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Part 6: The Dale Earnhardt Fan Club Blackjack at the Luxor this time. My luck finally started to turn when I made the faux pas of doubling down on a 12. The Asian dealer seemed to get annoyed when I insisted on doubling and I'm certain she whispered some epithet in Japanese at me. How dare she. Gambling genius that I am, I think I pulled an 8 to make 20 and win. Yeehaw! It's best if you don't follow the recommendation of people who know what they're doing in Vegas. Just double down to your heart's content people. 13? Double down. Two deuces? Split 'em. The dealer says you can't hit on a 24? Grab as many chips as you can and run for the exits. I actually finished up some money by the end of the night, so I went to sleep content with the fact I hadn't wound up in some back room with two casino mooks taking a hammer to my hand a la "Casino." I guess that analogy doesn't really make sense or apply in any way. Okay, let's try this one: I didn't end the night shirtless, which is always a plus, right? |
 Look how much I made at the Luxor |
 A quiet moment in the room |
 What is that blinding white light?! |
Day Three (Saturday)
Our second morning together went very much like the first, although Martha seemed to have regained her senses and didn't spend the entire night gambling. Come to think of it, though, we can't prove she didn't. If she ends up with a huge mansion and fleet of helicopters, we'll know what happened. It was time once again to hit the pool and work on our tans. I varied only in that I was actually working on my horrible sunburn instead. My whiteness aside, Saturday's time at the pool went very much like Friday's. Some laps in the lazy river, working on said sunburn, Ross defeated by the onslaught of another tsunami-like wave, and despite the 85 degree weather, some quality hot tub time. Ross' brother Dan decided he needed a break from Vegas for a while and opted to drive 3 hours to the Grand Canyon, where he blew three tires and killed a drifter with a tire iron. I have no further details of his trek to the Canyon, but I'm sure it was life-changing. |
| After lying out in the beating sun for hours on end, two days in a row, I think we were all a little sapped after leaving the resort area. Ross and Dusel needed to make use of their newly-obtained Mobil tattoos once back at the room. This being NASCAR weekend, tattoos of assorted shapes and sizes could be seen all over Vegas (what those tattoos were attached to was, in varying degrees, frightening). Ross opted for the nip tat, while Andy decided on the more conventional arm placement. The results, as you can see, are quite impressive. Shortly thereafter, our debauchery quotient for the day not having been reached, we got changed and headed out for another wild night on the town. |
 Dear God |
 The unfortunate effects of NASCAR weekend |
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