Part 2 is written by Loz, details our activity from Mon-Wed. Enjoy... (
If you haven't read Part 1 you can do so by clicking here)
Cliff NotesWent to the Gun Store
Spewed money in Aria
Won money in Cosmopolitan
Did the New York Rollercoaster
Went shopping
Went to ‘Pure’ nightclub.
MondayMonday afternoon we awoke at 12:30pm. The original scheduled time for rising and shining was meant to be 11:30am however neither of us heard the alarm on account of Pich putting his phone on silent. A precious hour wasted. Once on our feet it became clear that we were both unpleasantly hung-over. Food is obviously the first order of the day and so we headed south along the strip to Paris where we ate at Sugar Factory American Brasserie and were served by the lovely Monica. Probably a waitress by day and hooker by night. Pich had sadly forgotten his sunglasses which was unfortunate as Monica sat us outside and he inadvertently chose the seat facing the afternoon Nevada sun. I was not in the mood for an epic savoury snack that morning so went for a ham and cheese crepe. TP obviously fancied something with a bit more sustenance and so opted for a steak baguette.
I was however in the mood for something sweet, The Sugar Factory is famous for its desert menu and neither of us had had a desert yet with any of our meals. It was the time and place for one. I decided to opt for the standard ice cream sundae; Pich went for the same thing. He casually told the waitress, Monica, that he wasn’t interested in sprinkles or whipped cream etc and she duly noted this and went off to advise the kitchen. My ice cream sundae is on the left, Pich’s ice cream sundae is on the right. We both paid the same…who’s winning?
Once TP had ploughed through his enormous and over the top desert we headed further south along the strip to the MGM to spew a little money on roulette and slots. Didn’t win, obviously. We had decided that day, to go visit ‘The Gun Store’ on Tropicana Avenue. Originally our vacation plans involved things like going to the Grand Canyon, playing golf, going to lots of shows etc. So far we’d only done one show, albeit an awesome one, and had spent the rest of the time getting slapped around the face by red and black on roulette, today we actually going to add another activity to our roster.
I didn’t know the way to the Gun Store. I knew it was on Tropicana Ave but wasn’t sure whether it was walking distance, and whether it was east or west. Plus Pich gets funny about walking in ‘areas’ in case we get mugged. (He was majorly flapping on our walk to the Rio). We therefore checked with the MGM concierge and got a taxi east to the Gun Store. Pretty sure we didn’t get as screwed over this time in the cab ride as he only had to drive straight along one road, although it is about 3 miles from the strip. He charged us $15 for the privilege.
We were greeted at The Gun Store (
The Gun Store | Las Vegas) by an attractive young lady dressed in a ‘Gun Store’ cap and ‘T-Shirt’.
“Hey their guys, you come to do some shootin’ today? Awesome! Well we’ve got single shot and semi auto guns which you can hire for $25, alternatively you can fire a fully automatic machine gun for $50…We also have packages available such as the ‘Iraq’ package where you get yadah yadah yadah..”
The ‘Iraq Coalition’ package sounded good. (Guns n shit innit?) so we both went for that at around about $129 each. I added on the ‘Dirty Harry’ .44 Revolver to the package for an extra $25. The attractive lady outside told us that there was a bit of a queue and we’d be waiting for a approximately an hour. Irritating, but tolerable. In reality it was absolutely heaving in there and we were queuing for at least 1 hour 45. The queue snaked around the room in a fairly disorganised manner, everyone clutching at the paper targets they had chosen (14 to choose from, collect them all!) and a box full of ammunition for the various guns they had chosen to fire. Men, women, old people, children, all carrying shot gun shells and machine gun belts. I say children because, this being America, everyone should have the right to express themselves through the second amendment if they want. The Gun Store recognises this by offering a ‘Kids Package’ for only $40. God Bless the USA.
