Vegas Vacation

The weather has finally warmed up a bit, and Kathleen and I have begun engaging in some time-honored spring rituals. March Madness is upon us and Opening Day of baseball season is around the corner, but first, we took a trip to Las Vegas and challenged Dame Fortune in various games of chance.

“Austerity Month” in February was successful by any measurement. I didn’t have so much as a beer for over 30 days, we restrained ourselves from extra spending, and I lost five pounds. In short, we were rested and ready for March decadence to roll around. First came a surprise: in the first few days of the month, the temperatures rose into the 40s. My employers at the Kilkarney Golf Club decided, “Warm enough,” and opened the course. Thus, on March 12^th, I found myself behind the bar and the front counter in the pro shop, and the course was open for business. As I drove up the tree-lined driveway to the clubhouse that afternoon, I was met by a curious sight. Snow still covered the ground in shaded places on every hole, yet carts were lined up on each tee box. These Wisconsin golfers are hardy sorts, and a little snow doesn’t stop them from getting in a few holes.

Coinciding with the opening of golf season was our annual pilgrimage to Las Vegas. Luckily, we had had both vaccinations and waited the requisite two weeks in time to fly out on March 14^th. Ben and Amber had kept the kids out of school since last spring, largely to protect us, so once we were safe, Abigail and Lucas went back to live classes and we were able to leave town. For the first time in a year, we ate dinner in the same room with the two doctors and their kids and hugged them all when we left. It was a fun night. Kathleen was finally able to go to a stylist and have her wild mane of Covid hair trimmed back to a more-manageable length. Men are often ridiculed for not noticing some subtle change of hair-style by their wives, but I have to tell you that it works both ways. I shaved off my winter beard a few days before heading to Vegas, but Kathleen never mentioned it. Then, two days later, while watching a Florida basketball game, she said, “It looks like the Gator coach shaved off his beard.” I said, “Oh, so you notice his beard is gone, but don’t notice mine?” She got a good laugh out of that. At least that buys me a “get out of jail free” card for observational omissions in the future.

Among other adjustments to Covid, we tended to confine our shopping to local stores and avoided driving into Minneapolis. Acting on a tip from friends in our happy-hour group, we discovered that the local wine available at Aldi’s discount store, Winking Owl, was a tolerable vintage, just right for our sophisticated palettes—and it sold for an inviting $2.95 per bottle. We have never been connoisseurs of any sort, so we decided this was fine stuff. During our long confinement, Winking Owl became our drink of choice. Then, on the 14^th, we arrived at the airport early, checked in, and ordered a glass of wine. Surprisingly, Winking Owl was not available on the bill of fare, so we opted for the house chardonnay. When we received the bill, we suffered a degree of sticker shock, as the price for two small glasses of wine was $30. The $6 tip brought the total to $36, prompting Kathleen to point out, “Do you realize, we could have bought an entire case of Winking Owl for that price?” Welcome back to the outside world.

We have visited Las Vegas nearly once a year since we got married, usually during my spring break in March, and we have had some memorable experiences in that unusual city. About a decade ago, we stayed at Sam’s Town Casino, well off the Strip. Sam’s Town markets itself as a casino for locals. Thus, in addition to the usual gaming and restaurants, they have a multi-screen theater and a big bowling alley. As soon as we arrived, we noticed that an inordinate number of patrons seemed to have purple hair, arms full of tattoos, and multiple facial piercings. Also, the music being piped into the casino was unusually harsh and abrasive. I finally asked a blackjack dealer what was going on, and it turned out that we were just in time for the annual “Punk-Rock Bowling Tournament.” These folks were terrible blackjack players but a lot of fun to play with. While trying to return to our room late at night, Kathleen was a bit unsure of what to do when we found one on these rascals sprawled out on the hallway floor . She’s a trooper, though, and she followed my lead by gingerly stepping over the snoring punk rocker.

