One thing was certain during my first-ever trip to Las Vegas last weekend: I wasn’t going to come down with scurvy.
My friend Brad Goodman established early on that the gimlet would be the drink of choice during our stay. The gimlet is a mixture of gin and Rose’s lime juice.
The British used to drink it to fight off scurvy.
While not necessarily fearful of scurvy, the health benefits of the gimlet made for a nice excuse to visit the bar early and often. I even made my girlfriend drink one. She didn’t like the taste, but she also doesn’t like scurvy, so she went ahead and drank it anyway.
There’s more to Vegas than gimlets though. For instance, the Barbary Coast offers a 16 oz. T-bone steak served up 24 hours a day. From my hotel room window, I had a perfect view of the 30-foot-wide sign advertising this fact. Just knowing you have the option of crawling out of bed at 5 a.m. to gnaw on a T-bone is extremely comforting.
Las Vegas also has casinos. When you don’t have much money, the casinos take on an interesting feel. With no intentions of serious gambling, we mostly just walked through. Stepping into The Mirage simply to use the facilities is similar to making a bathroom pit stop at a gas station, only most gas stations don’t have caged tigers on display.
We walked through countless casinos over the course of the weekend, many times stopping only briefly to slip a few nickels into a slot machine.
Hiking through the vast expanses of Caesar’s Palace, I regretted leaving my compass and trail mix at home.
This isn’t to say I didn’t gamble though. While I do enjoy a nice casino hike, sometimes it’s a good idea to sit down and play some Keno.
My friend Brian Woznicki rolled into town from L.A. and met up with me at the Flamingo’s Keno lounge. There he explained the rules of the game. Not unlike the lotto, you pick a series of numbers, and hope they pop up. I decided to choose my numbers based on some of my favorite athletes. For instance, I went with number 8 in honor of former Cubs’ right fielder Andre Dawson. Dawson was a steady .280 hitter, and had a strong arm in the outfield. Unfortunately, his prowess on the diamond didn’t help my Keno score at all, and after a solid hour in the lounge, I walked away with nothing.
After that experience, Brian and I decided it was time to hit the blackjack table. Now this was a game I thought I could play.
We saddled up and threw some cash down on the table. It was on. We started strong, each building a small pile of winning chips. Our dealer was a loose-jawed woman who enjoyed talking about car parts with some of the men at the table. Brian and I were all business and refrained from the conversation. We don’t know anything about cars anyway.
Things were going well. That is until they switched dealers. Clearly intimidated by the fact that I was up at least $10, they decided to make the change.
Enter Angelo.
Angelo was a shifty character with beady eyes, eyebrows that could cock at a moment’s notice and a grin more diabolical than that of any number of cartoon villains.
Angelo was ruthless. He gave us the bad cards and kept the good ones for himself. He pulled the deck close to his chest and rubbed his hands together as if moisturizing with Keri Lotion, or perhaps Jergens. Within 10 minutes, I was out. Brian was a trooper and played on. That was the last I saw of him.
I reunited with the rest of the crew and found it was time for two of our friends to be married by Elvis. Many don’t know that Elvis is an ordained minister. He’s also still alive.
After the ceremony, we celebrated with a formal meal at Burger King and a few more casino power walks. I was on my second pair of shoes when the festivities wound to a close.
As we boarded our plane to leave Sin City, I wondered if I’d ever return. It’s hard to say. But with the rest of my life ahead of me, and no scurvy in my system, I feel like I can do just about anything I want.
