Tell Your Story Walkin'

Remember what happened last night? Good. Now tell the world.

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Dear Booze
Drinking God's Good Scotch
Drinking God's Good Scotch
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Joined: Thu Jun 27, 2013 11:01 pm

Tell Your Story Walkin'

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“Yeah, yeah, yeah, tell your story walking, Pal!” is exactly what the Doorman said to me as I tried to explain my situation. He didn’t care to hear it and I couldn’t think of a lie fast enough…

It had all started three days earlier, on Friday afternoon. Two of my buddies, Pino and Mike and I had been planning our trip to Las Vegas for a couple of weeks. We were there to celebrate Pino’s birthday with plenty of drinking, gambling, chasing women and cheep buffets. Mike agreed to drive and I volunteered to use some of my comps for a couple of free rooms.

I am, by no means, a high roller. But, I visit Vegas, Tahoe and Reno several times a year. I attend a conference in Vegas every May, travel to Reno for an annual golf trip with my buddies from college, and go to Tahoe in January and September with some friend to bet on football. So, with all of the time I log at various casinos, I manage to receive some pretty attractive offers. For this trip, I was cashing in on an offer for a free room and $50 in free slot play.

I always stay at Harrah’s properties, which isn’t hard to do because they own and/or operate a huge number of casinos including Bally’s, Caesar’s Palace, Flamingo, Harvey’s, Paris, Rio, The Horseshoe, Imperial Palace, Planet Hollywood, and, of course, Harrah’s. Years ago, I signed up for a players card and started receiving points every time I played any games in any of their casinos. Slots, Craps, Blackjack, Roulette. Anything. They start you off with a Gold Card, which means nothing at all. After building up points, they upgrade you to a Platinum Card, which pretty means you’ve been a loyal customer for a long time. There really aren’t very many perks until you achieve Diamond Card status. This card acts as a priority pass to just about everything. If you’re staying at the hotel, there’s no need to wait in line to check in. You never have to wait in line for a buffet, or for the casino cashier, or for a taxi. Just flash the plastic and step right to the front of the line. There are also Diamond Lounges - one in every property - where you can relax with free food and free drinks at the private bar.

I am a Platinum Card holder. Big fucking deal.

Pino, Mike and I hit pretty bad traffic on the road between Baker and Barstow. A bad accident backed up cars for five miles and managed to turn our six-hour trip into an eight-hour trip. By the time we checked into the Imperial Palace, it was pushing 11:00 P.M. We were thirsty and ready to start having some fun.

The check-in counter seemed as backed-up as the freeway had been. There were at least 75 people waiting in line with their printed confirmations in hand and luggage in tow, but only two clerks checking them in. There I was, stuck behind a young white couple who would not stop hanging on each other and French kissing, and in front of a shaggy looking 25-year-old with pants hanging half way down his ass and a green tee-shirt that said “WHAT DO WE WANT? A CURE FOR TOURETTES! WHEN DO WE WANT IT? CUNT.” Pino and Mike were waiting at the bar across from the lobby and I could see them enjoying cocktails. I was envious. I kept looking at my watch. I stood in the same spot for over 20 minutes. Finally Pino came to my rescue by delivering a Collins glass full of Rum and Coke to me. Cunt guy saw my drink and was envious. I instructed Pino to keep ‘em coming. After about an hour, and five Rum and Cokes, we had moved a total of four feet and I was starting to feel a pretty good buzz.

Just then, I noticed something. Aha! I spotted a special line next to a sign that read “Platinum and Diamond Member Check-In”. And there were only two people in that line. Holy shit! My Platinum Card is good for something after all. Smugly, I stepped out of line with the other peasants and into the line reserved for the special people. But, something strange happened, the clerks stopped waiting on the special people and started focusing their attention on the common folk. They even brought in reinforcements. The long line started moving very fast. Pretty soon I saw the French kissing couple step up to the counter and start checking in. Then I saw Cunt guy do the same. What the fuck? Then, five more people from the peasant line moved through the check-in process. I was confused.

Pino returned with two drinks and handed them both to me. “Mike’s getting pretty drunk,” he told me. We both looked back across the lobby at him, His head was hanging low over the video poker machine that was built into that bar. “I better get back there before they throw that drunk mother fucker out of here.”

