2019 Las Vegas
Prologue
I don't know what prompted me to check, maybe experience, I went online to see about checking in for our flight. You know making sure everything was OK. Things like,did we really have a flight and was leaving when I thought it was. We did. It wasn’t. Crap.
Southwest, likely because of the grounding, last spring, of the 737 Max 8 aircraft, had canceled our flight and put us on another. I am sure, deep within the 1300 emails I have not checked this past summer and fall, there is a notice about this. The new flight, while leaving within 5 minutes of our old one, did not arrive in Las Vegas until over 2 hours later. This new flight took us to California first. Our old one was a non-stop. Those two hours were going to matter.
So, I called Southwest. They were very helpful, but all but a couple of the non-stops were booked. One was in the evening, and one was leaving at 5:30 AM. Oh, goody. We had no choice, but to take the 5:30 AM flight.
This also posed two additional problems; One, on Southwest you check in 24 hours ahead of time to get your boarding position. The boarding position is the order in which you are allowed on the plane, at which time you grab which ever seat is still available. The worse your boarding position the greater chance you stand of winding up in a middle seat in the back of the plan. So, we ALWAYS check in at exactly 24 hours prior to the plane’s take off time. Instead of that being a reasonable 8:20 AM, it is now 5:30 AM.
Problem #2, we are down for picking up our rental car at 10 AM. We have been early to pick up a rental car. They love to say that they don’t have your class of car, the cheap one, so you can either wait, or pay for a more expensive car. I do not want to do either.
The agent we talked to, could not help us with either problem. 36 hours prior to a flight, the Early Bird Check In, which Southwest offers for a fee, closes. We were about 28 hours from takeoff. With respect to the rental car, we booked through Southwest Vacations, and they don’t work that well together. I was advised to call them.
Margo checked us in at 5:30 AM. I was up with her, as back up. That afternoon, I spent an hour with a three people fixing the rental car thing. The first lady left me on hold for over 20 minutes. The second lady, for only about 5 before transferring me to Lawrence, who spent half an hour going through every point of the reservation and writing a novel’s worth of notes. Even as I hung up with him, I was about 50% certain that Alamo was going to give me trouble come the next morning
Southwest, likely because of the grounding, last spring, of the 737 Max 8 aircraft, had canceled our flight and put us on another. I am sure, deep within the 1300 emails I have not checked this past summer and fall, there is a notice about this. The new flight, while leaving within 5 minutes of our old one, did not arrive in Las Vegas until over 2 hours later. This new flight took us to California first. Our old one was a non-stop. Those two hours were going to matter.
So, I called Southwest. They were very helpful, but all but a couple of the non-stops were booked. One was in the evening, and one was leaving at 5:30 AM. Oh, goody. We had no choice, but to take the 5:30 AM flight.
This also posed two additional problems; One, on Southwest you check in 24 hours ahead of time to get your boarding position. The boarding position is the order in which you are allowed on the plane, at which time you grab which ever seat is still available. The worse your boarding position the greater chance you stand of winding up in a middle seat in the back of the plan. So, we ALWAYS check in at exactly 24 hours prior to the plane’s take off time. Instead of that being a reasonable 8:20 AM, it is now 5:30 AM.
Problem #2, we are down for picking up our rental car at 10 AM. We have been early to pick up a rental car. They love to say that they don’t have your class of car, the cheap one, so you can either wait, or pay for a more expensive car. I do not want to do either.
The agent we talked to, could not help us with either problem. 36 hours prior to a flight, the Early Bird Check In, which Southwest offers for a fee, closes. We were about 28 hours from takeoff. With respect to the rental car, we booked through Southwest Vacations, and they don’t work that well together. I was advised to call them.
