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| - 'Twas a royal drag waiting in the long line to check in. The stoic lass at the check-in counter appeared tight-lipped about where locals went for fun, but she did set things right with a room on the 26th floor that had a great view of the strip. The deluxe room was nicely furnished and comped for three nights, so what was there, really, to complain about? Actually, the TV sucked with its senile remote control and scattered satellite signal, and it wasn't set up to crane out of the wall. Still, the king-sized bed was comfortable and nice to lie in to watch a bit of "vacation TV," a.k.a. Saved By the Bell.
Someone stole the Do Not Disturb sign, so it was annoying to have housekeeping scream greetings into the room bright and way too early the next day. At least it motivated me to go down to the pool, which is lounge-worthy, but rather small, and made especially so by the slew of sunbathers claiming their plastic chaise lounges at bloody nine in the friggin morning, I mean, people, could you not sleep off your hangover in the dank of your curtained hotel room? Imported beers cost $10 a plastic pint, but since it's practically the medicine of Vegas, I was fine with the $60 breakfast buzz bill (solids not included).
I like to gamble with minimal effort, which is to say, I dig the $1 Wheel of Fortune machines. It's all about the spin, baby. That is, until you're $300 into a machine that keeps teasing with small winnings but never delivers the money shot. That's when you spin the situation and say to nobody and everybody, "It's all about the comp dollars, baby" and look for a cocktail waitress to at least get that free drink. Unfortunately there seems to be a severe dearth in free-drinks-slinging cocktail waitresses at TI and at most of the casinos. Damn this recession.
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