FRONTIER HOTEL CASINO $5 hotel casino gaming poker chip ...

I could have written a whole series about cheating, but decided to try and be as brief as possible.
One of the reasons that we willingly pay the rake in casino poker is for game protection. The casino executes this in many ways — automatic shufflers, standard dealing procedures, surveillance, and of course, by providing professional dealers.
Above all else, a professional dealer’s number one priority is to maintain the integrity of the game and ensure protection for all of the players. If you’re playing in a home game, you probably won’t be provided with the luxury of a professional dealer.
However, that doesn’t mean you can’t educate yourself about the various cheating methods commonly used in home games. Don’t go into a game blind — protect yourself.
There are many different types of cheating methods, both old and new. The most recent cheating method to hit the market involved an intricate electronic system that used an infrared camera and infrared ink. The system originated from China and involved a certain level of know-how that was required to obtain and use the system. The camera was disguised as a cell phone, car key fob, shirt button, etc. It was almost impossible to detect unless you were knowledgeable in electronics, since the camera would transmit the data to the receiver over a normal, unencrypted radio channel. This system, which cost anywhere from around $2,000 - $10,000 was revealed at DEFCON a few years ago.
For those who don’t know, DEFCON (Defense Convention) is a conference where the top cyber security professionals meet and share their findings for the year. One team in particular explored this modern infrared cheating system and came to the conclusion that it was being professionally manufactured and could have only been produced by at least a few different experts in their respective fields ranging from software development, digital image analysis, hardware and microchip development, etc. The bottom line was that the team at DEFCON reasonably presumed there to be a rather lucrative market for this system.
It stands to reason that if there’s enough money involved, given the opportunity, cheating will always have the potential to take place. You should always remember that, as it’s a universal truth of crime and deception.
Now, it’s very unlikely that your home game will employ a cheating system to such a high degree. But remember, it’s always a possibility. The one giveaway that could reveal that this high-end system was being used, is that it required the dealer to cut the deck on the table, and leave the long edge of the cards untouched for about 2 seconds. This was so that the camera could scan the deck (marked with infrared ink) and determine the winner, given that the right data was input into the software. Normally, the dealer will cut and then instantaneously pick up the deck and deal.
You can do some more research on your own if you’re interested in this system and how it was potentially used in one of the card rooms on the strip, in Las Vegas. There was a bit of a scandal stemming back a few years ago.
Now that you have an idea of the lengths that people will go to in order to cheat, let’s talk about some of the cheating methods you’re more likely to encounter at your local home game. Ironically, these methods are mostly sleight of hand techniques that are hundreds of years old. Magic and poker cheating go hand in hand.
I’ll start off by saying that unless you are playing with a group of guys who you trust and know very well, I would advise you to never play in a self-dealt game. There are just too many opportunities and variables to deduce who the cheater is.
Self-dealt games aside, there are a few things that should always be present to help ensure game protection. There should always be a cut card to conceal the bottom card on the deck, and you should always take note of the types of cards being used.
If you’re playing for any stakes that are $1/$2 or bigger, then the game should be using either KEM, Copag, or Modiano cards. The most popular Bicycle Rider Back cards were a common choice for magic shops to offer as a marked deck for sale. Luckily, the USPCC (the producer of Bicycle cards) no longer allows third party companies to produce marked decks. I personally have a few in my collection, and while the marking system isn’t the most complex, it’s easy to miss unless you know what to look for.
If your home game has a set dealer, be sure to watch the way they handle the cards. They should be employing the standard shuffling procedures that all casino card rooms use — riffle, riffle, strip cut, riffle, and cut. Unless the dealer is a skilled card mechanic, it would be very difficult to beat this standard shuffling procedure.
You should never allow an overhand shuffle, as it’s very easy to cull cards and false shuffle this way. Culling cards is sleight of hand jargon for obtaining particular cards from the deck to be later put into a certain position. A false shuffle is exactly what it sounds like — a shuffle that looks real but doesn’t change the order of the deck. There are many types of false shuffles. Some of them retain the order of the entire deck, others retain the top half, some the bottom half, and so on. The bottom line is that an overhand shuffle is a red flag.
The most important thing that you must make sure happens, and I can’t stress this enough, is that the deck is cut before the deal. While there are ways to nullify a legitimate cut, and even execute a false cut that looks incredibly genuine, you should be alright as long as you closely watch the deck get cut. If you see any noticeable gaps within the deck, which would allow someone to easily cut to a specific card, then you should be on the lookout for what’s called a “gambler’s crimp”. This technique puts a special bend (crimp) in a card, allowing the thumb to catch it and cut to it.
You should also make sure that the dealer isn’t doing anything out of the ordinary like burning a card before the action is complete, or rolling the deck. Rolling the deck simply means not holding the deck level. Most amateur dealers will roll the deck at some point, usually while pulling in bets, however, it’s also one way to peek at the next card.
Now that we’ve discussed cards to a sufficient extent, let’s talk about chips and bets. No one should ever splash the pot, this is to ensure the proper amount of money was put in. In addition, all bets should be pulled in after the betting round is complete, unless you are heads up in a split-pot game. An unethical player might pull back a chip or two, if given the opportunity.
Finally, and this is paramount, make sure that you watch the rake! This is absolutely the most common way that you will be cheated. Dealers are sometimes instructed by the host of the game to over-rake in big pots, when it is less noticeable. Always ask what the rake and structure of the rake is so that you know how much should be coming out of the pot.
If you encounter a dealer taking too much rake, be aware that sometimes it is simply a mistake. I would advise you to not hastily accuse a dealer of raking too much. Instead, discreetly approach the host of the game, away from the table. If you see overraking occur more than once, then you either have an incompetent dealer, or you’re being cheated.
Always make sure you are paying attention to the handling of the cards and to the chips being put into and pulled out of the pot. This is one of the best defenses against being cheated — it’s much less likely to happen when the cheater is aware that they are being closely watched.
One method I haven’t mentioned yet is something called signaling. This is simply a form of collusion. Players will covertly signal to each other in various ways. Unfortunately, there’s no way to know how they are doing it until you discover some type of pattern. If you find you are consistently being “sandwiched” out of a pot by the same two guys, yet the hand never goes to showdown, then this should be another red flag. Signaling is one of the more obvious cheating methods, and as such isn’t used as often as the others. Any decent poker player would be able to figure out that the action makes no sense, as it pertains to the hand.
In conclusion, I would advise that you only play in games that have a good reputation. The more players who you are personally acquainted with, the better. The biggest advantage you can have is personally knowing the host of the game. If you trust them, then it eliminates a majority of the various cheating methods that could be used. That doesn’t mean a particular player won’t try and mark cards or short the pot, however, it does mean that the more costly ways of being cheated won’t be possible. Getting cold decked requires more than just the dealer being involved.
Always remember that you never have to play in any game. You have nothing to gain and only something to lose if you continue to play in a game that doesn’t seem honest. Make sure that you always pay attention, and keep in mind that you are putting your own money at risk. That alone should be enough to keep you cognizant of what is going on.

Pope Pete Speaks

Here's an old interview retired Pope, stochastic instigator and dealer in scented candles Peter J Carroll. I can't google it up (I dunno, maybe Fenwick's still hosting it). Maybe sticking it here will fix that. Any of you guys who takes the shit he writes TOO DAMN SERIOUSLY would do well to read it. Given the tone of his recent books maybe Pete could do with a refresher course himself.
--------------------

PETER J. CARROLL INTERVIEW

Q: You've referred to the Illuminates of Thanateros as the "magical heirs to the "Zos Kia Cultus" and as "a satrap of the Illuminati," and in the flow chart on page 8 of the Weiser edition of Liber Null, you make I.O.T. look like the culmination of everything from Sufism to Freemasonry. How do you answer critics who say that this is pretentious?
A: The chart in Liber Null was presented to show the development of certain traditions of esoteric ideas; each of the groups shown appears to have taken some inspirations from one or more older groups and added something of its own. Each group may be considered as the "Illuminati" of its era in the sense that it possessed the keys to the next advance of enlightenment. This, I believe, is all the Illuminati actually consists of, and I like to think that Chaos Magic is the obvious esoteric current for the postmodern era.
Q: As a scientist, you're naturally familiar with the Second Law of Thermodynamics. If it is true, and the universe actually is at some point going to reach a point of equilibrium, won't that obviate Chaos Magick?
A: The Second Law of Thermodynamics was derived from the behaviour of small volumes of gas in cylinders. It takes no account of such things as the strong nuclear force, gravitation, morphic fields, or the activities of information creating systems. I would be very surprised if the law has universal cosmic validity.
Q: You quote from Magick in Theory and Practice rather frequently in your works, and especially Liber Null, but you do not credit Crowley as the author of your thoughts. For example, "Metamorphosis" actually seems but a rewriting of "Liber Jugorum." Was Crowley a major influence on you?
A: Awful Aleister gets his credit in the chart mentioned above where an arrow leading from the "OTO" box which represents Thelema in general leads to the IOT box. I think I have read most of Crowley and he certainly is a major influence. However, I do not collect books, anything worth reading I pass to friends, the rest, I destroy. The only exception being Austin Spare; I keep the collected works as I feel I have yet to fully understand them. I'm more interested in Crowley's ideas than his personality. As Gerald Yorke commented to a friend of mine, "you would not have liked him if you had met him." Indeed, I'm sure that the few things Aleister would have requested of any of his contemporary followers had he still been around would have been wallet, worship, girlfriend and arsehole. This is not the style of mastership which interests me personally.
Q: I take it that A. O. Spare was an influence on you; for example, the section on sigils owes a lot to him, doesn't it?
A: Austin Spare has influenced me greatly, more than Crowley. For me, Spare's great triumph was in uncovering the basic sleight of mind trick which brings the sub or unconscious into play to effect magic. Once this is understood you have the key to the whole field of magic and the role of any particular symbolism becomes rather secondary. Obviously, most successful magicians must have understood the trick intuitively but Spare made it explicit with no bullshit and has thus allowed us to extend the technique in a planned and deliberate fashion rather by mere intuition or hit and miss procedures.
Q: In Liber Null, you advocate, as a tool for "liberating" from conditioning, the exploration of heresies, iconoclasm, anathemisms, etc., including "sexualites which are unusual for you." Isn't this just a rehashing of antinomian vama marga techniques designed to rid the initiate of his/her kleshas?
A: Yes, it probably is, the antinomian techniques are so essential that they must be continually rehashed to suit current needs. One only achieves "overstanding" rather than mere understanding of any so called truth or law or convention by appreciating the conditions under which it is false or inappropriate or unnecessary. My next book will deal with a more extreme form of antinomianism, the elimination of the concept of "being" from thought and speech.
Q: Reading the section on "Augoeides," I was struck by the similarities to Crowley and especially Magick and Theory and Practice and The Law is For All. What is your opinion of him, both as a man and a magus?
A: The further I look into the concept of Augoeides or True Will, the more my opinion hardens against the idea. One can certainly perform operations to achieve it, but I now consider it unwise to do so as it merely bloats one of our component selves to demonic size, at the expense of our full humanity. Crowley was certainly a man of varied and often extreme achievements. More of a mystic rather than a magus, in the sense that he neglected results magic. He was also a bully and an exploiter and an incorrigible self publicist. Although he attracted many interesting people to himself, the best of them seemed to break with him rather quickly. I rather fancy that I would have found him fascinating for a while, but that we would have ended up fighting after a while.
Q: My own theory as to how magick "works" is that by ritual, we reprogram our biocomputers with programs to do magick; that we do this by means of altered states of consciousness, which allow us to manipulate the information in the universal hologram through willed synchronicities. Any comment?
A: Quite so, but I'm sure we could argue for hours about what you mean by the "universal hologram" which would appear to have similar properties to my "morphic information in shadow time." Moreover, I would be pleased to concur with your use of the term "information." Clearly, the concept of occult "energies" is past its sell by date.
Q: When you observe that "the gods came out of Chaos" are you referring to the cosmonogies of the ancients, and in particular, the Orphics, Valentinians, etc.?
A: Not specifically, but I tried to imply that "the gods" arise from the same non-anthropomorphic "forces" which create the universe and us within it. This universe does not appear to be the work of a humanoid sentient deity to me, unless it has a very perverse sense of humour.
Q: I absolutely love the section (in Liber Null) on "Random Belief." You offer a number of reasons why practice of this art is beneficial, though you seem to ignore one rather obvious one: the ability to throw lesser mortals off-guard. For example, if you met a person and came onto them as a pagan polytheist one day and, three or four days later, you encountered them and began talking like a true believer in fundamentalist Christianity, you would be practising what Setians call "Lesser Black Magic," wouldn't you? (Mental sleight of hand.)
A: Yes, this can certainly have interesting effects, but I have often found it a good exercise to try and enter the paradigms of people I meet who hold extreme views and to keep taking those views a little further with each turn in the conversation until a positive feedback leads us into realms where the absurdity of the original premise becomes apparent.
Q: Were you aware that the statement "Nothing is true, all is permitted" has been attributed, I think properly, to Hassan Ibn Sabbah, the "Old Man of the Mountains" and notorious head of the Hashshashin (Order of Assassins)?
A: Yes, it certainly has been attributed to him, but with an understandably wide margin of possible historical error, and the context can only be guessed at. I like the statement very much; it has applications on many levels, but one should never forget that the consequences can be ghastly.
Q: To some, if not all quantum theories, isn't it literally true that "Nothing is true, all is permitted" (merely substituting the word "real" for "true")?
A: According to the Copenhagen Interpretation of quantum physics, to which I partly subscribe, I think it would be fair to say, "There is no being, all is doing, and even that is a matter of probability."
Q: When you wrote "…the root of every emotion is also its opposite," were you aware that this is what Kraft-Ebbing said about so-called abnormal psychology?
A: I've not read Kraft-Ebbing; the ideas came to me mainly from Spare, who apparently used to refer to Jung and Freud as Junk and Fraud, even though he obviously was influenced by some of their ideas.
Q: Who was the sage you quoted as saying "Desire is the cause of sorrow" … Siddhartha? Patanjali? Both?
A: Siddhartha, I believe, although there is of course considerable debate about what the historical Buddha actually said. I think it would be fair to say that there are probably much greater differences between current Buddhist traditions than there are for example between Christian denominations. My point about emotional duality is that life is richer if we are prepared to take both sides of what is on offer rather than neither as many schools of Buddhism appear to suggest.
Q: In Psychonaut, you say, "It now seems that magic is where science is heading." Is this in keeping with the fact that the ancients knew intuitively what modern science is only now "discovering"? For example, the Sanskrit Hindu concept of non-duality will seen to have been "born out," so-to-speak, by Bohm's theory of the implicate order?
A: It's all very well to find some ancient metaphysics which equate roughly with modern physics, but the overwhelming mass of ancient theories now seem wrong. Some aspects of Bohm's theory attract me, but only when they don't pretend to be hidden variables; I prefer to allow an element of pure chance.
Q: Your observation that "the creativity of consciousness has mushroomed so enormously that the totality of human ideas seems to double with each decade." Wouldn't it be better to speak of it as doubling every 2-3 years?
A: The doubling period is undoubtedly shortening although much spurious novelty particularly in art and the soft sciences can hardly be called creative.
Q: In "Group Ritual," you observe that "a full-length black robe with hood is most excellent" for depersonalization of ritual, and add, "as is nudity…" Don't you think that the latter might actually be distracting and that one would be constantly reminded: "This isn't a god-form, it's chubby Harry with moles," etc.? In other words, nudity might be a hindrance?
A: You can quite easily get used to nudity so that it seems the most natural thing in the world, or you can reserve it for works of an explicitly sexual nature. In my order, we have used both strategies in the course of week-long meetings.
Q: Your writing on "Magical Combat" is, simply put, the best I've seen. Are you familiar with the "Battle of the Magicians" in 19th century France? Any comment?
A: Sorry, I'm not familiar with that one; apart from Eliphas Levi, French occultism seems to be a more or less closed book to us in the U.K.
Q: In your "Invocation of Baphomet," you mention an essentially Tantric rite of breathing on the muladhara chakra, identifying the latter as the peritoneum. Wouldn't this necessitate major surgery under a full anesthetic?
A: Permit me a joke or two. No matter how wild the celebration of the Mass of Chaos "B," I have never seen anybody actually try this particular ritual gesture! It's optional.
Q: You remark that "There is actually no scientific view of mind at all," and yet, even in the 1980's we had the views of scientists such as Dennett, Fodor, Wolf, Hofstader, Eccles et al. Have your views changed since the publication of Psychonaut?
A: The mind is what the brain does and that is more or less all there is to it, although one must remember to consider the actions of the shadow information fields with brain activity. Behaviourism is almost scientific on a phenomenological level, but limited in scope. Psychology cannot become scientific until we understand the actions of the brain in detail, and this is a long way off.
Q: In the Liber Nox section of Principia Magica, you characterise as "futile" the "heroic efforts currently being expended on projecting quantum physics into the big bang epoch to forge a Grand Unified Theory…" Are you aware that the American congress recently halted construction of a superconducting super collider and would you agree then, that the multi-billion dollar project wasn't worth the money it was eating up?
A: I am devastated the American congress misinterpreted what I wrote and cancelled the superconducting super collider. Particle physics is great fun and worth every cent it costs, but one of the things I predict that it will not do is prove the big bang hypothesis or yield a deterministic explanation of how the universe came into existence.
Q: What is your opinion of Sheldrake's morpho-genetic fields? Do his theories amount to a kind of neo-animism?
A: More of a neo-platonism than a neo-animism, really. The basic theory is fine, but I find no evidence for the persistence of morphic fields from material structures which have ceased to exist. This is a sore point between Sheldrake and I. He has not bothered to perform a simple and definitive crystalographic experiment which I have proposed which could settle the matter. His first book was brilliant, but the follow-up, Persistence of the Past, is a mass of assumptions which I find to be highly questionable.
Q: In Liber Null & Psychonaut, you say that astrology is bunk, yet you provide us with your own natal chart information at the very end of Liber Kaos - why the apparent contradiction? (By the way, Sun opposite Uranus indicates a person who is so self-willed he has difficulty getting along with others, often "rubbing people the wrong way," to quote my Visions software. You apparently like to have things your own way and to be high-strung.)
A: I have no difficulty getting along with others so long as I am in charge. I find that if I pick any sun sign at random the description fits me perfectly.
Q: As did our reviewer, Leo Viridis, I very much enjoyed your explication of the "Psychohistorical" model of the Aeons, though I tend to disagree that acausality, indeterminacy, and action-at-a-distance are, as you put it, "magical [rather than] material" theories. I think writers like Zukav and Capra, among others, have shown how very transcendentalist such theories are. Apparently you disagree?
A: I'd say that only theories within the classical and relativistic descriptions are purely material. Quantum theory, although arising from the scientific enterprise, has begun to touch on matters which I classify as magical. Transcendental theories are those which are neither provable nor falsifiable and they hold little interest for me.
Q: Why do you say that the model "does not predict the nature of the characteristic post-industrial technology for the impeding aeon"? Isn't it rather obvious that the technology is upon us and that it is information itself, or the use of it, leading "mind2 to its reductio ad absurdum: the "pure information" of the implicate order. One of Lily's paradigms of "god" is the computer. Comment?
A: Well, yes, in the absence of disaster, the future is a high tech information culture. However, there seems a general lack of awareness of just how vulnerable such a culture would be to the breakdown of its information systems. A single EMP bomb could reduce everything to a Neolithic level without killing anybody. Imagine a cash-free society that got a serious virus in the whole system. Concerning Lily's paradigm, didn't somebody once say that an ant had once said to him that God was rather like an ant except that it had two stings.
Q: The story of the star ruby and the sailboat in the Arabian sea ends with your musing on whether the octarine stone had been given to you as a curse. I thought you were free of superstitions?
A: A curse perhaps, in the sense that giving someone a Las Vegas poker chip might be considered a curse.
Q: In the section on references, you mention Robert Anton Wilson and suggest that the reader "read all his books." Do you know Wilson personally?
A: I've spent a couple of very pleasant evenings with Robert Anton Wilson and his wife, Arlene, at their place when I visited the USA. Probably the most interesting people of their generation that I have met. Bob has a mind like a ramjet; it sucks ideas in at one end, compresses and accelerates them, and blasts them out of the other. We also drank a great deal.
Q: Have you ever been accused of lacking a sense of humour? (This is a lie; you can be very funny, as, for example, when discussing blue magic - e.g. the myth that the rich are unhappy; that lotteries are only won by the poor because only the poor play and then lose their earnings in a couple of years. I also learned from this section why I am always broke: I hate money. Thanks.)
A: I like to think that I normally exhibit a rather dry sense of humour; in the USA, this is often missed, in Germany, it is rarely noticed at all.
Q: Do barristers and counsellors at law have any innate ability to practice Orange Magic?
A: I understand that in the USA lawyers attract vast amounts of wealth, power, and respect despite that they are seriously undermining the fabric of your society. Over here they seem to have a similar sort of status to undertakers or funeral consultants as you may call them. I suppose that anyone who speaks well with a forked tongue could be regarded as practising orange magic.
Q: I found your remark that homosexuality is "unsatisfactory, if the frenetic merry-go-round of partner exchanges in that discipline is anything to go by," rather curious. Are you aware that some homosexuals are monogamous and thus, put your observation into the category of overstatement?
A: Possibly an overstatement, but I notice that the conquests of promiscuous homosexuals are often a whole order of magnitude greater than what most promiscuous heterosexuals achieve, and good luck to them if that's what they like.
Q: Anything you wish to add?
A: No, but thanks for some interesting questions.

