VEGAS

A few years ago my grandfather, a man with whom I had a rather senility affected relationship, passed away. That afternoon my grandmother, whose relationship with me was more substantial albeit not remarkable, gave me the $50 dollar bill her husband had always carried in his wallet for emergencies. This bill in true sentimental fashion went into my wallet where it was to serve the same purpose. This wallet was then misplaced for nearly 30 months after it was left in a backpack at a friend’s house in Fairfield Connecticut after a night of rather immoderate consumption. At this point I was carrying a money clip almost exclusively and as such the missing wallet was of little significance since it contained superfluous items but no IDs, credit cards, or other cash.

After such an interval I had forgotten almost entirely about the existence of the bill contained in the wallet. In that same meantime the grandmother who bestowed the bill upon me also passed on. With the profit from her estate sale by father and his brother decided to take the family to Vegas, a city that was a favorite destination of my grandmother. Ironically, a few months before the trip, at long last the wallet was returned to me at a party by the friend at whose house I had left it. The $50 was still in it.

Upon arrival in Vegas I told this strange story to the family members who had assembled at Margaritaville in the Flamingo Hotel for lunch. We agreed that, given my late grandmother’s affection for gambling that I should wager the gift while in Sin City.

Each day as we wandered the town sightseeing I was constantly looking for a sign showing me where to wager it in an unholy tribute. It never came.

So, on the last night after five hours at Ghostbar in the Palms I decided it was time. I started to take the money to my favorite 4 AM destination O’Shea’s Casino located right next to the Flamingo, home of the “All-Day All-Night” five dollar blackjack tables and the 18 hour happy hour. As I approached the normally ignored voice in my head spoke up telling me that my grandmother would rather I put the money towards survival and a reconciliation of my negative standing with Bank of America (my account read -$217 at the time). Yet I proceeded into O’Shea’s Casino after squashing the voice in my head and (with an effort) bolstering my confidence in my intentions.

At first there were no seats at the $5 dollar tables available so after half of a one dollar beer and minimal deliberation I put the bill face up on the $5 roulette table. Ten minutes later I was bored and down exactly one dollar. Still no seats had opened up at the $5 dollar blackjack table so I decided to chance my $49 dollars on at $10 dollar table. A few hands into my play I had made the one dollar back (through a 6 to 5 payout on a blackjack and a tip to a waitress) and stood exactly even on my initial $50 dollars. Then fortuitously the dealer changed and a shuffle came simultaneously giving me a chance to think, worry and ultimately (with more relief than regret) bolt the table.

After one last ineffective searching glance at the five dollar table it occurred to me once again that my late grandparents would likely rather see the $50 put towards life, not life on the wire. So I cashed in my chips exactly even, although now in the form of two 20’s and a 10.
On my way out of the casino I realized that I had done better than even, I had in fact made $50 dollars. By betting the $50 and leaving with three smaller bills I had taken the mystique out of an object I could never had utilized for any effective purpose. I had retained the dollar amount but removed the obligation and guilt from that value by shedding the bill itself.

Sure I should have listened to the little voice in my head the first time but maybe in some way the even-ending wagering allowed for a freer and more reasonable use of that money which is basically like making a $50 dollar profit. If that is true, I finished my trip to Vegas up (in terms of gambling) which is all you can ever ask for.

VEGAS RECAP:

Best Casino: The Wynn – Brand new, and unbelievable. Too bad we had to walk three miles in the hail to get there. (Yes it hailed in Vegas, the next day it was 70, go figure.)

Best Hotel: New York New York – It looks like the NY skyline from outside, has a roller coaster, and looks like central park, the village, and uptown all rolled into one on the inside. Also home to a great late night spot The Big Apple Bar

Worst Casino: Barbary Coast – Located next door to the Flamingo, this place is a pit in all senses of the word, a money pit, a smelly pit, a pit of rank old men. On the positive however, they do have the cheapest drinks in town ($2.50 beers, $4.00 Red Bull and vodkas).

Worst Hotel: Best Western (at the airport) – Of course I never stepped inside but who goes all the way to Vegas and stays 10 miles from the strip in a Best Western? Not I.