Margo checked us in at 5:30 AM. I was up with her, as back up. That afternoon, I spent an hour with a three people fixing the rental car thing. The first lady left me on hold for over 20 minutes. The second lady, for only about 5 before transferring me to Lawrence, who spent half an hour going through every point of the reservation and writing a novel’s worth of notes. Even as I hung up with him, I was about 50% certain that Alamo was going to give me trouble come the next morning
Day One--Tuesday, December 03, 2019
Monday AM came way too soon. I tried to go to bed at 9:30. It ended up more like 10:30. But, it was another hour before I finally nodded off. My alarm went off at 2:30 AM.
Parked at USAirport Parking. Left tuned around. Cell phone guy. At airport around 4:15: At our gate by 4:30. Boarded at 5:00. Took off at 5:30. I was out by 5:40. Got 1 ½ hr. sleep. We touched down at 6:30, Vegas time. Rental car went smooth. Used a kiosk. Had a charcoal Nissan Versa. We were at Aunt Prims around 8:30. Went to Terrible’s Roadhouse Casino for breakfast. We all had the steak and eggs special for $6. It was pretty good. A lot of food for $6. Uncle Donnie paid. They never let us spend a dime. Very nice of them and appreciated, even if it is unnecessary. Gambled for half an hour or so. Margo won $13. Everyone else lost money. I think I dropped $30. Harbinger of things to come.
Tours at the Chicken Ranch began at noon. Aunt Prim had called to make sure I did not miss out. Our guide was one of the working girls, Stacey. This appears to be a revenue stream for the ladies. Once nightfall comes about they are busy with their night jobs. I think we must had gotten Stacey out of bed. She was dressed in a teddy, which mostly covered her butt. House shoes and a cover up.
The place was nice. A reception area, kitchen, common area for the ladies, pool, hot tub, showers, S &M room, jungle room, kitchen. All very neat and clean. Stacey said this was her first two week tour. She had been a courtesan in other places, a stripper, and has worked in porn. We all actually enjoyed the tour, even if we all seemed to be a bit uncomfortable. It is interesting to step into another world, and see how they live. No idea what these ladies have been through to have chosen this life, so I am not going to judge them. Stacey seemed really nice.
We went to the Pahrump Valley History Museum. We had been there before, but I enjoyed it, and was happy to go again. The first thing I noticed was their cactus garden. I did not remember this from the last time. I was impressive, even if it was small. It two very nice Joshua trees. There were lots of other varieties, most I had never heard of. They all were interesting, and several were beautiful.
I would guess we spent an hour there, looking at the exhibits. Most I remembered. I liked that a lot of the stuff was found and donated by local residents. There always people in every town who are active parts of the town history. I wish I had time to be more like that. One the drive out to the Chicken Ranch I had asked Uncle Donnie about the radio personality, who was big in the paranormal world, who lived out here. I could not remember his name. It was Art Bell, and there was a small display dedicated to him.
Their atomic energy testing section of the museum. was very well done. I did not notice it listed, but they must have had a corporate sponsor. It was new and modern. It was there when were there 3 years ago. I have to admit, that even though I was enjoying myself, I was tired. I just don’t hold up like I used to, and getting up at 2:30 AM, even with a nap on the plane, had taken a huge toll. We left not long after.
We had an early dinner at El Jefe’s. I had the Chicken Mole, which was very good. During conversation, I asked about the grow bunker back on the Green farm. It is still there. Aunt Prim said that her sister had a Halloween party in it one year. That would be interesting to see. Makes you wonder what will become of it? Will they have to fill it in at some point? Will the entrance be reclaimed by the land, and then be lost? I don’t know.
We went back to Aunt Prim’s and stayed until close to 5:30 PM. I wish we could have stay longer. Visiting with them is always nice. They make sure we have a good time, but just visiting is good time enough. That said, I think Aunt Prim is dying to take us to Scotty’s Castle. It has been closed because of flood damage, but should reopen in 2020. I can’t look that far into the future anymore.
