Expansion

As the early-80's raced into the mid-80's word began to spread far and wide about the madcap exploits of THE VEGA$ CLUB. Well, not too far and wide, but we attracted the attention of a good friend and co-worker named Leung (pronounced Lang, rhymes with Bang!). Before we could make him a full-fledged member, we had to bring him along on a trip on a probationary basis. On this trip Roger had arranged accommodations at the Hotel Continental. I understand in it's later years that it turned into quite a dump, but at the time (1985ish) it was a perfectly nice place to stay.

We arrived at the hotel, got checked in, relaxed a bit in the room, and gave Leung a brief lesson on what to expect in the casino, and a few pointers in blackjack etiquette so as to not to embarrass himself and us. (don't hand your cash directly to the dealer, one hand only on the cards, pointers on how to slip your cards under your chips without scooting your bet out of the betting circle, tipping, etc. He'd memorized the "basic strategy" card, so we were ready to go!

As luck would have it, there was a dead $2 blackjack table near the entrance to the casino, just beckoning to us! Leung, Roger, Charley, and me took our seats and each placed our $20s in front of us for change. As the first hand was dealt, the waitress appeared and took our orders. At this point I was back to beer. (As of this writing, July 31, 2004, I have yet to have another Greyhound). Leung ordered a Screwdriver, Roger was either in his Fuzzy Navel or Grasshopper phase at this point, and Charley was still trying to get a PLAIN coke. A few hands were dealt, things were progressing fine. Leung was getting the hang of things. The cocktails arrived, and as Leung reached forward to pick up his cards, his arm hit his full Screwdriver spilling it all over his cards, chips, and dripping into the dealers chip rack! "Oh Shit!" said the dealer, yelling over her shoulder for the floor supervisor to bring over a towel. They got things pretty well cleaned up, we got a new deck of cards in play, and the rest of the trip went well. It's just lucky that we're all nice guys, otherwise that little stunt would have forever banished Leung from entering the club.

That may have been the same trip where we discovered that Bob Stupak was a big fat liar. Bob Stupak owned "Vegas World" a hotel/casino barely on the strip, just north of the Sahara, where the Stratosphere now stands. For years he'd been cluttering up all the mailboxes in Southern California (hell, probably the whole U.S.) with vacation offers that seemed too good to be true. The deal was something like this: For only $398 up front, you'd get 3 nights hotel accommodations, plus $400 in casino play, free Keno tickets, free cocktails, and a fabulous gift! For awhile it was billed as "The Free Vacation" then the courts intervened, lawsuits were filed, and it became "The Virtually Free Vacation". Miraculously THE VEGA$ CLUB never took him up on his vacation offer, but we did find ourselves in his outer space themed casino one afternoon. For the walk up customers, he had a lower priced miracle offer. For $80 you'd get $120 in casino play, plus $20 in slot machine tokens, a free deck of cards, and Zsa Zsa Gabor's cocktail ring. "How could that be???" we wondered. We pooled our money and got one entry.

Catch #1-- You weren't given your chips right away, you got $10 per hour over the course of 12 hours!!!
Catch #2-- The slot tokens only worked on "Very Special" jackpot machines, and
Catch #3-- you only got your cards and Zsa Zsa's ring after the 12th hour of being on the property.

To add insult to injury, even the casino play chips were a rip-off! Say you put your $10 worth of chips on a blackjack table, if you lost, they took your chips. If you WON, they took your "special" chips and replaced them with $10 in real chips. "Hey, If I win a $10 hand of Blackjack, shouldn't I end up with $20???" "Sorry kid, not at Vegas World. I'll see you next hour!"

Needless to say, we didn't even make it to hour #2 and Zsa Zsa got to keep her ring!

In the next installment... Hank discovers Craps!

Finding The Perfect Casino

As I explained in my last entry, due to the passage of time, and the effects of alcohol on the brain, I don't have real clear memories of those first individual trips to VEGA$, just a conglomeration of individual exploits, high jinks, monkeyshines, etc. In those early years we tended to stay in modest, but perfectly acceptable accommodations like Circus Circus Manor (a group of 3 story buildings adjacent to the massive CC towers, featuring large, quiet rooms), the Sundance Hotel (now Fitzgeralds, downtown) the The Hotel Continental (now Terrible's, off the strip).