Weekend Reader: Two Haralabos Voulgaris Gambling Stories From The Past. (Very long).

[Note to this sub: Here are two gambling stories involving Haralabos Voulgaris. Two things you should know. 1) I originally wrote this for a completely different, anonymous audience and not for all the wonderful "Shoe Fitness Architects", "Pizza Delivery Engineers", Overnight Security Enforcers, and DMV Workers that I've gotten the pleasure of meeting on here during my time on /billsimmons. Instead, it will seem like I'm talking to a room full of strangers, and for the first time. So if you read something that you've already seen me say on this sub, you know the reason. I also sound “different” in this.
2) It's long. You've been warned, I don't want to hear shit about it being so damn long. Think of this as a throwback to the Page 2 days, when you knew a guy was going to take a huge, extended shit because he just printed out Simmons' latest article and ran into the bathroom. You know, the “glory days”.
If you read this on Friday, you can save this for your afternoon work shit. Read it on your phone though, because it's got a short YouTube clip in it that helps tell the story.
If you read it over the weekend, I suggest smoking a bowl beforehand, especially to our Canadian friends up North. Doesn't have to be Top Shelf, just something to buzz you going in.
That's it. Enjoy.
The recent news of the Dallas Mavericks hiring Haralabos Voulgaris as Director of Quantitative Research and Development recently blew my mind. I knew it was Bob's goal to be an NBA GM, and this job isn't quite on the GM level, but I still can't believe he's made it onto a real NBA organization. I still think of him mostly from his early 2000's poker and sports betting days, and I never imagined he'd be able to hold down a real job someday. I didn't think anyone from the gambling world ever could.
I was heavily into sports gambling and poker at the same time as Bob was ascending as a sports gambling force, from the late 80's until well into the 2000's. I didn't know Haralabos well, yet I heard about or saw him all the time. This pretty much describes all relationships in gambling to be honest. But I did make sure to hear all the stories about Haralabos back then, because they always made the gossip rounds and were usually funny.
I'm here to share two of Haralabos' famous gambling stories, to give you a little insight into the man. If you are an Old School gambler, you've already heard them. But they are now 15 years old, and I couldn't find a good telling already on the Internet, so new people might get a kick out of these. Sources are at the bottom of this post.
People need to understand that, back then (early 2000s), Bob was best known for two things: betting the NBA, and being a smart ass trash talker at the poker tables. Bob was a world class needler that people highly resented because he had “Fuck You” kinds of money and he sure lorded that fact over everybody. He found everyone in the gambling world incredibly stupid compared to himself, and wasn't afraid to let people know it. I guess that's not much different than his Twitter in 2018, except he's learned to be more polite about it.
It was amusing being in a poker room with Bob in it, unless you were the focus of his remarks. He did not have any boundaries and was merciless, and really went after people “Micheal Jordan style” with the ferocity of his put-downs. Asked to describe him, I'd say 98% of players back then would call him an “arrogant dickhead” (including me at that time), while 2% would say “really sharp guy who doesn't tolerate fools” (including me now). We would all agree that he could be hilarious.
With that set-up, here are two Haralabos Voulgaris gambling stories that let's you know what he was like back in the early 2000's.
Story #1
My favorite Haralabob story, which long time 2+2ers have already heard about and whose legend has grown over the years, is the infamous Freddy Deeb story. If you know it, you are already nodding your head. But hopefully it's new to you. It's a classic.
Freddy Deeb was a rich business man from Lebanon, but a lot of people thought he was Egyptian (close enough for poker players). “Fast Freddy” was a decent if unspectacular poker player who pre-dated the poker boom. So Freddy was a legit and well known regular even before TV got involved with the game, and parlayed that “real, genuine poker player” label into appearances on TV when the poker boom happened. He had strong credibility.
Freddy is probably most famously remembered for being accused of “Going South” by Johnny Chan on an episode of High Stakes Poker. Freddy handled that accusation in typical Freddy fashion – making a big deal about this small joke insulting his integrity, aggressively confronting everyone about it and challenging them to heads-up poker matches to prove his manhood. The dude could be a hothead. (“Going South”, which was more commonly called “rat-holing”, is when a player sneaks high denomination chips off the table undetected after winning a big pot, so he has no possibility of losing them back in a later big hand. It's a unethical way to play “hit and run” if you win big quickly, without the “running” part being as obvious as picking up and leaving immediately.)
The two things you needed to know about Freddy: 1) He was short. I mean really short, like 5'1” or less. Not to play Freud too much, but you can probably guess that the reason he spent all his time in poker rooms was because of this physical limitation. Poker attracted the social rejects like no other activity in the 1990's, and welcomed the physically and mentally defective in droves. It was a haven almost exclusively for nerds and losers, before TV made it cool for everyone to play No Limit Texas Hold'em, The Cadillac of Gambling Games (so hip!).
2) Stemming from #1, Freddy could have a short temper. If you are jumping straight into a “Napoleon Complex” accusation for Freddy, well, in this case you're the heavy favorite. Freddy was a quiet, nice guy for 90% of the time he played. But Freddy was quick to act like a gangster you didn't want to fuck with if you ever gave him the chance, with that persistent shoulder chip that will never go away. Everyone let him play gangster without comment as long as he still had a bankroll to gamble with.
Here is a YouTube video that illustrates both points perfectly. Watch the whole thing to the end for maximum comedy – it's fucking hilarious:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rqwQiIy1b48
Here's Freddy acting like a super tough guy, and – in the moment - you can believe it too. Until the camera pulls back and shows the other players at the table, and then you get a height perspective of the whole scene. It's unreal funny at that point. Gus Hansen sitting next to him looks like Yao Ming by comparison.
So when this first HBob story happens, poker is just about to really take off. My guess is that it was around 2003-4, so the hype around poker was growing fast but still not close to the peak yet. The first Season of the World Poker Tour (WPT) had already aired, and it was a cultural phenomenon. Poker players were speculating already that WPT tournament champions were going to be as famous as top professional athletes, and with the same kind of ultra-lucrative sponsorship opportunities and endorsement deals. A very common topic at the table was how much getting to the final table at a televised WPT event was worth in fame, above and beyond any of the listed prize money. Perhaps a few million? It was a crazy time, and being on TV was all anyone cared about back then. Seems a bit silly now.
Freddy had been on TV a few times with some respectable runs in some bigger tournaments. The WPT and ESPN featured him in a few “flavor of the game” clips during their early poker broadcasts, and that seemed like a pretty big deal, especially to Freddy. TV Poker was grooming narratives and trying to create presentable, relatable stars in the poker world and weren't above adding in some artificial flavor to an otherwise unremarkable cast of characters.
Being a legit long time poker player was enough for Freddy to get some screen time – the TV producers could take it from there. I think the narrative was along the lines of how anyone – all ages, ethnicity, shapes and sizes could find a home in the poker world, and Freddy exemplified all that. It all went directly to Freddy's head, and he was not alone during this time.
Anyway, the story goes like this. Haralabos is playing in a very juicy high stakes poker game in a California casino, most likely the Commerce. The game was already full with 9 players, which is the max in most California rooms.
Haralabos himself was very new to poker at this time. He dabbled previously, but only started playing for big stakes in the past year or two because of the huge influx of new poker players, who watched the WPT on television and flooded into casinos, chasing riches. Thus there was easy money to be made. Before then, of course, he was focused on his NBA gambling. He was very near the height of his powers as an NBA sports bettor, and known pretty damn well in the sports betting world, if not the general public yet. Far more people in poker knew about Bob than he knew about them, though. He was just starting to get serious about playing poker. Bob knew about some of the bigger poker names he gambled with betting sports together in the past, but knew almost none of the newly (and artificially) created TV “poker stars” that ESPN / WPT had chosen to promote.
So Freddy walks into the Commerce one day and sees the high stakes poker table, and eyes the line up. Freddy knows this “Main Game” is incredibly juicy, and wants in – immediately. He calls the floorman over and insists they create an extra space at the table for him and for the game to be played 10-handed. 10-handed was actually the common number of players in Las Vegas poker tables at the time, and Freddy was usually based there. Freddy is sort of 'big timing' the floorman, reminding him how much he's played there over the years, how much rake he's given that casino, and how all these new poker players want to play with someone like himself, a big-shot, old school, now famous poker player.
There is nothing that poker players like more than poker room drama (except maybe comped food), so this commotion has drawn the attention of every table within earshot. Everyone near by was focusing on the Main Game with Haralabos in it. Drawn from many accounts, here is a recreation of what happened:
Freddy (accented, slightly broken English)(to Floorman): Johnny, there's no board. Just put me in big blind right now and we can play with ten.
Floorman Johnny: Table's not big enough for ten, Freddy. This isn't Vegas. Our players will object. Everyone wants their space.
Freddy: Just ask then. If there are objections then Freddy will wait. But no one will object! C'mon Johnny, how much action I give to you? Freddy is “action player”. Everyone wants to play with Freddy. They see me, they know “That's Freddy” and they want to play.
[Yes, Freddy was talking about himself in the Third Person. What can I say?]
Floorman Johnny (reluctantly, to Main Game): Guys, Freddy wants to sit and play 10-handed. There is no board an he doesn't want to wait around for nothing. Any objections?
Haralabos (immediately): I object. Who the fuck is this guy? [To Freddy] Buddy, you're not special. What makes you think you control this game? If more people come, then you can start a “Must-Move” game and play in that. Otherwise, wait your fucking turn like everyone else. Ok, buddy? [To Floorman, incredulous] What the fuck?
Freddy (heated at Haralabos): Listen, buddy. Everyone here know Freddy. Floorman. Dealer. Players. All know Freddy, love Freddy. Who the fuck are you? In Vegas, Freddy wants a game, the manager come running to help Freddy! They bring in best table to start new game for Freddy! They get best dealer on break to come deal! They bring in new chips, new cards for Freddy! They bring special chair for Freddy to sit in!
Haralabos: Oh yeah, Freddy? Is it a high chair?
A thunderclap of uproarious laughter rang out from all who were listening in, perhaps fifty people or more, all rubberneckers from other tables drawn in by the drama. There was no denying the spontaneity, no denying the reason, and certainly no denying the focus of who the laughter was directed at. Fast Freddy, all five feet zero inches of him, with the hair-trigger anger and never lacking words, was truly stunned and humiliated into silence. His eyes became squinted and his face was stuck in a wince of pain, his whole head turning as red as a stubborn, two-week old pimple that just wouldn't pop. He rocked back and forth as if recovering from a physical punch, not knowing what to do as a second, smaller wave of laughter began because it was just that funny, and now the story was being instantly re-told.
The few that were present and could actually feel sympathy quickly stifled their laughter, feeling the guilt of knowing the guy just got hit in his most sensitive area in front of a very large audience, and was truly wounded. They were hoping Freddy would finally say something, anything, to show that he wasn't completely crushed inside, that he wasn't as hurt as he seemed. Instead, Freddy walked away silently, his decades of “bluster armor” built protecting his sensitivity about his height laid on the ground, smashed.
Souls are crushed all the time in poker rooms. You think you've seen it all, and you just grow immune. But this one stood out, as almost a warning. You just don't want to get into a verbal war with Haralabob.
There is an addendum to this story.
A year or so later, and strictly by chance, Freddy and Haralabos found themselves at the same table during a big tournament. Neither man had forgotten their previous encounter (how could they?). By this time, poker was being covered in real-time by a fleet of new poker reporters and journalists, and, by all accounts, Haralabos was riding Freddy hard that day, with verbal put-downs and jokes at Freddy's expense non-stop. Freddy tried to play it cool, knowing he was no verbal match for HBob.
Until this happened. There was a Random Guy sitting directly on Freddy's left hand side who was new, didn't know anyone at the table (or their past history with each other) and who politely told Freddy this (recreation):
Random Guy (to Freddy): Hey man. You need to protect your cards better. I can see your hole cards flash sometimes when you look. I saw you had paint last hand. You need to learn to peek without flashing.
Freddy: Buddy, do you know who I am? I'm playing this game since before you were born! I win more money this year than you will have in your whole life! They ask me to write new poker book, that is kind of player I am! Buddy, I'm writing now, next time I see you I bring you a signed copy of my poker book!
Haralabos: Next time you should bring a phone book instead so you can sit on it and see your cards better.
Well, Freddy was playing it cool with HBob until then, but that last comment instantly set him off. Again, by the written accounts of the poker reporters live blogging the event, Freddy shot straight up out of his chair (though you probably couldn't tell...) and challenged HBob to a fist fight, screaming expletives at him and demanding a duel. Haralabob just sat in his chair laughing, saying he didn't want to go outside and fight Freddy because he didn't want to get arrested for child abuse.
Famous poker player Daniel Negreanu witnessed this incident live, and blogged about it at the time. I remember that he thought that Freddy would be a decent favorite in a fight between Freddy and Haralabos. But I have my doubts about that. Negreanu disliked Haralobob personally, like many poker players who ever faced him at that time, because HBob could be so vicious. So he was biased in his fight assessment, IMHO.
HBob was not a figher at all - more of a jester than a knight – but I thought he could always just stiff-arm Freddy by the forehead and then Freddy would be left with that cartoon 'swinging of the arms trying to reach him' thing while HBob could just jab him with his other arm. I would have made Haralabos the -200 favorite.
Story #2
This happened in the early 2000's, during Season 3 of the World Poker Tour, just a year or so after Story #1.
Haralabos had played in one of the WPT's big televised tournaments and made the Final Table. Not only that, but he ultimately came in Second Place, meaning he was going to get a LOT of TV time, which, again, most players thought was worth more than the actual prize money. Poker by now was white hot in America and was bringing so many people instant overnight fame. Players were resorting to obnoxious table antics and hyper displays of “personality” just to get a few seconds of screen time. Everyone was trying to create a “brand”.
Not to belabor the point, but before television made poker cool and respectable, it was filled with 95% scumbags and degenerates with almost no white-collar, working professionals. But TV poker didn't want to portray that sordid image. In the very early days, the WPT actually had a “dress code” for appearing on the televised Final Table, where a sports jacket and collared shirts were required and would be provided for you if you didn't own them yourself (in other words, for everyone).
Even the long time “Old School” gamblers were cleaned up and presented as daring adventurers instead of leather-assed angle-shooters they (we) really were. Known broke degenerates like T.J. Cloutier was turned into worshiped, heroic figures instantly, romanticized by television producers as sharp equity traders who practiced at the table instead of on Wall Street. The reality was that guys like Cloutier were hanging around poker rooms mostly to shamelessly beg recent winners for a buy-in, or even just a meal.
Under this ethos of “cleaning up poker players' images”, players were allowed to manufacture any kind of image they wanted if they were going to be on the WPT TV show. Producers for the WPT would ask each finalist for a biography, but did absolutely no fact or background checking at all intentionally, mostly out of fear of what they might find if they actually did do so. So with all that in mind, here is the official bio for Haralabos that appeared on the WPT website before his televised event, almost certainly written by HBob himself:
"Haralabos Voulgaris is a 29-year-old professional sports bettor from Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada. This poker tyro brings a lot more to his first WPT final table than meets the eye. He is a playwright, holds a degree in philosophy, and his goals reach far beyond the green felt. His plans for the next 5 years include learning to play the piano, to have one of his plays performed on Broadway, and to win a WPT title."
I'm not sure how much of this was an inside joke, how much was just the pressure to appear white-collar in order to attract advertisers (remember, poker players were all thinking about future endorsement deals at this time), and how much of this was HBob's ego run amuck.
BUT COME ON! “Playwright”? Has Haralabos ever gone to a play yet, even in 2018? But that wasn't enough; he wanted to have one of his many, many written plays performed on Broadway very soon, because that's how dedicated he was to this art form! Just remember, this is the guy who widely known throughout the poker world for using his mastery of language to mercilessly torture midgets and other unfortunates at the poker table. Not exactly Tennessee Williams. Add in the piano lessons and the PhD in philosophy (philosophy!), and the fact that the WPT didn't bat an eye in putting this up as his bio, and the unintentional comedy is off the charts.
Haralabos claimed to friends at the time that it was mostly a joke, but as we will now see, he seemed to really care about this false image.
As you probably well know, there is a gap between when the WPT Final Table was played, and when the show based off of it is actually aired. By the time Haralabos' episode was about to air, he was staying as a guest in the house of a former poker pro named Paul Phillips, who only the most dedicated and old players will remember. (Paul Phillips won 2 WPT titles in the very early seasons, took the prize money, and pretty much disappeared from poker, going on to live a “normal” life. One of the few gambling success stories, IMHO).
Well, Paul was a practical joker himself, and he had found a way to hack his DVR and change the description of recorded programs, including Bob's WPT episode. Knowing that Haralabos was coming back soon to watch it, Paul changed the description on the DVR to fuck with him. The original show description was something like this:
“Six new players vie for the title of Champion of the LA Poker Classic Tournament. Players include movie star John Smith, astronaut Mark Hunt, playwright Haralabos Volgaris, undercover international spy Chris Jenkins, the crown prince of Wakanda Jerome Jones, and the inventor of the Internet Joe “Man Tits” Mande.“
Obviously the other names and titles were made up by me, but you get the picture. Anyway, Paul made one small adjustment, knowing Haralabos would see it:
“Six new players vie for the title of Champion of the LA Poker Classic Tournament. Players include movie star John Smith, astronaut Mark Hunt, uptight playwright Haralabos Volgaris, undercover international spy Chris Jenkins, the crown prince of Wakanda Jerome Jones, and the inventor of the Internet Joe “Man Tits” Mande.“
Paul then waited for Haralabos to return so they could watch the episode together, leaving up the modified description of “uptight playwright” on the TV and making sure HBob was in the room alone for a few minutes before starting the show, so he had no choice but to stare at the phony description.
Bob noticed it immediately. According to Paul, HBob started to get really worried, thinking that the show was going to portray him in a terrible light and edit him to look dumb and foolish, just because of that one word “uptight” in the description. Before even starting the show, HBob was already making excuses, telling Paul that he forgot they kept his microphone on at all times, and he said some critical things about the WPT's production crew, and now they were getting their revenge by calling him uptight. He kept bringing up ways he might have acted uptight during the Final Table and was pre-rationalizing them for Paul, who was enjoying it all.
This went on for the first 15 minutes or so of the show, with Haralabos worrying and moaning non-stop about being called “uptight” and wondering how they were going to edit him to look that way, until Paul finally let him off the hook. According to Paul, Haralabos didn't believe it was a practical joke and kept worrying and griping longer, until he saw for himself that it was just a standard WPT show with no unfair editing involved.
I'm not going to put too much on Haralabos for being so worried about his portrayal. Players really did believe that a good edit was the difference between a lucrative endorsement deal with Budweiser or Nike and getting nothing. The sky seemed to be the limit. BUT... the notion that Bob was just playing an inside joke and didn't really care about being known as a “playwright, piano player, and philosopher” didn't quite match up with his defensive and concerned attitude that day.
Sources:
Source for Story #1: This is a very famous poker story that was talked about amoung players live and on 2+2 (the dominant, high-traffic poker forum back then and perhaps now) a lot when it happened. You can find snippets and references on twoplustwo.com. I'm sure other long time and knowledgeable players will verify hearing a version of this story before.
An account of it was given by Haralabos himself on the podcast “Big Poker Sundays” which he used to co-host with Scott Huff, but has long since disappeared. It was a part of Poker Road Radio, which was run by Barry Greenstein's asshole son before closing. As this story is now close to 15 years old and poker media is on life support, many previous accounts from blogs and recording are now gone, and thus a lot of it had to be reconstructed from memory. Part of the reason I'm re-telling it is because it was gradually being lost in time, and that is a motive to re-tell it now, for a new generation.
Source for Story #2: I got the exact WPT description of Bob's bio from the 2+2 Archive (http://archives1.twoplustwo.com/showflat.php?Cat=0&Number=5504109&page=0&fpart=all&vc=1). The story of the altered DVR description and Paul Phillips came from the memory of Paul's old blog on LiveJournal (“extempore”), which has long been deleted, and from my own correspondence with Paul Phillips at the time (we were pretty good “online friends” before the invention of Social Media. Anyone remember r.g.p. on Usenet?). Again, unfortunately memory had to play a large role.
I by no means want to pretend Haralabos and I were close. I knew about him and tracked him more than most poker players due to my sports betting background, but Bob was just one of a hundred different and strange characters in the gambling world that you'd recognize daily, none of whom you'd want to spend a lot of time with. We had some mutual friends, that's about it.
Both stories were written under the Geneva Convention rules, which explicitly states that all gambling stories worldwide may contain up to 15% of exaggerations in order to make the story more entertaining or dramatic and still be called “truthful”. Like all good gambling stories should be told. But the core elements are as faithful a retelling as I could make it, including the WPT description, and the key dialogue by Bob that was quoted the most at that time. It's the dates and locations I'm least sure about.