One thing we noticed about the Gun Store when we were queuing was how goddamn happy the staff there were. It was like a youth club for them, playing table tennis, drinking panda pops and sliding across the floor on their knees. Not quite, but they were still singing and dancing and generally having a gay old time. Job satisfaction at the Gun Store is evidently quite high. They were also heavily armed. One member of staff had around his waist, two handguns, spare ammo, a taser, pepper spray and a hunting knife. Obviously one can never be too careful when dealing with tourists and firearms.
Anyway eventually we reached the front of the queue, were met by a youngish instructor who was loving the fact that when I said “Dirty Harry” I actually pronounced it “Dir-y Harry”. “Say Dirty Harry again for me dude”. Kid needed to watch is step, otherwise I’d shoot him. Anyway goggles and ear protectors on, we were led out onto the range. I was first up, our instructor challenging me to fire the .44 magnum with one hand at a sideways angle and hit the unfortunate figure on my target in the eye. Needless to say the power and recoil on the thing was unreal and I’ve no idea where my bullet ended up. Certainly not in the target. Throughout the session we took turns in firing an M9 Pistol, an M4 rifle and the sick M249 SAW. (footage below). At the end of the shoot we got to choose a ‘free’ (although obviously it’s not) t-shirt. I am unsure when I will find a suitable moment to walk around wearing my t-shirt with a picture of a machine gun on it. Fed up with extortionate taxi prices, we head back to the strip by a convenient $2 bus that stopped right outside the Gun Store.
YouTube - M249 SAW, The Gun Store, Las VegasYouTube - Loz: M249 SAW, The Gun Store, Las VegasWe decided that evening to try and go to some sort of elite club type place as we had done the night before. We hadn’t checked out the Aria or City Centre yet so figured this would be our destination for the evening. I’d been reading about a rooftop club called Marquee which we were going to try and go to. The bouncer tells me that the club opens at 10:30pm so we go to The Henry on the ground floor of the Cosmopolitan for dinner. This meal proved to be a nice change as the portions weren’t as if they’d been taken straight from an episode of ‘Man vs Food’. Nice food (we both went for roast chicken) in manageable portions. Club not open yet so we make the walk across the road to the Aria where they apparently hold ‘the big game’ now. Despite it’s large size, the game wasn’t big enough for us to spot. Just a bog standard poker room. We did the old slot machine trick of getting a ‘free drink’ whilst tipping her a dollar each and spewing $10 more on the machine, so that’s cashback right there. Then with the money we’d saved by only in effect paying $11 a drink we went to find a roulette machine…
Black had come in 7 times in a row apparently, so obviously it’s going to be red next spin. We plonked $40 down on red and watched the ball set off in motion. Black.
Black had come in 8 times in a row apparently, so obviously it’s going to be red next spin. We plonked another $40 down on red and watched the ball set off in motion. Black.
Very calmly we headed back to the Cosmopolitan, not at all flapping about the roulette session. “It’s just one of those things” I said.
“That was jolly good fun” Tom replied
“I’m pleased that money’s gone to a good cause” I declared.
Outraged at the previous 10 minutes we went up the escalator to hit up the Marquee and take in some sick rooftop strip views. It was about 11ish now. Sadly everyone in Las
Vegas had the very same idea and the queue was horrendous. I don’t do horrendous queuing with a bunch of people who are probably twats so suggested we give this one a miss, learn from our mistakes, and queue up early next time.
We drowned our sorrows in the nearby lounge bar called ‘The Chandelier’. So called because the bar is set in a giant chandelier. People were going nuts for this place for some reason. I was speaking to a concierge at Ceasar’s the next day and she told me it was “the most amazing place ever”. It’s not the most amazing place ever, it was fairly average. Some of the girls in the bar were blown away by the crystals in the chandelier “Do you think they’re real diamonds?” I heard one of them say.
They’re obviously not real diamonds love, that would just an Oceans 11 waiting to happen, they’re clearly plastic. Use some sense. The bar’s website describes itself like this:
The Chandelier THE CHANDELIER IS A LIVING, BREATHING ARCHITECTURAL WONDER CREATED BY LUMINOUS BEADED CURTAINS OF LIGHT.
