The time I was kicked out of a Vegas casino or why I no longer drink…as much.
A friend of mine is in Las Vegas this week. The last time I was in Vegas was almost this same time last year. (And yes, I’m aware that I didn’t post about my trip.)
I don’t go to Vegas as much as I used to, maybe once or twice a year.
We used to go several times a year. But that all changed after I got kicked out of a Vegas casino.
Kicked Out Of A Vegas Casino
It was January 1996.
The BMW Z3, the car featured in the James Bond movie, Golden Eye, was the Grand Prize at the Stratosphere Casino for slot play.
I was going to win that car!
Back then, cocktail waitresses came around often and the drinks flowed freely. Maybe a little too freely.
Since I was playing for the BMW Z3, and I’m not a martini fan, I thought it fitting that my drink of choice was champagne splits.
Champagne splits are 187 ml (6.3 ounce) quart bottles.
I’m not a sipper. I’m more of a swigger. When I have a drink in my hand, I’m uncomfortable when it’s full. I feel compelled to finish it. And when I have an empty glass, I feel compelled to have it refilled. It’s a vicious cycle.
You can probably see where this is going.
I really wanted to win that Beemer. And after a few drinks, I didn’t care who won, just that someone won. I was cheering everyone on. “Win a Beemer! Win a Beemer!” or something to that effect.
I lost track of how many champagne splits I drank. But I tipped the cocktail waitresses well so they kept coming around…until they didn’t.
When I drink I get loud. Not the obnoxious, idiot loud drunk. But the “I can’t hear myself talk” so I have to talk louder type of drunk.
And when I get excited, I talk loud normally.
Add drunk with excitement and you get a very loud gambler.
Apparently, I was so loud that my husband could hear me at the Black Jack tables.
And if I recall correctly, those tables were at least 100 feet apart, if not more.
Cut Off
It was around that time that the cocktail waitresses stopped bringing me drinks.
I didn’t understand why. I was tipping, I was playing the slots. And I was encouraging those seated around me to play.
The next thing I knew my husband was telling me it was time to go. And we were privately escorted out of the casino by a couple of really tall big guys.
I never won that BMW Z3 and haven’t been back to the Stratosphere since.
Have you been kicked out of a casino? Or have a bad drunk story?
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Lee @ BaldThoughts.com
Monday 18th of November 2013
Hilarious! It's good that you can have a sense of humor about this. We all have some nights of drinking we'd like back.
Traveling Well For Less
Monday 18th of November 2013
Hey Lee,
LOL, yeah, I'm sure we all do. :)
I try to find the humor in all situations. I don't mind making fun of myself. I know I can be a dork. I'm considering starting a OWADIA (Oh, what a dork I am) category for the blog. No shortage of posts there. :)