SHOT 2017/My tales of adventure in Las Vegas

So, you wanna go to SHOT show? You think it's all fun and games? Get to play with guns? See Jesse James and R. Lee Ermey? SHOT show is the annual pilgrimage of the unwashed masses to Las Vegas to rub elbows with youtube celebrities, bloggers and overseas businessmen copying US made equipment and share infectious disease.
If you love guns, gambling and gonorrhea - SHOT show is for you! It is not my typical idea of a good time. I am not a big fan of Las Vegas.
However: I do attend for a few reasons. First, I do enjoy travel and I'm platinum on AA so I can usually score an upgrade. Second, industry people are in there that I do hundreds of thousands if not millions of dollars with business with so it's nice to put a face with the name and see what deals are out there. SHOT for me has been a bust for the past few years. Being a value guy, I want to buy at $1000 and sell at $3000 and as of recently the gun business is more like buy for $1 and sell for $1.10 if you get what I mean.
We used to do business at SHOT and now it's just checking in on foursquare, instagram and rubbing elbows with bloggers and the like. I want to make money, not spend money so this is very annoying to me.
Anyways, onto the play by play.
Monday, January 16th. One day before SHOT show.
http://imgur.com/a/HoFUm
Every time I've been rejected by a woman, I move $1 from checking into savings and I take the bankroll down to the Wynn for some play. Lets do this.
The TSA line is a shitshow thanks to, well TSA.
I slog my way to the lounge, as shitty as it is to wait for my winged chariot to DFW. I have gone from being in an abusive relationship with Delta to being in an abusive relationship with AA. Although if you really want to experience the battered spouse feeling, UA is a few gates over. This trip's light reading is trying to finish "The Tipping Point" by Malcolm Gladwell. Such a good book as well as "Outliers" if you want a good read.
I walk up to the podium to find out that my upgrades do not clear, even as an AA Plat thanks to the addition of a FOURTH elite tier. Goddamn fucking W. Doug Parker. Asshole. I gate check my bags to make life easier for me and the rest of the folks. The gate agent calls concierge key and executive platinum passengers. I look down and realize I'm wearing a suit and board with the executive platinum folks because I do not care and I look the part. If you walk with a purpose and are dressed reasonably well, you fit the profile. I settle into my window seat and try to finish outliers. I pass out before takeoff and I'm awoken by the dulcet tones of the flight attendants preparing for landing. We land at Dallas a few minutes early and I hightail it to the Centurion for a quick bite to eat. I grab a plate and help myself to some of the excellent brisket, pecan encrusted chicken and some roasted jumbo asparagus. Yes, my pee is going to smell funny. No, I do not care. The lounge is packed. The bar is full and I grab a quick single malt as I have my meal since American's not going to feed me. They begin boarding to Mccarran as I walk out of the lounge. No time for a stop in the spa on this trip. I make it to the gate just as the call group 2 boarding.
I bypass the main line and walk up through the priority line giving no heed to the people that have been waiting there before me as I hold up my paper boarding pass with PLATINUM to the gate agent. I board and take my usual seat - the exit row without the seat in front of it. I'm aghast to see this sight.
http://imgur.com/a/dygil
The savages. Literally. The savages.
I put my loathing away for a moment and look down at the exit row. I have the window. The aisle is a large middle aged man and in the middle is what I believe to be a formecurrent linebacker for the Dallas Cowboys wearing a 52 regular sports jacket. He's not a fat guy in a little coat, he's a big fucking hulk of a man stuffed in an exit row seat that is already an inch narrower due to the tray table. I grimace as I take my seat and give him the manly nod. He does not look happy about the fact that his knees are in the seat in front and I'm stretched out like a Cheshire cat in front of a fireplace on a cold January afternoon.
The boarding door closes for an on time departure and Stephanie the FA takes her seat. He leans over and asks if he can take the empty row across the aisle and she takes one look at the three of us and gives him the nod. I bail out to give him a path of egress and suddenly the trip to Las Vegas has just become way more comfortable. I finish The Tipping Point somewhere over west texas, so I pop a xanax and dr pepper and zone out for the rest of the ride. I awake to feel one of the FA's jostling me awake telling me to put my seat up. I do so and we have a ride so smooth that not even the Delta guy behind me can complain about light chop. We catch the TYSSN4 arrival and the next thing I know it the Messier Dowty landing gear of the A321 touch the paint at Mccarran for a smooth rollout down 25L.
My phone battery is approaching grim death since this seat has no power plugs and I find bartman383 has sent me a message. He has been enjoying LV with his wife and their due to bad weather they are in the city of sin for a few extra nights. He invites me to dinner. I'm still pretty full from DFW and I tell him I'll be over there once I get my bags and the car and I'll see him when I see him. He gives me the info for the hotel as we pull up to the gate.
First stop: Centurion lounge. AA's app tells me bags being unloaded. I grab a quick bite of fried chicken and brussels sprouts since they are good for you and a chocolate pudding. The brisket and pecan encrusted chicken from DFW still has me full but I'm well aware of the speed of a union baggage handlers nowadays and who doesn't like chocolate pudding? Terrorists. That's who. Want to know how to screen for terrorists TSA? Set up a table of free chocolate pudding at the airport. The people who don't take any are members of ISIS. It's just that simple.
I grab my bag and hoof it to Hertz. I'm an idiot and I am an hour late for my pickup. Oops. Will an Audi A3 suffice? I sigh and I accept my Teutonic quattro chariot. I do a burnout in the parking garage and hightail it to the exit. I flash my #1 card and my ID and the gatekeeper gives me the go ahead. I get onto the the strip and traffic is awful. I'm going to be late for dinner. I make a left onto Russell Road and hightail it up the 15. I manage to get the car up to 100 as I pass the Luxor. My phone is dead so I can't message Bart about being late. Fuck. The exit approaches quickly as I put the 4 wheel disk brakes to work and sling the car around and head south on Las Vegas Bl. I accidentally turn into the Bellagio and I'm now running even more late. Fuck. Eventually, I get the car into the garage at the Cosmopolitan and head upstairs. I cannot remember the name of the restaurant but I head up to the third floor where all the restaurants are and I see this sign that's reminiscent of my days in retail.
It says RESTAURANT - LOUNGE - PAWN SHOP.
I laugh. I walk in. It's literally a pawnshop. I look around puzzled.
FC: Is this a restaurant?
Bald Headed Guy: Yes, through that door.
He points towards a door. I walk in to find a bustling restaurant, lounge via the entrance of pawnshop. This is insane. I pass a mirror and check myself out. I adjust my tie, after all it is YSL and the ladies LOVE YSL. Remember that. I find the hostess and inform her I will be joining some friends for dinner. They probably do not have me on the reservation though but I turn on the charm and she smiles and says no problem at all. She asks if my tie is from Hermes. I say no, I'm a YSL guy. She looks impressed as I tell her I'll make a quick lap of the room to see if they're there and surprise them. She gives me a nod and tells me to go right ahead. Still got it.
I spot bart and his wife who I can only remember vaguely from gunnitlive after party video and I pull up a chair. Bart is surprised to see I made it and they are in the middle of dinner. They offer to ply me with food and beverage but I decline as I'm driving so no booze for me and no food since I am stuffed from Dallas. We chat about life and liberty over libations. Bart's wife thinks I am hysterical. She's had a few drinks and they are already into their main courses. The brussels sprouts are way too salty and we have to send it back. No bueno.
Bart invites me up to his suite on the top floor of the hotel where we are to meet Brogelicious later in the evening. I say, when in rome......we head to the top floor of the hotel tower where Bart shows me his view from the balcony and cracks open the mini bar for some more libations. He asks if I want a drink and I say I better not. I'm driving.
Not 30 seconds after arriving, brogel shows up. Bart's wife hugs brogel. She's infatuated with him. We start shooting the shit and bart opens up the minibar and tells us to take anything we want, it's on the hotel. I laugh and I look outside as bart opens his yeti 110 for some silver bullets. Apparently he is so baller the hotel will send up a yeti 110 filled with beer to make him happy. His wife is apparently such a baller. I ball on a budget. They just ball. Hahaha.
We shoot the shit some more about guns, gun stuff and people on the reddit for a while. I get a little thirsty and I crack open bart's cooler. I ask him how long the stuff in the cooler is supposed to last and he says until Wednesday.
I look down and I am agape at what I see.
We had two bags of grass, seventy-five pellets of mescaline, five sheets of high-powered blotter acid, a saltshaker half-full of cocaine, and a whole galaxy of multi-colored uppers, downers, screamers, laughers... Also, a quart of tequila, a quart of rum, a case of beer, a pint of raw ether, and two dozen amyls. Not that we needed all that for the trip, but once you get locked into a serious drug collection, the tendency is to push it as far as you can. The only thing that really worried me was the ether. There is nothing in the world more helpless and irresponsible and depraved than a man in the depths of an ether binge, and I knew we'd get into that rotten stuff pretty soon.
I mentally prepared my butthole and I decided to help myself to a coors light against my wishes but Bart, Bart's wife and Brogel are all drinking so I let peer pressure take hold as I cracked open a beer with them. We head out to the balcony to smoke some cuban cigars together as bart's wife takes a photo of all of us. We all look like hell. Haha.
As bart downs his second beer, he asks me a question.
Bart: ever go hunting?
Me: Ducks a little bit but not much
Bart: ever want to hunt some deadly game?
Me: Like on african safari?
Bart: No, I mean like.........man.
Me: Hahahahhahaaha you're just fucking with me. Hahahahahhaa. That's really funny.
Bart: No really, the concierge here at this hotel will set it up for us. It's amazing. I remember my first hunt......
Brogel starts laughing and I realize they've been doing a bit. I've been had.
We bullshit about SHOT and Barrett's shotguns and other things and next thing I know, it's late but bart hands me a mixed drink. I sip it a bit and I was in the middle of a tirade complaining about my customers. Suddenly, there was a terrible roar all around us, and the sky was full of what looked like huge bats, all swooping and screeching and diving around the city, and a voice was screaming: Holy Jesus. What are these goddamn animals? Nobody seems to understand what I'm talking about. It's cold on the balcony. Our cigars are done. We head indoors. No point in mentioning these bats, I thought. Poor bastards will see them soon enough.
Back indoors I realize Brussels sprouts and coors light is a bad choice. Seriously no bueno. I excuse myself to the bathroom and drain the vein. The asparagus funny smelling pee and the side effects of beer and brussels sprouts is a noxious combination that a defense contractor should weaponize it. It's pretty bad and not even cuban tobbaco can mask the smell.
I sit back down and continue to talk about guns and stuff with bart and the gang and bart asks who ruined the bathroom. I apologize as he sprays a bunch of febreze around and opens the balcony. I apolgize to brogel. He is not accepting my apology. (sorry :( )
Nearly 11, it's about time to pull chocks and mosey on down the dusty trail. I don't want to prompt an evacuation of the hotel due to noxious odors so I decide to leave and bart seems to be kinda mad that I've ripped ass and polluted the sanctuary of his hotel. Half a coors light and brussels sprouts are no bueno in my book now. Bart decides to party hard with his wife and I offer brogel a ride home. He seems skeptical to share a confined space with me after I have just destroyed bart's hotel room. The car has 4 windows and the Uber will cost him a few bucks he can put towards ammo. He relents as we head down to the garage to find my car. Thankfully we find it quickly and I manage to contain the weapons of ass destruction for the 16 minute ride off strip to casa de brogel.
He says I'm not that bad a dude and I agree as I hightail it to my hotel. I cannot find my hotel reservations so I call my travel agent to see.
Apparently the Wynn was not in my travel budget this year. I have come to find out I have been booked at Circus Circus, much to my chagrin. How bad could it be? I've stayed at the Wynn. I've stayed at Encore. I've stayed at the hotel that Elisabeth Shue's character got raped in in Leaving Las Vegas - but Circus Circus? Did I mention that I HATE CLOWNS? I HATE CLOWNS. Fuck.
I pull into the parking garage and the check in line resembles something straight out of the TSA line at Mccarran. 45 minutes to check in. The clerk is friendly and says he's also from Louisiana which is neat. He asks if I've stayed there before and I, being a connoisseur of old vegas history I decide to make a joke and I tell him the last time I was there, Jay Sarno owned the place. He got a laugh. I head up to my room and unpack. The lobby is clean as an old vegas casino can be, the room is clean and there's no way to plug anything in since the hotel predates personal electronic devices. I plug my phone into my external battery and collapse on the bed. I message Bart and chugbleach instead of falling asleep about show tomorrow and I offer to pick bart up early since there is no shuttle from the cosmo.
Tuesday, November 16th SHOT Show Day One
I awoke several hours later in a daze......the clock said 10AM. The show opened at 8:30. Fuck me to tears. I hurry up and get dressed and down to the sands convention center. The parking lot is FULL. The entire complex is a mess. When my man Steve Wynn built his joint he didn't build enough parking. So people would park at the Venetian and now FUCKING NOBODY CAN GET A PARKING SPACE. Holy shit. I eventually say fuck it and park over at the Wynn and walk over to the Sands. I meet up with a few of my regular suppliers and I see nothing interesting at all. Bart went to bed at 6AM after spending all night partying with his wife over at the palazzo. I joke and say that he just should have stayed there. Bart is amazed at the size of the show and we have lunch at the most disgusting place in las vegas - the convention center bistro snack bar. Bart is a wise man as he grabs a powerade and a fruit cup. I decide to try an "italian beef" and a fruit cup instead of fries to stay semi health conscious. The "italian beef" is the most disgusting thing I have ever eaten. It is flat out depressing. They give me fries with it and I demand a fruit cup. The sassy black woman working the stand asks me "DID YOU ASK FOR FRUIT? CAUSE RIGHT HERE SAYS FRIES" and I channel my inner Louis CK from the "this is how I talk" bit from SNL as I shoot back "WHY YOU FRONTIN ON ME I ASKED FOR FRUIT AND YOUR ASS BETTER BACK UP AND GET ME SOME FRUIT" so she goes back and gets me some fruit.
The "italian beef", my fruit cup, bart's fruit cup and powerade comes to $81. My platinum amex comes out and I treat bart to "lunch". We bullshit about guns and stuff in the Springfield booth as we wait at the world's worst concession stand. We eat and Bart is so hungover that he thinks he is in need of physical therapy and a wheelchair. There is no way he is going to party tonight before his trip home. Or so I think. Haha.
I meander around the show a bit more and I find this, the most USELESS PRODUCT OF 2017. It's made by a company called radetec.
http://imgur.com/a/GOiCB
It's a shot counter. For your gun.
A digital odometer, for your gun.
The only person that would buy this is the guy like my dad that kept a spiral bound notebook in his car where he documented how many miles he traveled per tank, gallons dispensed, PRICE, service station and whether they had a different price for cash/charge, oil consumption, tire rotations, alignments, all services - scheduled or otherwise, and a running odometer. Does anyone know the gun owner who asks for a round count when they are looking at a used gun? The question I always shoot back is "do you want to be lied at a little or do you want to be lied at a lot?" because that's what you're asking for when you ask for round count.
UNLESS YOU BUY THIS PRODUCT!
I roll my eyes so far back into my head that I nearly lose my balance. This is idiotic. I cannot fathom anyone willing to buy this. What a waste of perfectly good exhibition space.
Bart heads back to his hotel after visiting SHOT show for a few hours, not getting any swag and to get an IV of fluids since he looked like he was rapidly approaching grim death.
I wrap up visiting prime vendors and checking out the new products, or lack thereof because I have something on the schedule. At 4:30 there's a suicide prevention for retailers seminar hosted by the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention. As many of you know this is an issue that is important to me and perhaps we as retailers should be doing more. The keynote was from their chief medical director talking about the accessibility of firearms and the mindset of the "typical" suicide. Mostly men. If you are a veteran you are at a significantly larger risk. The information was presented very not surprisingly and one of the things discussed was that we only spend around 21M a year on suicide prevention.
A few take away facts from the keynote:
When suicide barriers are put up on a bridge, suicide rates for the entire area drop. The key to preventing suicide is getting people to talk about their problems. Once you can get someone out of that mindset, they are statistically less likely to do it and live productive lives afterwards. There are certain terms that they are trying to get away from - for instance, they are not saying "committed suicide" they are now saying "died by suicide" in order to bring awareness and tell it like it is.
One thing that really was interesting to me was my reading on the flight in from Dallas. In The Tipping Point, Gladwell discusses how things stay the same and suddenly they all change. One of the things that he discusses is in micronesia - where teen suicide was practically unheard of became an outright epidemic. One teenager did it, for reasons passing understanding to me as an outsider and then all the other kids realized that they too could escape their pain by hanging themselves as well and suddenly the suicide rates in micronesia became so high to where it became a public health issue. I wish I could show you all the article I wrote on TTAG about my friend's death but it has been lost in the cloud and I am unable to find the last draft I sent to print, but it echoes some of the problems we have with suicide and mental health in the firearm industry.
