My gambling brought us free tickets to the Joan Rivers show mentioned in the last post. Also mentioned was my relative ignorance regarding Las Vegas and money.
Howevah . . . my ignorance was not total, if only because some things are universal.
When Mandy and I headed for the appropriate theater, I slipped a folded twenty into my right hand and used my left hand to direct Mandy, ever so subtly, toward whatever point seemed most likely to provide happiness. A gent with a book outlining all possible chair and table arrangements seated us, but only after I had shaken hands with him and announced that we were visiting from Chicago. He returned the handshake enthusiastically and hoped that we would enjoy not only the show biut the rest of our stay as well.
At that point our relative weights had exchanged hosts by the weight of one twenty dollar bill, and he lifted the cordon separating two imaginary classes of patrons, dropped it on the other side of us, and murmured "Any place you wish." I asked Mandy to choose a spot, she did, and our host seated us, bowed, and disappeared.
A couple of minutes later, while Mandy and I were awaiting our drinks, our host seated a party of six, all late twenties in age, I should think, a couple of tables away from us, and thus below the salt. Immediately, the group's alpha male began whining, "We were hoping for a better location than this. Can't we do better than this?"
(Ha! Yes, you can, but not by whining.)
Showing posts with label Las Vegas. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Las Vegas. Show all posts
Friday, September 5, 2014
Thursday, September 4, 2014
JOAN RIVERS, R.I.P.
Joan Rivers has given up the ghost at age 81 and has reminded me of an unblogged Las Vegas story you might enjoy.
Perhaps 20 years ago Mandy and I saw Joan Rivers in Las Vegas, and she was top notch. Opening for her were the Smothers Brothers and Jim Stafford, all as one act and very amusing.
A funny thing happened. It was a dinner/show at one of the major casinos (the Frontier? I'm not sure.), and after we had ordered drinks we were given menus.
Now I knew Mandy really liked lobster, and the only two entrees on this menu were chicken and lobster - $25 and $50, respectively.
After a minute Mandy said "I'm getting the chicken." I said "Whaaat? You love lobster and seldom have a chance at it."
"I know, Donnie, but it's too expensive."
"So you're getting a $25 chicken?"
She came to her senses and had the lobster. I had the chicken 'cuz I'm not that big a lobster fan. I imagine the waiter thought I was the stereotypical cheapskate husband or something.
This, by the way, was the trip I blogged about in a string of entries beginning May 11, 2008, the trip during which she called her girlfriend and they had me make a bet for each of them.
At the time Mandy was worrying about the $50 lobster I was $9,000 ahead. I do b'lieve that if I'd been just a tad more informed, I could have slipped the waiter and the cook a few bucks each and had a perfectly good rare steak as a substitute for the chicken, but that trip was just the very beginning of my education about the effect of money in Las Vegas.
Perhaps 20 years ago Mandy and I saw Joan Rivers in Las Vegas, and she was top notch. Opening for her were the Smothers Brothers and Jim Stafford, all as one act and very amusing.
A funny thing happened. It was a dinner/show at one of the major casinos (the Frontier? I'm not sure.), and after we had ordered drinks we were given menus.
Now I knew Mandy really liked lobster, and the only two entrees on this menu were chicken and lobster - $25 and $50, respectively.
After a minute Mandy said "I'm getting the chicken." I said "Whaaat? You love lobster and seldom have a chance at it."
"I know, Donnie, but it's too expensive."
"So you're getting a $25 chicken?"
She came to her senses and had the lobster. I had the chicken 'cuz I'm not that big a lobster fan. I imagine the waiter thought I was the stereotypical cheapskate husband or something.
This, by the way, was the trip I blogged about in a string of entries beginning May 11, 2008, the trip during which she called her girlfriend and they had me make a bet for each of them.
At the time Mandy was worrying about the $50 lobster I was $9,000 ahead. I do b'lieve that if I'd been just a tad more informed, I could have slipped the waiter and the cook a few bucks each and had a perfectly good rare steak as a substitute for the chicken, but that trip was just the very beginning of my education about the effect of money in Las Vegas.
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Thoughts That Popped into My Head
- When Ginny and I were in Denver on business for a month (the same trip during which I took her to see a stripper and to see the movie Carrie) we drove down to Las Vegas for a weekend. (No, no, separate rooms, you swine). Ginny had never been there and had never gambled. I promised to teach her to gamble at craps.
You need to know that Ginny was thrifty. She could pinch a penny until Old Abe begged for mercy.
I took her to a table somewhere where she could make two dollar bets, and taught her the basics. As chance would have it, the dice were very cold and soon she was down six or eight dollars. Now even though that was perhaps one meal on her expense report, she became very crabby over it.
"I don't like this. I don't feel good. My stomach hurts. I've got cramps."
Sigh.
"OK, let's go somewhere else."
We walked to another casino, and as I guided us to another craps table she asked grumpily "Craps again?"
I told her "I'll teach you a little system. Unless we get very unlucky, you'll win a few dollars."
Please understand that there are no betting systems which will win at casino craps over the long run. There are, however betting systems with different approaches and goals, which make profits at varying paces until disaster strikes. Knowing that Ginny was never gonna let enough money slip through her fingers to qualify as a disaster, I taught her a little system that might bring in a few dollars.
Fifteen minutes later she had recouped her losses, was perhaps ten dollars ahead, and was all smiles. "Oh, I like this, Donnie. Where are we going next?" - BTW, that was a *long* drive, and we left late one Friday afternoon. Ginny asked if she might drive the first leg (we had a rental car, courtesy of our employer) and she drove until perhaps 9:00 PM.
She made me crazy.
The details are hazy now, as this happened more than thirty years ago, but in my mind I see three or four lanes on our side of the Interstate, and virtually no traffic.