An inhabitable, multi-story visual spectacle housing three unique bar experiences; The Chandelier provides a bit of playground, art exhibit and cocktail haven all at once.
BOTTOM OF THE CHANDELIER
A high-energy spot in the middle of it all that transcends the notion of the classic casino bar.
INSIDE THE CHANDELIER
With every detail carefully considered, this sophisticated cocktail haven offers fine, hand-crafted delights for the true experience seeker.
TOP OF THE CHANDELIER
An inviting lounge that showcases the splendor of The Chandelier, providing guests with a glimpse into the mystique and magic of the world within.
During this spiritual experience we hatched a plan to win back the money we just lost on roulette.* The plan was to put $20 in and have two $10 attempts. Whether we bet on red or black would this time be decided by a flip of a coin. Heads = Red (obviously) Tails = Black. If the bet came in we would flip the coin again and place the winnings wherever the coin told us. We would do this a maximum of 4 times. If we lost we would jump off the roof of the Cosmopolitan. To save us from embarrassment in front of real people we found ourselves a computer roulette machine. Pich was doing the betting, I was doing the flipping. First flip – tails (black). We placed the bet and looked away (if you look at the screen it’s a fact that you’ll definitely lose). A moment later we look back, our money is still on the pixelated roulette screen. We had won ten whole dollars. I flip again. Heads (red). $20 goes down on red, the wheel starts spinning. BOOM red. This coin knows it’s stuff. Tails (black). $40 goes down. The tension is beginning to rise. The coin can’t get 3 in a row right…
$80! We are literally high rolling. At this point doubt begins to set in and we call a general meeting. We could cash out now and would almost be even. The coin won’t get 4 in a row. However, we did previously agree to go with 4 spins no matter what… I flip the coin to see what it says. Tails, black. Twice in a row coin? Really? It was time to pull our fingers out. 80USD on black. We look away for quite a while. I slowly turn my head. “YEAHHHHHHHAWOHROFDNSIOFNIO$£”^&*(“^&” was the sound. $160 plus the extra $10 is a $170 cash out. We are actually very nearly up on the night. With night drawing on it was time to leave the Cosmopolitan as victors. I’m sure our visit will have severely dented their April profit margins.
TUESDAYTuesday was the final full day of our
Vegas vacation. In recognition of this we actually managed to get up pre afternoon. The plan for the day was souvenir shopping and night time entertainment at Ceasar’s palace. First port of call however was New York New York. I’d been badgering Pich about going on at least one ride whilst we were in
Vegas. He wasn’t all that keen when I showed him some pictures of the attractions at the stratosphere so we decided in the end to compromise for the ‘closer to the ground’ New York New York rollercoaster. Rollercoasters are best done pre-breakfast so we figured we’d get some food after being thrown around amongst the mock NY skyline. We got there just as it was opening for the day at 11am, chucked all of our valuables into one of the available lockers, payed the $14 fee and took some seats near the back of the carts.
It’s difficult to describe a rollercoaster in a TR. You go up slowly, you go down fast, Pich flaps, screams and swears, you go upside down, round and round, it’s all very exciting, end.
That out of the way I took the opportunity to do a spot of souvenir shopping. One of my work colleagues asked me if I could bring back the obvious souvenir, a mini statue of liberty. The person is an idiot but I obliged. I also managed to pick up a fairly sick
Vegas photo frame for the sister (she collects them). For breakfast we headed over to the MGM to a rather bog standard establishment which I think might have been the Studio Café. It did the job however and the waiter was pretty good. On the way out we gave some money to some sick and needy slot machines and sat down in the sports book to watch the second half of one-sided Man Utd vs Shalke.
Following that it was time to get on with souvenir shopping. Neither of us really knew what we needed to get in all that much detail. Pich wanted some Twinkies for his brother and a ‘Pandora charm’ whatever one of those is, for the missus. I wanted a t-shirt, for myself. Walgreen’s pharmacy was on the way to the Miracle Mile so we stopped off there first. I was flapping about needing to cut my finger nails so went off and bought a nail clipper, as you do when you’re on holiday in
Vegas. Pich found a box of Twinkies. Score one for the souvenir list.