It took us to until about 7 PM to get to our hotel. I-15 traffic was a mess. We checked in, but did not go to room. There was not time. We needed to get right back in our car to get to Ballys. Traffic going the other direction was better, but there were still slow spots and the percentage of aggressive drivers is definitely higher than back home. I think we were in Bally’s by about 7:15. We parked, found the box office, got our tickets, and then up to the Magic Attic for the Potted Potter show.
Potted Potter is a two man show, that had it roots as a diversion show for the crowd waiting to buy copies of Harry Potter & the Half Blood Prince in 2005. It grew from there. It became a full stage production that toured all over Great Britain, jumped over to North America in 2012, and was ready for us on December 3, 2019. It’s plot, is that the two guys will act out all seven Harry Potter books in 70 minutes.
Our two entertainers were Brenden and Scott. Scott is the straight man. Brenden plays the comedian, and was exceptional. Scott was Harry Potter and the Harry Potter world expert. Brendan was supposed to have organized the sets and acquired props and talent. But, as this is a two man show, a good portion of the routine was Brenden’s failure to properly do either.
Our first clue about this was when Brendan unveiled the Welcome to Las Vegas sign, complete with palm trees. Brenden had hung a sign which said Forbidden Forest. Scott was not amused. Brendan went on to explain about using the money to get an animatronic dragon, which would be very cool, for when they acted out Harry’s duel with a dragon in Book 4. This became a running joke, each time Brendan failed to deliver either cast or props.
The whole show was the same take on that theme. Scott would tell the audience what a grand spectacle he had in store for us, and Brenden would deliver the punch line with some trinket. They would argue, and then make the best of it. My description makes it seem watered down and cliché, but even though you had an idea of what was coming, the actual payoff was still hilarious.
There was so much adlib, especially when it came time for the Quidditch match. Scott ended up dressed in this outrageous get up, playing the part of the Golden Snitch. Two participants from the audience, a pretty, thinnish, nicely dressed woman, whose heals put her about 5’ 10” or so. And a small boy of about 6. Everyone, including the woman, knew that the boy was supposed to capture Scott, all 6 foot of him, in this huge golden costume. But, the little boy was not very aggressive, so when Scott kind of cut back, as he was being chased, the lady threw out an arm, caught him and pulled him down. They spent the rest of the show making her out to be vicious, and Slithering-like. It was all good fun.
The show was fun and both Margo and I had a great time. It is more and more obvious to me, that I enjoy Las Vegas much more, when I am not on the casino floor. We had our picture taken with Scott and Brenden after the show.
We were starving by then. I had done almost no research on Bally’s or Paris, which is connected, so I was relying on memory. We had eaten at a place in Paris, when we were all there January of 2014. I remember being underwhelmed, but pizza did sound good, and hunger has a way of making things seem more attractive. The place was called La Pizza and it ended up being decent. Not great, but it was decent pizza. We left right after that.
The drive back to the D was marred by more 1-15 traffic. I was getting pretty annoyed. 1-15 is four lanes each way, and should have been free flowing, but for some reason they were closing it down to one lane, and creating massive bottlenecks. Tired and traffic is not a good combination. Even though she drives like she is 90, I was still glad Margo was behind the wheel. I have no patience with traffic and probably would be the one causing an accident.
We were both tired when we arrived and Margo loved the idea of valeting instead of self-parking. We unloaded and got to our room on the 34th floor, and top floor. The D had an elevator management system, I had never seen before. You arrive at the bank of elevators, and instead of just pushing a button to indicate which direction, up or down, you want to travel, you key in your floor number. Margo keyed in 34, and the key pad display directed us to elevator “D”. We went over got in. There were no numbered button on the in-cab control panel. Just buttons to open, close, or declare an emergency. But, in the door jamb of the elevator was a digital display indicating what floors the elevator was stopp9ng at. 34 was brightly displayed. I kind of like this, and I’ll bet it is much more efficient. We dropped off our luggage, and gambled for a while. We were both dog tired. I think we were in bed by just after 11 PM.
|
|
Day Two--Wednesday, December 04, 2019
The weatherman promised us 100% chance of rain. As this was the gambling town in America, I was not betting against him. He was right. It was raining and cold. It was not as cold as home, but it was still no fun. We had hoped for 60 degree weather.