Finding the perfect casino isn't as easy as it sounds. You want to feel at home... Wander into Caesars Palace, and you feel like you should be wearing a suit. Spend too much time at The Gold Spike and you need to take a shower. And it's not just finding a good middle-class joint either. It shouldn't be too big (like Bally's). It must have low-limit table games, and most importantly it needs to be lucky! I have entered many casinos that seem to be hospitable, but for whatever reason the luck isn't there. The Orleans is just such a casino. In recent years, my wife and I have stayed there a few times. The rooms are beautiful, very reasonably priced, the casino is friendly, but for the life of me, I can't win a god-damned dime there!

Anyway, back to THE VEGA$ CLUB in the early 80's. One afternoon we happened upon a small casino on the heart of the strip called The Castaways. It was a great location (so great, that a few years later Steve Wynn bought it, leveled it, and built The Mirage in it's place!), good cocktail service, and two $1 blackjack tables open 'round the clock! I think originally the theme of the place was supposed to convey a feeling of being on a lush island in the tropics, but by 1984ish, the only hint of tropicality was that the dealers wore Hawaiian shirts. The rest of the place was pure, no-nonsense casino. We returned to The Castaways many times during those early years. The dealers were amazingly friendly, even at the $1 tables! Cocktail service was prompt (each BJ table had a little "cricket clicker" that would summon a waitress in short order!). Of course, we were looking to break the bank, each of us fancying ourselves as young Edward Thorpes. Unfortunately, that never happened, but at $1 a hand, it was a nice way to enjoy the company of friends, and get ridiculously inebriated. One memorable night, Roger and I decided to switch from boring old beer to something more mature. Martinis sounded pretty classy, but sadly the well Martinis served to the $1 players at The Castaways tasted like kerosene. After trying a few different things, Roger settled on the Tequila Sunrise, and my poison became The Greyhound (vodka and grapefruit juice). Charley was our designated driver and stuck with Coke. Whenever he ordered, the waitresses would act like no one in the history of Vegas had ever ordered a Coke before, "PLAIN Coke???" they'd ask, dumbfounded. From then on, whenever any of us wanted a Coke, we would order it as a PLAIN Coke. I think that Roger and I managed to polish off about 15 Greyhounds/Sunrises apiece. I do vaguely remember asking the dealer, "SO, DO PEOPLE EVER GET KICKED OUTTA HERE FOR BEING TOO DRUNK?" She gave me a hard stare and icily said, "Yep. All the Time." Roger suggested that maybe it was time we call it a night. That trip we were staying at the Sundance downtown, and I remember that being one of the longest rides of my life. In fact, when faced with the prospect of going round and round and round up into the parking structure, Roger and I opted to get out on the street. I still remember the elevator ride back up to our room. We both occupied opposite corners of the elevator car, and as we went up, Roger slowly slid down the mirrored wall onto the floor! The next day, we had to go home, and BOY what a miserable drive across the desert that was. Every time I saw a Greyhound bus, I felt like puking!

The Castaways closed its doors on June 20, 1987. There are still a few small places left, off the strip, or downtown. But I've yet to find one that had the unpretentiousness, friendliness, prompt cocktail service, and that elusive good luck. It's not like any of us ever broke the bank, it was just a nice place to slowly lose a few dollars, and have a good time along the way.

In the next installment... THE VEGA$ CLUB expands its ranks!

Roger Arrives!

A year or so goes by, and things are changing at the credit card authorization center. Charley has resigned, although we remain good friends. When his supervisor asked him why he was quitting, Charley said that he needed more time to relax. Keep in mind that this was a 4 hour per day data-entry job. This is a trend that he would continue for some time: get a job for a few months, amass a couple thousand dollars, then quit in order to relax.

Eventually I get a small promotion to the "Security and Fraud" department of the call center. What this means is that if someone attempts to use a card that has been reported as stolen (or if they're a real deadbeat) then the call gets transferred to me. I advise the merchant to confiscate the card, cut in half, and send it in for a $50 reward. I worked the swing shift and most of the calls were from restaurants who didn't want to be so rude as to confiscate their valued customer's cards. What did I care? I was making a lousy $6 an hour! As the evening wore into night, we started getting calls from the telephone sex operators. Some of my less couth co-workers would try to get these ladies to give them a freebie, but to my knowledge, none were forthcoming.