Best Goofy Gimmick: The Venetian – You can take a gondola ride through the interior of the hotel and around the exterior. It doesn’t look like Venice but it is pretty cool that there is a working waterway through the center of the building. The drivers also sing opera throughout the ride, we didn’t take it but I imagine that it would be awkward sitting there riding through essentially a shopping mall being serenaded by a woman pretending to drive a boat (they’re motorized).

Best Free Show: The Bellagio water show – We only saw it from across the street and a bus stopped in front of us for a few seconds but from what we could see it was awesome. They have a rotating song list and the water responds to the beat of the music. My question: who’s idea was this?

Best Bar: Ghostbar in the Palms – Being 60 floors up and two miles from the strip offers the best view around. Plus the window in the floor looking down onto the street provides constant comedy as some people gingerly step onto it and some meatheads try to pound their way through. Another bonus: literally the hottest people I’ve ever seen congregated in one area.

Honorable Mention: Centrifuge in MGM Grand – Circular bar right across from the entrance to the new Studio 54. Highlights: amazing girls dancing on the bar, friendly bartenders, a great view of the line at Studio 54, and the only semi-eclectic draft beer selection in Vegas.

Worst Bar: Sully’s in Bally’s – Overly expensive for a casino bar, staffed by a couple of old jerks and frequented by a mixture of suits and thugs. Very lame (at least the night we were there).

Most Expensive Bar (in the world?): Fix in the Bellagio – I work in bars and when this girl told me what it cost for a round of three drinks I almost passed out. This was however home to the hottest cocktail waitress on the planet so it was roughly worth it.

Best Bartender: The skinny dorky looking guy at Ghostbar – This might be the coolest place in the world and looks wise this kid just doesn’t fit, until you see him work which resembles lightning in a bottle. He’s the best I’ve ever seen.

Best Happy Hour: O’Shea’s 18 hour happy hour – 2 AM to 8PM, $1 domestic drafts. This actually doesn’t attract the garbage crowd you would think it would. It was mostly twenty-something’s looking to get wasted on the cheap.

Best Place to Win/Lose Money from 4-7AM: O’Shea’s yet again – Like I said before five dollar blackjack tables and a rowdy young crowd makes it hard to leave…which makes it hard to leave with winnings.

Best Place to Stay You Might Not Have Thought Of: The Luxor. Right on the strip, affordable, beautiful, and totally unique.

Random Questions: Why does every hotel that has a city theme (Venetian, New York New York, Caesars, Paris) all have the same faux-blue sky ceiling? Did some guy make millions off of this idea?

With a chair at every slot machine, a bunch at every table, huge arenas, tons of restaurants and bars, and a variety of other seating-necessary places does Las Vegas have the largest concentration of chairs in any metropolitan area? And how many are there? Could every person in the country conceivably have a chair in Vegas? I think so.

Why do people flock to Caesar’s Palace every hour to watch the Atlantis statues talk? Is this really entertaining for people and do the poor bastards that work in the businesses around the statues want to burn them to the ground?

How does Celine Dion sell out every night at $200 dollars a ticket? Are there that many soccer moms and Canadians in Vegas?

Would you ever admit that you went to see Barry Manilow or Wayne Newton to anyone? Me neither.


And with that...blogging begins again. Did you miss me?

Hiatus

Just a couple of personal notes before I head out of town for a while. This has not been a terribly prolific month in B-Slant land on almost all angles.

Employment has been below average to say the least and the reversal of that fortune appears to be still on the distant horizon. As such motivation and enthusiasm has been low. It’s an odd connection that is struck in the human mind between that which must be done and that which can be done. In the last 4 weeks I could have written 28 columns (each of which could have had 12 hours + dedicated to it).

Needless to say I have not.

The answer to the question, “Why not?” should be simple. I was looking for a job.

It’s not that simple because for much of that time I wasn't.

There is a certain mental state that accompanies long periods of inactivity and as much as I would love to debunk such notions I am at least as susceptible to the afore mentioned affects as anyone. The lack of time constraints has left me in limbo with no sense of day or night and as such no sense of proper hourly relegation. Two hours scanning the Rants and Raves section of Craig’s List…no problem! Nothing better to do, right? Why write a post when you can watch I-Robot on HBO 47 times?