Another year, I sat down at third base on what I thought was an empty blackjack table. Only when the dealer was exchanging my cash for chips did I notice that there was a guy in a wheel chair hidden at the opposite end of the table, at first base. As the dealer distributed the cards, the man in the wheel chair leaned closer to the table and peaked over the edge to see his hand. We played that way for a while, then a woman with tubes in her nose came wheezing up to the table pulling her wheeled oxygen tank behind her. She sat down and joined the party, cigarette dangling from her mouth the entire time. While I was still adjusting to the bizarre nature of our little group, another guy pulled out the chair next to me and sat down. He seemed normal enough, and he helped another man squeeze into the last remaining chair. I was concentrating on my cards, trying not to get distracted from an approximate count of the deck, so I didn’t notice at first that the second man was blind; the first man wasn’t actually playing, he was simply reading the cards to the blind guy. By this point, I had the feeling that I was in a Fellini film of some sort, and I examined the table for a place-card stating that this was perhaps a special table for handicapped people. Then, I took stock of my various limbs to see if there was something wrong with me. It took some getting used to, but I ended up having a big time with my new friends.

This year, as Kathleen and I escaped the confinement of our home, we weren’t sure what the outside world would be like. In the airport and on the plane, they seemed to enforce masking restrictions, but both were so crowded that we would not have felt safe had we not been inoculated. Vegas was very different and went to great lengths to make people feel safe. Some casinos required a quick temperature check at each entrance, masks were required throughout all properties, and employees constantly reminded patrons to keep their masks up when not eating or drinking. The gaming tables were all separated by plexiglass dividers so that there was a level of protection while throwing dice or playing cards. I have to admit, though, that the plastic dividers caused me to lose some of the sense of camaraderie that I usually enjoy at the tables.

Vegas has changed in other ways, too. Primarily, it has become much more expensive. We seldom have to pay for rooms or food while in Las Vegas due to comps that we receive from gambling. These days, however, the casinos tack on “resort fees” of $40-50 per night, so even a “free” room can cost considerable money over a multi-day stay. Also, they have become stingier with their comped meals, meaning that we had to pay for food as well. Further, the days of the cheap buffet meals in Vegas are gone. Just three years ago, we could find a good buffet at our casino of choice, Palace Station, for $5.99. After an expensive remodeling project, however, this off-strip property now sees itself as a premier destination and has jacked up the prices of everything. Buffets now range from $15.99 to $28.99, depending on the meal and the offerings, and the other cheap food options on the site have closed and been replaced by high-dollar restaurants. What affected us the most, however, was the higher price of gambling.

I should preface the prior statement by stressing that we are not exactly “high-rollers.” I used to be able to joke that Kathleen could make a twenty-dollar bill last all day while I played at the tables. In recent years, though, the cheap slot machines that she could formerly play for 9-to-20 cents per spin have been removed and replaced by ones requiring 60 or 75 cents per spin. On my part, I started playing blackjack and craps back when two-and-three-dollar minimum-bet tables were prevalent. Even on our last trip to Palace Station two years ago, I played many sessions at a $5-minimum craps table and won over $1800. When I play craps, I might have four or five bets out at a time at the minimum level, but I increase my bets when the dice get hot and I’m playing with house money. I looked forward to returning to the tables this trip, but, to my consternation, the minimums had all been tripled to $15 per bet. I don’t have deep enough pockets to play at those stakes. Often, a casino will lower the minimums during slow periods to lure gamblers to the tables. Not this time. Even at 6:00 in the morning, the tables sat empty, a four-person crew standing idle, with the $15-minimum sign still up. When we moved to Bally’s on the strip for our last two days, the same was true except for one morning at dawn when they lowered the stakes to $10. I played briefly without success, but otherwise was unable to shoot craps for the entire trip. Our formerly cheap vacation option seems to have disappeared, and we have decided that we probably will not return to Vegas—there are plenty of more-affordable, Native American casinos available in Wisconsin and Minnesota.

The upshot of all of this is that our first foray into the outside world resulted in a financial loss, but a great deal of fun for us. We even made some small sports bets on basketball, the Masters, and baseball, so we have something to cheer for in the future. More important, it felt liberating to be out of the house and traveling again. There are still a lot of idiots out there who will refuse to get the vaccinations, but for us, the past few weeks have signaled the start of a return to normality in safe conditions. I hope that all of you will be able to get the shots and enjoy that feeling soon.