ANYWAY, shortly after my promotion, the company was sold to a huge corporation called First Data Resources (FDR) and the security/fraud department was promptly laid off! Meanwhile the rest of the call center was moved to a smaller (cheaper) location in nearby Santa Ana. I took Charley's lead, signed up for unemployment, and relaxed! A few months later they called me back, and asked if I was interested in being a lowly operator again. It wasn't a horrible job, so I said, "Sure!" When I got back to work, I was advised by my supervisor that, "These new FDR folks are a little tight with the dollar!" I found that to be true when the schedule they offered me added up to 39.5 hours per week... a mere 30 minutes away from the coveted benefits package! I didn't care. I was still living at home, not paying rent, and half-assing my way through community college. Shortly after the re-hire, I was "Promoted" again to something called "Lead Operator". It was explained to me, that while I would have many more responsibilities, there would be no commensurate raise in pay. What the hell, anything to get off the phones 39.5 hours per week! One of my new duties was to create the ID badges for new employees. I got to take their pictures with a cool Polaroid camera, then laminate the card, etc. This is where I first met Roger, he was a year or two younger than me, built like me (XXL), and, as we soon found out, had many similar interests, including music, beer, gambling, as well as very similar senses of humor; i.e. quick, dry... well, you know, we were funny!

It didn't take long in our friendship for the topic of conversation to get to Las Vegas. I told him about Charley, and how we ventured out there the previous year. Well, from that point on, he was IN! He was introduced to Charley, and luckily, they hit it off.

Over the next two years there were several trips to the magical city in the desert, resulting in some of the best times I'd ever had. It turns out that Roger had an interest in the travel & tourism industry, and he proved to be a fine travel agent for the young VEGA$ CLUB. Instead of merely driving out there without a clue as to where to stay, Roger would actually make hotel reservations! The trips had individual themes, including "Non Stop Fun!", "The VEGA$ CLUB Salutes Red Meat!", and my favorite, "We Want Our Money Back!". In addition to sleeping and gambling, Roger made sure that there were other activities to occupy our time when the cards and dice weren't going our way. These activities included the addition of fine dining (no more visits to that garish McDonald's), "Fun Book" collecting/redeeming, attending the IMAX movie at Caesars, and an obligatory trip out to Red Rock canyon, for an enjoyable drive through the desert. We were on a exhaustive quest for the perfect casino... one that had low minimum games, yet high quality cocktail service. One evening while traversing The Strip, we found it!

In the next installment... The Perfect Casino!

The Birth of "THE VEGA$ CLUB"

Keep in mind that my first visit to Las Vegas was in 1982 ( A LONG time ago) and memories are very hazy. As the years progressed, there would be a group of 3-8 friends that would be the basis of "THE VEGA$ CLUB". Back in 1982, however, it was just me and Charley. We met earlier that year working the swing shift at a telephone call center that authorized the use of MasterCards and Visas for merchants, long before the "just swipe the card" machines that are everywhere today. We became fast friends, hanging out after work at 11 p.m. seeking out the local convenience stores that would sell beer to 19 year olds. In June of '82, just a year out of high school in Irvine CA, we decided to take the 5 hour drive to Las Vegas. We both were living at home, and we were both under 21. My parents were on an Alaskan Cruise, and Charley told his parents that he was going to spend the night at my house.

We piled in my 1962 Volkswagen Bug early in the morning, and headed out across the desert. We'd gotten about 20 miles from home, when I saw the sickening sight of a CHP in my rear view mirror with his lights on. The old bug really couldn't do much over 65... 70 on a downgrade, but these were the days of "55 Saves Lives" and the CHP were taking it seriously. I pulled over only to have the cop pull up next to me, and announce something unintelligible over his PA. Then he drove off! "I guess he didn't mean us!" I jubilantly announced to Charley. I carefully pulled back onto the freeway and headed back down the road. My joy was short lived. About 100 yards up the road the officer had pulled someone else over, and was now standing in my lane, pointing me to park behind his cruiser. Yep, he got two speeders in one stop! "I hope this isn't an omen" said Charley. He's always been into omens as you'll find out if you decide to keep reading.