After the keynote, the good doctor opened the floor up for questions. Her keynote posed a lot of statistics but not a lot of answers. I am a detail oriented granular data guy and I did not get a solid grasp of the AFSP solutions posed, if any.
Several firearm dealers discussed the lack of a cohesive solution and the takeaway was they're trying to develop awareness for the suicide problem. Their goal is to lower suicide rates but how they get there is yet to be determined. I didn't like hearing that and the comments from the crowd reflected the lack of a "here's what you can do TODAY to help this problem" part of the initiative.
Going around the room, one dealer who used NICS said that if a customer was just flat out acting funny - he'd lie to the customer and say there was a delay with NICS even though there was an approval just to get them to not be able to have a gun for a few days. The crowd applauded this initiative, however I'm not sure lying to customers is the best way to run a business and treat them with respect. Another dealer brought up an interesting point. When someone comes in looking to buy a gun and they don't know what kind of gun they want, what caliber, and are generally clueless - they're either buying a gun to kill themselves with, OR perhaps they are a very uneducated prospective customer - and there is no clear way of finding out which is which.
The problems presented by the AFSP are real. The solutions aren't there though. Yet. Ideally I'd like to see some change to that. However, there's some problems.
I hung around and asked the good doctor and her staff some questions and I am in no way denigrating her life's work and her dedication to preventing suicide since she has dedicated her life's work to the issue, but the conversation went something like this.
Did you do any research on the accessibility of firearms from a retailer from the legal standpoint?
"No, we haven't"
Do you know how the NICS or state POC background systems work in regard to mental health holds, etc?
"No"
One of the problems that I foresee right off the bat is that you talked about how you are fighting time, and if you can get someone out of that suicide mindset - even for a few hours, you can get them into that higher survival bracket. If we apply a one size fits all solution to it like California and put a 10 day wait on everything with the goal of protecting someone from their own life, how do we balance that with the needs of the woman who has been hiding from her abusive spouse and needs a gun right away?
"That's a good question that I don't have an answer for."
Their initiative, I admire - the lack of solutions is a little off putting however. I tell the doc about how my friend's suicide has impacted me and she seems to be sympathetic to the situation as does her colleagues. I am given her cards and told to call the next time I'm in New York so we can get together and discuss things within the industry. I'll give them a buzz in a few weeks when I'm up there on business. On my way out of the hall, I run into Massad Ayoob. Nice guy. I've admired his work over the years. Bart invites myself and chugbleach to dinner, I can't reach Chug and even though I am beat I decide to hang out with Bart and Mrs Bart
Bart: What do you want to eat?
FC: Let's find a nice seafood restaurant and eat some red salmon, I feel a powerful lust for red salmon.
I begin vomiting.
God damn mescaline. Why the fuck can't they make it a little less pure?
We eventually head downstairs and order too much food. We are tired and not very hungry. Bart is still hungover and barely able to process food. His wife is grazing on all sorts of meat products. I am in awe of how they are both still upright after six nonstop nights of partying. I've only been here one day and I feel like I am about to die.
Dinner concludes with an awkward hug with bart's wife - I don't know how other men feel about wife hugs so I have just avoided the prospect entirely. Like flying through Denver on Frontier. Or flying on Frontier. Ever.
I drive over to the Wynn to set up my markers and the poker room is full. I draw a $2500 marker at the craps table and watch the game a bit. I have never played craps before in my life but the three people there seem to be having fun.
I look down at my phone and I realize a plane has landed. fluffy_butternut has landed in Las Vegas on business. I had lost a bet and offered to pick him up from the airport. I cash back in my chips against my casino credit and head back to my car. I cannot find my car. Fuck. I wander the wynn garage which is covered in construction debris. I eventually find it and haul ass to the airport. Now, I didn't know this but fluffy has the WORST SENSE OF DIRECTION AT ALL. Seriously. I have no idea how he even made it to the correct city. He lands and has to get his bag and stuff and I circle the airport. He lets me know he's at door 77 wherever the fuck that was. I drive into the pickup portion and I see no sign. He then says he's coming up a level, and I tell him that I'll be there shortly. I park the car and Metro PD starts yelling.
Metro: You can't park your car here.
FC: Why not? Is this not a reasonable place to park?
Metro: Reasonable? You're on a sidewalk! This is the sidewalk!
I give the man a $20 and tell him to keep it running as I wander Mccarran screaming FLUFFY! HERE FLUFFY! I message fluffy to let him know I am the car parked on the sidewalk. I instantly figure out who he is having never seen a photo of him and I throw his bags into the car as we head for his hotel. I haul ass out of the airport and get the A3 on the highway.
Now this was a superior machine. Thirty nine grand worth of gimmicks and high-priced special effects. The rear windows lit up with a touch like frogs in a dynamite pond. The dashboard was full of esoteric lights and dials and meters that I would never understand.
We check in at the Rio where the desk clerk is friendly and flirty. I express amazement there is no line. Fluffy checks in and we take his bags upstairs and he offers to buy me food for driving him to the airport. I decline. We head to the bar anyways. He orders two beers and we decide to call chug. He's staying out in Summerlin or something because his company is apparently run by cheapskates. He asks if we want to hang out and shoot the shit. I say sure and ask if he wants us to pick up food or anything from CVS or something since I have the car and I'm able to do anything I want. He asks for some toothpaste. No problem. I may be an asshole on the internet but I have a heart of gold. We get some toothpaste get to the hotel.
Arriving at the lobby, we have no idea where he is. It turns out he gave us the address for the hotel across the street. We laugh and go to that lobby and shoot the shit till 3AM much to the chagrin of the hotel clerk. Fluffy has some beers and we plan on dinner the next day. I drive fluffy back and arrive at the hotel at 4. Fuck me to tears.
Wednesday, January 18th. Day 2 of SHOT show.
Alarm goes off at 7:30 AM. I wash up, eat and get breakfast. In the garage by 8:15. Nice. I get some dillo dust and check out the new Sig 220 DA/SA and SAO legions. Daddy likey. I go to a competing firm and I piss of my state sales manager by telling him his newer designed triggers suck ass. He says the company tested them and they're the same in every way. I ask him why the triggers have two different part numbers in the catalog and how come they're not interchangeable and if that's really the case, how come there's X changes in the supposedly identical pistol parts that he's holding side by side. He gets mad at me and says I'm not an expert on their product and perhaps I should take his job since I'm so smart. I agree that I'm smart and I hold firm that if he didn't want me to complain about the shitty trigger, they should stop selling guns with shitty triggers. I am nearly kicked out of the booth.
I meet up with some of my wholesale reps and I'm mid convo when I see Itsgoodsoup and his friend walking around the show. I yell SOUP but he does not hear me. So I grab his friend and find him and I tell him we should get together at dinner with fluffy and chug. He agrees.
The show winds down, I get some business done and nothing much else. We break for a shitty gunnit live lite and I take a few questions from the crowd in fluffy's suite at the Rio. Dinner is at 8 and we arrive at the restaurant late to find soup and his friend sitting at one table and chug and his girlfriend sitting at another. Perhaps we should have gotten here a little earlier. Hahaha. So, fluffy said the place is really good and I order a few of the specialties of the house. Apparently according to yelp they do a kickass peking duck. Soon to be mrs chug is a vegan. But we can eat meat in front of her. I wonder how it's served and Soup's vancouver raised asian friend tells me that they normally carve it tableside. Our vegan says as long as there's no head she's cool. We're not sure if they can fulfill that request. So we order and food starts coming out and we tell tall tales of shot show BS and other stuff. Sure enough, the duck comes out with the head. No bueno. Haha. But I decide to treat us to vegan donuts at the vegan bakery across the street later. Seven courses later we are full. Vegan bakery closed. I am committed to getting her some vegan donuts though. We head to Fremont street to gamble. Fluffy wanders about and we try craps and we're not impressed. We hit some slots and eventually I hit the craps table where chug explains the game to me. We start betting on dice. And somehow we start winning. I find that the house allows you to take 10X behind the line. No idea what this means so I plop $5 on the pass line and the point hits 6. I drop $50 behind it and it hits. We go a few rounds and leave ahead. It's 2:30 AM. Fuck. I drive everyone back to their hotel. I get to sleep around 4.
Thursday, January 19th. Day 3 of SHOT show.
Wake up at 10AM feeling like crap. Debate whether to head straight to show and wander about. Fuck it. Went to halal guys for some halal. Delicious. Got vegan donuts. Dead drop them at the Palazzo lobby for chug and his girl. Show is a bust. Literally nothing exciting. Fluffy offers to buy me dinner. One of my customers who lives in Summerlin offers to take me to dinner. I pass on fluffy and he destroys the seafood buffet at the rio. I head to Sinatra at the Wynn for dinner with my customer. All good in the hood. Chug has been invited to the Glock dinneafter party and I'm not so we all go our separate ways. I call foghorn5950 and due to some weather, he's flying home early and our plans to hangout are fucked up unless I go tonight. I grab fluffy and we head to Whiskey Down. He orders a makers and I give him a funny look. I tell the waitress make it a bulleit. Everyone laughs. I talk shop with Jeremy also from TTAG and we shoot the shit over cigars and talk about useless products. Next thing we know, chug is out of the dinner and wandering the strip. We decide to meet up at the Linq. It takes us nearly 30 minutes to get out of Whiskey Down at MGM because the waitress was awful and messed up everyone's tab. It was a fucking disaster. To boot, MGM is now charging for parking.
FC: What a bunch of fucking jews
Fluff: You should just tailgate that lady in front of you out and screw them out of the $7
FC: I should
We pull behind her and watch as she gets flustered at the awful parking machine. Her nevada license plate says VETERAN. As the gate goes up we haul ass and screw MGM out of $7. I shout "THANK YOU FOR YOUR SERVICE" out the window as we blow right by her up to the Linq. Through fluffy's awful navigation, we wind up at the loading dock for the Linq. Eventually we find chug and gf hanging at the penny slots. They are holding vegan donuts, which she is very appreciative of. Least I could do after showing her the head. Fluffy plays the House of Cards slot machine.
He stuck $100 in, played for 6 minutes and then got really mad and hit the cash out button and $80 was left after 5 minutes.
ITS EXACTLY LIKE THE FEDERAL GOVERNMENT!
Chug's gf asks to play a special slot machine called kitty glitter. We ask and the linq does not offer it but Harrahs next door does. So we head over there and the slot tech finds the kitty glitter machine. Fluffy sticks a C note in there and tells her to play and have a blast. So she's banging away at the one armed bandit WHEN SUDDENLY I HEAR THE SOUND.
It's PUTTIN ON THE RITZ in shitty .wav file internal speaker format. Hahah. She's just hit the progressive jackpot on the penny KITTY GLITTER machine. THIS PLACE IS AWESOME! We cash out after some play and a good time was had by all. I dump off fluffy at the rio since it was very close and drive everyone else back. It's late, I'm tired and the Palace Station oyster bar is open 24 hours......I head over there and there's a 45 minute wait.
So, I pull out my backup bankroll and using everything chug and fluffy have taught me about craps I belly up to the $3 min table where they let you take 10x behind the line. I'm still learning and the table is slow so one of the boxmen start explaining the game to me.
Box: So if you place the 6 or the 9 or individual numbers you can bet those but you gotta pay a little juice on it like a commission
Me: Like when you buy the hook?
short pause
Box: Yeah! Exactly like that! You got this!
So I played a little and went up a bit and down a bit. As you do. Plunked $5 down on the pass line and took full odds and the point hit. This game is pretty cool! So I hung around and watched for about an hour and finally decided to eat my winnings. I take $5 off my stack and, drop it on the pass line and announce dealer bet - $5 to pass. It hits. The dealers love me.
Maybe Vegas isn't so bad after all.
http://imgur.com/a/LGhDj
I have the pan roast at the oyster bar. No line. It is DELICIOUS. I get back to the hotel at 5AM. I don't care when I wake up.
Friday, January 20th. Day 4 of SHOT show.
Wake up around noon feeling like crap. Go to show. Debate destroying milk cart with wheels with an ax borrowed from fire station. Decide against it. Gas up car and find myself out by palace station again. Played some craps, hit the buffet and went for an early sleep.
It's midnight. The neighbors in my the hotel are having sex. A LOT OF SEX. I can hear everything. I gently knock on the door. No answer. I knock slightly harder. No answer. I head back to my room and close the door just as I hear their door open. I zoom back out to find a puzzled middle aged stocky and perhaps sticky Latino man looking both ways.
I get in his line of sight.
Me: Hey. I'm next door. It sounds like you're having a lot of fun. I get it. I really do. In fact I haven't had sex since the bush administration so I'm gunning for you man I really am. But it's midnight and I have a 6am flight and a rental car to return. So trust me when I say I'm really happy for you but if you don't mind I really need to get some sleep tonight okay?
The awkward silence is deafening. He nods without saying a word and mouths okay. I give him a manly nod and thumbs up.
Me: thanks. I'd shake your hand or fist bump but well you know.....
I give him a peace sign as he goes back into his little pleasure palace and I turn to realize that I have just locked myself out of my room. I am wearing boxers, a tshirt and barefoot. I head downstairs to the lobby. The check in at the front desk resembles the TSA line at Mccarran. Normally I would not be this rude but desperate times call for desperate measures.
The line is 50 people deep. I walk past every person. Fuck your queue. I approach the desk where someone is helping a guest and I raise my right hand as if I were in a deposition to get them to stop. The staff and guest looks puzzled as the angry barefoot man clad in nothing but boxers and a "uzi does it" tshirt approaches the desk.
Me: excuse me. I don't mean to interrupt. I have an emergency. I'm up on 8 and my neighbors are having a lot of sex. I mean a LOT of sex.
(This is the same front desk clerk who actually checked me in Monday night by coincidence looks back at me very awkwardly and puzzled.)
Me: this isn't your regular sex. I'm talking this is your (I begin air humping the front desk and slapping the granite counter with my palm and grunting loudly) sex. You could hear the plan B packaging open.
At this point - the ENTIRE FRONT DESK STAFF HAS STOPPED CHECKING IN GUESTS. The people in line and are watching the show. The clerk is stunned. Speechless. Shock and awed. Crapped out and busted. The women are covering their children's eyes and ears. The men are wondering if this show requires a 2 drink minimum.
Me: now I get this is Vegas. Everyone wants a good time. It's midnight. My flight leaves at 6 which means I have to be up by 4. And this just isn't working. So I asked them to keep it down and I locked myself out of my room. So if you can make me another key or move me I'd appreciate it.
The clerk nods.
Clerk: of course. may I see your ID?
Years of ballet have prepared me for this day. I step back to make sure my genitals are still ensconced in my boxers as I pirouette and gesticulate wildly.
Me: DO I LOOK LIKE I HAVE ID?
The floor manager steps over and asks me to head down to the end of the desk where she will make me a key. I give her the room number and thank her after she offers to have security sent up to shutdown the best little whorehouse in Vegas. I tell her it may not be necessary. As I take my keys and walk away the people in line break out in raucous applause.
I take a bow and miraculously my boxer shorts don't rip. These people are my subjects and I have been crowned the the king of the three ring circus that is the circus circus lobby. Im offered a $1 tip from a kind soul but I decline.
My walk back to the hotel elevator bank is uneventful. So much so that I realize it is going too well. The other shoe, if I were wearing one felt as if it was about to drop. Suddenly a dumbass in a rascal scooter is heading toward me at flank speed as his head is turned to look at everyone BEHIND HIM. There's no way this will end well.
For you gentle readers joining us mid conversation - it's midnight and I need to be at the airport in 4.5 hours. I can just see it now. (Cue the harp noises)
Scene: Emergency room
Nurse: Allergic to anything? Me: NKDA Nurse: cause of injury? Me: what's the IC10 code for "run down by drunken buffoon on motorized wheelchair?"
I saw my life and confirmed upgraded first class seats home being given away by the Mccarran gate agent flash before my eyes and my catlike reflexes kicked in and I jumped to my left into the wall, mid 1960's Las Vegas union construction being the path of least resistance. Think "The Bodyguard" with Kevin Costner.
The buffoon barely realizes what happens. Children are amazed. "HEY MOM! Look! That guy just ran into a wall!"
Me: it was that OR GET RUN DOWN BY SOME JACKASS ON A GODDAMN SCOOTER GOING FULL SPEED DRIVING LIKE A....
I look down and a midwestern nuclear family with two children of formative age are waiting for the elevator. I change my last word.
Me: LUNATIC!
I look over to the parents.
Me: I'm really sorry. This is a family joint and I shouldn't have cursed the drunken scooter driver like that. Sorry kids.
Parent: no big deal. They've heard fucking worse.
I crack a smile at her word choice. Fucking worse. Yeah. That sounds like my evening.
After jumping into a wall, I'm now wide awake and unable to go back to sleep. I make the plane and push on time. The 737 comes to a stop short of the runway and holds. Something is wrong. The pilots come on and say that they loaded more cargo and passengers than planned so they have to redo their numbers. We're waiting on the taxiway with both engines running as they do this and the waiting music comes on. What's the first song?
Whitney Houston - "I Will Always Love You"

