Days of the $3.99 Las Vegas buffets are gone. Well I'm sure you can find one, but I'm also sure it'll give you a Kenyan colon.
It's all about $16 sandwiches nowadays. More precisely, the $16 pastrami on rye.
After arriving to Las Vegas, the boys and I were famished. We dropped off our bags in our room that had two....yes...two toilets in separate bathrooms. This is important when you are sharing a room with guys that are all experts in the art of synchronized bowel movements. Then herded down to the casino floor. After shoulder bumping all the sloppy drunk girls with runny mascara we made it to the promise land.
The pastrami on rye. Not overly salty. Tender. And more importantly, a genorous heap of sensual pastrami. Just thinking of it makes me yearn for it. I positioned it in my hands as to where I wouldn't bite off my fingers and devoured it ever so quietly hoping no one would see me.
When I looked down upon my empty plate, I was left wondering where my pastrami on rye went. Had I lost myself in it entirely and lost all sense of reality that I was left wondering if it was fictional?
I left and the thought of what had happened haunted me the whole night while I was splitting 8's and doubling down on 10's and 11's. All the while having the surgically enhanced cocktail waitress bringing me vodka tonics. Only to have myself imagine her cleavage was actually a mound of Canter's Pastrami. Hallelujah.