We made it to VEGA$ without further incident. Of course, neither one of us had even considered a room reservation. Certainly with all of those hotels, there'd be a room! We cruised down the strip in awe. This was long before the mega-resorts of today, no Mirage, Treasure Island, Mandalay Bay, Bellagio, or Luxor. Just the classy old joints like The Sands, The Dunes, The Tropicana, and of course Caesars! Those places scared us, so we pulled into Circus Circus where the marquee out front (held by an enormous clown) screamed "ROOMS AVAILABLE*" I'd seen their newspaper ads proclaiming ridiculously cheap rooms, and to our 19 year sensibilities, it didn't seem like a bad place. We waited in the lengthy check in line only to find out there was no vacancy! "But the big sign says ROOMS AVAILABLE*" I complained The desk clerk pointed out that this was one of those * occasions. It turns out that next to the * in tiny letters it said, "if not, we'll place you" We let them place us next door at the TraveLodge. We got unpacked and decided to get out there and try our luck! We walked back to the CC and Charley approached a change lady with a $10 bill, looking to buy a roll of quarters. "Sorry" she told him, "You need to be 21 to get change from me. Try going up into the children's arcade". Needless to say we were discouraged. I played the majority of my pocket change in various enticing machines (except for the dimes and pennies, the two most useless coins in Vegas), all the time worrying that if I actually won something, that a crew of security personnel would come rushing out of the garish pink and white decor to check my ID, and relieve me of my winnings. We decided to try someplace LESS classy than Circus Circus! We walked next door to the Slots of Fun!, where there was a man standing on the hot asphalt handing out Slots of Fun coupon books! We began to feel better already! Our first stop was at the gift shop to redeem our coupon for a free gift! We took our Slots of Fun keyrings, and decided to try our luck at Black Jack!

To say we were a tad nervous would be a gross understatement. To this day, my hands tend to shake when I'm in new, or uncomfortable situations. Back then sitting at my first real blackjack table, it must have appeared that I was having some sort of seizure! In my years of going to Vegas, I've made a study of casino personnel, especially dealers, and I've learned (not surprisingly) that the good ones work in the good casinos, and the Slots of Funs of the world are left with 1) very young dealers that are "breaking into" the business or 2) very old dealers that don't quite have the speed and skills required to toss cards at the fancy joints. Our dealer fit into category 2. He gave us an annoyed look, then growled, "Everyone here 21?" Charley and I looked at each other and said, "Yes!" in unison. He took our $20 bills and exchanged them for chips. Again, I was concerned about having my winnings confiscated at the door, but luckily that didn't become a factor, as the casino confiscated my money in the conventional manner.

I don't remember any of the meals on this trip, except that we ate at the McDonald's on the strip, near Circus Circus, and we were mightily impressed that they were open 24 hours a day, AND the golden arches sign out front paid proud tribute to the city, in glorious neon and flashing lights.

That was about the extent of the excitement for the trip. But for two sheltered kids from Irvine, it was a great adventure, and was the beginning of a lifelong friendship, and a prelude to many more trips across the desert.

In the next installment... Hank and Charley meet Roger!

Welcome to my P.O.J.

I think the word BLOG sounds stupid, so I won't be using it here. This is my Personal Online Journal, or POJ if you will.   I've been reading about these for some time now, and up to now I haven't had much to say.   But tonight I can't sleep.   It's 2 a.m. on California's central coast and while visiting some of my favorite websites (I don't like the term "surfing" either) I came across the "How Stuff Works" website which had a whole article on how POJs work with links and everything.  So here I am.  The title of this POJ is "Hank's (for the) Memories".  I'm Hank. I'm guessing that when viewed in the light of day I will absolutely hate that title... but at 2 a.m. it seems kind of clever.  My initial topic I think will be Las Vegas.  I have a special fascination with that town, and lots of fond (and a few not-so-fond) memories.  If I get further into this writing thing, I may expand onto other topics. But Vegas is my starting point.   I'm a little sleepy now, so I will start tomorrow.