Most facets of my life have suffered the effects of this inspirational malaise. The only beneficiary has been my physical state. I haven’t been in this kind of shape since my collegiate athletic career ended. Each day I have hours at a time to dedicate to working out. I’m a gym guy. I have “hey” friends in the weight room, and if my admission card is not working the front desk associates know my face and wave me along with an all too familiar smile.

In addition to a diminishing waistline I also have a diminishing patience for the activities and preoccupations that occupied my free hours during my days of employment. TV has lost all attraction to me. Every DVD on my shelf represents two hours of further waste. Maxim? I’ve read it, all of it, the jokes, reader letters, “Circus Maximus” it’s done. My MP3 player is filled with songs just for the sake of downloading them. Do I want to listen to "Smells Like Teen Spirit"? Absolutely not! Do I have it anyway? Yup.

Gracefully this age of the "slowly ticking clock" is over. From tomorrow (3/3) to next Sunday (3/11) I will be venturing south of the border (the Massachusetts border that is). Upon my return I will begin training at the new gig (details later, I’m not saying a word until it’s finalized). A few days after that I’ll be heading to Vegas for the first annual “Grandma Barbini Booze and Gambling Festival” which will conveniently coincide with little B-Slant’s 21st birthday. (I don’t know if I’ve ever seen her abominably wasted…this time I will.)

With all of these journeys in my near future the frequency of posts on the B-Slant will be diminished to an almost indiscernible degree. I can officially guarantee that I won’t post anything between this Saturday (3/4) and the following Tuesday (3/13). There may be some work done during the intermittent week, but once I hit Vegas all bets are off.

It is my goal to publish a running diary of my five days in Sin City, live as they happen (hopefully drunk and unedited for honesty’s sake). The likelihood of that will depend largely on the internet access available at the Flamingo Hotel and Casino (gggghheeettooooo…) and my ability to operate electronic equipment after my first 12 hours in the Vice-Mecca that could easily swallow me and my addictive personality whole.

Hopefully when I get back to writing regularly Manny will still be Manny, the NFL will have a new CBA, the Celtics will have the 8th spot in the East locked up, Paul Pierce will be player of the month for March (which he should have been for February 33 pts a game!), the Bruins will…huh…, BC will advance to at least the Sweet 16, Craig Smith will stop sucking, Adam Vinatieri will be a newly minted Patriot for the next 100 years, the Pats will have also signed newly released Trevor Pryce (a Patriots dream defensive lineman), BC hockey will be in the Frozen Four, I will have a job bartending at Fenway and at the Cask and Flagon, someone from ESPN will see this blog and love and it want to take me to the next level, and that 260 million dollar Power Ball ticket will make all of our dreams come true.

If not, business as usual will come again at the end of March. Hey, I haven’t had much to say lately anyway.


PS: Just a quick note on the way out, I met the guys who run Barstool Sports tonight. They are exceedingly fun people who are great at what they do. Check out their publication whenever you get a chance. (And while you’re there don’t be afraid to link them over to me…) Keep up the good work guys, but look out, I'm coming for your job.

Don't Do It

I only have three words to say to Paul Tagliabue, Gene Upshaw (right), the NFLPA, and the 32 NFL owners. Don’t do it.

Don’t become everything that fans hate about MLB, the NHL and the NBA.

Don’t ruin sports most dominant mega-empire over a cap number and revenue sharing.

Don’t allow NFL free agency to resemble baseball’s yearly bidding war between the Yankees and everyone else.

Don’t let the egos of 32 of the richest men in the world derail our favorite sport.

Don’t make the “Jeremy Roenick” mistake that your inferior counterparts in the NHL made, assuming that the fans are stupid and blindly loyal.

Don’t make your fans explain to their kids why their favorite team just cut their favorite player on “Bloody Thursday.”

Don’t put fans through the agony of watching their home team destroy their future by cutting talent to get under the cap, thereby erasing the parody you worked so hard to build.

Don’t force teams on the rise to stop rising.

Don’t go into 2007 without a cap, leaving teams to boycott free agents and draft picks.

Don’t damage the fan’s opinion of America’s most successful sport over something we can’t and don’t want to understand.

Don’t do it.

Just fix it.