And Ginny driving at fifty miles an hour.
Unless we came up on another vehicle going even slower, in which case she would pull in behind it and go slower still, until I reached over and turned the steering wheel about five degrees to start getting her into the next lane on the left.
It was probably 8:30 or so, and pitch black in the Rockies. We were the only vehicle on either side of the Interstate. Doing fifty. This would be about a 750 mile drive and I was wondering whether we would get to Las Vegas in time for my funeral when Ginny saw headlights in her rear view mirror. Immediately she slowed down. Can you imagine?
The headlights closed rapidly, as they would have if they were being carried by a pedestrian. Soon enough Ginny said in a panic "It's a police car!"
He stayed behind us for a minute or two, then lit her up and she pulled over. A Colorado State Trooper walked up to the window and said "Good evening. Would you tell me why you're driving so slowly?"
My body jerked slightly as I fought to contain the laughter, and the trooper looked at me suspiciously.
Ginny, indignantly: "Well you made me NERVOUS, following me like that!"
Now there were two of us struggling to contain ourselves.
For the sake of the drill he asked a question or two - "Where are you going?" type questions, then smiled and said "You have a good time," and walked back to his vehicle.
He probably thinks we're still on the way to Las Vegas.
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Airports, Hotels, and Grass
- One Friday night Jeff and I took an unplanned trip to Las Vegas. I took a dugout with some grass, leaving the pipe behind so I didn't have to worry about metal detectors. We would get some rolling papers in Las Vegas.
In the event they were not difficult to locate and we were soon good to go. As mentioned earlier, I couldn't roll a joint to save my life, but Jeff could, so he carried and used the papers throughout the weekend.
We had an enjoyable weekend, and Sunday afternoon, after getting stoned one last time, we headed for the airport. Just as we were about to enter the terminal, Jeff said "Oh, shit. Wait a minute." He walked over to a sidewalk trash container, reached into a pocket, and threw something away.
"What was that?"
"The papers."
I guess we were supposed to be perfectly content to carry the illegal marijuana through security and back to Chicago, but were to take no chances with the legal rolling papers. - In the mid-1970's I had to make a business trip from Boston to somewhere, Jacksonville, I think. Airport security in the US was a much more casual matter then, and it was my habit to carry a baggie with small amount of marijuana in my briefcase, along with a small stone pipe.
Packing for this particular trip must have been done in a daydream. At the security checkpoint I put my briefcase on the conveyor belt, dumped my metallic objects into a small basket, and walked through. On the other side, a young woman approached me and asked if I would mind if she opened my briefcase. Some metallic object had caught her eye during the scan and she wanted to know what it was.
I gave the go ahead, and right there on top of everything else was the bag of marijuana. She sifted through the briefcase's contents and found whatever she was looking for, looked up at me, and in a positively frigid voice said "Thank you."
I just smiled in return and as I began to close the briefcase she dashed over to a middle aged, potbellied, gun carrying security guard. I couldn't hear what she said, but I saw him shake his head and say "No." Her voice rose and I heard her say "But I saw it." He shook his head more emphatically and walked away from her and I got my feet going too, heading for the gate before anyone changed his mind.
At a guess, airports and airlines wanted no ill will between themselves and the casual user. Presumably, anyone stupid enough to put a bag of grass on top of his briefcase contents was understood not to be a veteran dealer. - A planning associate, Ginny, and I sometimes had to make business trips together. It was our habit to fly out on Sunday afternoon and have dinner together that night.
On one trip to Chicago, she informed me after we were airborne that she had just finished a huge meal cooked by her boyfriend's mother and really didn't have much desire to go out to dinner. *Eye*, on the other hand, had eaten very lightly in anticipation of the forthcoming dinner. Somewhat disingenuously, I told her not to worry about it.
We checked in at the Ritz-Carlton (a major convention or two had booked all the rooms at other hotels. Life was tough.). I walked her to her door, entered with her, pulled out the grass, got her to roll a joint, and we got stoned. A few minutes later dinner seemed like a good idea to her.
I went to my room and unpacked, went back and collected her, and off to dinner we went. When we got back to the hotel I walked her to her door and then headed for mine. I had just closed the door behind me when the phone rang.
"Donnie, come quick. Come over here. You have to see this."
I went back to her room and she led me over to the table with the ashtray. She had left the roach in the ashtray and while we were at dinner a maid had entered the room cleaned the ashtray, and put the roach right back into it.
As with the airport incident, the Ritz-Carlton was not going to bust a customer for the unfinished half of a joint.
I thank all of you who have followed the blog, and would like to remind anyone who might be interested that instead of having to check here for new entries you can use one of the "subscribe" links at the bottom of this page.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
A Las Vegas Quintet: Part IV
GLUTTONY IN LAS VEGAS
Husband and wife Stefano and Julie, Stefano's dad and his girlfriend, and Debbie and I all went to Las Vegas for a New Year's Eve. On the first night we had dinner at Spanish Steppes in Caesars Palace, one of my two favorite Las Vegas restaurants at that time. Since Caesars would pick it up, I "bought" the dinner. The food and wine were wonderful, and a we had a grand time.
The next night we went to Justin's in the Frontier (yes, you've seen these two restaurants elsewhere on this blog). Stefano insisted on buying this night. The six of us settled in at a table, two facing two and one facing one. I was at one end and Debbie was immediately to my left.
We were all in good spirits before the meal, and things got better. Three of us decided on red wine and three on white. As we guzzled sipped our wine (we had ordered four bottles) we pondered the menu. Our waiter, a young man - about as young as I've seen as a waiter in the better restaurants - came to the table and asked if anyone had their hearts set on any particular thing. No, not tonight. "Well, then, why don't you just let me put together some appetizers for you?"