Our plan was to stay downtown all day. We had a dinner show tonight, here. There was live music planned for the evening, and we were going to eat at the Heart Attack Grill. Margo up before I was. That is almost always the case. I slept well, with my bladder still waking me up every two hours. I was up at 10, and could have gone loner if our neighbors had not been so loud. There was something strange about the design of the rooms. I have had paper thin wall before, but these guys sounded like there were in our room. I could easily make out their conversations, which were very mundane. But, it was also impossible to ignore, so I got up.
Margo, who seem to need less sleep than I do, was downstairs getting coffee, exploring, and maybe putting a dollar or two in the slots. I texted her when I was getting into the shower. She came back and warned me against the coffee stand near the elevators. She said it expensive (they all are) and the portions were tiny. That is a tad unusual.
The Heart Attack Grill opens at 11 PM. It was around 11:20 or so when we wandered to their front door. Margo had warned me that they were cash only. I generally avoid those places, as I like to get my 2% cash back from Discover. But, as this is one of a kind, and looked to be fun, I just grabbed an extra couple of $20s from my stash.
Rather than jump on the Health Conscience bandwagon, the Heart Attack Grill kind of spits in its face, starting with its politically incorrect slogan of “Fighting Anorexia since 2005”. They dress you up in a hospital gown as soon as you acknowledge that it is required, they are cash only, and other such useful, but ignore pieces of advice. You are advised that if you do not finish you meal, one of the nurses would take you over to the rack, and you would be spanked. They were not going to spank Margo, even if she had not taken a bit. It is all done in fun, but that is not her idea of a good time. I would have gone with the flow, but I am not in the habit of leaving food on my plate. I was raised by Depression era parents, who preached keeping a clean plate. The idea is not to waste food. They do charge dearly for it.
Margo had fries. I had the ½ lb., burger, with no chili, and no bacon. This was as small as this place goes. I finished it easily. No spanking for me. There were several who were not as stomach prepared as I was. A cuteish red head nurse was administering the punishment. I think it was four guys who got three whacks each. The nurse had a wide-up that fell just short of a fast pitch softball wind up, with only the step towards home plate, missing. The macho me, to their credit, did not even flinch. They were rewards with what I presume to be red bottoms, and a hug from the nurse.
We were hours from any live music, and it was still raining, so inside was the place to be. We went inside one of the casinos, and started playing the slots. I was having zero luck. I had losing machine after losing machine. If I did find a winner, I walked away with $3 more than I put in it. I was embarrassed at how fast I was loading $20 into these thieving video games.
As we started to move from this casino to the next one, both Margo and I noticed a place called Tasti D lite. They served ice cream. It looked good, but, raining and 45 degrees, I was not going to suggest it. Margo, probably through telepathy knew I wanted some, and said it looked good to her. The guy behind the counter looked like he was working his way through parole, but gave us some of the best customer service we saw on this trip. The ice cream was good, and I managed two brain freezes. Margo just shook her head.
Around 4 PM, both of us were tired, and one of us suggested going back to the hotel for a nap. It was probably Margo. I was getting annoyed from all the losing. She was down, but at least was having an occasional good machine. She knew a nap would do me good.
We made it back to The D, and we both laid down. Margo naps hard, or not at all. She was mostly N-At-All. I nap depending on how tired I am, but I usually feel like am only half asleep. But, it always does me some good. We were in bed from 4 to 5:15.
The doors for our show, Marriage can be Murder, opened at 6 PM. We were in line by 5:45. I enjoyed this show as well. It really started while they were lining us up. We paid for VIP tickets, so Margo could have a souvenir shirt. They had one ticket class above that, RIP, where you would be part of the show. Margo was not interested in that. Really, neither was I.
