I am money baby
Trip Start
Oct 08, 2006
1
6
Trip End
Feb 04, 2008
Las Vegas,
Nevada,
United States
Saturday, January 12, 2008
Where to start? At the start I spose, usually makes much more sense that way. So a few days ago at the soulless HI hostel in Santa Monica I met youg Damo in the communal toilet (where all great relationships begin), a guy from Sydney doing the last leg of his international trip. We had a yarn then went out for a few beers, and decided to go to Vegas together to cut costs. He had a friend coming over from Washington, Andy who I will talk more about later, who was gonna meet us there. So we got up early Friday morning, rented a car and got driving. It takes a little under 4 hours driving from LA to Vegas (It was a lot shorter in GTA SA) and a fairly boring trip. Nice scenery though, kind of like driving through the Territory, it's just flat with distant hills, no landmarks to speak of and hardly a sign of human life (highway was much busier than Stuart though). Suddenly out of nowhere, like an oasis to the thirsty desert wanderer, Vegas appears on the horizon like a mecca of sin. Rising out of the bleakness this luxurious city seems so incongruous one may even believe it is a trick of the mind and eye. We got in and searched for our $20 a night Hostel that was advertised as "right off the strip". What they neglected to mention is that the hostel suburb is right off the strip, and this hostel is in the furthest part of said suburb and said suburb is the biggest fucking ghetto in Nevada. It was full on Gangsta's Paradise meets Boyz n' The Hood, and then shoots everyone. Fun for all. Room was liveable and we lived through it. I mentioned earlier that I try not to look like a tourist when I travel, so to fit in with the locals I went out and bought some 40's (40 ounce - approx 1.2 litre - bottles of malt liquor, the drink of choice for any self respeccin' gangsta) and they weren't too bad. I still felt very crackerish though. The bottle-o next to the hostel had pokies in it, as did some of the toilets in the bars we went to. Andy got in and we went down the road to a $7 all you can eat buffet at the Palace Casino, and I ate more than I usually do in a week, they had the best fried "chicken" (I'm pretty sure it was reconstituted crackers not chicken. Whether I mean white people or biscuits you will never know) I've ever had, but the worst burritos. Ah well win some lose some, it was Vegas after all. Went back to the Hostel and got changed up for partying, got a bit pissed and did the wander down to the strip, about 8 blocks through the ghetto. Did a few of the minor crappy Casinos at the Fremont Experience, kind of an outdoors mall consisting of casinos and strip clubs, catering to the lower end of the Vegas clientele. We then caught a bus down the strip and stopped at the stratosphere Casino, the second largest building in the West at 350m straight up. I went there for the rides which were no dissapointment, but the veiw was the highlight. 360 degrees of Vegas spread out below you, it made me think of the Scarface motto, the World is Yours, and it truly felt like it. A golden web of streetlights marks the streets, neighbourhoods and dreams that abound in Vegas, interspersed with landmarks and the great lights of the top end casinos. The big shot, which sits at the top of the building is one of those strap you in and launch you directly up about 50 metres, then you freefall, the lights of Vegas blurring all the way up and down. The view was stunning, and the ride exhilarating. Couple other rides up there which hang you upside down off the edge of the tower while spinning you around were great. We ended up at Sahara, a pretty fucking ordinary Casino. Andy and Damo did their arses in about 30 seconds. I didn't last a great deal longer, but it was a bit of fun - we were home by 2 am, which was a little dissapointing. Got a good sleep in then got up about 11 the next day. We decided to go see Hoover Dam because you know....I'm interested in that sort of thing? I supposed I should do some touristy shit while out there, so we did. Grand Canyon was a 5 hour drive, so Hoover at 1 hour seemed ok. We finished