That was going to be easier than choosing and we cheered him on. After a while he returned with a huge tray filled with asparagus hearts, crab stuffed mushrooms, crackers and pâté, and who knows what else. For perhaps a half hour we munched, sipped, and laughed. I don't know that I've ever had a meal that was more fun.
Our waiter returned and asked, "Anyone ready for dinner?" Six hands shot up.
"Why don't you just let me put something together for you?" Well. How good does it get? We agreed immediately, (and ordered four more bottles of wine) and perhaps forty-five minutes or an hour later he and a helper returned with two of those huge trays, filled with vegetables, a couple of different potato dishes, lobster stuffed crab legs, beef strips, sauces, and again, who knows what.
As we gawked at the dinner, he commented that our wine was disappearing and we ordered four more bottles. The current four were dry when the new ones arrived.
Over the next hour and a half or so, we demolished the dinner and downed more wine. By now Debbie's shoes were off and her feet were in my lap, all under the table of course. I doubt that we were any more relaxed than anyone else at the table, however.
Our waiter arrived and asked about dessert. Everyone groaned at the thought. "Let me bring you some of our coffee, which is excellent, and you can think about it." Done deal.
The coffee was in fact excellent (one of my criteria for a first class restaurant). After a while more coffee arrived and our waiter said, "Suppose I just bring you a few desserts? You can pick and choose when they get here."
We consented happily, he did, and we were soon surrounded with trays bearing chocolate mousse, biscotti, strawberry tortes, and more. We agreed that we were probably going to Hell for this, but tucked into the desserts.
When they were all - literally all - gone, Stefano asked if we should get some more desserts. I expressed the opinion that "If I eat any more dessert they'll have to worm me." Our waiter was approaching from behind me and said, "That would be extra, sir."
Stefano paid and tipped handsomely, and we hit the bricks, heavier by twelve bottles of wine, appetizers, entrées, coffee, and desserts. We were unanimous in the opinion that we should walk back to Caesars and we did, but the hope was in vain that it would make a difference regarding our bodies' bloated feelings caused by the obscene amount of food we had eaten. No one ate breakfast the next day, and it was only in the middle of the afternoon that we began to think about lunch.
The company was as good as the food and the service. Some nights are special.
NEXT: BEST LAS VEGAS CRAPS SESSION
Husband and wife Stefano and Julie, Stefano's dad and his girlfriend, and Debbie and I all went to Las Vegas for a New Year's Eve. On the first night we had dinner at Spanish Steppes in Caesars Palace, one of my two favorite Las Vegas restaurants at that time. Since Caesars would pick it up, I "bought" the dinner. The food and wine were wonderful, and a we had a grand time.
The next night we went to Justin's in the Frontier (yes, you've seen these two restaurants elsewhere on this blog). Stefano insisted on buying this night. The six of us settled in at a table, two facing two and one facing one. I was at one end and Debbie was immediately to my left.
We were all in good spirits before the meal, and things got better. Three of us decided on red wine and three on white. As we
That was going to be easier than choosing and we cheered him on. After a while he returned with a huge tray filled with asparagus hearts, crab stuffed mushrooms, crackers and pâté, and who knows what else. For perhaps a half hour we munched, sipped, and laughed. I don't know that I've ever had a meal that was more fun.
Our waiter returned and asked, "Anyone ready for dinner?" Six hands shot up.
"Why don't you just let me put something together for you?" Well. How good does it get? We agreed immediately, (and ordered four more bottles of wine) and perhaps forty-five minutes or an hour later he and a helper returned with two of those huge trays, filled with vegetables, a couple of different potato dishes, lobster stuffed crab legs, beef strips, sauces, and again, who knows what.
As we gawked at the dinner, he commented that our wine was disappearing and we ordered four more bottles. The current four were dry when the new ones arrived.
Over the next hour and a half or so, we demolished the dinner and downed more wine. By now Debbie's shoes were off and her feet were in my lap, all under the table of course. I doubt that we were any more relaxed than anyone else at the table, however.
Our waiter arrived and asked about dessert. Everyone groaned at the thought. "Let me bring you some of our coffee, which is excellent, and you can think about it." Done deal.
The coffee was in fact excellent (one of my criteria for a first class restaurant). After a while more coffee arrived and our waiter said, "Suppose I just bring you a few desserts? You can pick and choose when they get here."
We consented happily, he did, and we were soon surrounded with trays bearing chocolate mousse, biscotti, strawberry tortes, and more. We agreed that we were probably going to Hell for this, but tucked into the desserts.
When they were all - literally all - gone, Stefano asked if we should get some more desserts. I expressed the opinion that "If I eat any more dessert they'll have to worm me." Our waiter was approaching from behind me and said, "That would be extra, sir."
Stefano paid and tipped handsomely, and we hit the bricks, heavier by twelve bottles of wine, appetizers, entrées, coffee, and desserts. We were unanimous in the opinion that we should walk back to Caesars and we did, but the hope was in vain that it would make a difference regarding our bodies' bloated feelings caused by the obscene amount of food we had eaten. No one ate breakfast the next day, and it was only in the middle of the afternoon that we began to think about lunch.
The company was as good as the food and the service. Some nights are special.
NEXT: BEST LAS VEGAS CRAPS SESSION
Sunday, May 18, 2008
A Las Vegas Quintet: Part III
23 OF US
After the Las Vegas trip with Mandy, the manager of the Caesars office in Chicago called. "They loved your action. I'm sending your airfare check to you. Any time you want to go out there, just let us know. It doesn't have to be a junket - you can just go whenever you want to."
Free room? Free meals and drinks? Airfare reimbursed? "Donnie, fly first class. It'll be taken care of. Just call us." Cool.
Mandy and I split. I went to Las Vegas a couple more times that year and perhaps once every two or three months for the next couple years, taking a girlfriend when I had one, going alone when I didn't.
