PART THE FOURTH

wherein our hero bids farewell and searches for a foghorn
2008.12.13

10am wakeup call! 11am checkout time! Three nights of a few hours sleep each. With that candle lit on both ends, you get twice as much light! Surely nothing bad can come of this. Grumpy! Get your ass out of bed and start packing, just in case I can't make it work! "mmphrgrrr..okay." Get down to the front desk, wait in line. No checkout extension, no matter how many times I bat my eyelashes. Run across the casino to the poker room, plead my case for the room rate. Done, done, and done. Grumpy! You can relax! "mmphrgrrr..okay."

Sleepy, Grumpy, and I are the only three to make it to the MGM Champagne Brunch. We're all rather impressed on first pass. Make your own omelet! Piles of bacon! Blueberry blintzes! Pizzas! Sushi! And look at all those desserts! Unfortunately, it's a ruse to temper the disappointment upon discovering it's a pile of blandness, no matter what I try. The omelet is okay, but the bacon, potatoes, waffles, and smoked salmon don't inspire any dancing taste buds. Before I wave the criticism wand around too much, I should entertain the rather likely possibility that the lowest common denominator here is my tongue, considering how poorly I've been taking care of myself on this trip. Sleepy, Grumpy, and I chat and bond over breakfast, coming to the realization that we're all students of math and psychology who eschew popular notions of traditional employment. Funny how we're in the same place at the same time.

Nobody else shares my complete degeneracy, so they're all flying home today. First out is Grumpy, so Sleepy and I bid our farewells and mosey over to the Tropicana around 2pm, where we find Dopey and Sneezy just getting out of bed. It's possible they were just getting into bed. We remind them they need to pack and leave.

Many people in this particular subculture feel that traveling to a destination with party supplies is justifiably necessary risk, but returning home with them is inexcusably stupid. Others might suggest it's the latter all the time, but we'll table that discussion for now. Sleepy returns to her room to pack, leaving me with Dopey and Sneezy to share a rather sizable joint as Dopey rolls up another similarly packed to the gills. For the road or a gift or something, right? No, it's to light upon completion of the first. Can't let it go to waste, right? I see something just for me, wrapped in plaaastic. On top of that, there's a container of something else and a special piece of chocolate. I say there ain't nothin' I'm going to do with most of it, but I don't blame him for not wanting to carry it, and it's nice to share.

As we get up to leave, I take note of the considerably soupy haze capturing the sunlight. So pretty. Ooh, distraction! Thinking nothing of it, we open the door only to stumble upon the cleaning staff, who greet us with a startled fear as a cloud of smoke comes billowing cartoon-like from the room. I unsuccessfully suppress my giggles while stumbling to the elevator, where we find a car empty save for another custodial employee. It's at this point Dopey notices his shirt reads "cannabis" and both he and Sneezy slowly contemplate their destination. The employee pipes up, "You're going to the airport? You guys reek." I snicker that I'm not going to the airport, only those two chuckleheads, as we amble out to the lobby. The other two look appropriately concerned (or maybe just confused) so I wave my goodbyes and wander back to the MGM.

Mid-way over the bridge I consider the notion that, as a pack-mule, I'm likely responsible for the bulk of the reeking, and I'll shortly be walking through many family-friendly areas of the MGM on a Saturday afternoon. I walk with deliberate haste but not, y'know, trying to look like I would rather be anywhere else in the world, finally reaching the elevator lobby. Crowded with families and suitcases. What an incredibly awkward twenty-four flights this will be.

Suddenly, genius strikes! The lobby on my floor has seven bays, whereas this contains only five. I slip past the families with suitcases and through the ornate fancy "Don't open me!" door at the end of the lobby and spy two more elevators, one proclaiming to be present and awaiting command. Failing to find any security devices, I press the button and the elevator happily opens. It's sleeker with considerably more mirror than the others, and whisks me to my floor without complaint.

Success! Except... oh crap. I'm to meet Sleepy and Doc one floor up! And my room is aaallll the way and the end of the hall and it's soooo faaaaaar. I figure one floor won't kill me and press the button only to hop into a car with Sleepy and Doc! Serendipity! We get to their room where I babble at them as they try to ignore me so they can pack, and a short while later they're gone.

I'm alone in Vegas on a Saturday night with a nice room on the strip, a pile of bills from a tournament win, and a bag full of happy time. It's on!

Where does a degenerate go at a time like this? To the poker tables! I ease into a 1/2 and order a coffee, no, an iced coffee, no, an iced mocha. Wait, does that even have caffeine in it, considering that was the point here? Oh boy, this is off to a great start. Finishing the mocha, I figure what better to follow it than a white russian, which I've always wanted to try, and this is as appropriate a time as any. (Report: they're tasty!)

Almost a buyin down before I realize I'm hungry and playing like crap, so I visit the Studio Cafe and enjoy a $15 reuben that isn't worth $15 but oh well, and generally try to sober up a little while passing the time by browsing on my iPhone (I love living in the future: the toys are neat). Realizing I'm in no shape at all to play well, I figure I want to be on the ball for the late evening crowd. I crawl to my room, the idea being to take a nap before heading back out around 10 or 11, hopefully having sobered up a little by then. I turn on my favorite hippie noise and place head on pillow.

And so ends Saturday.

(Two out of three ain't bad!)

... next up: Grind, Grind, Grind ...