SHOT 2018/My tales of adventure in Las Vegas

So, you wanna go to SHOT show? You think it's all fun and games? Get to play with guns? See Jesse James and R. Lee Ermey? SHOT show is the annual pilgrimage of the unwashed masses to Las Vegas to rub elbows with youtube celebrities, bloggers and overseas businessmen copying US made equipment and share infectious disease.
If you love guns, gambling and gonorrhea - SHOT show is for you! It is not my typical idea of a good time. I am not a big fan of Las Vegas.
However: I do attend for a few reasons. First, I do enjoy travel and I'm platinum on AA so I can usually score an upgrade. Second, industry people are in there that I do hundreds of thousands if not millions of dollars with business with so it's nice to put a face with the name and see what deals are out there. SHOT for me has been a bust for the past few years. Being a value guy, I want to buy at $1000 and sell at $3000 and as of recently the gun business is more like buy for $1 and sell for $1.10 if you get what I mean.
We used to do business at SHOT and now it's just checking in on foursquare, instagram and rubbing elbows with bloggers and the like. I want to make money, not spend money so this is very annoying to me.
Anyways, onto the play by play.
Monday, January 22nd. One day before SHOT show.
The TSA line is a shitshow thanks to, well TSA. I have pre check and breeze right through.
I slog my way to the lounge, as shitty as it is to wait for my winged chariot to DFW. I have gone from being in an abusive relationship with Delta to being in an abusive relationship with AA. Although if you really want to experience the battered spouse feeling, UA is a few gates over.
I board my flight to Dallas/FW and my Renton assembled chariot is having a problem with one of the ring laser gyros, the hate agent tells us we are delayed for an indeterminate amount of time. Even as an AA Plat, I have no cleared upgrades. I am number 4 on the list with one seat open to Dallas/FW. I am 39/61 for Dallas/FW to LAX.
Fuck my life.
I gate check my bags to make life easier for me and the rest of the folks slumming it. If I don't have to worry about being short on time, I like to gate check to free up bins for those who are not as fortunate. Eventually I board and ask the FA to say hi to the captain and get a ride report. Light chop all over north texas today and we're going to take the long way around the field due to wind.
Me: I guess it's true. Dallas always does seem to blow a little harder in the postseason...
CA: Hahhahaha
FO: You got that right! Go eagles!
Having brightened the day of the flight crew, I head back to my MCE seat in Y and kick back and relax by listening to my Rumours, my favorite fleetwood mac album on my ipod.
We land at Dallas an hour and a half late eating into my 4 hour spa layover I had planned. I hightail it to the Centurion lounge in terminal D, my home away from home. Thankfully I don't need a massage since I brought my friend Laura some homemade chocolate rice crispy squares and she gave me a one hour massage and gave me a happy ending.
I grab a plate and help myself to some of the excellent chicken and some mashed red potatoes and bacon It is cheesy and DELICIOUS. Between that and the poblano rice, I can feel it going straight to my thighs. No, I do not care. NOM NOM NOM
https://imgur.com/a/WBcyd
The lounge is packed. The bar is full and I grab a quick single malt as I have my meal since American's not going to feed me. They begin boarding to LAX as I walk out of the lounge. I make it to the gate and the entire plane has boarded because the screens say they are boarding group 9.
Giving the FA a friendly nod, I ask to say hi to the captain and I stride through J and say hello to the two gentlemen flying today. Aviation nerd protip: CHECK YOUR ROUTING!
I didn't, but I had a hunch since arriving from the east we'd get the ANJLL 1 or the HLYWD 1 arrival. I got a 50/50 shot. Let's see how good I am.
Drop my bags at the threshold, poke my head in.
Me: Howdy guys, we still looking good for the Hollywood 1 tonight?
CA: Man, you did your homework yes we are! GABBL transition as a matter of fact!
Damn I'm good.
FC: Nice! I know you guys take a rash of crap from drunk Parker so I like to say hello to the folks who do the heavy lifting and I'm a total airplane dork so it's cool to check the place out.
CA: I'm an airplane dork too! I'm Jeff Rowland, nice to meet ya!
SUPER nice guy. He gave me a tour of the airplane, even took a picture of me in the left seat.
https://imgur.com/a/xVIy6
Here he is showing me some stuff around the airplane. He gives me the grand tour of the 787-9 including this neat feature that actually measures how many G's they have on landing so they know whether or not they need an overweight landing inspection or not. AMAZING airplane. I'm shown all the bells and whistles and they tell me how fun the plane is to fly. Jeff takes a few pics of me in the best seat of the house. I tell the guys I'll see them at the in and out burger on Sepuldeva and I hike back to my seat in W.
The FA's were wondering where I was, and they gave away my assigned seat. I take an empty center aisle seat and make life easier for everyone. W in the 787-9 is a solid hard product. The BE Aerospace MI-Q seat is a good ride whether in it for 3 hours to LAX or 13 to CDG like I was in a few months ago. https://imgur.com/a/iPHVh
The boarding door closes for an on time departure and I watch another airplane movie - American Made with Tom Cruise. He's so dreamy. Jeff's PA's were really lame and had a whole bunch of people laughing in the back on the way to LA. The flight was not long enough. The landing is a perfect grease job on 24L and we await a tug to get towed into gate 41 at LAX. I say thanks again to the flight crew - worthy of note, http://andystravelblog.boardingarea.com/2018/01/29/pilots-lette
My next hop via a 737 to LAS is uneventful. I stop at the Centurion lounge for some freshly squeezed OJ. It is DELICIOUS as AA's app tells me my bags are being unloaded.
I grab my things and hop in the last car Hertz has in the gold section - a 2016 Toyota Corolla. Times are rough. I'm at Circus Circus again. I check in and tell the lady about the last time I was there with the neighbors and the extremely loud sex. Full story: tail end of this - https://www.reddit.com/guns/comments/5podeq/shot_2017my_tales_of_adventure_in_las_vegas/
She damn near busts a gut laughing and upgrades me to a skyrise room and gives me a line pass and complimentary buffet.
I arrive to my room where housekeeping has not cleaned it to my exacting specifications. Specifically, there are like three hairballs from a cat in the chair next to the desk. I ask for another room and they set it up for me. It's now 1AM. In and out burger is closed.
Fuck.
Tuesday, January 23rd SHOT Show Day One
You gotta get into the palazzo garage before 8AM or you are not getting a spot. I get in at 8:01 and miraculously find a spot. They are doing so much construction at the resort that I don't recognize it. I grab my pass and check in with some other industry associates. My first day is semi-eventful as I check out the sig 365, a very promising concealed carry product as well as a few other really neat things and many many useless items.
I run into u/chugbleach in the basement and we trade stories. He shows me some neat stuff he's been working on. We plan to dine later in the week and I continue walking the show when I see the most amazing booth ever.
Backstory: https://www.reddit.com/guns/comments/7ag6oj/gsg_stg_44/dp9u9hw/
I let fluff buy the hook, he posts $120 to win $100 if he gets his HMG gun by the end of Q1. If gun arrives on time, he gets $100 from me. If no, I get $120 from him.
I walk back to chug.
FC: DUDE DUDE DUDE YOU GOTTA SEE THIS COME QUICK
CB: Okay lets go
We walk briskly not 100 feet. I stop quickly. Chug looks confused.
I gesticulate wildly to our right.
This is what we see.
I crack up laughing and can barely contain myself. This is the greatest thing I have seen in weeks.
On that note it is time to take a break for lunch. I head up to one of my vendors who has a hospitality suite for the show and they are serving jambalaya for lunch every day. As a Louisiana boy, we do love jambalaya. There's a reason I spend lots of money with them. I eat and have a coke as I trade gun jokes with other gun dealers. I wander around the show and nothing else jumps at me.
I walk the footbridge over to the Wynn to see how the house is doing. The poker room is full. I draw $2500 from my credit line and head down to the craps table to throw some dice. I have some mixed success as it's getting late and I want to hit the in and out burger so as I'm getting ready to leave, Laura sends me a bunch of filthy text messages about what she wants to do to me when I get back. My chips and raging boner leave the tables quickly as I duck into the bathroom to tell her that if she wants to treat me like a prisoner on a conjugal visit - I went to 8 years of catholic school, she's entering a world of pain. She says game on.
After a quick trip to the cage to cash out, I'm up or down something like $100. I swing by in and out burger for a double double. It is delicious. Sleepy time.
Wednesday, January 24th. Day 2 of SHOT show.
Alarm goes off at 7:45 AM. I wash up, eat and get breakfast. In the garage by 8:15. Still manage to find a spot! Attendance is down this year. I get in line at Larue. They run out of dillo dust at 8:39. This is the line at 8:35 https://imgur.com/a/KLHrg
The show opens at 8:30. Fuck my life. I grab a dillo and some stickers for some friends and a few HK calendars. I wander around and talk to the guys over at Franklin Armory and their new SBR that isn't an SBR, SBS that isn't an SBS and rifle that isn't really a rifle BUT IS STILL A FIREARM. The projectiles they want to sell have fin stabilization and it's like a 55 grain flying Lombardi trophy. It's an interesting idea but I'm not 100% certain I would buy one personally. I trade war stories with a few other friends I meet up with at the show. I head down to the basement and I'm looking at a few accessories from Tactical Walls.
Just as I'm ready to leave - Joe Mantegna shows up and says hi to the reps.
FC: Mr Mantegna! I love your work! Can I get a picture?
JM: Sure.
Someone grabs my phone and snaps a pic
FC: You are great in the simpsons as Fat Tony. Just the best!
JM: (in fat tony voice) I don't get mad. I get stabby.
FC: That's awesome! Thanks! Enjoy the show!
I send the pics to some friends who enjoy snappy Mamet plays and they are all jealous. I head down to the basement. The ATF booth is vacant due to the government shutdown. So is the FBI booth. Oh well. I head upstairs to the manufacturer supplier section and I find out that Olympic Arms is still in business making things. I do a lap and get some business cards from some precision machine companies that can make some elaborate parts. Jambalaya again for lunch. Nom nom nom.
I head down to FN to talk shop with the guys down there and give them shit. FN's new innovation is a two tone FDE/Black gun. So now 50% of the gun does not have to match. I trade barbs with Mike Hoffman and we debate the age old question, is it really gay if you can suck your own cock? Just as I mention this, Steve Bannon shows up at the booth. That's my stop. I say hello to the director of commercial sales on my way out and go to the Knights booth where I find they're making 6.5 Creed stuff now. Interesting how quickly that cartridge has caught on. I talk shop with a few of the KAC guys and then I steal some more HK Kalendars for friends back home.
I hit the Circus Circus buffet with my free pass for the unpleasantness and it is not that great at all. They ran out of roast beef. I mean, really? SHOT SHOW IS IN TOWN! We are beef eating gun owners, and you're gonna run out of roast beef? This would never happen at the Wynn, an amazing property. I make a mental note to sell my MGM Mirage stock and buy some Wynn in the morning. I head back to the craps table and lose a shitload of money. I witness a heater happen after I color up and watch people go nuts. My luck at MGM properties has not been good. Ugh. I don't feel like doing gunnit live and head to sleep early.
Thursday, January 25th. Day 3 of SHOT show.
I message Chug and let him know that it's gotta be tonight if we're gonna hang since I fly out Friday night for Boston. We plan to make plans for dinner. I head to the show and get there at 3 minutes to 8. One of my best customers calls me wanting an XM2010. I head over to Remington and through some finagling they manage to say YES WE CAN SELL IT EVEN THOUGH WE ARE NOT SUPPOSED TO SELL IT. I work up a quote and get the customer the info and tell him what's what. I visit the nighthawk custom booth where they have a new gun chambered in .45 APC.
https://imgur.com/a/9bNe7
I kid with a few FBI guys about their attention to detail. I saunter about the show. Leatherman Tool Group always has some nice things to play with. Tim Leatherman is engraving tools for people with his autograph. I'm happy with all of his products I own and I stop by to shake his hand and tell him that my wave has saved my ass on a hundred different occasions and I once resurrected a Ford off the side of the road. He says he loves hearing the stories and he's a pretty nice guy.
I wander about a little more and I find myself over at the Emerson Knife Company booth looking around.
For those not in the know, Emerson has a bunch of specwar types as customers. Damn good knives and operator customers. One of them is behind the table wearing a badge that says JOHN SMITH - JOHN SMITH INC. He's got arms that are as thick as my legs and he looks like a Navy Seal. He bolts upright from his seat and looks at my wrist.
"Is that a 1675?"
FC: Sure is! Damn good eye! My dad won it in an underground poker game in Hong Kong in 1968 from a couple of navy guys on shore leave that flew F4's off Dixie Station.
"Holy crap, that's fucking awesome!"
We talk watches and guns and killing people for a while. He says he's in the navy and the budweiser insignia necklace he is wearing tells me everything I need to know. Nice guy. I wonder what his real name is as the show closes down and as I walk out the magpul booth gives me a laugh. A paper sign on the door says "DOOR IS LOUD AF CLOSE GENTLY"
I'm not kidding - https://imgur.com/a/GgSkU
I head over to Chug's hotel and he gives me the grand tour. It's way nicer than my hotel. We go out and have dinner. I'm asked if I like Thai.
FC: Tie good, you like shirt?
Nobody gets my simpsons jokes. We go to dinner where a good time is had by all. Chug gets a call and needs to drop off a SHOT show pass to a co-worker of his flying in. As opposed to all the mechanics of a dead drop at the palazzo etc I tell him fuck it, just give it to me and I'll pick him up from the airport. In exchange, I tell him I want all the leftover chicken wings from the Thai place.
It's a deal. I grab the wings and head to McCarran. There's a guy in a BRZ hauling ass and I decide to see what this shitbox can do. I get the Corolla up to 115 MPH on the highway before backing down to a more sensible speed. After 5 minutes of MARCO / POLO I find the fellow and give him his shot show pass and a ride to his hotel. I find it funny that last year I ran an unapproved uber substitute and here we are again and the same thing is happening. I'm offered gas money or a beer after the show and I tell him hey, it's your first time at SHOT - enjoy the show, don't sweat it.
I hightail it up the strip to the Palazzo where I play a bit and eventually see a heater in progress. I split the 6/8 for $120 each and they hit. I press it and they hit again. Maybe this won't be a bad trip after all. Table craps out and I cash out still down a few bucks but better than when I started.
By the time I make it back to the room, it's 4AM. I eat the chicken wings. They're delicious.
Friday, January 26th. Day 4 of SHOT show.
I've gotten most of what I want to get done, done. I ordered some Firearm Instructor body armor from one of my guys since lots of people want me dead first thing in the AM and things were going good. I sleep in and debate what I want for breakfast when I realize things are going a little too good. Nothing really bad has happened this trip yet. I pack up and get ready to leave the hotel when I get a push notification.
MOTHERFUCKER
My flight to Boston has been canceled.
My confirmed first class seats on one of the hardest to upgrade legs in the entire AA route network - LAX to BOS, gone. AA proactively books me on the flight leaving LA a few hours later IN COACH. A middle seat, even. No, just no. I call American and they tell me the plane is broken. Damnit. I look on the app for acceptable reroutings and there is nothing available in first. I say fuck it, I'll deal with this shit later. I have the rental car until midnight, lots of time to make a new plan. I check out of the hotel, throw my bags in the car and head down to the show and it's a freaking ghost town. Parking spaces everywhere. I say bye to a few folks as my phone sends me a notification. WSJ: STEVE WYNN ACCUSED OF DECADES OF SEXUAL MISCONDUCT
Oh FUCK MY LIFE. I bought the stock back on Wednesday. GODDAMNIT STEVE WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS BULLSHIT
I skip lunch and walk across the street to the Wynn and their corporate office.
You see, I have a simple theory. If the allegations are false, they should have no problem sending someone out to listen to my concerns and say the allegations are false and here's everything we're doing to fight it. If the allegations are true, they'll send down hired goons to throw me out the door.
It's sorta like spousal infidelity. If A finds evidence of B cheating, credit card statements, sexts, racy pictures, etc - and A confronts B and B admits it and says I want a divorce, B is guilty. If B says A is cheating on them what the fuck are you doing looking at my credit card statements and phone you're the one that's wrong and invading my privacy get the fuck out of my house - B is really guilty.
That's the theory. If they go full retard and bounce me off the property, the stock is probably going to go down some more. If they address the concerns, things should not be as bad.
Since I walked through the property the last time I was in town, I knew where the corporate office was. The name on my broker statement says WYNN RESPORTS and so did the sign on the doors. I walk through the doors and to the end of the hallway where there's another electronically locked door that is unlocked.