One day someone started a movement in the junk mail company I worked for - "Let's get a bunch of people to go to Las Vegas together." In the end, twenty-three of us went, mostly employees and spouses or SO's, and in a couple of cases friends or relatives. I was fairly certain that none of them knew much about gambling, and I invited all of them to come to my house one night, as I could at least teach them about casino craps. I purchased a ten or fifteen dollar set that included a craps layout and chips, and in the event all but one of the group showed up for the lesson.
For many of them this would be their first time in Las Vegas and the first time in any casino. In case you're interested, here are some of the things I told them about gambling in general:
I taught them too much about craps to repeat here, but here's what was by far the most important:
When I checked out a couple of days later, I went downstairs to see "the man with the pen," the casino employee who decided what would be comped and what wouldn't. He called up my action history for the weekend on a monitor, whistled, and asked, "Did you ever see your room?" We chuckled about the amount of gambling I had done, and I then said, "There's a dinner bill on there that I don't expect you to pick up. It's not really mine."
"Did you sign for it?"
"Yes."
"That makes it yours."
"Yes, but what I mean is that I bought dinner for 22 other people. We all came out here at the same time - not really organized, different hotels, different planes."
He looked at the monitor for a few seconds and said, "We can pick that up."
Most (all?) of us still have the group photo. I've seen them on office desks, and living room walls.
NEXT: GLUTTONY IN LAS VEGAS
After the Las Vegas trip with Mandy, the manager of the Caesars office in Chicago called. "They loved your action. I'm sending your airfare check to you. Any time you want to go out there, just let us know. It doesn't have to be a junket - you can just go whenever you want to."
Free room? Free meals and drinks? Airfare reimbursed? "Donnie, fly first class. It'll be taken care of. Just call us." Cool.
Mandy and I split. I went to Las Vegas a couple more times that year and perhaps once every two or three months for the next couple years, taking a girlfriend when I had one, going alone when I didn't.
One day someone started a movement in the junk mail company I worked for - "Let's get a bunch of people to go to Las Vegas together." In the end, twenty-three of us went, mostly employees and spouses or SO's, and in a couple of cases friends or relatives. I was fairly certain that none of them knew much about gambling, and I invited all of them to come to my house one night, as I could at least teach them about casino craps. I purchased a ten or fifteen dollar set that included a craps layout and chips, and in the event all but one of the group showed up for the lesson.
For many of them this would be their first time in Las Vegas and the first time in any casino. In case you're interested, here are some of the things I told them about gambling in general:
- Don't start gambling right away. Walk around the casino, observe some of the games and players, ask questions of the casino employees when there is anything you don't understand.
- It's an exciting atmosphere and everything is calculated to entrance you and to keep you gambling. There are no clocks. There are no windows - you can't look outside and see whether it's day or night. Get used to the atmosphere before you gamble.
- Drinks are free to gamblers. Don't overuse this perk. If you start feeling a buzz, you've probably had too much and you've certainly had enough. It's one thing to feel bulletproof and invisible when the dice or cards or slots or roulette wheel or whatever are going your way and you're winning, but it's entirely another thing to feel bulletproof and invisible because you're drinking too much. Your judgment disappears and is soon joined by your money.
- You know how much money you're taking. Decide how much is for eating, drinking, shopping, shows, and so forth, and how much is for gambling. Divide the gambling amount by two - that's the maximum you should allow yourself to lose in one day on this trip. If you're going to have two gambling sessions on each of the two days, divide the gambling money by four. Do not exceed that amount in one session for any reason. In particular, if you're losing don't tell yourself "My luck's bound to change." It isn't. There is no "maturity of chance." Whether you've won or lost on the last play, the odds are the same as always for the next play. If you're flipping an unbiased coin and you throw heads ten times in a row, the odds for heads and tails on the next throw are fifty-fifty.
I taught them too much about craps to repeat here, but here's what was by far the most important:
- Bet "Pass" and/or "Come," or bet "Don't Pass" and/or "Don't Come." The come and don't come bets are exactly the same as the pass and don't pass bets, but they are made when there's already a point.
- Don't Pass is better by a minuscule amount - tenths of a percent. However, you have to have the right temperament to be a "wrong way" bettor. Most people bet pass, and the last thing they want to hear when they lose is "Yeah!" from someone who won five dollars while they lost. But if you can stand being surrounded by hostility - and I'm not exaggerating - then the "Don't" bets are for you.
- Betting pass and come, don't pass and don't come, getting or giving the odds, you can reduce the house percentage against you to less than one percent. All other bets are sucker bets. Remember it - All other bets are sucker bets, no matter what your friends tell you, no matter how much money they won betting "Any Craps," or placing numbers, All other bets are sucker bets. It's not as if you can't win with other bets, and it's not even as if you can't have a winning streak with other bets. It's just that you will win less money when you win - more precisely, your profit percentage will be smaller - and the house percentages on those bets will grind you down faster and more often than the percentages on the good bets.
When I checked out a couple of days later, I went downstairs to see "the man with the pen," the casino employee who decided what would be comped and what wouldn't. He called up my action history for the weekend on a monitor, whistled, and asked, "Did you ever see your room?" We chuckled about the amount of gambling I had done, and I then said, "There's a dinner bill on there that I don't expect you to pick up. It's not really mine."
"Did you sign for it?"
"Yes."
"That makes it yours."
"Yes, but what I mean is that I bought dinner for 22 other people. We all came out here at the same time - not really organized, different hotels, different planes."
He looked at the monitor for a few seconds and said, "We can pick that up."
Most (all?) of us still have the group photo. I've seen them on office desks, and living room walls.
