We woke up Sunday with no plans other than my 11am TI tourney already discussed, and the desire of the others to recover from previous night’s Jet/strip club hangovers by the pool. So, for necessary sustenance, five of our nine headed over to the Wynn for the much lauded breakfast buffet. The missing four, not surprisingly, were the single guys who were unaccounted for/MIA from the night before. As I was attempting to roust my hung over Bachelor brother, also a lawyer, from his coma, I asked how Jet was the night before, (he’d stumbled in @ 4:30 am). He mumbled into his pillow: “It was a writhing mass of testosterone, reeking of sweat, cologne, weed and desperation.” Now, I thought that was a good one, and it had me chuckling all day long! I wish I were that witty and sharp when I looked like I should be put down like a sick dog.

On our way over to the Wynn, my younger brother, who is an actor living in NYC, started regaling us with Austin Powers quotes, including his long ago memorized Dr. Evil soliloquy from the father/son therapy session, you know the one:

“The details of my life are quite inconsequential... very well, where do I begin? My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a fifteen year old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet. My father would womanize, he would drink. He would make outrageous claims like he invented the question mark. Sometimes he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy. The sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament. My childhood was typical. Summers in Rangoon, luge lessons. In the spring we'd make meat helmets. When I was insolent I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds- pretty standard really. At the age of twelve I received my first scribe. At the age of fourteen a Zoroastrian named Vilma ritualistically shaved my testicles. There really is nothing like a shorn scrotum... it's breathtaking- I highly suggest you try it.”

For those of you who haven’t seen it: http://youtube.com/watch?v=I2qLa51KPtg

Mr bro’s got the Dr. Evil accent and facial expressions down pat, and had us in stitches the whole way. Got to the Wynn, waited fifteen minutes in line, but all I can say is: Wow! Well worth the $35 (which included bottomless bloody or champagne). Everything imaginable.

The afternoon was spent by the TI pool, then we all headed to the Palms for our 8pm reservation at N9ne Steakhouse. Again, all I can say is: wow! Great table, great service. Nine guys at N9ne split about five appetizers, five sides, had our own entries (I split the $89 bone-in ribeye for two with the Bachelor – unbelievable). Crab cakes, sushi, tuna tartar, calimari, Kobe carpaccio for apps. All kinds of tasty sides. Plus my actor NYC brother is, by necessity, also a skilled waiter, so he found a gem of a magnum Cabernet to go with the cow. Ok, make that two magnums. :lol: But after all that, and much needed coffee (pre-dinner drinks were taken and paid for at the bar), the total with tax and tip was $150 per head. No one could finish the various leftovers that we all wished we could have access to about four hours later. No one skimped on the wine. In sum, one of the best meals I’ve ever had for a pretty decent price.

From there we hit the craps/blackjack tables at the Palms. After a bit, half the group went up to Ghostbar. After playing some blackjack, I went over with my full beer from the BJ table and tried to join my group at Ghostbar, but the big bouncer told me that access was VIP only. On a Sunday??? :roll: I politely told him that we had just dropped about $1500 at N9ne and god knows what in the pits, and that the rest of my group were anything but VIPs and were already up there. He reluctantly said “OK, but you can’t bring the beer up.” :evil: I called BS, and boycotted out of general principle. I mean wtf?? That bar is still probably crawling with STD’s from the Real World cast days anyway.

I went over and was watching one of our single guys playing craps, when the table went on a run that allowed me to see (finally!) what the craps afficionados had been talking about. My buddy turned $400 into just under $5k in about an hour. The Shooter went about forty rolls before finally hitting a seven (in comparison to my foray, where craps sevens were issued like Newsweek every third roll). The table was nuts. In the midst of it, our group came down from Ghostbar and tried to get my attention for an explanation of wtf was going on, cuz the table was so packed that no one could see. As I’m contemplating sliding out to brief them, the guy next to me (not my buddy) says to me, “if you leave that spot, I’m going to kill you!” I’m pretty sure he was kidding, but I wasn’t going to take any chances. No one wanted to mess with the juju, even though I was but a spectator. When Shooter finally craps out, there’s a huge cheer from the table, and my buddy is approached by the floor to get a Palms card, access to Playboy club, blah, blah, blah.

By now it’s about 2am, and I am once again cashed; fully bloated on good steak, good wine and good times. We have to be at the airport by about 10am, so I call it a night with one of the other guys, while the others head to the Hard Rock. I just don’t have the stamina that I once had, but all in all a very fun trip.

I don’t see myself getting back to Vegas anytime soon. So I’ll check back here periodically to live vicariously through others. Thanks again to all the AVPers, especially Grange (another Idiot Out Wandering About), Santa and Minton, whose advice and posts helped me plan this trip, and prepare me for my first foray into a B&M. Thanks to the staff at the TI poker room (see Part I and the TI forum page for the more complete thanks) and thank God for that tourney victory. Without it, it would have been a brutal weekend for gambling.