There's a security guard who is nonplussed sitting at a desk wondering if I'm lost. I explain to him that I'm a shareholder and I want to know what this company is doing about this catastrophe. He says he can't say/do anything and I'm instructed to leave. I ask him if he can take a message. He says yes, and I'm like you just said you can't do anything. So what's that supposed to mean?
I argue with him about what he supposedly can and cannot do as I eat raspberry macrons that have been plated at the reception area of the corporate office. THESE BETTER BE THE BEST FUCKING MACARONS I HAVE EVER EATEN GODDAMNIT. They are. Fuck.
He tells me that my best bet is to talk to someone else at the resort, not him. Fine.
I leave and head to the concierge desk - because from one concierge to another, we can solve problems. I explain the situation and instead of routing me to the press office or investor relations - they give me a phone and tell me to speak to guest services. AKA the people that help you with your stay as a guest of the hotel. I give the lady taking the message about 15 minutes worth of comments and she's assured me that they'll be passed along to management.
Given the circumstances I think that's the best I'm going to do today. Now, there's the issue of me being stuck in vegas for another night. I look down at my phone and AA has offered three itineraries flying out of McCarran tomorrow IN FIRST CLASS that gets me to Boston in a timely fashion. I jump on the 625AM flight to Charlotte. This means I need to be at the car rental by 525AM and out the door around 0430. Fuck my life. And I have nowhere to sleep/showeshit/shave.
As I'm walking back to the esplanade to cross back over to the Palazzo where my car is, I notice the registration desk. I get in line and a lovely lady asks what she can do for me.
I tell her that I'm a shareholder and I'm pretty mad about the way the company is handling their sex offender in chief. And given the $18 haircut I took on the stock today, if there's an angry shareholder discount on a room tonight I think that would be more than fair given the circumstances. She agrees and gets me a bottle of water and the manager. The manager asks me if I've stayed at the hotel before, the answer is yes and asks to see my ID so she can see if she can plug me in at a repeat guest rate.
A few minutes go by and I wait patiently at the desk when I'm tapped on the shoulder.
There's two former NFL linebackers, one with his back towards me and the other introducing himself as the director of security.
Hmmm. Lets see. For those not in the know, there's only one exit in and out of the wynn registration desk.
If there's two bodies on me, there's gotta be at least two more at each side of the wall behind it that I can't see, I figure 4 sets of eyes running the eye in the sky all with their eyes glued to the monitors, the director of security is holding my ID which means he's already got my play, my comps, my markers, run me through central credit, my red card, he's got metro running me for wants/warrants and there's probably an unmarked metro ford next to a service exit with an open door and a seat reserved for me in the back.
I look down at my watch. The market is closed. I can't sell. Fuck. Because there is no way in hell this stock is holding $180 monday morning.
Quickly, I bang out a message to my brother letting him know I am about to be arrested at the Wynn and to start googling Las Vegas bail bonds.
The two security guys tell me to step away from the front desk and they want to know what the hell I'm doing. I tell them I want answers from the management of this company about how they're handling this disaster. They say I can't just walk into a casino corporate office and ask to speak to someone.
Well, I just did. Why can't I?
They said it represents a major security risk and a breach of their perimeter. After all, Mr. Wynn takes his security at the hotel very seriously.
Me: I suppose if I were a sex offender with hired goons, I'd take my security seriously too. And if you really didn't want people going back there - last time I checked, this is a casino. The doors have locks. Perhaps you should have oh I don't know, locked them?
Wynn Security: What makes you think you can just walk in here and talk to us like that?
Me: I'm a stockholder. Technically you work for me.
Wynn Security: You honestly expect that a big company like us is going to send someone out of the corporate office to talk to a guy like you about a thing like this? That never happens in corporate america.
Me: That's strange. Michael Moore did exactly that and that's what made him famous. What's your point?
We bantered in the registration area of the Wynn for something like an hour and 45 minutes as the director of security wandered back and forth. They never backed down with the questions and I never backed down from the answers. A lot of casino security is former law enforcement so they're looking for that time you change your story like on an episode of cops. For instance, if it was cops it would go like
Cop: who's drugs are these?
1: Never seen em before
fast forward 2 min
1: I mean my friend smokes pot, maybe it's his
Cop: I thought you said you never seen em before?
fast forward 2 min
1: So I smoke a little pot okay
Cop: I thought you said it might be your friends pot?
fast forward 2 min
1: yeah it's my pot
They were looking for a reason to throw me out and as far as I can tell, they probably still are. I'm sorta expecting a registered letter in the mail barring me from the property in a week. If I start yelling, it's disorderly conduct and they have a case. If start pushing someone around, same thing. But if I speak candidly and gesticulate wildly and raise cogent points about how every single hotel employee I've dealt with thus far owns a combined total of zero shares in the company - they have no skin in the game and I do. So, they can't really criticize my opinion as wrong because I'm the stockholder not them. At least, that's my opinion. I could be wrong.
Well, the goons disagreed with me and said I was wrong. They also said that this could have been accomplished with a phone call. I said no, because you wouldn't take a phone call seriously. And now you're taking this seriously. So, match point: FC.
They didn't like that. It would not surprise me in the least if Steve Wynn was in the security booth with a radio telling his guys to find some reason to arrest me and have me sent to Clark County booking. This guy just feels guilty as sin. I can't prove it but my gut has usually been right about this sort of thing.
As I'm waiting for my inevitable arrest and booking, I wonder if American Airlines will allow me another flight change due to temporary incarceration. Because there's no way I'll be able to leave the state with an ROR or a signature bond out. I look over at Mean Joe Greene Jr and tell him I was too angry to eat lunch and I'd like to have a seat before my blood sugar crashes and my head hits the floor and Steve sends me a bill for the shattered italian marble.
He gestures towards a chair in the reception area and I have a sit. He offers to bring me another water. I decline. He brings me a water anyways. I consume both the waters as compliments of the house as a sign of untoward cooperation.
Out of the corner of my eye I see the director of security talking to two metro PD guys with handcuffs out. I hear over the radio they're asking for a rover to take me down to the security office for fingerprinting and photographs. He is gesticulating wildly.
The director of security comes back over and he tries to get me to crack on my story. I tell him I'm here as a shareholder as a private citizen demanding accountability of the management. I will not apologize for walking through an unlocked door to the corporate office asking to speak to someone to hear out my concerns, I will not apologize for going to the concierge since the previous person was very unhelpful and I will not apologize for expecting the highest standards of a fortune 1000 company chairman and CEO. And until you pony up and buy some stock, I'm not about to take a lecture about what is and isn't acceptable behavior from people who don't have skin in the game protecting what should be by all accounts a registered sex offender.
He looks back at Metro PD.
They shrug.
They've got nothing chargeable on me.
Hell, I'm not even counting cards this time.
Next thing I know he quickly walks away and returns with a late 20's hispanic fellow who introduces himself as the hotel manager. He says that he's gotten a report from security and that Mr. Wynn's private life he cannot comment on but the concerns I have will be sent up towards management.
FC: So you're the hotel manager? So you report to Matt Maddox. You tell him that this is a mess. Nobody comes back from this sort of thing. Not Harvey Weinstein. Not Louis CK. Not Matt Lauer. Not Bill O'Reilly. Not Bill Cosby. Not Kevin Spacey. Not Charlie Rose. Not Al Franken. And the LAST time this happened at Mirage, a shareholder revolt wound up sending the company into the hands of MGM. What's to stop Sheldon from across the street from doing the same thing? You tell them that.
The manager nods and offers me a room at a rate, inclusive of resort fee and taxes of $335/night. I take out my phone, look at the Hotel Tonight app and realize that I'm being charged more money than if I were to book the room from a consolidator.
Now, I don't mind the lie about understanding where I'm coming from. I do mind the insult to my intelligence. I am handed back my ID and the hotel manager offers his business card. I take his business card and go over to the cage. I close my credit line and take my deposit out of the cage. I'm down for the trip. Fuck this shit, I'll deal with it later. I call my brother and tell him that I've been released. We look at some flights and to get back to Boston will require another night in Las Vegas. Everything leaving tonight is full due to the conventions closing up.
AA has some seats open in first via Charlotte and Philly, I take the Charlotte flight leaving at 6:30 AM from McCarran and they confirm me seats in first all the way to Logan. This is the only thing to go right today. I purchase some clean clothes since I will not have time to do laundry in Boston anymore due to the delay and head over to the palace station oyster bar. The wait is about 2 hours but I make some friends in line while I'm there. I am torn between the alaskan chowder and the bouillabaisse. I ask Steve behind the bar what he thinks is best. He says do the bouillabaisse. I tell him that sounds excellent, and to add extra lobster. I ask him how long, he says could be 30 minutes but check back in 20. I tell him I'm gonna go hit the tables and I'll be back in 20. The timer on my phone begins counting down.
I belly up to the nearest craps table and I drop my cash down. I tell them I want it in black and red and the croupier complies. I bet the 6/8 split with mixed success and the pass line with odds. The shooter misses the point. I look down at my dwindling stack of chips and there's 15 minutes left.
Fuck it. Go big or go home. Lets get this shit over with. The point comes off. I drop $100 on the pass line. New shooter gets the dice and the come out roll hits a 10.
I look at the gal with the whip. I throw her a stack of chips.
FC: Full odds on the ten, $200 hard way, give me all the numbers and a nickel c and e.
New shooter proceeds to hit every number on the board, midnight, yo and a speed limit. Pass line pays even money. Pass odds pays 2-1. I'm looking down at a big stack of chips. What the fuck just happened?
I drop $100 on the pass line again, the point comes out for an 8. I take full odds and all the numbers. New shooter hits every number on the board, midnight, yo, except the 8. The guy next to me has the all or nothing at all working so the only thing left to hit is the 8 and it's gonna pay 175:1. The 8 does not hit. Everyone is chasing the 8'er from Decatur.
I look down at my stack and the table limit and the boxman.
FC: hey Joe, what's the juice on laying the 8?
Joe: 5 points!
I take down my pass line odds.
FC: I want everything off and I'll lay the 8 for a dime.
Everyone at the table looks at me like I'm a lunatic. I slide over two purple chips and two green for the vig.
Time remaining until bouillabaisse: 8 minutes.
Lets see what happens. The dice bang around a bunch of more times. I'm ahead for this trip. Way ahead. Next thing I know, the gal with the whip calls no roll. One of the dies have left the table.
Time remaining until bouillabaisse: 4 minutes.
This is my stop.
FC: Take down my lay, and I'll color up.
The boxman colors me up, I leave a nice tip for the crew and start to walk over to the cage to cash in. I hear screaming and profanity, I turn around and I see the dealers stacking chips. The shooter has 7'd out.
Time remaining until bouillabaisse: 2 minutes.
There's a long line at the cage. I walk back to the oyster bar and I see a big bowl with a plate covering it. Steve behind the bar has thought of everything.
I turn the plate over and look down at my stack of chips. Maybe today won't be so bad after all.
https://imgur.com/a/bjK7R
The bouillabaisse is delicious. The win is even more delicious. I nom my way to the bottom of the bowl and settle up the bill. I leave Steve a nice tip as I head over to the Palazzo to say hi to some friends. I find myself at a craps table you can hang meat upon. This is not good. It's getting late and I head over to my room at the Mandalay Bay.
Now, here's the fucked up part. This girl I've been hooking up with didn't hook up with me before I left for SHOT. She's been messing with my brain for a whole week. I check in to the Mandalay Bay where there's a goddamn pornstar convention going on.
FML.
I find myself down at a craps table at 11PM and bringing a frontier flight attendant named Amber back to my room. The lucky streak continues. My flight leaves in a few hours. I kick her out of my room and pass out.
Flight leaves at 625 for CLT. Need to be at McCarran at 525. Out the door of the hotel by 5AM at the latest. I set my alarm.
*Saturday, January 27th. *
I wake up to see the sun shining through my hotel room. I look down at the alarm clock. 8:01AM.
My long standing joke is that I sleep like a dead prostitute. The evening of ravenous illegal in 48 states sex has taken its toll. Fuck. I grab the phone and press the button for guest services. I turn on the speaker as I open my bag wide and just stuff everything in as fast as I can. I throw my boots on as I tell them to check me out over the phone. I haul ass downstairs to the garage and I get to McCarran and board the shuttle to Terminal 1. I walk up to the AA desk knowing I am 11 different kinds of fucked. Nancy the gate agent starts working on my departure. AA's rule is 2 hours from departure on a flat tire. That's 8:25 AM. It's a few minutes before 9. Nancy the great agent cannot get anything to work. She has to put me in the special services line. By the time I get there, they tell me I'm flying standby and I'm on the flight to Philly leaving at 1PM in the afternoon. There is no way in hell they can get me on the 10AM to Phoenix.
My cousin is getting married in Boston and she is going to fucking kill me. I told her I'd be there around 6PM on the rebooking. And now I'm going to be leaving for Philly in 4 hours. Granted, the Amex Centurion Lounge has freshly squeezed OJ but that's not going to be enough today. I run to TSA and get cleared. I run past the Centurion to head straight for the Phoenix gate. Hopefully other folks have had an irish layover. The gate agent there starts working me and she says that they have two open seats and that they're gonna get me on. Just sit tight. I step to the side to let her help a few other folks gate check bags. The clock is ticking and her colleague closes the boarding door as I'm standing next to the gate looking fucked. I take a deep breath and try to keep it together.
A tap on the shoulder.
"Sir, your boarding pass. Exit row window. I've taken the liberty and called back to make sure there's space in the overhead for my bags so you don't have to gate check. You are good to go."
I look up at the three ladies working the podium.
FC: Can I hug any of you?
Gate Agent 1: No
Gate Agent 2: I'm sick
Gate Agent 3: Sure, why not?
I head behind the counter and give her a hug. She seems pleased.
I hightail it to the door. Gate agent 2 opens it up for me. I run down the jetway like a charging rhino, Chris Christie like. The flight attendants greet me by name and they realize that my nose is bleeding from the 8 ball I shared with Amber a few hours back. The FA points at my nose and asks me if I'd like to step into the lav. I realize it's probably pretty bad. I leave my bags in the galley and duck in and I stuff a bunch of paper in my nose as an ersatz tampon. I walk back out, grab my bags and I declare to the entire plane it's the dry air not a cocaine problem.
Nobody believes me.
I take my seat and there's an empty seat between me and an in uniform FA on the way home. We chat a bit and Cathy thinks my story is hilarious. She even gets on AA's PALL list for the flight to Boston and checks and says I'm number one on standby R4. A nice lady, I offer her one of my extra LaRue Dillo's. She thinks they're cute.
The working FA walks back and looks down at the traveling FA and says very discreetly there's a 40 minute ground hold due to PHX losing a runway. This is gonna be really really tight. My connecting flight to Boston is not looking good. We wait the 40 minutes for the hold and make it to PHX about 15 minutes behind schedule. I bolt to the Boston gate. I ask if they've cleared all the standby passengers. They say yes. I say I should be number one and they hand me a ticket in coach.
FC: Any way I can talk you into a seat in the front of the plane?
The hate agent just looks at me funny. He does not seem to think that's happening. He asks me if I have status on the airline. Sure do. He says no promises.
I tell him no sweat, I'm gonna go take a leak and come back around in 5.
I walk back up and he hands me my new boarding pass.
https://imgur.com/a/IJuPe
I call my cousin and tell her that I'm gonna be a few hours late. Great ride all the way into Boston. I sleep like a dead prostitute.
https://imgur.com/a/RKMSu
Just as we cruise past the city of big shoulders, the FA wakes me up.
"Mr Hayden, would you like some ice cream?"
I look at my neighbor who is a middle age female executive and she is plowing through hers like Sherman through Atlanta.
FC: You know what, Chuck? I've always wanted to say this. I'll have what she's having.
https://imgur.com/a/our5R
Ice cream on the ground, delicious.
Ice cream on a plane, FUCKING FANTASTIC.
FC out.