NEXT: GLUTTONY IN LAS VEGAS
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
A Las Vegas Quintet: Part II
A FIFTY DOLLAR BETTOR
I guided Mandy around the casino, showing her the craps, roulette, blackjack, slot machines, etc. I gave her some gambling money and she tried a couple of games but just wasn't enthusiastic about any of them.
We had a drink or two and she decided to go up to the room to relax. I had explained to her that I had to gamble a certain amount to get the airfare refund and to be invited back, and she understood that.
As luck would have it, I walked up to a table just as it got hot. I'd bet $50 on the pass line and if a "number" was thrown I'd back it up with $100. If it hit I'd increase my bet to $100, then $150, and so on. I would also play a couple of $50 come bets.
As I said, the table got hot. It attracted a crowd - not many groups of strangers are friendlier than a group of craps bettors at a hot table. The crew working the table was super-friendly and occasionally helpful regarding my betting, and before I knew it I was ahead about $6,000. Someone sevened out and I decided to take a break.
I went up to the room and Mandy asked, "How'd you make out, Donnie?"
"I'm up about $6,000 and taking a little break."
Her jaw dropped and she asked if it wouldn't be wise to stop gambling right now. I told her that wasn't the plan. Remember?
We chatted a few minutes and I went back down to the casino. A few minutes later Mandy, who had been in her nightgown, was beside me at the table. She had called her closest girlfriend to give her the news. The girlfriend had advised her to get me to quit, and when she learned that it wasn't going to happen had said, "Tell him to bet $50 for me."
Mandy wanted $50 of action also, and handed me $100 in cash. I stuck it in my pocket and put a second pass bet of $50 on the table. The shooter rolled a six. I put $50 behind the original $50 and told Mandy "Give me another $50." She did and I added it to the odds bet.
Eventually the shooter made the six and Mandy and her girlfriend were now ahead $170. I put my next bet down and asked Mandy if she wanted to go again. She did and I put another $50 down. Nine, odds, nine again, another $200 profit for Mandy and her girlfriend.
I turned to Mandy and raised my eyebrows. She said, "Whatever you think, Donnie."
"You should take the money and get out, Mandy. You're underfunded."
"OK, Donnie." She stayed to watch me and on the very next attempt the shooter sevened out. I was definitely her hero that night.
I finished the night about $7,500 and several bourbon manhattans ahead of the game.
Mandy was back in bed when I got to the room. She had called her girlfriend again and they were hopping from foot to foot over having won several hundred dollars and over getting out of the game at exactly the right moment.
We talked about how the next several days would go. She didn't want to gamble and unless the dice went really bad I was going to be doing a lot of gambling. We agreed that we would have our meals together and take in a show or two. She said she wanted to spend some time at the pool and to do a little shopping, "Although I don't know how expensive things are here."
I gave her five one hundred dollar bills to use for her shopping, a gesture repeated the next two mornings as well, and she was in heaven. That woman could shop.
We did some fine dining Saturday and Sunday nights ("Spanish Steppes" in Caesars, no longer there, and a restaurant at the Frontier, "The Branding Iron" at the time, later "Justin's," also no longer there). We saw a Joan Rivers show, (warmed up by the Smothers Brothers with Jim Stafford), which was wonderful. I gambled, she shopped and sunbathed. The dice continued their run for me and I finished about $15,000 ahead for the trip and flew home with 130 hundred dollar bills in a trousers pocket.
Mandy was exhausted from her shopping - you should have seen us at the airport with all those shopping bags full of goodies. I, however, was still cranked. As we waited in the boarding area, she slumped in a chair and I hopped around, I began teasing her about various things. Finally, she looked up at me and said, "Donnie, I'll crush you like a bug."
On the plane I asked her what was her favorite part of the trip, and this divorced mom of a six year old girl said, "Lying by the pool and having someone bring me a drink."
NEXT: LAS VEGAS AGAIN
I guided Mandy around the casino, showing her the craps, roulette, blackjack, slot machines, etc. I gave her some gambling money and she tried a couple of games but just wasn't enthusiastic about any of them.
We had a drink or two and she decided to go up to the room to relax. I had explained to her that I had to gamble a certain amount to get the airfare refund and to be invited back, and she understood that.
As luck would have it, I walked up to a table just as it got hot. I'd bet $50 on the pass line and if a "number" was thrown I'd back it up with $100. If it hit I'd increase my bet to $100, then $150, and so on. I would also play a couple of $50 come bets.
As I said, the table got hot. It attracted a crowd - not many groups of strangers are friendlier than a group of craps bettors at a hot table. The crew working the table was super-friendly and occasionally helpful regarding my betting, and before I knew it I was ahead about $6,000. Someone sevened out and I decided to take a break.
I went up to the room and Mandy asked, "How'd you make out, Donnie?"
"I'm up about $6,000 and taking a little break."
Her jaw dropped and she asked if it wouldn't be wise to stop gambling right now. I told her that wasn't the plan. Remember?
We chatted a few minutes and I went back down to the casino. A few minutes later Mandy, who had been in her nightgown, was beside me at the table. She had called her closest girlfriend to give her the news. The girlfriend had advised her to get me to quit, and when she learned that it wasn't going to happen had said, "Tell him to bet $50 for me."
Mandy wanted $50 of action also, and handed me $100 in cash. I stuck it in my pocket and put a second pass bet of $50 on the table. The shooter rolled a six. I put $50 behind the original $50 and told Mandy "Give me another $50." She did and I added it to the odds bet.
Eventually the shooter made the six and Mandy and her girlfriend were now ahead $170. I put my next bet down and asked Mandy if she wanted to go again. She did and I put another $50 down. Nine, odds, nine again, another $200 profit for Mandy and her girlfriend.
I turned to Mandy and raised my eyebrows. She said, "Whatever you think, Donnie."