The Miracle Mile has a circular floor plan so we figured it was best to do a preliminary observation walk to get a feel for the place. TP went off to look for watches, but was dismayed that none of them had price tags on. I went off around every souvenir shop looking for the perfect t-shirt. Most were unsuitable, sporting slogans such as ‘What happens in
Vegas stays in
Vegas’ and stuff like that. Slogans like that might have been true at one time, but I’m pretty sure that camera phones, blogs and forums put an end to all that. Eventually I found a t-shirt that was a little bit tasteful, something I could conceivably wear to places other than Las
Vegas Airport. Sadly yesterday I spilt garlic bread juice down the front of it so it’s in intensive care at the moment, too early to tell whether the stain will come out. I can obviously let the forum know as soon I get an update on the stain status.
Next stop after this insubstantial amount of shopping was the more ‘elite’ Forum shops at Caesar’s Palace. The Forum is nicer than the MM, but probably a bit too elite for me. I don’t really care too much for brands or paying lots for clothes, with the exception of shoes and shirts. The Forum is just one designer shop after another. I left TP in the Pandora shop so he could go ‘charm shopping’ and I wandered up one of the ‘streets’ in the Forum. I popped into the Guess shop. A label I had not heard of until I arrived in
Vegas, but apparently it’s quite popular with people with a sense of style. One thing I noticed about
Vegas is that unlike a classy establishment elsewhere in the world, the shop assistants/waiting staff/casino floor employees don’t talk down to you if you walk in dressed like me. It being
Vegas, they can never be sure if the low roller that’s just walked in has just come into a lot of money on a slot and is looking to splurge. I don’t recall any ‘bad’ service from anyone in
Vegas.
The assistant in the Guess shop didn’t give me bad service, he was just a twat. “Hey man how’s it goin’?” he asks me as I put a foot through the doorway. Obviously you answer “good thanks”. You say this even if you’ve just lost your life savings on roulette; your wife and kids have left you for someone else; and you’re actual reason for popping into the store is to buy a belt to hang yourself with in the hotel room. Unfortunately he then started getting a bit pretentious and asking me “so when was the last time you wore Guess?” that’s incorrect grammar, and also I’ve never worn Guess. When I told him this he was a little taken back.. “You
don’t wear Guess?!” Then he went on about how I’d just love the new spring stuff they’d just had in, but that there was also clearance stock around the back. It all looks the same to me. Unfortunately he didn’t make a sale that time.
Pich had successfully purchased a charm from Pandora. Not sure how much he spent on it, but it was about the size of a 5p piece so was probably expensive. I had with me a voucher book that offered FREE SHIPPING ON ALL PANDORA ITEMS, but we were pretty sure we’d be able to fit it somewhere in one of the bags if we sacrificed some non essentials.
On the way out I paid $10 for an elite ice cream. It tasted nice. Just like ice cream is supposed to. Pich bought another novelty slush puppy type cocktail thing in a big pink receptacle.
Back at the IP we spruced up in clubworthy attire and headed off to Ceasar’s. We stopped by the poker room because apparently the WOSPC main event was taking place and Pich wanted to have a look. Sure enough there were people, playing poker. It was a sight to behold. That essential visit ticked, we next headed to ‘Pure’ nightclub to chat with the bouncer about what the crack was with the place. He advised me that I could either pay $30 to get in after 10:30pm or pay $300 for a bottle and table service. This to me seems like a –ev proposition. Has anyone ever paid for this at a club in
vegas? What do you actually get? Is it just one bottle? A bottle of what?