What's Going on in Columbia? January 23rd - 28th

CONTENT COURTESY OF COLUMBIA CVB

ON STAGE

Pints & Punchlines: Rose Comedy Club Thursday 9 PM at Rose Music Hall. Pints & Punchlines comedy showcase is back! This monthly comedy showcase features hosts Rob Harris and Michael Yetman with some of the area’s finest comedians. From the hardened veterans to fresh faces, performers come ready to show their best material as audiences get a chance to learn about Columbia’s best kept secret! $2.

India Day 2018 Saturday 1-5 PM at Jesse Wrench Auditorium, Memorial Union. Cultural Association of India (CAI) is proud to organize the MU-India Day. This event will highlight the academic and scholarly contributions of faculty, students, and staff who have links to India or interact with India. A roster of distinguished speakers and guests from MU makes this program a must to attend. This will be followed by the celebration of India’s 69th Republic Day that will include a vibrant cultural program depicting the heritage of India. Free and open to all.

Garth Fagan Dance Company Saturday 7 PM at Jesse Auditorium. Mr. Fagan forged his own dance language and technique, drawing from modern dance, Afro-Caribbean and ballet. Tony award-winning choreographer Garth Fagan’s dancers communicate with unbridled energy the depth, precision, and grace of Fagan’s work. The Company’s “fearless” dancers are “able to sustain long adagio balances, to change direction in mid-air, to vary the dynamic of a turn, to stop on a dime,” wrote David Vaughan in Ballet Review. Fagan’s ever-evolving dance language draws on many sources: sense of weight in modern dance, torso-centered movement and energy of AfroCaribbean, speed and precision of ballet, and the rule breaking experimentation of the post-moderns.

SPECIAL EVENTS

Missouri Association of Fairs and Festivals Convention Friday 10 AM – 9 PM at Holiday Inn Executive Center. There are so many festivals and Fairs across Missouri that it’s only right they have their own convention — with live music. Enjoy country blues artist Kristie Kraus, pop-rock country duo LyraLee and more.

