Luck be a lady... Part 2 - Tiki Deception and Kidney Failure

Me and Teresa celebrating in the VIP lounge at Harrahs

Before you read, make sure you check out Part 1: The Arrival. 

Part 2 - Tiki Deception and Kidney Failure

So I last left you walking through the smokey sparkle of the casino up to my hotel room having cashed in 500 dollars worth of chips and sporting a caffeinated smile that stretched from ear to ear. Once we got in the room, it didn't take long for the exhaustion to kick in as I fell asleep a winner.

I woke up with a rumbling tummy and the glow of beginners luck as we quickly threw on some clothes to go to the breakfast buffet, which was comped because the Howards are such classy high rollers. Let's just take a moment to talk about the fact that there have been WAY to many buffets in my life recently - seemingly at least one every weekend since before... Thanksgiving (it's a problem). And I am a buffet hound. All self-control flies out the window, my taste buds run rampant and I end up consuming the amount of food appropriate for a sumo wrestler. I always joke that if I was faced with a Belgian waffle Man v. Food challenge, I would win. So I guess we can consider that breakfast a practice round. Verdict in - I won. Basically, I was just winning all over the place.

As I went back to the hotel room to take a nap, Weston and his dad, David went to enroll in the Texas Hold'em poker tournament. Over 700 people were playing in the competition - you buy in and the last man standing wins the pot, which we projected to be about $50,000. Yes please. So as they went to get their poker on, I put on some "sleep sounds" compliments of spotify and drifted off to dreamland to recoup and prepare for the evening. I woke up two hours later and headed on a shuttle to meet up with Weston in the late afternoon during one of the breaks. While walking around the massive Harrah's casino (which was on the same marsh land property down the road from the Gold Strike, where we stayed) I noted a few helpful tips for any future casino-going experiences.

1. Don't make eye contact with any old ladies at the slot machines. They may look cute and old but they are fierce, they play dirty and they are there to win. Aka - they will stare you down like you're a terrorist, and will not be held responsible if you pee yourself a little in fear.

2. Don't make eye contact with any old men, anywhere. They will think the mere meeting of your eye balls, while brief and unintentional, is an invitation to either talk to you, hit on your, or accidentally stumble into you.

3. Do not sit, but rather squat on the toilets in the bathrooms. Enough said.

Mesmerized by the Tiki slots

I finally found Weston and while he was playing well at the time, he shortly after lost his seat in the tournament. He came and joined his mom, aunt, uncle and me in the VIP lounge for free top shelf drinks and a buffet of snacks (which I naturally dominated). We still had one dog in the fight as the rest of us enjoyed a free steak dinner, amazing desserts and each others company.

On our walk to check out the crap games, suddenly, like two soul mates meeting in the night, Weston laid eyes on a Tiki slot machine he had once played with his brother. At that point it was all over - he was hooked. He put in 20 bucks, and walked away with 100. Pumped, he went back to the machine and brought his grandma to play, talking it up as if this machine was pure magic. Except round two was not so lucky - they lost. And lost. And lost some more. Convinced Harrahs was simply not our good luck charm we headed on the shuttle back to the Gold Strike, and along the way we made a new friend.

Weston and our new friend on the shuttle (left)

Enter onto the shuttle stumbling, tall skinny black man who smuggled on board a hotel remote and gallon of alcohol in his system. He announced himself slurring his words and took the seat right next to Weston, who ate up his humiliating state like I had ate up every morsel of food that night. Weston is a hype man - loves to make people laugh and encourage others to be at the pinnacle of their hilarity. And this guy was his next project. Asking him questions, and egging him on, Weston and him became a kind of comedy show as the whole shuttle tuned in and started to learn this man's story. He was kicked out the casino for having a tantrum because he had to pee so bad. He kept saying his "kidneys were nialating" (which we assumed he meant dilating, but googled and could never really figure out. Kidneys don't nialate or dilate... what a weirdo). As he exited he asked the bus driver for change for a 20 and greeted us all farewell. His final words: "Shit, this isn't even my hotel... where is the Harrah hotel?" Aka, the one we just came from.

After the Tiki slot machine and shuttle adventure, we finally made it back to the Gold Strike. I was 100 bucks down from a morning game of craps we played following breakfast and I was guns blazing to top back off my 500 and potentially win even more. Weston on the other hand was on a "man down" level. He was exhausted to a point not even red bull could remedy, and part of me was wanting to hang onto the cash I had, so we ended the night with full tummies, and fuller wallets than we probably would have had we played anymore.

Ima coming...

The next morning, another buffet down, and both men out of the tournament - David had lost late Saturday night - we went back to the craps table for one last run. I lost another 100. We then decided to go to the black jack table in which I lost 50 bucks so fast I almost cried a little. I was done. I walked away having won $250 on top of the money I took out to gamble with, and in my mind, that was a success.

It was such a great weekend getting to know his family, experiencing the highs and lows of casino life and yes - winning a little money in the process. I walked away from it all really excited for our trips to come, all while wondering if that black guy from the shuttle ever made it home.

So long Tunica, until next time. Next stop: Las Vegas!