After 5 days at the MGM Grand, I took the red-eye back east last night and rolled into the Showboat around 8:00 am. I went from the "City of Entertainment" in Paradise, Nevada, to a fifth-rate Mardi Gras themed casino in a broken-down town which, according to rumor, even Gary Loveman no longer wants. From the vanilla-scented casino of the MGM to the smell of old person and vomit at the Boat. What I have done?
I took the elevator up to the 9th floor, hoping to get a few hours sleep before the "gentlemen" arrive. I start walking down the hall and some middle-age dude, in a bathrobe and looking like a character from Dallas Buyers Club, is staring out the window smoking a cigarette . . . on a non-smoking floor, of course. Welcome to Atlantic City on a Thursday morning.
As for the room here . . . there are stains everywhere and on everything. The window is so dirty you can barely see the ocean outside. And the toilette has been dripping non stop. I think someone might have been murdered in here. Seriously.
In any event, Vegas was awesome as usual. I spent 95% of my time playing sweet, sweet video poker and watching sports (the other 5% generally consisted of me hungover as fuck and trying to convince myself I was not going to die). I grinded so much devils game that my right hand actually felt weak and numb. I thought it was a stroke at first; but it turned out to be a video poker injury. True story.
I should have a complete trip report up Sunday . . .