R.O.C. 7K Trail Run Saturday 9 AM at Cosmo Park’s Antimi Shelter. The R.O.C. Trail Run is BACK! Start your new year with Rhett’s Outdoor Challenge and enjoy a morning on Rhett’s Run. This 4.3 mile trail run will take racers through the scenic twists and turns of this hilly, well maintained single track course. All participants will receive a finisher item and a post-race snack once they’ve completed their run. This event will include chip timing, Visit Columbia MO @VisitColumbiaMO @VisitColumbiaMO age group awards, volunteer support and direction, and an aid station (water stop) on the course. Registration required.

Columbia Farmers Market Saturday 9-12 PM at Parkade Plaza. Columbia Farmers Market is a year-round producer-only farmers market! Shop local with over 70 vendors, all within a 50 mile radius of Columbia!

Bacon & Bourbon 2018 Saturday 1-4 PM at Bur Oak Brewing Co. Enjoy tasty samplings from local restaurants, distillers, and distributors! Live Music by The Barroom Billies. Tickets are $20. NOTE: *sold out*

Explore Missouri Wine & Beer Saturday 6 PM at Root Cellar. Spend the evening with Root Cellar owners Jake and Chelsea Davis as they pour some of their favorite beverages from around the state. Enjoy delicious local dishes from Root Cellar's kitchen as we discuss pairings and share some amazing stories about Missouri's Wineries and Breweries. $25.

GALLERY

Indulge through March 9 at Columbia Art League. In this show, we invite artists to explore the art of eating. Artists’ connection to food tells us much about the time, place, and culture in which they lived. Our relationship with food can be complicated, tangled up with the need for survival, with our primal connection to land and community, and fraught with emotions from guilt to pleasure! In this show, artists are encouraged to Indulge and serve up a veritable feast for the eyes.

January Exhibit through January 27 at Sager Braudis Gallery. Sager Braudis Gallery presents the January Exhibit, January 3 - 27, 2018, featuring abstract, mixed-media paintings by Matt Ballou of Columbia, MO, Monoprints on fibers surfaces by Amy Firestone Rosen of St. Louis, MO, representational oil paintings by Mary Jo O’Gara of Winnetka, IL, trompe l’oeil painted woodcarvings by Thomas Pfannerstill of Louisville, KY, and metal, figural sculpture by Guillermo Rigattieri of Mendoza, Argentina.

Jon Luvelli: Images from Central Missouri through Spring 2018 at the State Historical Society of Missouri. Raised in a rural farm town near Columbia, Missouri, Jon Luvelli's fine art photography has garnered national and international attention in the field of street photography. His images are distinguished by their focus on Midwestern townscapes and underlying social messages. The stark contrasts of light and dark encourage viewers to find beauty in uncustomary forms. This exhibition of photos, which is the first installment of a permanent Luvelli collection at SHSMO, represents central Missouri and casts an aesthetic spotlight on contemporary life on the county roads and midtown streets of the Show-Me State.

Being Bussabarger: Painting, Sculpture, Ceramics, Sketchbooks, and More through May 5 at the State Historical Society of Missouri. Painter, sculptor, and ceramicist Robert Bussabarger (1922–2013) lived and worked in Missouri for over fifty years. Being Bussabarger pays tribute to the artist's creative spirit with a retrospective selection of his artworks from the 1940s to the 2010s. The wide range of media within the Society's collection of Bussabarger's art demonstrates the depth and breadth of his talent.

Salvador Dali exhibit at The Tiger Hotel. In the lobby of the hotel, you will find two lithographs from Dali’s 1977 ‘Twelve Apostles or Knights of the Round Table’ Suite: James the Lesser or The Vicar of Britain and Phillip or Knighting of Sir Galahad. Between them is Dali’s1974 original work, The Last Corner of the Last Planet, from a suite of twelve paintings known as ‘Conquest of Cosmos.

SPORTS

Mizzou Men’s Basketball vs. Auburn WED 8 PM at Mizzou Arena.
Mizzou Swimming/Diving vs. Drury TH 4 PM at Mizzou Aquatic Center.
Stephens College Basketball vs. Lyon College TH 7 PM at Silverthorne Arena.
Columbia College Basketball vs. William Woods University SAT Women’s Basketball 1 PM, Men’s Basketball 3 PM at Southwell Complex.
Stephens College Basketball vs. Central Baptist College SAT 1 PM at Silverthorne Arena.

LIVE MUSIC

Wednesday

Jack Harlow, The Homies, NicDanger 8 PM at Rose Music Hall; $15.

Friday

Flyover Country 5 PM at Rose Music Hall; free.

Johnny Henry 8 PM at Nash Vegas.

Dismal Niche Presents: 18andCounting & the Only Ensemble, Oxherding, Azure Witness 8 PM at Café Berlin; $7.

Mid-MO Rock Collective 9 PM at Rose Music Hall; $5.

Michael Jackson vs. Prince dance party tribute 9 PM at The Blue Note; $5.

Saturday

Hickman Academy of Rock Student Showcase 7 PM at Café Berlin; $5..

My Posse In Effect: Live Tribute to The Beastie Boys 9:30 PM at Rose Music Hall; $6 in advance, $8 day of show.

Sunday

“We Always Swing” Jazz Series presents Billy Childs Quartet 3:30 PM and 7 PM at Murry’s.

Metal Meltdown 8:30 PM at Rose Music Hall; $6.

MOVIE GUIDE
12 STRONG - “12 Strong” is set in the harrowing days following 9/11 when a U.S. Special Forces team, led by their new Captain, Mitch Nelson (Hemsworth), is chosen to be the first U.S. troops sent into Afghanistan for an extremely dangerous mission.
CALL ME BY YOUR NAME - In Northern Italy in 1983, seventeen-year-old Elio begins a relationship with the visiting Oliver, his father's 24-year-old research assistant, with whom he bonds over his emerging sexuality, their Jewish heritage, and the beguiling Italian landscape.
COCO - Coco follows a 12-year-old boy named Miguel who sets off a chain of events relating to a century-old mystery, leading to an extraordinary family reunion.
THE COMMUTER - During his daily commute from Manhattan to Upstate New York, a cop-turned-insurance salesman (Liam Neeson) is approached by a mysterious woman (Vera Farmiga), who tells him that he must locate a passenger who's carrying something dangerous. If he fails, everyone aboard the train, as well as his family at home, will be killed.
DARKEST HOUR - During the early days of World War II, with the fall of France imminent, Britain faces its darkest hour as the threat of invasion looms. As the seemingly unstoppable Nazi forces advance, and with the Allied army cornered on the beaches of Dunkirk, the fate of Western Europe hangs on the leadership of the newly-appointed British Prime Minister Winston Churchill (Academy Award nominee Gary Oldman). While maneuvering his political rivals, he must confront the ultimate choice: negotiate with Hitler and save the British people at a terrible cost or rally the nation and fight on against incredible odds. Directed by Joe Wright, DARKEST HOUR is the dramatic and inspiring story of four weeks in 1940 during which Churchill's courage to lead changed the course of world history.
DEN OF THIEVES - DEN OF THIEVES follows the lives of an elite unit of the LA County Sheriff's Dept. and the state's most successful bank robbery crew as the outlaws plan a seemingly impossible heist on the Federal Reserve Bank of downtown Los Angeles.
FOREVER MY GIRL - Forever My Girl tells the story of country music super-star Liam Page (Alex Roe) who left his bride, Josie (Jessica Rothe), at the altar choosing fame and fortune instead. However, Liam never got over Josie, his one true love, nor did he ever forget his Southern roots in the small community where he was born and raised. When he unexpectedly returns to his hometown for the funeral of his high school best friend, Liam is suddenly faced with the consequences of all that he left behind.
THE GREATEST SHOWMAN - Inspired by the imagination of P.T. Barnum, The Greatest Showman is an original musical that celebrates the birth of show business & tells of a visionary who rose from nothing to create a spectacle that became a worldwide sensation.
INSIDIOUS: THE LAST KEY - In the fourth installment in the Insidious series, parapsychologist Elise Rainier (Lin Shaye) must delve even deeper into the infernal world known as "the Further" when supernatural forces target her own family.
JUMANJI: WELCOME TO THE JUNGLE - Four teenagers discover a mysterious video game from the '90s while serving detention, and are sucked into a virtual jungle when they try to play it. Transformed into various video-game characters -- a hunky explorer, a clever zoologist, a warrior babe, and a rotund professor -- the group must trek through this strange new world if they want to survive.
MAZE RUNNER: THE DEATH CURE - Thomas leads some escaped Gladers on their final and most dangerous mission yet. To save their friends, they must break into the legendary Last City, a WCKD-controlled labyrinth that may turn out to be the deadliest maze of all. Anyone who makes it out alive will get answers to the questions that the Gladers have been asking since they arrived in the maze.
MOLLY’S GAME - The true story of an Olympic-class skier who ran the world's most exclusive high-stakes poker game and became an FBI target. Her players included movie stars, business titans and unbeknownst to her, the Russian mob.
PADDINGTON 2 - In this sequel to the 2014 family film, Paddington Bear (voice of Ben Whishaw) tries to earn enough money to buy an antique book for his aunt's 100th birthday, but his quest brings him into conflict with an unscrupulous actor (Hugh Grant) who also wants the tome. In time, Paddington's misadventures cause him to end up in jail, and he plots his escape with the help of a kindhearted convict.
PITCH PERFECT 3 - The Bellas find themselves split apart and discovering there aren’t job prospects for making music with your mouth. But when they get the chance to reunite for an overseas USO tour, this group of awesome nerds will come together to make some music.
PHANTOM THREAD - Set in the glamour of 1950s post-war London, renowned dressmaker Reynolds Woodcock (Daniel Day-Lewis) and his sister Cyril (Lesley Manville) are at the center of British fashion, dressing royalty, movie stars, heiresses, socialites, debutants and dames with the distinct style of The House of Woodcock. Women come and go through Woodcock's life, providing the confirmed bachelor with inspiration and companionship, until he comes across a young, strong-willed woman, Alma (Vicky Krieps), who soon becomes a fixture in his life as his muse and lover. Once controlled and planned, he finds his carefully tailored life disrupted by love. With his latest film, Paul Thomas Anderson paints an illuminating portrait both of an artist on a creative journey, and the women who keep his world running.
THE POST - In the summer of 1971, the Washington Post faces a historic dilemma: whether or not to publish the Pentagon Papers, a top-secret document that reveals the U.S. government knew for decades the Vietnam War was unwinnable. Executive editor Ben Bradlee (Tom Hanks) and publisher Kay Graham (Meryl Streep) debate the best course of action in this docudrama.
STAR WARS: THE LAST JEDI - While Luke Skywalker (Mark Hamill) teaches Rey (Daisy Ridley) in the ways of the Force, Skywalker's former apprentice Kylo Ren (Adam Driver) continues to explore the Dark Side.
THREE BILLBOARDS OUTSIDE EBBING, MISSOURI - After months have passed without a culprit in her daughter's murder case, Mildred Hayes (Frances McDormand) makes a bold move, commissioning three signs leading into her town with a controversial message directed at William Willoughby (Woody Harrelson), the town's revered chief of police. When his second-in-command Officer Dixon (Sam Rockwell), an immature mother's boy with a penchant for violence, gets involved, the battle between Mildred and Ebbing's law enforcement is only exacerbated. Written and directed by Martin McDonagh (In Bruges).

CHECK EACH THEATRE FOR SHOWTIMES
RAGTAG CINEMA – 10 Hitt Street 573-443-4359
REGAL STADIUM 14 THEATER – 2800 Goodwin Pointe Drive 844-462-7342
GOODRICH FORUM 8 – 1209 Forum Katy Parkway 573-445-7469

poker chip convention las vegas video

A home page for members of the Casino Chip & Gaming Tokens Collectors Club. Welcome. We are a 501(c)(3) educational organization with the mission of preserving gaming history. We have created a resource for information and history on gaming memorabilia - chips, tokens, dice, slot cards, playing cards etc. Browse our website and take advantage of the experts who have volunteered their expertise ... The chip was a very limited edition. This is a Star Trek Convention $5 Casino Chip from the Las Vegas Hilton and features the Starship Enterprise NCC-1701-D from the Next Generation series. The chip commemorates Creations' annual Star Trek Convention that was held at the Las Vegas Hilton August 17-20, 2005. Aladdin Casino - Las Vegas NV - $5 Chip - 1995 3rd Annual CC&GTCC Convention. C $10.19. shipping: + C $2.10 shipping . $5 Rampart Casino Las Vegas, NV Chip Or Gaming Token. (2886) C $10.14. Free shipping . Casino Chip $5 RIO ALL SUITE HOTEL & CASINO Las Vegas NV USA . C $19.06. shipping: + C $12.69 shipping . Casino Chip $5 RIO ALL SUITE HOTEL & CASINO Las Vegas NV USA. C $19.06. shipping: + C ... Watch the action unfold as the best poker players in the world compete for millions of dollars in prize money at Binion's Horseshoe Hotel and Casino in downtown Las Vegas. The videos can be purchased on my World Series of Poker video seriespage, or contact me direct at [email protected]. We have the (4) chip O'sheas 1st. Annual Classic Car sets available at $40each, postage paid. These matching ... Aladdin Casino - Las Vegas NV - $5 Chip - 1994 2nd Annual CC&GTCC Convention. $9.99. shipping: + $3.99 shipping . $5 Casino Chip from the Orleans Hotel & Casino in Las Vegas, Nevada. $7.99. shipping: + $0.55 shipping . 2 Las Vegas Poker Chip Paper Weights Plastic Casino Cards Dice . $5.10. Free shipping . Nugget (John Ascuaga) Casino Sparks NV $5 Chip 1980s Brass. $4.99. shipping: + $1.65 ... A Capooch Club chip from Gerlach, used from the 1930s to the 1950s is found during the 25th annual Casino Collectibles Convention at South Point hotel-casino in Las Vegas, Thursday June 22, 2017 ... The World Series of Poker takes place in the U.S. (Las Vegas). But thousands of players each summer travel to the U.S. to compete in the prestigious poker series. Without the international crowd, the WSOP would be smaller, and quite frankly, not as big or entertaining. Due to COVID-19, there are issues traveling to and from the United States ...

poker chip convention las vegas top

STRIPPERS STORM LAS VEGAS - YouTube

Adult film star convention Las Vegas. Adult video actors at AVN EXPO 2020. Hard Rock Hotel, Las Vegas. ***AVN Expo PART 2 : https://youtu.be/uURN_pG26qQViewe... Enjoy the videos and music you love, upload original content, and share it all with friends, family, and the world on YouTube. Today we explored the largest resort on the Las Vegas Strip. The MGM Grand is an exciting spot with so much to do inside. There are tons of options for food ... I stop by the 2019 Lowrider Super Show in Las Vegas and capture a lot of awesome cars! This is my first lowrider show I hope you enjoy it. Follow me on Instagram @devinbeez. AVN Expo 2018 In Las Vegas [PART 2 OF 2] The AVN Adult Entertainment Expo (AEE) is a convention & trade show held each January in Las Vegas! Featuring Aidra ... Avoid these 30 common mistakes and you’ll have a better and cheaper time in Las Vegas Nevada. I asked fellow Yellow explorers on what mistakes they’ve made g... The proof is in the pudding at the Circus Buffet at Circus Circus Las Vegas. IT'S ALL YOU CAN VEGAS Click here to join ALL YOU CAN VEGAS and get extra per... Julius' Channel: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCCNaMMlI3cOc7yFg52riTqg Today, I'm hanging out with Julius Dein at one of the world's Biggest magic convent... Come with me to the Exotic Dancer Expo in Las Vegas! The ED Expo is an annual convention for the gentlemen's club industry. The convention is industry-only (... TOP 6 MOST CRAZY POKER HANDS OF ALL TIME! - Duration: 19:28. FuryTV Recommended for you. ... las fenix tejano convention las vegas - Duration: 28:14. Irma Linda 312,536 views.