at Hoover, and I honestly have nothing to say about that. The boys then somehow made some sort of magical math equation, deciding that 5.5 hours to Grand Canyon minus 45 minutes (we drove pretty fast) to Hoover equals 1.5 hours. I wasn't really paying attention and said sure, lets do it. 5 hours later we get to the grand Cayon, just as the sun sets - not like goldy pink beautiful sunset over the rocks sets, but sets completely and we are in the middle of fucking nowhere in the pitch black. So we turn around and go home, another 5 hour drive. It was a rather quiet journey. Got back to the hostel and I swore I would do Vegas properly. Showered, put on a shirt and pants then added my suit jacket to top it off, took out the hugeass cigar that Sheephog gave me at the wedding reception, placing it strategically in my breast pocket. And in the words of Vince Vaugh, I looked "Money baby, money". Got some more 40's and got half cut then walked down to the Strip, getting a bus to the Bellagio. And the Bellagio was pimp. It was immensely pimp. The lowest Blackjack minimum was $15, and there was one $5 table which had a queue of about 20 people. Instead I hit the video poker at the bar, and got free jack and cokes while I played - did ok too, drank free for 1.5 hours and walked away $4 up. Booyah, take that Bellagio. Anway while playing video poker this dude sits next to me with a very tidy girl in tow. He had a funky hat on, one which you may even call a pimp hat. I told him so and he laughed pretty loud, while taking out a cash wad big enough to choke a fucking donkey. You see where I'm going with this...enter Matt the pimp. Chatted with him for ages, and I now have the equivalent of a BA in Pimping, he had no problem telling me the ins and outs of and what can suck (both puns intended) in the business, and gave me some advice on how to play the Casinos. And I must say, contrary to popular belief, Pimping ain't easy. Matt let me practise my biatch slapping on his ho', and while he was impressed with my backhand he said my forehand needed some work. Thats not true. After some time Andy came and joined me, trying to hit on Matt's girl. She told him in a not so subtle way that if you want a classy girl in Vegas you have to pay (Wink wink). Subtlety is not Andy's strong point. He proceeded to rant for about half an hour about how hookers are the scum of the Earth and he would never touch one and they should all be shot. Matt and his ho left with an awkward farewell. I told Andy that he had just insulted a hooker to her face and we watched them depart - her in a full on ballroom gown showing almost everything and him wearing a 2 foot tall purple velvet hat. "Nah, no way that is a hooker and a pimp. You're crazy Gaz." Fair enough then.
I got a seat at the $5 table and played for some time. About 4am we moved on from Bellagio - the others had blown their loads again and headed home. I however, was in the mood to get serious with Vegas. I lit up a smoke and chatted to a Limo driver for advice, whom after I said "Money talks and Bullshit walks, so I'm gonna get walking" told me "Damn son, you know Vegas". Matt the pimp said he might meet me later at O'Shea's, the Irish casino (Irish Casino?! I hear you say. Me too, they got everything in Vegas) and the Valet said you can play 25c video poker and get free drinks there. I wander on towards Oshea's, and this black chick with a grill and a crackwhoreish sort of vibe just wanders up to me "Oh ain't you cute, all chubby and shit?" Not the best compliment I ever received, but there you go. She showed me the way to O'sheas, and ordered herself an $18 dollar drink on my tab - I didn't feel like getting shot so I paid cash and said I will be right back, then fucked off to the other end of the casino till she left. So I'm thinking for 25c a play the free drinks will be watered down shitty beer for free, and was pleasantly surprised at my first triple Bushmills 12yr on ice. Stuck with that for a bit but didn't feel like 25c video poker was enough to back up my money image, so moved to the $10 blackjack minimum table, which seemed like a great idea after 3 triple whiskeys and no food for hours.
