Time to Call It a Night (and a Morning)

Upon my return from Death Valley, I didn’t quite feel like calling it a night, so I went to one of those off-Strip casinos that locals frequent and which supposedly feature better slot odds. I lost a few bucks, headed back to Excalibur, where I was staying, then made one last pass at the slot machines. It was while playing the Deal or No Deal slots after midnight that I ironically received a proposition of a different sort. “Hey Baby,” the woman said, “What’s your name?”

I declined to give it, mumbling something while trying to move away. But she was undeterred.

“Can you give me some money?”

And that, dear readers, was a clear sign that it was time to call it a night.

Planet Moolah, indeed.

The next morning (or I guess I should say, later that morning) I woke up in time to a little last bit of slotting. First I went to Harrah’s, searching for slots I had not yet played (I’m a sucker for any based on a TV show or video game I grew up with — if they had a Ms. Pac-Man slot, I might never leave, but I’ve never seen one.) One Vegas irony is that the non-smoking sections, which I definitely prefer, are small and placed off in inconvenient corners, the exact inverse of how the rest of America treats smoking. As my bank roll dwindled, my mood darkened. . .but then, down to my last 21 cents, I won nearly $60 on Lucky Larry’s Lobstermania, then went back to Excalibur and promptly won another $100 on the very photogenic Planet Moolah. That was a real sign to get out of dodge while most of my bankroll was intact, so I returned the car, made my way back through airport security, and then had exactly one day of rest at home before my next adventure, which will be the subject of my next post.

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