Anyway, while lining us up a guy claiming it was his first day, but based on his self-confident manner, you knew he was part of the show, made sure we were standing where we were supposed to, and doing it in an unprofessional manner, which was funny. Things like “OK youes guys get your asses up against the wall. We have to keep this aisle clear or I will get fired” or “VIPS over here and you regular guys over here”. Another member of the crew, Lisa the Elf, who was busty and 5’10”, went about selling raffle tickets, while we were still in line. This turned out to be sort of a scam, but it only cost us $5.
This is a dinner show, so we were going to be fed. You had a choice of Beef, Pork, or Pasta. Sal made fun of the pasta eaters, like they were vegetarians, and thus un-American. He read out the complete menu for each, mispronouncing, sounding out, and eventually asking for help. It kept us entertained. He personally went around and gave color coded cards, so the wait staff would know what we ordered. I sheepishly asked for the pasta card, as the cheese tortellini sounded very good.
We were let in, seated, and our salads were brought out. In our crowd was a single, 30ish, black woman with corn rows, who had way too much energy. I immediately was wondering if she was part of the cast, but I was far from sure. There was one other guy, his named turned out to be Andy, a white guy, just a little loud, and with a beard that looked like it belonged on a pharaoh. I thought he was just one of those naturally boisterous guys, who you either chat up, or annoys the hell out of you. As I am more and more curmudgeonly, I was a bit annoyed. Just a smidge.
The show began with Kitty, a large blonde wig woman, with a funny and quick wit. Sal, ended up pulling a stage pistol on us, claimed to be a hit man, and was eventually shot dead by lieutenant someone, who as dressed in short shorts. This began our murder mystery. To sum it up. Sal died. Lisa the Elf died, while raffling off two dollar store Santa hats. Atia, the energetic corn-rowed lady died. Andy had hired Sal to kill Atia, by poisoning. Lisa the Elf had drunkenly swiped Atia’s drink, and took the poison instead. Atia died by a discrete injection of Blue Octopus venom, but Andy, while we were all supposed to be interviewing each other to find the killer. I used that time to pee. By then I was on my second, free Angry Orchard, and really did not care about solving the murder.
About the free drinks. The tickets that I bought included a free drink and a t-shirt. But, they only had up to a Large, in the t-shirt. I’m an XXL kind of guy, so they were offering an additional free drink instead of the shirt. Worked out for me. The show was in our hotel, so neither of us were driving.
But, it was fun. The one liners and ad lib were great. There was one guy in the audience who was literally big enough to play tight end on an NFL stage was interviewed by the policeman. He was looking straight up, very uncomfortably most of the time. Turns out this guy was in law enforcement. The audio/visual guy, who was part of the cast, would play sound effects and show clips of what “Forensics” had uncovered, found a sounder for the Jolly Green Giant, and would play “Ho, Ho, Ho, in that familiar baritone voice, each time this guy would be interviewed or his name would come up. The audience would laugh every time.
The show was over around 8:30. Rodney Atkins was on stage at 9:50. It was kind of cold, and Margo was cold already. We went back inside to feed the slot machines. I continued to lose, so I went back outside to hear Rodney Atkins sing. I got out there in time to here him sing “These are my People” and “If You Are Going Though Hell”. But, I missed “Watching You”, the song I was most looking forward to. Still not bad.
It was the 3rd largest mass of people on a street I had ever been part of. Coming in behind Mardi Gras in New Orleans, and Times Square on a summer night. I walked into a few shops on Fremont Street trying to find gifts for my team back home, but Margo and I had brought them stuff from Vegas so many times, it was all looking like junk.
Margo was relaying here winning machines via text. But, I could tell her luck was at best break-even. I tried a couple of more machines, but my luck had not changed. I gave up around midnight I spent the next hour reading work emails and trying to at least make notes for this letter. I ended up in bed around 1 AM. Margo was not far behind me.
