that running your hands through your hair is the proper way to portray every emotion. If you took a drink every time she ran her hand through her hair, you’d be passed out before the opening credits finished. She spends the entire movie looking extremely bored. Ryan Reynolds is also in the movie, he’s married and having an affair with Kristen Stewart (OMG, I THOUGHT SHE ONLY LIKED VAMPIRES!! THAT SLUT!!) Sleeping with her seemed to bore Ryan also, his delivery was a monotone the entire movie.
As far as I can tell, this movie has no redeeming qualities. I didn’t laugh, there were no car chases, I wasn’t entertained, I didn’t figure out the meaning of life, and I didn’t see any boobs. And it had nothing to do with the Adventureland in Altoona, IA. All I did was get another hour and a half older. And I came up with this phenomenal movie review.
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Wasting Away in Marco Island-Day 4

Our last full day in Florida. I gave up on trying to do homework by the pool and instead drank a lot. The wife was making up for lost time also by downing vodka and pineapple juice. The F’s were following suit and we were all feeling pretty good by the early afternoon.

We went back to our rooms late that afternoon and got ready for dinner. We went upstairs to meet up with the F’s and there was an unmistakable chill in the air. We find out there is something that appears to be a long hair on the floor of their bathroom. The hair doesn’t look like anything that could have belonged to anyone in our party. Mrs. F jumped to the conclusion that Mr. F had relations with a housekeeper in their bathroom. It’s a fairly ridiculous claim no matter how you slice it, and one that was fueled by an afternoon of drinking. At some point the wife and I decided to investigate the claim. The “hair” wasn’t a hair at all, it was a thread from someone’s clothing. We decided Mr. F probably had relations with a rag doll.
We went to a hibachi restaurant that evening. We shared a table with 4 other adults and one ill-behaved child. Also, this restaurant only had one chef so we had to wait for him to serve two other tables. Unfortunately, the food wasn’t worth the wait. Of course, the food would have had to be phenomenal to make up for the wait. We headed back to the hotel and called it a night as we had a shuttle picking us up at 6 to catch our flight home.
Nothing of interest on the way home except the shuttle driver was interested in seeing how fast we could get there. He kept it pegged right around 90 all the way there. He was of eastern European descent, so maybe he thought he was on the autobahn.
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Wasting away in Marco Island-Day 3

We awoke with a bit of a hangover and a vague recollection of the previous nights events. Some recollections were vague-er than others, like Mr. F forgetting about the pantsless episode of the previous night.

Since we figured the F’s wouldn’t be moving very fast, we decided to take a walk down the beach. Considering it was our 3rd day overlooking the beach, we thought it was about time we actually went to the beach. We strolled for awhile and picked up some shells before heading up to the F’s room for some breakfast/lunch. They had recovered nicely from the night before and were ready to hang out by the pool after eating. I passed on the pool and instead made a futile attempt to do some homework. I joined them at the pool after a couple hours with laptop in hand so I could continue to accomplish nothing.
We killed the afternoon and headed to an Italian restaurant called Da Vinci’s for dinner. Good food, no crazy karaoke singer, and great service. We took it easy after returning and opted to check out a movie from the front desk. We watched “I Love You Man” while Mrs. F faded off to sleep. It appeared that I wouldn’t wake up with a hangover the next morning.
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Wasting Away in Maro Island-Day 2

We slept in late in an effort to avoid a hangover. That, and we were awake for about 20 hours the previous day. We staggered out of bed around 10am and checked if the F’s were up. We headed up get breakfast (or brunch or lunch, depending on your point of view) and Mr. F made approximately enough food for 83 people. We ate while watching the Hawks flounder through an uninspired half of football against the Badgers. At halftime I started drinking, at which time the Hawks started waking up. I don’t mess with karma, so I started picking up the pace of my drinking. By the time the Hawks sealed a 20-10 victory I had a pretty nice buzz going.