"You should take the money and get out, Mandy. You're underfunded."
"OK, Donnie." She stayed to watch me and on the very next attempt the shooter sevened out. I was definitely her hero that night.
I finished the night about $7,500 and several bourbon manhattans ahead of the game.
Mandy was back in bed when I got to the room. She had called her girlfriend again and they were hopping from foot to foot over having won several hundred dollars and over getting out of the game at exactly the right moment.
We talked about how the next several days would go. She didn't want to gamble and unless the dice went really bad I was going to be doing a lot of gambling. We agreed that we would have our meals together and take in a show or two. She said she wanted to spend some time at the pool and to do a little shopping, "Although I don't know how expensive things are here."
I gave her five one hundred dollar bills to use for her shopping, a gesture repeated the next two mornings as well, and she was in heaven. That woman could shop.
We did some fine dining Saturday and Sunday nights ("Spanish Steppes" in Caesars, no longer there, and a restaurant at the Frontier, "The Branding Iron" at the time, later "Justin's," also no longer there). We saw a Joan Rivers show, (warmed up by the Smothers Brothers with Jim Stafford), which was wonderful. I gambled, she shopped and sunbathed. The dice continued their run for me and I finished about $15,000 ahead for the trip and flew home with 130 hundred dollar bills in a trousers pocket.
Mandy was exhausted from her shopping - you should have seen us at the airport with all those shopping bags full of goodies. I, however, was still cranked. As we waited in the boarding area, she slumped in a chair and I hopped around, I began teasing her about various things. Finally, she looked up at me and said, "Donnie, I'll crush you like a bug."
On the plane I asked her what was her favorite part of the trip, and this divorced mom of a six year old girl said, "Lying by the pool and having someone bring me a drink."
NEXT: LAS VEGAS AGAIN
Sunday, May 11, 2008
A Las Vegas Quintet: Part I
While living in downtown Chicago, I received a flyer from the Chicago office of Caesars Palace, inviting me on a junket. I knew nothing about the junkets, but I had been to Las Vegas a few times and played some blackjack and some craps. The latter was my favorite and I was a five dollar bettor.
I called the office to get the whole scoop. The deal was:
With a goal of not only getting the airfare back but also being invited to go again, I did the math. I had to guess how much action it would take to satisfy them, and eventually I decided that if I became a fifty dollar bettor and played sanely, that I really wasn't at much risk. Yes, the dice could be very unkind and I could lose a lot, but it was unlikely over a period of three days. And I might even win with "normal" dice I figured to lose a little over the three days, but not enough so it would hurt and certainly not enough to cover the cost of the room, meals, and drinks.
I opened a $15,000 line of credit with Caesars, which required only that I notify my bank that Caesars would be calling to ask "If he wrote us a $15,000 check today, would it clear?" and to tell the bank that they should answer that question.
Came the day, and we flew to Las Vegas along with many others in a 707. We were bused to the hotel and got into a check-in line. When we reached the counter a young woman asked whether we wanted a room with or without a mirror in the canopy over the bed. I turned and asked, "Mandy?"
"Whatever you like, Donnie."
"Well, which would you prefer?"
"What. Ever. You. Want. Donnie."
"We'll take the one with the mirror."
While we were unpacking and settling in, I asked, "Why didn't you want to tell me which room you preferred?"
"It's too personal, Donnie."
NEXT: A FIFTY DOLLAR BETTOR
I called the office to get the whole scoop. The deal was:
- I could go alone or with someone.
- I would write a check to Caesars for the airfare ($179 per person, if memory serves).
- I would get a line of credit with Caesars.
- Lodging and all meals and drinks in the hotel, whether restaurant, bar, or room service, would be free.
- I would gamble. If Caesars liked my action the airfare check would be returned to me uncashed.
With a goal of not only getting the airfare back but also being invited to go again, I did the math. I had to guess how much action it would take to satisfy them, and eventually I decided that if I became a fifty dollar bettor and played sanely, that I really wasn't at much risk. Yes, the dice could be very unkind and I could lose a lot, but it was unlikely over a period of three days. And I might even win with "normal" dice I figured to lose a little over the three days, but not enough so it would hurt and certainly not enough to cover the cost of the room, meals, and drinks.
I opened a $15,000 line of credit with Caesars, which required only that I notify my bank that Caesars would be calling to ask "If he wrote us a $15,000 check today, would it clear?" and to tell the bank that they should answer that question.
Came the day, and we flew to Las Vegas along with many others in a 707. We were bused to the hotel and got into a check-in line. When we reached the counter a young woman asked whether we wanted a room with or without a mirror in the canopy over the bed. I turned and asked, "Mandy?"
"Whatever you like, Donnie."
"Well, which would you prefer?"
"What. Ever. You. Want. Donnie."
"We'll take the one with the mirror."
While we were unpacking and settling in, I asked, "Why didn't you want to tell me which room you preferred?"
"It's too personal, Donnie."
NEXT: A FIFTY DOLLAR BETTOR
Sunday, April 20, 2008
The Fight
In 1985, my friend Jeff and I decided to go to Las Vegas for the Marvin Hagler - Tommy Hearns fight. Tickets were $600, and well in advance I called Caesars Palace and reserved two of them.
A couple of weeks before the fight, the results of some lab tests came back and Jeff's doctor told Jeff he had leukemia and only a short time to live. Jeff and all around him were devastated, and Jeff was in no emotional state to go to the fight.
I thought about the extra ticket and called my father. He had been a fight fan for more than fifty years, this could be the fight of the century, and Hagler was from my father's home town, Brockton, Massachusetts. My father lived in New Hampshire and I in the Chicago area.
I explained to him about the extra ticket and told him I could think of no better use for it than to take him to the fight. "I'll fly you first class to Las Vegas and back. Call it your birthday present."
