Labor Day weekend my pseudo hubby RJ and I headed to Las Vegas to have one last Sin City visit with one of my favorite relatives Big-J and his perfectly chosen wife, the Beckster. Never knowing what to expect, I prayed to the universe to ease my apparent food poisoning symptoms so that the appropriate amount of trouble could be had, after all, Big-J and the Beckster were moving so we could get thrown out of anywhere without having to worry about them ever needing to return. So, with pseudo hubby RJ snoring beside me in the car and me ready to throw up all over him, I dreamt about the good times to come.
RJ and I have stayed at a few different hotels in Vegas over our years of visiting so I can say with confidence that this had to be the best yet. What other hotel in Vegas would put complimentary ear plugs bedside so that you could sleep soundly regardless of the airport next door? None. You see, on this trip we had decided to forgo the hotel/casino type lodging for the McCarran International Airport Best Western. We were saving money, no casino AND one night free. Who could ask for anything more? Other than maybe the Wild Wild West where all the hookers hung out, this was the best around. When Big-J and the Beckster arrived we started a tour of Vegas, taking photos of the underbelly of the city. After a few snapshots, hungry and ready to start the party, we made our way to the Red Rock Casino. As we enter, the Beckster points out the green sign I have been looking for. With the theme music from Chariots of Fire playing in my head, I beeline for Starbucks for that venti iced chai latte that I know they will make with a smile. Seconds later I have my drink handed to me by a “boy” with bad attitude. It was still a win win all the way around. I got to pay $6 for a drink that is normally $4, made by BBA, and he got no tip. I was breaking even already. It was going to be a good night.
I love hanging out with Big-J and the Beckster because we always get to do off the wall, out of the way things that most Vegas junkies don’t. Out of the way restaurants like The Omelet House (YUM), touring strip malls that didn’t make it in this economy and BINGO. Yes, I said Bingo. Don’t knock it unless you have tried it. There is so much more to be had than just daubing numbers that you can’t keep track of. There’s the drinks, the imposed silence, the monotonous tone of numbers being called, the thrill of “I only need 2 more numbers”, and of course all of the crazies with their troll dolls lined up. I don’t know if you are aware of this but you are NOT supposed to laugh and have fun during Bingo, which of course is why we have so much fun doing it. Imbibing and trying not to laugh at the serious ridiculousness of the situation has got to be the best part. Well, it was the best part, until that night. It was the night of the double hardway and things were going to get crazy! The numbers are being called; we are drinking, daubing and laughing way too loud when I realize that I have Bingo. With slight hesitation and disbelief, my hand shoots in the air and I call out BINGO so they know that it is I, the woman that laughs too loud and not triple troll doll lady, that has won. Within seconds they are headed over as the gang checks out my cards to see the bingo daubed line and that is when the Beckster says to me, “this game was double hardway”. WTF? What is double hardway? I say loudly, “never mind” and can feel the room sigh relief mixed with the desire to harm me. Go ahead and try. I have hubby RJ, karate master Beckster and Big-J, who is just plain crazy. We made it through the rest of our games, non-winners but with our lives. I am sad to say that I left Vegas, having never achieved that double hardway.