Our plan was to stay downtown all day. We had a dinner show tonight, here. There was live music planned for the evening, and we were going to eat at the Heart Attack Grill. Margo up before I was. That is almost always the case. I slept well, with my bladder still waking me up every two hours. I was up at 10, and could have gone loner if our neighbors had not been so loud. There was something strange about the design of the rooms. I have had paper thin wall before, but these guys sounded like there were in our room. I could easily make out their conversations, which were very mundane. But, it was also impossible to ignore, so I got up.
Margo, who seem to need less sleep than I do, was downstairs getting coffee, exploring, and maybe putting a dollar or two in the slots. I texted her when I was getting into the shower. She came back and warned me against the coffee stand near the elevators. She said it expensive (they all are) and the portions were tiny. That is a tad unusual.
The Heart Attack Grill opens at 11 PM. It was around 11:20 or so when we wandered to their front door. Margo had warned me that they were cash only. I generally avoid those places, as I like to get my 2% cash back from Discover. But, as this is one of a kind, and looked to be fun, I just grabbed an extra couple of $20s from my stash.
Rather than jump on the Health Conscience bandwagon, the Heart Attack Grill kind of spits in its face, starting with its politically incorrect slogan of “Fighting Anorexia since 2005”. They dress you up in a hospital gown as soon as you acknowledge that it is required, they are cash only, and other such useful, but ignore pieces of advice. You are advised that if you do not finish you meal, one of the nurses would take you over to the rack, and you would be spanked. They were not going to spank Margo, even if she had not taken a bit. It is all done in fun, but that is not her idea of a good time. I would have gone with the flow, but I am not in the habit of leaving food on my plate. I was raised by Depression era parents, who preached keeping a clean plate. The idea is not to waste food. They do charge dearly for it.
Margo had fries. I had the ½ lb., burger, with no chili, and no bacon. This was as small as this place goes. I finished it easily. No spanking for me. There were several who were not as stomach prepared as I was. A cuteish red head nurse was administering the punishment. I think it was four guys who got three whacks each. The nurse had a wide-up that fell just short of a fast pitch softball wind up, with only the step towards home plate, missing. The macho me, to their credit, did not even flinch. They were rewards with what I presume to be red bottoms, and a hug from the nurse.
We were hours from any live music, and it was still raining, so inside was the place to be. We went inside one of the casinos, and started playing the slots. I was having zero luck. I had losing machine after losing machine. If I did find a winner, I walked away with $3 more than I put in it. I was embarrassed at how fast I was loading $20 into these thieving video games.
As we started to move from this casino to the next one, both Margo and I noticed a place called Tasti D lite. They served ice cream. It looked good, but, raining and 45 degrees, I was not going to suggest it. Margo, probably through telepathy knew I wanted some, and said it looked good to her. The guy behind the counter looked like he was working his way through parole, but gave us some of the best customer service we saw on this trip. The ice cream was good, and I managed two brain freezes. Margo just shook her head.
Around 4 PM, both of us were tired, and one of us suggested going back to the hotel for a nap. It was probably Margo. I was getting annoyed from all the losing. She was down, but at least was having an occasional good machine. She knew a nap would do me good.
We made it back to The D, and we both laid down. Margo naps hard, or not at all. She was mostly N-At-All. I nap depending on how tired I am, but I usually feel like am only half asleep. But, it always does me some good. We were in bed from 4 to 5:15.
The doors for our show, Marriage can be Murder, opened at 6 PM. We were in line by 5:45. I enjoyed this show as well. It really started while they were lining us up. We paid for VIP tickets, so Margo could have a souvenir shirt. They had one ticket class above that, RIP, where you would be part of the show. Margo was not interested in that. Really, neither was I.