As he left to tend to our friend, a middle aged couple got in line behind me. We nodded to each other. The man was wearing khakis, a red Nike golf shirt and had a great full head of gray hair. His wife was wearing sensible mom jeans, and a green University of Oregon sweatshirt. I looked back across the lobby again. I could tell Pino was trying to keep Mike alert.

“Is this the Diamond line?”

“Sorry?” I responded.

The Nike golf shirt guy was trying to ask me something.

“Is this the check in line for Diamond Card members?”

I looked at the check-in desk. Two clerks. Then at the peasant’s line. Two people. Then back at the couple behind me. “It sure is.” I handed both of my Rum and Cokes to them and said, “Welcome to Las Vegas. Good luck.” Then, I left the special line, walked twenty feet to my left, and got in line with the other three peasants.

Within sixty seconds, I was at the front of the line. I was next. I turned and looked across the lobby at my friends. Pino saw me and I gave him the thumbs up. I looked back at the two clerks behind the desk and watched with great joy as they finished up with the customer in front of me. Finally! But instead of waiving me up to the counter, they looked right at the middle aged couple and said sweetly “I can help you right here.”

FUCK THIS!

Pino must have realized what was happening from across the lobby because before I knew it, he was at my side, giggling quietly.

“Hey!” I yelled directly at the fat clerk.

She looked at me and held up a finger - the international hand signal for I’ll be with you in a moment.

FUCK THIS!

Pino was giggling. “Nope,” I said loudly as I walked up and stood next to the middle-aged couple. I looked at their confused faces and noticed that they were both still holding my drinks. “Sorry, do you mind stepping aside?” They did as I requested. I could still hear Pino giggling behind me.

“Sir, I told you that we would be right with you,” was shot at me from the very fat clerk wearing an ill-fitting blazer with IP embroidered over the left breast pocket.

“So… now YOU’RE the asshole,” whispered Pino as he continued giggling.

“I’ve been in line for at least and hour and a half,” I started. “I’ve watched you ignore me and help every one of the people who were in line BEHIND me.”

She held up her finger again. “This gentleman is a Diamond Card member. Our policy is to help him first.”

I looked at Nike shirt guy and saw his face turning as red as his shirt with embarrassment. I looked back at the fat clerk. “I WAS IN THAT LINE AND YOU IGNORED ME. I CAME OVER HERE BECAUSE THIS LINE WAS THE ONLY LINE YOU WERE HELPING!”

By this time, a manager showed up from who knows where and stood next to fatty. “How can we help you sir?”

“I was in that line and she never acknowledged me,” I said pointing a finger at fatso, “I came over here because this line was the only line that was moving. Then she started helping the other line.” I held my player’s card out to prove that I wasn’t an asshole.

Immediately, everything changed. The manager and the clerk started falling over each other to kiss my ass. Yes sir. Right away sir. Here’s a certificate for a free meal at the steakhouse on the third floor, sir.

Holy shit! I guess my Platinum card is more powerful than I thought.

Although the décor was from the early 1980s, our room wasn’t too bad. It was a small suite with two beds and a sitting area that included a foldout couch/bed. By the time we finally dropped our bags, it was after 1:00 A.M. and we were already loaded. We decided not to eat and chose to go check out the casino instead.

After managing to lose about $300 each at a bad Craps table, we decided to check out Bill’s Gambling hall just down the street. As we passed the front desk on the way to the front doors, the fat clerk and two more employees whom I had never seen all wished us good luck. Were they feeling guilty for how I was treated earlier? Were they this nice to everyone?

We made most of our money back at Bills, then hit the Flamingo and finally made a stop at Harrah’s for a quick loss at Three Card Poker. Time to head back to the IP. It was 5:30 A.M. We were very drunk.

As we walked back into the lobby the lone desk clerk called after us “Welcome back gentlemen. Any luck tonight?” I looked over at her. I had never seen her in my life. Still kissing my ass?

We decided to stop at the Geisha Bar, one of the small bars in the center of the casino, before going back to the room. We sat down and ordered a couple of Rum and Cokes, played a little video poker and visited with Dave, the bartender. It was getting light outside. A half hour later, he informed us that the Geisha bar would be closing but we were welcome to stay, and that he would ask the casino floor cocktail waitress to take care of us.

Dave finished cleaning up, and left. Not more than three minutes later, an attractive blond cocktail waitress was standing behind us. “Are you gentlemen ready for another round?” she asked. “Two Rum and Cokes and a Jack and Seven?”