"I don't think so Donnie. I'm not much for traveling any more." I was flabbergasted. I knew he had never seen a fight this big in person and that he thought Hagler walked on water. But I couldn't talk him into it, and he suggested that I call my brother Billy.
I did, but he wasn't home. A moment or two later the phone rang, and it was my father saying he had changed his mind. (Good thing Billy wasn't home, huh?)
In the event, he flew from Boston to Dallas and thence to Las Vegas. I picked him up at the airport and we took a cab to the Flamingo - I had waited too long and even the Chicago Caesars office could do nothing for me in the way of rooms at Caesars.
Dad had never been to Las Vegas and I showed him around. My gambling made him nervous and he only watched a few minutes of it. He found "his" game at the slot machines, and won several hundred dollars during the trip.
So . . . on the big day we walked over to Caesars Palace for the fight, or actually for the preliminaries, which were unremarkable. The seats were about half full when we got there and we had no trouble finding ours. People trickled in during the prelims, and soon the place was jammed. From time to time someone "special" would arrive and the announcer would inform us of it: Robert Goulet and Olivia Newton-John came as a couple, I believe; Jose Suleiman, the head of the World Boxing Council, arrived and was roundly booed; John and Bo Derek arrived (Bo Derek never did anything for me in her movies, dressed or undressed, but in person she was the loveliest creature I had ever seen); and by far the biggest ovation was for Muhammad Ali when he arrived. Lots of people were introduced in the ring, eventually including the referee, Richard Steele, and the fighters.
I was astonished by the money being bet around us. People who were strangers to each other were making five and ten thousand dollar bets and giving the money to third party strangers to hold. My impression was that the Detroit (Hearns) contingent outnumbered the Hagler contingent. Personally, I thought it was about an even matchup. Dad was utterly confident about Hagler's chances, but it was difficult for me to guess how much of that was due to Hagler being my father's home town boy.
The fight got underway and the pace was furious from the opening bell. Neither was attempting to box. Each was set on creaming the other, with Hagler, the shorter man, determined to get his head on Hearns' chest and make it a street fight. Hearns hit Hagler with a tremendous right. It stopped Hagler only for a second and then he moved toward Hearns again, throwing punches. Hearns had thrown and landed his very best shot and it hadn't been enough. We were less than halfway through the first round and only Hearns' die-hard fans still thought he would win. But the excitement certainly was not over. They continued fighting at a frenzied pace until the bell.
The second round was almost as intense as the first, and in the third round Steele stopped the fight for a moment to have the doctor look at a pretty good cut on Hagler's forehead, probably caused by that Hearns right in the first round. My father muttered something to the effect that he wouldn't be able to stand it if the fight were stopped for a cut.
The fight continued and Hagler knocked Hearns out in that third round. Later, the first round was voted the best first round of the century by sportswriters.
We flew back together as far as Chicago and the plane and my dad continued to Boston. He later made and framed a collage consisting of magazine pictures, newspaper articles, and his plane ticket and fight ticket, with a typewritten note about his "birthday present." He's gone now, and I have the collage and eventually I will get around to adding my fight ticket to it.
Oh, and Jeff did not have leukemia. His lab results and someone else's had somehow been mixed up. Sheesh.
A couple of weeks before the fight, the results of some lab tests came back and Jeff's doctor told Jeff he had leukemia and only a short time to live. Jeff and all around him were devastated, and Jeff was in no emotional state to go to the fight.
I thought about the extra ticket and called my father. He had been a fight fan for more than fifty years, this could be the fight of the century, and Hagler was from my father's home town, Brockton, Massachusetts. My father lived in New Hampshire and I in the Chicago area.
I explained to him about the extra ticket and told him I could think of no better use for it than to take him to the fight. "I'll fly you first class to Las Vegas and back. Call it your birthday present."
"I don't think so Donnie. I'm not much for traveling any more." I was flabbergasted. I knew he had never seen a fight this big in person and that he thought Hagler walked on water. But I couldn't talk him into it, and he suggested that I call my brother Billy.
I did, but he wasn't home. A moment or two later the phone rang, and it was my father saying he had changed his mind. (Good thing Billy wasn't home, huh?)
In the event, he flew from Boston to Dallas and thence to Las Vegas. I picked him up at the airport and we took a cab to the Flamingo - I had waited too long and even the Chicago Caesars office could do nothing for me in the way of rooms at Caesars.
Dad had never been to Las Vegas and I showed him around. My gambling made him nervous and he only watched a few minutes of it. He found "his" game at the slot machines, and won several hundred dollars during the trip.
So . . . on the big day we walked over to Caesars Palace for the fight, or actually for the preliminaries, which were unremarkable. The seats were about half full when we got there and we had no trouble finding ours. People trickled in during the prelims, and soon the place was jammed. From time to time someone "special" would arrive and the announcer would inform us of it: Robert Goulet and Olivia Newton-John came as a couple, I believe; Jose Suleiman, the head of the World Boxing Council, arrived and was roundly booed; John and Bo Derek arrived (Bo Derek never did anything for me in her movies, dressed or undressed, but in person she was the loveliest creature I had ever seen); and by far the biggest ovation was for Muhammad Ali when he arrived. Lots of people were introduced in the ring, eventually including the referee, Richard Steele, and the fighters.
I was astonished by the money being bet around us. People who were strangers to each other were making five and ten thousand dollar bets and giving the money to third party strangers to hold. My impression was that the Detroit (Hearns) contingent outnumbered the Hagler contingent. Personally, I thought it was about an even matchup. Dad was utterly confident about Hagler's chances, but it was difficult for me to guess how much of that was due to Hagler being my father's home town boy.