Pich is as Italian as they come, he doesn’t even speak English. With this in mind we headed to Rao’s Italian restaurant in Ceasar’s for some high roller dining. It was pretty rammed in there so we opted to eat at the bar. The food here was top quality. TP went for Spaghetti Bolognaise and I opted for Ravioli and Cranberries. We staked each other for some huge meatballs to go with it. The service here was impeccable too. Our waiter was obviously gunning for a big tip and achieved this with the standard talk about how his family originates from Liverpool and that he has a Liverpool United shirt at home. He then decided to gamble his all but guaranteed 15% tip for a 20% tip by incorporating some risqué jokes about Man Utd and Freddie Mercury into the routine. Luckily for him he read his opponents well and was rewarded with the full 20% tip. Thoroughly earned. Promotion potential?
After the meal we nailed a few ‘free’ drinks from slot play. I actually managed to hit the jackpot on my last spin turning 2c into $50. Cashback. A queue hadn’t yet formed at Pure, but there were lots of minglers about. There were also about a billion suited door staff. Anyone would think Barack Obama was about to make an unscheduled appearance. I inquired about the guest list but sadly it was too late to be put on this. As 10:30 rolled on by we took our place near the front of the queue. All was going well until one of the secret service agents protecting the president pulled Pich up and advised him that “You won’t get in looking like
that…you gotta dress smart to get in here”.
I berated TP about this all the way back to the IP where he changed out of his trainers and t-shirt into something more respectable. Time for Pure, take 2. At the junction where we crossed to get in Caesar’s we met a man offering wrist bands for Pure. He mentioned how without the bands we’d pay $40 to get in, but that
with the bands we’d only pay (him) $20 and would get a free bar from 12am til 2am. We were drunk and this sounded amazing. For some reason neither mine or TP’s early warning systems were functioning at this moment in time. The fact that one of the door people had told me the cover charge was $30, not $40 did not alert us. The fact that free bars don’t actually exist in real life, especially for $20, did not alert us. The fact the guy was asking for the $20 right there and then in cash on the street, rather than allowing us to get the discount at the door, did not alert us. Alert free we stumped up the cash feeling we were onto a winner.
Just as we were walking through the doors of Caesar’s a suited and booted man spied the bands we were wearing.
“Guys, you’re not going to get in with those, that’s a scam, he tell you that you’d get a free bar? That you’d get in for $20 in the VIP section?...Yeah that’s not going to happen. Have one of these instead…for free.” He handed us both ‘VIP Cards’ offering us standard general admission for free. He gave them to us for free. These cards looked a bit more official, and as he was giving them out for free, it seemed legit. Irritated at being victims of the most obvious scam in Las
Vegas, but relieved that we’d passed someone able to recognise this before we made fools of ourselves we rejoined the queue. The cards worked and we got in for free after much scrutiny over our UK driving licences by the door staff. It was a net loss of $20 each, but still cheaper than paying $30 to get in.
Pure was a bit of a letdown to be honest. The downstairs area was just like somewhere you’d find in Chepstow, with the exception that you were basically not allowed to stand anywhere as everywhere was taped off for VIPS. “VIP” by the way, is the most over used, and over rated expression
Vegas. It means nothing.
VIP stands for ‘Very, Important, Person’. American 21 year olds with rich parents on their spring break are not, in my eyes, very important people. Ban Ki Moon, secretary general of the UN is very important, Paul McCartney is very important, Steve Jobs is very important… Corey, 21, from Orange County, California is not important, he’s a bellend. Anyway we bought some pricey drinks and stood around waiting for the upstairs area to open. (The VIPS had get seated first). There were some free vodka shots going around so we managed to blag a few of those with our charming English accents. Eventually the upstairs was opened up to the lower classes and we made our way upstairs.
The terrace was actually pretty sick. Good music, good looking people and not a horrific queue for the bar. Still nowhere to sit down, but we were a bit drunk now so did some shit dancing instead. I ordered us two corona and limes and was instead given a corona and two limes and one corona with some lemon in it. For some reason I tipped the bartender $4 for this. It’s the effort that counts, not the attainment.
The evening eventually reached a close and we headed to O’Shea’s for a quick dose of junk food and, as was the theme of the
trip, lost another $60 on roulette at the IP before retiring to bed for the last time. Standard.