We looked at each other and all said “yes” at the same time.

A few minutes later, our cocktail waitress was back with our drinks. “Thanks for taking such good care of us,” I said as I tipped her three bucks.

“My pleasure,” she responded, “it’s our policy to take care of our valued guests. I’m sure you know that the Diamond Lounge will open at two o’clock this afternoon.” She turned and left.

Diamond Lounge? What the fuck does that have to do with anything?

“Pino, Mike, did you hear what she just said?”

“Yea, I guess,” Mike answered.

“She thinks we’re Diamond members.” I took out my player’s card and looked at it. It clearly stated Total Rewards PLATINUM on it, but the color was different. I had not noticed it before.

Normally the Platinum card is printed with a two-toned gray background with the word “Platinum” in a typeface that was very hard to read against the background. The Diamond card is printed with a two-toned silver background and the word “Diamond” that was equally hard to read. The color difference between the two is subtle, but the Diamond card is emblazoned with a small diamond-shaped hologram in the upper right hand corner.

My Platinum card was not gray at all. It was silver. It still said “Platinum” on it and it didn’t have a hologram, but it was the same color as a Diamond card. That’s why I’m getting my ass kissed. They think I’m a diamond Club member!

FUCK YES!



Pino and I were awakened at about 2:00 in the afternoon when Mike came into the room and announced that we had better get up because he was sick and tired of losing all of his money on nickel slot machines. He had been up since noon and had no recollection of our early morning Geisha Bar experience. We told him about the silver Platinum card and decided to head out to a buffet. We were out the door and heading downstairs within twenty minutes.

The line at the buffet was long. I estimated a thirty to forty-five minute wait, but there was a Special Diamond member line with no waiting. We walked up and I flashed my “Diamond” card, being careful to hold my finger over the top right corner – where the little diamond hologram should be. Welcome to the Emperor’s Buffet, Right this way. Holy Shit it worked!

We started using the shit out of that card.

Taxi line too long? Fuck that. I’m a Diamond Card member.

Taking too long to get a cocktail? Fuck that. I’m a Diamond Card member.

Can’t get into the nightclub? Fuck that. I’m a Diamond Card member.

Being a Diamond Club member meant I was THE SHIT! They even let me bring my entourage with me.

On Saturday night, we were at Sammy's Bar in the Flamingo playing video poker and receiving "complementary" drinks that, if my math is correct, were only costing us $40 each.

Sammy's is a large square-shaped, stand-alone bar located in the Table Games Area of the casino. It's a great place to sit and relax because you can see everything in the giant room. The celebrating at the craps tables, the high-fives at the blackjack tables, the poorly dressed tourists from Arizona and the girls.

Pino tapped me on the leg and pointed out three good looking brunettes walking towards the bar. The three of us watched as they carefully chose which seats they would take and then take forever to order their drinks. Instinctively, Pino, Mike and I formulated a silent plan to meet them. But we were not as quick as three other guys who seemed to appear out of nowhere and sit down on the empty stools next to the girls.

We couldn't hear exactly what the group was talking about, but they were all laughing and seemed to be having a pretty good time. But, it was obvious that they were not together; it was clear the they had never met before and the three dudes were simply faster than we were.

"A temporary setback," whispered Mike.

Out of nowhere Pino yelled "what in the hell are you drinking?" towards one of the girls who was sipping on a bright green drink.

Sheepishly, one of the other girls answered for her. "It's a Midori Sour. Jennifer isn't a big drinker. What are you guys drinking?"

"We're in," whispered Mike.

We slowly kept the conversation going as we worked as hard as we could to out-charm their three new male friends. Their names were Jennifer, Janea and Jessica. Triple J. They were in town for Janea’s birthday. We chatted them up slowly, made up stories about who we were and what we did and made them laugh. Mike became Tehachapi Jack, a former Rodeo Clown who worked with some of the toughest bulls on the Professional Bull Riders circuit. He played the part to the hilt by walking with a limp and moving as if his body had been beat to shit. “Why do limp?” Jessica asked.

“That’s what happens when two thousand pounds of unhappiness falls on you.”

Pino convinced the girls that he invented some new sliding door technology and that it would make all old sliding doors obsolete.

I told them that I wrote jingles for a living. My biggest and best known? “Ba da ba ba baaa…I’m lovin’ it” for McDonalds.

“So what brings you guys to Vegas, ” another one asked.