The fight got underway and the pace was furious from the opening bell. Neither was attempting to box. Each was set on creaming the other, with Hagler, the shorter man, determined to get his head on Hearns' chest and make it a street fight. Hearns hit Hagler with a tremendous right. It stopped Hagler only for a second and then he moved toward Hearns again, throwing punches. Hearns had thrown and landed his very best shot and it hadn't been enough. We were less than halfway through the first round and only Hearns' die-hard fans still thought he would win. But the excitement certainly was not over. They continued fighting at a frenzied pace until the bell.
The second round was almost as intense as the first, and in the third round Steele stopped the fight for a moment to have the doctor look at a pretty good cut on Hagler's forehead, probably caused by that Hearns right in the first round. My father muttered something to the effect that he wouldn't be able to stand it if the fight were stopped for a cut.
The fight continued and Hagler knocked Hearns out in that third round. Later, the first round was voted the best first round of the century by sportswriters.
We flew back together as far as Chicago and the plane and my dad continued to Boston. He later made and framed a collage consisting of magazine pictures, newspaper articles, and his plane ticket and fight ticket, with a typewritten note about his "birthday present." He's gone now, and I have the collage and eventually I will get around to adding my fight ticket to it.
Oh, and Jeff did not have leukemia. His lab results and someone else's had somehow been mixed up. Sheesh.
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
Preempted Trips
I suppose we all get into ruts, doing things that we like over and over, and my father once told me, "You overdo everything you like." (It's still true.) But Dee Dee was the queen of that.
She and my father had formed a mutual admiration society (her favorite phrase regarding him was "He's so cute!"). He moonlighted at a steak house and cocktail lounge, playing a Hammond electric organ in the lounge. He was a ham and is probably the source of my penchant for entertaining people.
One night following our post-work Chinese dinner, I took Dee to the steak house. We entered the lounge and I introduced Dee to my father. They bonded instantly. As a result, Dee and I spent at least nine out of ten Friday nights going to the restaurant and the lounge. She just didn't want to do anything else.
Now I loved my dad, and I enjoyed these Fridays, but really, there had to be something else in the world that we would enjoy doing. Once in a great while I could talk her into going to a movie, but that was about it, and on those occasions, even when she enjoyed the movie, she clearly regretted not seing my dad.
We did spend a long weekend in Quebec City, and that was fun. I began to think of other places she might enjoy.
Donnie: "Dee, you've never been to Disneyworld, have you?"
Dee: "No."
Donnie: "We should take a short vacation and go there."
Dee: "We could do that."
Several weeks later she went to Disneyworld with girlfriends. Sigh.
Down the road a bit . . .
Donnie: "Dee, have you ever been to Las Vegas?"
Dee: "No."
Donnie: "We should take a vacation and go there."
Dee: "Okay."
Yup. Soon after she went to Las Vegas with girlfriends.
I found this depressing. I never understood it and she could never explain it. Writing this now, more than thirty years later, I find myself actually getting angry about it. I gotta get a grip.
MOVIES. DEE, AND ME
She and my father had formed a mutual admiration society (her favorite phrase regarding him was "He's so cute!"). He moonlighted at a steak house and cocktail lounge, playing a Hammond electric organ in the lounge. He was a ham and is probably the source of my penchant for entertaining people.
One night following our post-work Chinese dinner, I took Dee to the steak house. We entered the lounge and I introduced Dee to my father. They bonded instantly. As a result, Dee and I spent at least nine out of ten Friday nights going to the restaurant and the lounge. She just didn't want to do anything else.
Now I loved my dad, and I enjoyed these Fridays, but really, there had to be something else in the world that we would enjoy doing. Once in a great while I could talk her into going to a movie, but that was about it, and on those occasions, even when she enjoyed the movie, she clearly regretted not seing my dad.
We did spend a long weekend in Quebec City, and that was fun. I began to think of other places she might enjoy.
Donnie: "Dee, you've never been to Disneyworld, have you?"
Dee: "No."
Donnie: "We should take a short vacation and go there."
Dee: "We could do that."
Several weeks later she went to Disneyworld with girlfriends. Sigh.
Down the road a bit . . .
Donnie: "Dee, have you ever been to Las Vegas?"
Dee: "No."
Donnie: "We should take a vacation and go there."
Dee: "Okay."
Yup. Soon after she went to Las Vegas with girlfriends.
I found this depressing. I never understood it and she could never explain it. Writing this now, more than thirty years later, I find myself actually getting angry about it. I gotta get a grip.
MOVIES. DEE, AND ME
- The first movie I took her to see, The Sound of Music, became her all-time favorite. Later this movie was to demonstrate that she had my number.
She and I broke up and reconciled several times over the years. On a Sunday morning during one of the separation periods, I happened to notice that The Sound of Music was going to be on TV that afternoon. I grabbed the phone and dialed her number, knowing she'd want to see it. She still lived with her parents, and her brother answered the phone. We chatted for a minute or two and then I asked him if Dee was home.
"No, she's out shopping with my mom. She said you'd be calling, though."
"What?"
"Yeah, something about a movie on TV." - I took her to see The Bad News Bears (in 1976, the first time around for this title). Their baseball team was competing for a chance to go to Japan. When the Bears won in a cliff-hanger, the movie ended. As we left the theater . . .
Dee: "Phew. I was afraid they wouldn't win."
Donnie: "Naw, there was no chance they wouldn't win."
Dee: "Yes there was. Why do you say that?"
Donnie: "Because otherwise they wouldn't be able to make The Bad News Bears Go to Japan.."
Dee, shrilly: "You don't know that! You don't know that they'll make a movie like that."
A year or two later I noted in a newspaper that The Bad News Bears Go to Japan was about to be released. It was a work day and I called her at her office. She answered. All I got to say was "Good morning." Then I heard, "I know. I saw the ad on TV."
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