When we last left off, my friend Ben and I were approaching the middle of our second day in Atlantic City. We were starting to feel some faint hunger pangs upon leaving the Borgata but decided to check out the Showboat on the way back.
We settled in at a blackjack table with a $10 minimum where Ben and I each put $100 into play. The intially empty table soon filled up with two other relatively experienced players and one rookie. I was still relatively green myself and the dealer helped the rookie and me out with good advice on some hands. I started out relatively hot, up to $140 after four hands. I then proceeded to mostly trade wins and losses until I whittled back down to my original $100 and left the table after tipping the dealer a $5 chip. Ben had a similar trajectory, maxing out at $150 before settling back to somewhere near what he came with.
I would have cashed in my chips then if Ben hadn’t found a lively craps table on the way. We decided to pool $50 and invest it in the game. I’m not particularly knowledgeable about craps strategy but I knew that a relative “safe” bet would be to bet on the Pass line. So that allowed us to hang in there for five slow losses while occasionally wagering our personal funds on side bets.
I knew myself enough to know that if I got a chance to handle the dice, there was a fair chance that they would either go flying off the table or only go two feet. So when my turn came, I declined and let Ben take a crack at it. Now, these crap dealers were a fun crew that enjoyed making light sarcasm and coming up with nicknames for each other and a couple of apparent regulars. But when Ben had the misfortune of gripping the dice with both hands, they got serious really quick with a stern reminder to use one hand. Then they lightened up again, joking about how they should sue Hollywood for “teaching” people how to throw dice the wrong way. When Ben unwittingly did the two-hand grip again, I thought he (and maybe yours truly by association) would be kicked out of the Showboat. But when one of the dealers suggested they duct tape one of his hands behind his back, I was inspired to re-christen him “One-Hand Ben”. The name stuck and One-Hand Ben took the good-natured abuse for the rest of the session. After we lost our $50 craps pool, we decided to cash out and cut our relatively low losses. Out of our respective $100 investments, I still held onto $83 (not including my $5 tip) while Ben managed to keep $87.
After an uninspiring meal at a Nathan's hot dog shop next to Caesars, I was able to convince Ben to go back to the Pier at Caesars. I had wanted to surprise him with the Water Show in the back of the complex. Of course, he saw the sign for it as we approached which ruined the surprise but that was okay. For some reason, I had thought it was an outside show with jets shooting up from the bottom of the pier or something, not the indoor setup that it turned out to be. When the water seemed to shoot up in little piddles for the first few minutes, I started to think perhaps this was much ado about nothing. But then the show really started! It was a nice presentation, certainly inspired by the Bellagio fountains if not quite as large. Even Ben was impressed. It’s not something I would make a special trip for again but if I happened to be in the Pier, I might stop in to check it out one more time.
Okay: in an environment where there are multiple options to indulge in the "vices" of gambling, drinking and smoking - of which Ben and I engaged only in the first - there will likely also be other forms of adult entertainment. So in that spirit, my buddy and I decided to go to a dance club of sorts...except that no guys were encouraged to dance. The ladies' dress code, for that matter, did not leave very much to the imagination. Along the way, a bachelor party of six arrived and the guest of honor received a special surprise on stage that didn't look like as much fun as it was intended to be. Not that the security staff - which. like the Showboat's craps dealers, was friendly yet firm - would have allowed anything truly scandalous to happen. In the end, it was the most interesting experience of the trip for Ben and me.
(And yes, to those who may be concerned, my lady approved of this side venture.)
The night ended back "home" at Caesars with a late evening dinner in Cafe Roma where we proceeded to be overlooked by our server for at least fifteen minutes. Ben notified the hostess of this and the server finally found us a few minutes later. He didn’t look particularly happy and was off his game when he presented each of us with the other person’s drinks. But to be fair, the coffee shop appeared to be short of staff as others, while served a bit quicker, received their food fairly late themselves. What turned out to be an early morning dinner was just another okay affair.
After another quick go-round on the slots, I was all gambled out and decided I wanted to go back to the room around 1:00am. Ben, who had not had much success himself and seemed ready to call it a night himself. But the siren song of the casino was too alluring as I faintly recall seeing "2:00am" glow on the iPod clock as he headed back out the door. Perhaps two hours later, Ben had finally accepted his fate.
Next: The morning after...and the ride home.
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