“We’re here for the International Paper-Rock-Scissors tournament being held at the Luxor,” explained Pino.

"Cool," beamed Jessica. "I didn't know that was a thing."


Slowly but surely, it worked. Within a half hour, the girls were completely ignoring the other guys and had moved around to our side of the bar.

Finally, we asked them if they’d like to join us in the Diamond Lounge. “You guys are Diamond members?” Fuck yes!


During the next six hours, Triple J, Mike, Pino and I ate and drank at the Diamond Lounge at the Imperial Palace, Paris and Caesars, went downtown to play craps at the Horseshoe, checked out the Mardi Gras parade at Rio, played blackjack at Planet Hollywood, heckled the Dueling Piano players at Harrah’s and ended up back at the Geisha Bar at the IP.

The girls were having a great time. Hanging out with three high rolling Diamond Club members!

Mike, Pino and I were having a great time. Hanging out with three beautiful girls, and trying to make the move to get them back to our room to nail them.

We were all having a great time.

As we sat at the bar, laughing and drinking and acting like a collection of idiots, a young guy came and sat down in an empty stool two seats down from Jennifer. He looked familiar, but I could not make the connection. He sat there quietly and pretty much minded his own fucking business for about five minutes, when he finally built up the courage to attempt a conversation with her. Jennifer at first looked annoyed with him but was pretty drunk started carrying on a half-hearted conversation with him. Mike, Pino and I immediately recognized this cock-blocker move and started verbally tearing the poor son-of-a-bitch apart. Pino told him he looked like someone famous. “I can’t remember his name, but he’s a famous actor,” he said, “come on, I’m sure you get this all the time… Shit what’s his name?… oh yea, Steve Buscemi.”

Mike passive aggressively made fun of his every physical imperfection, and I claimed to have slept with his mother.

Then I remembered why I recognized him. He was Cunt guy from the check-in line, but he had cleaned up pretty well. He had shaved and combed his hair. He was wearing a douchie long sleeve Christian Audigier shirt and equally douchie True Religion jeans and some shiny shoes that reminded me of a pair of spatulas. I announced that I knew him and introduced him to everyone as such. As a matter of fact, I introduced him as The Little Cunt to everyone who walked by. He was not happy but he was relentless. We couldn’t make him go away.

“What do you all think about hitting the Diamond Lounge one more time then heading up to our room to do some more drinking?” I asked.

Triple J, Mike and Pino all agreed that this was the best idea. Ever.

I held my players card in front of Cunt guy’s face and said “Sorry, my friend. You cannot compete with us. Good luck.” He looked at the card and casually shrugged his shoulders and then slowly walked away, disappearing into the crowded casino.

We made our way to the Diamond Lounge and walked through the door as casually as six super intoxicated people could manage. I flashed my card at the doorman, nodded at him and started putting my prized players card back in my pocked when he held out his arm in front of me. “Wait a second,” he firmly demanded. “Sir, please let me see your card.”

Again, I held it up with my left index finger covering the top right corner of the card. “Sir,” he said, “please move your finger.”

Oh Fuck!

As I moved my finger, he reached out and physically took my card out of my hand. “This is not a Diamond Card,” he announced in a robotic tone. “This is a defective card and we’ll have to keep it. You can get another PLATINUM card at the Player’s Club. If you do not have a Diamond Card that you can present RIGHT NOW, I’m going to have to ask you to leave the Diamond Lounge immediately.”

I was embarrassed and didn’t know how to respond. My drunk mind was working as quickly as it could but I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t think of anything, so I went with “I must have left my Diamond card over at the Geisha Bar…”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, tell your story walking, Pal!” is exactly what the Doorman said to me as I tried to explain my situation. He didn’t care to hear it and I couldn’t think of a lie fast enough. Then he turned to Triple J. “Sorry about any inconvenience, ladies. You are welcome to come in and enjoy yourselves while your friend TRIES to work this out.” He allowed them into the room and then he directed his attention back to me. “You and your friends need to leave. NOW.”

We all new that there was no way we were going to “work this out”.

What could we do? We had no game. We were fucked.

Then, out of nowhere, The Little Cunt walked up to the three of us. It’s nice to have friends like Steve, as he pointed a thumb at the doorman and kept walking past us, shaking hands with Steve and disappearing into the shadows of the Diamond Lounge.

Fuck!
DRINK!

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