The ladies had gone out for pedicures at halftime in the hopes of avoiding my crappy mood if the Hawks lost. After they returned we decided we needed to start drinking in earnest. We went to a bar called Dolphin Tiki first. It was a small local dive on the water. I didn’t realize any bar still had functioning rear projection TV’s before going there. We ordered some bar food and the wife proceeded to make a run at the world record for vodka and pineapple juice consumption. Since the bar was literally a hut on the boardwalk, the restrooms were about 50 yards away in a building. After a few beers I had to break the seal and I wondered over. The restroom was dark and there was no light switch to be found. I had to settle for leaving the door partially open so I wouldn’t piss all over myself or the floor. After I had relieved myself, I did a more thorough investigation on the lighting situation. I discovered the “light switch” was actually one of those cheap timers hotels use to make sure you don’t leave the hot tub on forever.
We left Dolphin Tiki before the wife could pass out. Our next stop was the Sand Bar. It also had a local, laid back feel. The three of us set out to catch up to the wife, while she slowed down and attempted to meet us somewhere in the middle. We had planned to stay for only a couple hours, but they had a band start around 9pm. I’m normally not a fan of bands as they tend to suck, as least that’s the case where I come from. The band was Silent Fury and they were really good. And that’s not just the beer talking. They played a lot of hard rock and metal like 311, Black Sabbath, Metallica and a lot of other current stuff that I can’t recall. One of the highlights for me was “Sweet Home Alabama” because the lead singer had his father (who’s also a musician) come up to sing lead vocals while the lead singer took over at bass. It fricking rocked. So if Silent Fury is ever in your neighborhood, check them out. They’re out of Syracuse and their website is silentfury.net. And no, they didn’t pay me to say that.
It was about 1:30 when we finally staggered out of the bar. The wife was the only person capable of driving so Mr. F relinquished the keys. I got in the front seat, the F’s slid into the back. That’s when Mr. F started using a lot of F words. Apparently Mrs. F had left a drink in the cup holder and he spilled it on himself. He pissed and moaned about having wet shorts, then a projectile flew over my shoulder and hit the windshield. It was his shorts. He rode the rest of the way to the resort sans shorts. We got there and he still didn’t want to put them on, so he carried them all the way to his room. And yes, there are pictures.
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Wasting away in Marco Island-Day 1

Just got back from Marco Island, still going through detox.

We left last Friday morning with Mr and Mrs. Fancypants (same couple as our last Vegas trip). The great thing about Iowa airports is you can get almost anywhere you want at anytime you want, as long as you like layovers and traveling at odd hours. Our flight left at 6AM from an airport an hour's drive away. The only people awake when we got up were meth addicts and hunters. And possibly meth-addicted hunters.

The flight was uneventful, except we had to haul ass to make our connection in Atlanta. We arrived at Fort Meyers Airport around noon and went to pick up the rental. Mr. and Mrs. F had there first minor disagreement of the trip about which SUV to pick. On the way to Marco, they got in their second argument about our room. The wife and I tried to make light of it, saying we'd stay in a dumpster or broom closet if necessary. Apparently we weren't guaranteed to have an gulf view and this pissed off Mr. F. It was becoming fairly obvious that we were overdue for a drink.
We grabbed lunch at the Snook Inn, home of the World Famous Salad Bar. What's world famous about it, you ask? Absolutely nothing. They did have a huge barrel of pickles which probably contained an excess of fecal matter. Maybe that's all it takes to be famous in Marco Island. I passed on the pickles and had a grouper sandwich. It was really good, but maybe I just think that because I was starving. Far all I know it was dropped in the pickle poop.
We reached our resort (after a stop to pick up some alcohol) and luckily we were both in gulf view rooms. We were 3 floors apart, but there were no scenes at the front desk. We made our way down to the pool and set up to soak in some rays. I'm not a big "soak up the rays" kind of guy, but I made a concerted effort to just relax and enjoy the weather. We stayed at the pool for a few hours before heading out for dinner.
We we to an Italian restaurant called Casa Mia, which means "whale's vagina." The food was great, I had a shrimp stuffed with crab meat over linguini. Unfortunately there was some live entertainment. A tone-deaf woman was signing karaoke to a bunch of songs from the '50s. It was like listening to an alley cat getting sodomized by a mountain goat. The best was she came over to our table and asked us how we liked the music. I came really close to telling her what I thought, but Mrs. F bailed me out and said it was good and she like the Shania Twain song. I'm not entirely sure she even did a Shania Twain song, but it got her away from our table before I could make an ass of myself. We stopped by the grocery store to pick up some breakfast food and some more alcohol before heading back to the hotel for several nightcaps.
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