Less than three hours. That’s how long we slept before waking up ready to face the new day. I reasoned that by combining those three hours with the 3.5 we got before the in-laws arrived, we really did get 6.5 hours sleep, more than enough to sustain us until our heads would next hit the pillow.
Off to the casino we
went, turning the lobby corner to see a familiar face sitting in a familiar
spot at the blackjack table. The father-in-law was already up and running. The
mother-in-law too. Somewhere else Mrs. Family Man’s aunt and uncle were mobile
as well. The day had just begun.
Time to put some
money on the table, so I grabbed a seat with a cheap buy-in and summarily lost
$50 before my first Vodka/Red Bull had even arrived. My day would not begin
that way, so I cut my losses and ambled over to the father-in-law’s table, just
to watch.
After five or six
hands, I could watch no longer. My last two green chips, worth $25 each, were
burning a hole in my hand so I thought to myself, self, you are in Las Vegas to
play, so play.
Before I knew it, my
two greens had become a pile of them; by the time everyone else was ready for
breakfast, I cashed out $350, more than happy to have once again reclaimed the
previous night’s contributions to the Las Vegas economy.
Everything lost is
found again.
We hit up Bill’s for
more breakfast, then concocted a plan to walk up the strip and visit a few
casinos along the way. Now there were six of us, two of whom, my wife’s aunt
and uncle, had not been to Vegas in more than a decade.
I have always found
that the best days in Las Vegas are the days where you are pulled off the beaten
path and end up somewhere, anywhere, having an unforeseen grand time.
One trip saw us
sidetrack into the Wynn because, as Mrs.
Family Man said at the time, she wanted to “win at the Wynn.” And we did.
So as we ambled up
the strip, we knew not where the day would take us. All I knew was that my
first stop would be Casino Royale, not to
play, but for the $1 Michelobs and Margaritas. I am a sucker for cheap beer in
dumpy casinos, and as far as dumpy casinos go, the Casino Royale can hang with
the best of them.
As we waited in
line, obviously not the only bargain beer hunters in Las Vegas that day, Mrs.
Family Man’s aunt slipped a few dollars into a slot machine and seemed to be
doing well. The mother-in-law followed suit, and both were enjoying themselves
tremendously.
By all indications
Casino Royale would be our first gambling stop of the day. We played single
deck $5 blackjack for what seemed like forever. The father-in-law and I each
bought in for $20 with a plan to split the winnings, while over on third base
Mrs. Family Man bought in for $40.
Hours passed. Hours.
In Casino Royale, of
all places.
By the time we
wrapped up, the father-in-law and I had won a whopping $30 between us, but the
Mrs. was up $100. No jackpots by any means, but wins are wins. It was also
closer to dinnertime than lunch, which we hadn’t even had yet.
So can go the day
with nary a plan to guide the way.
The only fixed
destination we knew of was P.F. Chang’s for the father-in-law’s birthday
dinner, so off we went, trotting down Las Vegas Boulevard to Planet Hollywood.
As always, dinner at
P.F. Chang’s was outstanding. From there, we decided to stick to home base for
the evening. While all were incredibly impressed by the previous night’s
atypical endurance, the early morning bedtime was starting to catch up, so
there would be no adventures beyond the Flamingo’s pink neon lights and flashy
felt blackjack tables that night.
With $100 in hand, I
jumped from one spot to another, up and down, losing here and there, until
finally I took my last $70 to a $15 table that paid out 3:2.
Some blackjack
moments you remember because of the company you keep. Even a good table can
temper bad loses.
Other times, the
dealer makes the difference.
But most often,
winning is what truly makes a blackjack session memorable.
It was Binion’s all
over again, but this time with higher starting bets. Up and down I went, adding
to my piles of reds when suddenly the payouts turned to $25 green chips.
The pile grew.
One green. Two.
Three. Five. Eight. Twelve. Sixteen.
Woah.
Everything lost was
found again. And then some.
Earlier in the day,
Mrs. Family Man and I had started joking that “if you want to win a purple
chip, win a purple a chip,” as if it were that simple to turn small bets into
$500.
As I colored up to
leave the table, I had a vague idea of how much was in front of me but wasn’t
completely sure. As The Gambler would sing: “You never count your money, when
you’re sitting at the table, there’ll be time enough for counting, when the
dealing’s done.”
“Do you want those
in black or purple?” the dealer asked, as if there was any question.
“Purple!!!”
My first purple! A
moment to savour, so I took a picture of my chip then cashed it almost
immediately.
No way was I risking
losing that one.
By then we were
tuckered. Just beat. But satisfied too. Nothing quite caps a hard Las Vegas day
like winning big.
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