Anyway, while lining us up a guy claiming it was his first day, but based on his self-confident manner, you knew he was part of the show, made sure we were standing where we were supposed to, and doing it in an unprofessional manner, which was funny. Things like “OK youes guys get your asses up against the wall. We have to keep this aisle clear or I will get fired” or “VIPS over here and you regular guys over here”. Another member of the crew, Lisa the Elf, who was busty and 5’10”, went about selling raffle tickets, while we were still in line. This turned out to be sort of a scam, but it only cost us $5.
This is a dinner show, so we were going to be fed. You had a choice of Beef, Pork, or Pasta. Sal made fun of the pasta eaters, like they were vegetarians, and thus un-American. He read out the complete menu for each, mispronouncing, sounding out, and eventually asking for help. It kept us entertained. He personally went around and gave color coded cards, so the wait staff would know what we ordered. I sheepishly asked for the pasta card, as the cheese tortellini sounded very good.
We were let in, seated, and our salads were brought out. In our crowd was a single, 30ish, black woman with corn rows, who had way too much energy. I immediately was wondering if she was part of the cast, but I was far from sure. There was one other guy, his named turned out to be Andy, a white guy, just a little loud, and with a beard that looked like it belonged on a pharaoh. I thought he was just one of those naturally boisterous guys, who you either chat up, or annoys the hell out of you. As I am more and more curmudgeonly, I was a bit annoyed. Just a smidge.
The show began with Kitty, a large blonde wig woman, with a funny and quick wit. Sal, ended up pulling a stage pistol on us, claimed to be a hit man, and was eventually shot dead by lieutenant someone, who as dressed in short shorts. This began our murder mystery. To sum it up. Sal died. Lisa the Elf died, while raffling off two dollar store Santa hats. Atia, the energetic corn-rowed lady died. Andy had hired Sal to kill Atia, by poisoning. Lisa the Elf had drunkenly swiped Atia’s drink, and took the poison instead. Atia died by a discrete injection of Blue Octopus venom, but Andy, while we were all supposed to be interviewing each other to find the killer. I used that time to pee. By then I was on my second, free Angry Orchard, and really did not care about solving the murder.
About the free drinks. The tickets that I bought included a free drink and a t-shirt. But, they only had up to a Large, in the t-shirt. I’m an XXL kind of guy, so they were offering an additional free drink instead of the shirt. Worked out for me. The show was in our hotel, so neither of us were driving.
But, it was fun. The one liners and ad lib were great. There was one guy in the audience who was literally big enough to play tight end on an NFL stage was interviewed by the policeman. He was looking straight up, very uncomfortably most of the time. Turns out this guy was in law enforcement. The audio/visual guy, who was part of the cast, would play sound effects and show clips of what “Forensics” had uncovered, found a sounder for the Jolly Green Giant, and would play “Ho, Ho, Ho, in that familiar baritone voice, each time this guy would be interviewed or his name would come up. The audience would laugh every time.
The show was over around 8:30. Rodney Atkins was on stage at 9:50. It was kind of cold, and Margo was cold already. We went back inside to feed the slot machines. I continued to lose, so I went back outside to hear Rodney Atkins sing. I got out there in time to here him sing “These are my People” and “If You Are Going Though Hell”. But, I missed “Watching You”, the song I was most looking forward to. Still not bad.
It was the 3rd largest mass of people on a street I had ever been part of. Coming in behind Mardi Gras in New Orleans, and Times Square on a summer night. I walked into a few shops on Fremont Street trying to find gifts for my team back home, but Margo and I had brought them stuff from Vegas so many times, it was all looking like junk.
Margo was relaying here winning machines via text. But, I could tell her luck was at best break-even. I tried a couple of more machines, but my luck had not changed. I gave up around midnight I spent the next hour reading work emails and trying to at least make notes for this letter. I ended up in bed around 1 AM. Margo was not far behind me.
|
|
|
Day Three--Thursday, December 05, 2019
|
|
|
|
|
|
Day Four--Friday, December 06, 2019
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|