ONLINE GAMBLING AND CASINO GUIDE

Since today was nice, and it’s supposed to rain for the next couple of days … before I hit the casino, I decided to head over to The Las Vegas Sign.

Why?

It was the only structure on the Las Vegas Strip that my dog had yet to urinate on.  It was also the only structure on the Las Vegas Strip that I had yet to urinate on.

There’s nothing like killing two birds with one stone.

If there is one thing I have learned from a canine companion, it’s that it is imperative that you let people know where you have been by laying down a golden stream of goodness.   All of a sudden, the aroma of the New York City Subway System is starting to make sense.

“How do I get from Time Square to Far Rockaway?”

“Oh that’s easy, John pissed on the “A” last month.  Sniff around and when you find it … that’s your train.”

I have no idea why humans have to complicate life with things like “maps” when a squirt here or there tells you all you need to know.

While at the sign, I noticed a large number of people lining up to get their pictures taken.  There were the usual tourists, newlyweds, and there was even one couple getting married.

There was also something unusual.  Apparently some kind of reality TV show was being taped.  Some lady kept shouting “Blue team, Go!”, “Red team, Go!” and a variety of other colored “teams”.  When she shouted this, different groups of people ran up to the sign, struck a pose, and had their photo taken.  I honestly have no idea what it was all about, but when you see it on the tube, you’ll know when it really happened. Today.

After the sign excitement, I dropped the mutt off, and headed over to the Encore.

Frankly, I am getting a little bit worried about my testosterone levels.  I may have to get them checked.

You see, I’ve been in the Encore three, count them, three times this week.  I’m really not all that enthused about the place, I have simply met three different people in either the Wynn or Encore this week, and I have gravitated to the Encore pit.

I promise that I am not obsessing over the design elements.  I can 100% guarantee you that I have not found anything “stunning” about the place.  My scrotum still encapsulates two spheres.

However, to be perfectly forthright, the place is growing on me a tiny bit.  I am starting to like the fact that I can see outside into the pool area from some of the tables.  It feels less claustrophobic than most casinos, and let’s face it … I have a better shot at catching a glimpse of some bikini tail from any casino adjacent to a pool. Especially the pool of a high-end casino where the women can afford to get breast implants and liposuction.

Anyway, I arrived later than I had planned, but I still wanted to play a bit because I knew I had to leave soon afterward.

I immediately found two $15 BJ tables.  One with 4 players, and the other table empty.  I decided to play the empty table.  With a full table, sometimes it’s not worth buying in for only a few minutes. Especially if you get the guy at the table who can’t add.

You know the guy. The one who asks “What is that?” after every hand.

The only thing worse than the guy who can’t add, is the guy who can’t add … but won’t admit it.

You know this guy too.

The dealer shows a 10.  He gets dealt 8-4 and sits there and stares at it for 10 seconds.  Finally, the dealer says “That’s twelve”.

“Hit me”, he says.

Out comes a 4.  Another ten seconds elapse before the dealer says “That’s sixteen”.

At this point, the guy takes a Democratic vote of the table.

“What would you guys do?” he asks.

The entire table then begins to deliberate until they come to the consensus that hitting has a slight edge over standing.  After everyone comes to this unanimous decision, the guy completely overrules them and says “I’ll stand”.

Well what the @#@% did you ask for?

After this guy makes his play, the guy who can’t add and does admit it …  is up.  The the dealer throws an 8 on top of his Jack, and he asks the dealer “What do I have?”. 

We’ve all had this table.

The problem is, I always get this table when I have the least amount of time.

Because of this I chose the empty one.

I wish I hadn’t.

The only thing worse than getting the short bus table, is getting a table where you are dealt 4 hands per minute … at the exact moment every trace of luck packs its suitcase and leaves your ass.

This is the moment where you are a trailer park, and luck is a tornado.  Luck is Yoko Ono, and you are the Beatles.  You get the point.

The session went something like this:

• Dealer Blackjack
• Dealer Blackjack
• I pull 20, dealer pulls K-6-5
• Dealer Blackjack
• Rinse
• Repeat

I couldn’t even kill ten minutes for crying out loud.

When you are on a bad run, at least a full table stretches the losses out.  When it’s heads up, you might as well just hand the dealer your wallet and leave … which is more or less what I did.  It was just miserable.

Fortunately, I had a good meal, took care of some business, and spent a little more time enjoying the 75 degree weather … which is about as good as it gets here.

As for the gambling loss, I am not stressing over it.  As a matter of fact, I have already figured out exactly how to get it back.

Word has it that there is a secret table in Las Vegas that pays 2:1 on naturals, and although I am not at liberty to divulge its location, I think I may have inadvertently stumbled upon it …

• Keep updated through Newsletter or on Facebook

  E-mail:
  

  Subscribe
  Unsubscribe