Cash Monay
I sat at the table which had about 4 people at it already. They sneered (or seemed to) as I cashed in my last $60 and ordered a JD. Things went well for a while, and soon enough I was up to 100. There were 2 guys to my left, who each had about 8k in front of them in chips. One of them was constantly giving the other shit about being Jewish. Having met some delightful Jews over the past few weeks, and being pretty drunk, I interceded and told him to lay off. They were stunned for a sec and then cracked up laughing - Joe and Mikey had been friends since grade school and it was their usual interaction to abuse one anothers beleifs. Joe was next to me, and the one who had been copping shit for his religion. He took a liking to me and we got to chatting. He kept telling me to double my bet, and the fucker was right. I hit a hardcore streak and before long was in some serious money, betting 25-50 a hand. Joe continued to endorse the doubling of my bet, which of course led to the end of my streak. I went up to 125 at one stage, and the dealer pulled an 18 to my 16. I was ready to leave when Joe pushed 125 worth of chips onto my pile. I argued for some time and he was insistent. He was just killing time before the poker tourney he was in and this was nothing to him. Eventually I conceded. I dropped back down to 25, and kept a steady play. Joe was a book player, and was consistently advising me as to what the book said. I decided to follow him once and busted on a 12. He apologised and insisted on replacing my lost bet. This happened a couple times and he was giving more and more advice as he got drunker. I realised I had a pretty good system going there, so simply backed everything he told me to. If I won I won, If I lost I got my stake back from Joe. I stayed until he left, got his email somewhere. I cashed out and walked outside. My eyes and head exploded in pain as the burning bright morning sun tore through my drunken stupor. I dived back into the cas and got a pair of sunnies and a novelty lighter for the walk home. Checked my phone - it was 10.15 am. I started walking pretty quickly, as I knew the other boys had to leave the hostel by 11 and I would be fucked if I didn't get back there in time. By 10.30 I realised I was still at least an hour walk away from the hostel, was coated in a whiskey like sweat, and resigned myself to my fate. I wandered into the nearest casino to have a piss and think things over. Despite my funds increase it would be impossible to get a taxi back in time, and I had to get my bags out by 11 - the car was in my name and I needed to be there to pay the balance when we returned it to budget. As I walked out, hopeless, drunk and exhausted, inspiration struck. I flicked my cigarette onto the road, adjusted my newly purchased aviators and walked up to a man in a black suit. "Fremont st my man, and I'm on a schedule so can we make it quick?" I shook his hand and slipped him a $20 as I said this, and lo and behold, the back door of the limo was immedietely opened. I dived in and Joey the Limo driver gave me a bottle of water as he hammered down the strip, all the while informing me of landmarks and a brief history of Vegas. As my bloodshot eyes took in the view of the ghetto we were in from the safety of the tinted windows, I reflected on the last 48 hours and realised exactly what Vegas was about. Illusion. From the very moment the city rises out of the desert like a mirage, everything is a misrepresentation. The godlike veiw from the Stratosphere that shows Vegas as a perfectly golden glimmering metropolis is shown to be false as you drive through the ghettos only minutes from billion dollar casinos and see poverty at point blank range. The gaudy advertisements that draw someone in with the idea that at this certain game in this casino there is an advantage over the house, or that advertise free refills of daiquiries that require you buy a $25 glass first. The way people can imagine themselves to be winners by the end of their weekend, or that a backpacker like myself can convince a limo driver that I do in fact belong in his back seat with the simple combination of quality clothing, speaking and tipping. Joey was a little shocked when we pulled up at the Hostel. I shook his hand, and bid him farewell. In 5 minutes I was packed and giving my sheets back to the receptionist for my deposit. We got in the car and began driving back down the strip, myself stretched out in the back seat. Just as I began to doze off, I heard a commotion. Andy, in the passenger seat, had picked his nose and was mucking about pretending to wipe it on Damo. Damo cracked it very quickly, and while trying to push Andy's hand away missed his hand and smashed him in the nose with an open palm. The impact sounded painful as hell, and I could see Andy's eyes watering already. About 30 seconds of silence ensued, until we hit a red light, and Andy swore "No, fuck you man" and delivered a textbook right to Damo's jaw, splitting his lip which began to bleed profusely. At that stage Damo did'nt notice it, but again after a 30 second silence he wiped his mouth with his hand, drawing it away to find the back of it smeared in fresh blood. That was it. Even as we pulled off from the red light down the incredibly busy Vegas strip, both boys were going absolutely hammers at one another, fists to heads left right and centre, the only restraint coming from that forced upon them by their seatbelts. After a fair bit of this I yelled, as we were about to mow down some pedestrians. The breaks slammed on and the fight was halted. After a few seconds of "fuck you" exchanges between the boys, an ominous silence descended upon the interior of the vehicle. I thought to myself "sweet, it's gonna be a quiet ride home and I can get some sleep". This made me want to laugh, but I thought "no no, this would be a most innapropriate time to laugh." The Giggle Loop had begun. If you do not know the giggle loop, please do yourself a favour and watch "Coupling". It is the idea that when it is the worst time at all to laugh, you will think of something funny, and continue doing so until you crack into hysterics. I lasted about 5 minutes, and almost vomited with the effort of exhaling my mirth, tears streaming from my still red eyes. The boys were not impressed, but eventually they joined in the laughter. They did get pissed off when I was still giggling 45 minutes later, but I guess having a mouth full of blood and a non working nose will put you in a sour mood. The rest of the journey was uneventful, and we pulled into our new LA hostel with an hour of sunlight left.
