ONLINE GAMBLING AND CASINO GUIDE

A week ago, it got to the 90 degree mark and I had to crank the AC in my nerd cave to prevent my computers from overheating.  This morning, it was 54 and I had to turn on the heat so that I could get enough feeling in my hands to type.

I took these photographs this past weekend, just 4 days ago:

This is what it looked like yesterday afternoon:

Vegas is a town of extremes.

I don’t know what the gangsters were thinking when they decided to build elaborate gaming parlors here.  Antarctica is probably more hospitable to life than is this town.  At the very least, the South Pole is consistent.

I went to the Flamingo/LVB metropolitan area today, and I couldn’t help but be a little amused by the wardrobes of some of my fellow Las Vegans.  Yesterday, the hats, coats, and even scarves came out.  There are still tourists in shorts and t-shirts, but by the looks of things you would think locals were preparing for the second Ice Age.  “Brrrrrr, it’s 63, come inside before you get frostbite.”

After picking up a couple of items in the Miracle Mile Shops and checking to make sure my testes were still affixed after shopping in a casino mall, I headed back to the Bally’s Monorail Station.  I’ve no idea why Planet Aladdin does not have its own station, but it’s a waste since it is adjacent to the tracks.

Once I got to the station’s namesake, I decided to take a look around and see what was happening.

Bally’s is a very unique casino in that it has slot machines and table games affixed to the floor, instead of on the ceiling like most other casinos.

As a person who strictly abides by the laws of gravity, I find this very comforting.

Sorry, it’s one of those “seen one casino, seen them all” kind of days.  At some point I’m going to learn to appreciate design elements and carpet patterns.  It’s my only hope to keep things fresh and interesting.

Anyway, I spotted a fairly full craps table not far from the Paris/Bally’s connector and walked over to it.  Most people jump right in, but It’s not unusual for me to spectate for a little while.  I like to feel things out and get the vibe of both the players and the staff before committing to the game.

As I was watching a roll, I got a tap on the shoulder and I turned around to find a gentleman smiling at me.

“Have you had any drinks thrown at you today?”, he asked.

“What?”, I replied.

“Have the security guards been messing with you?”, he added.

I gave him a confused look and he proceeded to asked me if I was “vegas rex” (as if anyone would adopt such a stupid moniker).

These little confrontations happen every now and then, and they are a little awkward because I don’t have any idea who I’m dealing with.  It could be someone who’s reasonably sane, or it could be one of Steve Wynn’s disgruntled lovers standing before me with a knife tucked into his waistband ready to attack while screaming “I’d do anything for that man!”

Even if it is someone who means well, I’m still not sure what to say.

If I’m with people, I’ll usually cop to being the person in question.  The great thing about having people around is that they are perfect covers for my lack of sociability and I can just kind of nod while they speak.  Pretty much everyone on the planet is more outgoing than I am, and most of them know how do engage in “small talk”.

I am not skilled at this particular endeavor.  Last year I was in the elevator with a neighbor and her child, and despite my attempts to just look down and keep quiet, her little girl waved at me.  Not wanting to be a complete ass to the child, I said “Hi there little rugmuncher”.

I remember the lady giving me a stunned look, and only later did I realize that I had called her child a lesbian.  In my head, I was thinking of something cute like rugrat or ankle biter, but “rug muncher” came out.

This is what I get for even attempting to converse with people I don’t know.  I’m not outgoing or happy enough to pull it off convincingly.

When I’m by myself, I also feel some pressure to carry the conversation.  If it is one of the rare occasions when someone says “I like your blog”, I feel like I have to say something clever or entertaining lest I disappoint the person.  I feel like a dancing monkey.  Like I need to do something to earn the kind words.

As the “Did you get a drink thrown at you?” line suggests, it seems that people expect me to be embroiled in some kind of controversy on an ongoing basis.  The problem is this … everywhere I go, hilarity does not ensue and when it does, I’m rarely the cause of it.  Even in Las Vegas, 99% of life is pretty mundane.

People whom I meet are doomed to be disappointed because I don’t run around slapping waitresses on the ass while sprinting through casinos with middle fingers emerging from both hands shouting “f*ck f*ck fuckity f*ck”.

I assured him that he had the wrong person, and the gentleman said “Sorry, you look like him.”

“If he looks like me then the poor bastard must never get laid”, I replied flatly.

I probably should have stopped while I was ahead.  He looked a little let down, said “Well, it’s nice meeting you.” and then headed off into the bowels of the casino.  He obviously knew I was lying and I felt somewhat bad.  People mistake my lack of enthusiasm for rudeness all the time, but it’s not them … it’s me.  My head is always full of weird s**t, like trying to figure out why God lets starving kids in Ethiopia get cancer.

I’m fine around people I know because, after many years of frustration … they already understand and accept my quirks, but in a “meet and greet” situation with new people I either offend them by saying something wrong, or I offend them by not speaking at all.

It’s lose-lose.

I feel bad that people take it the wrong way, and I need to come up with some ideas to be a little more amiable.

Next time someone approaches me, I may just walk up to the nearest waitress and smack her on the ass.

Sure, I’ll get tackled and beaten senseless by security, but it will make for one hell of a story back home.

Then again, maybe I won’t have a problem.  Copping a feel from a waitress is nowhere near the same level of transgression as stealing a police car and kidnapping a naked Asian dude.

All I have to do is get that “Vegas, Baby!” spirit going, and the next thing you know I’ll be demonstrating to everyone how what happens here stays here!

I can already tell that this idea isn’t going to work.

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