Anne and I went to Las Vegas on Sunday for our friends Matt and Doree’s wedding. We got dressed up like fancy adults, spent an evening with people we love, and got the hell out of there before Vegas could take any of our money away from us.
I had a stupidly good time playing a silly Star Trek penny slot machine for a quarter a pull, and somehow managed to turn my twenty dollars into one hundred while I was at it. My friend Matt and I found a stupid penny poker machine that let you play one hundred hands at a time, and spent about three dollars to have hundreds of dollars worth of fun for close to an hour.
We almost didn’t go, because I just don’t enjoy being in Las Vegas, but we had a great time, and I’m really glad that we went.
On the plane home, I was reflecting on how much fun we had, and I remembered this story, from a very different time.
For a lot of us who grew up in Los Angeles, a big part of being in your early twenties involves something like this:
- The phone rings.
- It’s one of your friends.
- Your friend says, “Vegas?”
- Before you can pull another breath of life out of the air around you, you reply, “VEGAS!”
- One drive across the desert a few hours later, you’re in some casino on the strip, losing whatever money you budgeted for the trip, while trying and occasionally succeeding to find the energy that began your journey there, three or four hours ago.
- The drive back home lasts for three or four hours, but feels much longer.
- You swear you’ll never do this again.
- Months go by.
- You pick up the phone and dial your friend.
- When the call connects, you say, “Vegas?”
When Anne and I were dating, we did one of these trips. We stayed at the Imperial Palace, which is just an appallingly outdated and rundown pile of regret in the middle of the Strip. Over the course of a few hours, we walked around it and its adjacent casinos, wagering twenty or so dollars at a time in various places, and never winning a single thing. At the time, we didn’t have a lot of money and had to stay on a tight budget, so the $200 I lost really hurt, to say nothing of the unshakable feeling of just being A Total Loser that clung to me like that cloud of dust around Pig Pen.
I remember, as our night was winding down, we walked into the Flamingo Hilton. We found a $5 blackjack table, and I bought in for my last $40. As the first hand came out, a pit boss came over to us, and asked to see my ID. I showed it to him, and he said, “I thought that was you. I love your work.”
At this time in my life, I hadn’t done any acting work that was worth a goddamn in what felt like an eternity, but was probably close to five years on the calendar(which is an eternity in the entertainment industry). “Thanks,” I said, trying to put on my best happy face, and hoping that the stinky cloud of Loser wasn’t as clear to him as it was to me.
“How’s your night going?” He asked.
“Not good,” I said. “I have literally lost every dollar I’ve bet.”
Because the universe has a good sense of humor, and because the person who is writing my life is lazy, I lost the hand in front of me. I don’t recall what it was, specifically, but if I were writing this, it would have been something like standing on a 13 with the dealer showing a 6, only to draw to 18. It had been that kind of night.
“Well,” he said, “I’m rating you right now, so we can get you some drinks or some breakfast.” He paused, then added, meaningfully, “at the very least.”
I looked at the last $35 dollars I had in front of me, and hoped against hope that somehow my luck would turn around. I knew we wouldn’t get a comped room, or show tickets, or anything like that, but there was something in his voice that told me that if I could just sit there and play for a little while, we’d get something that would make me feel like less of a total loser than I did. Hey, people got lucky in Vegas all the time, right? People sat down with two bucks, and became millionaires with one pull of the handle. Guys turned five bucks into a thousand in mere minutes, getting lucky at a craps table or hitting a longshot in roulette. Hell, people even won on Keno from time to time. Maybe it was time for my luck to turn around.
So I got ready to defy the odds and become a winner.
Five bucks at a time, I proceeded to lose seven hands in a row, and was broke. I stood up from the table, gathered what I could of my pride, told the dealer to have a good night. The pit boss came over to us (Anne had been standing supportively next to me the whole time, as I could not win a single thing, which was a perfect metaphor for our lives back then). “You sure you have to go?” He said.
“Yeah,” I said, unable to mask the totality of the defeat I was feeling, “I’m all out of money. My luck is just …” I didn’t need to finish that thought. At this time in my life, when I was probably around 24 or 25, My luck is just … was how I felt about pretty much everything.
“Well, here,” he said, not unkindly, “let me at least get you some food and a couple of drinks.” He gave me some vouchers, and Anne and I each had a martini, plus steak and eggs, on the house. We made our way back to our hotel room, fell asleep on a really uncomfortable bed, and slept for a few hours until someone woke us up, screaming in our hallway because she’d hit a jackpot on a slot machine.
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But you were there with Anne, so you were really a winner the whole time.
This is interesting to me because we met thru poker and poker blogging at one of the WPBT’s in Vegas, and the IP was my favorite place to stay and play poker – back then the room was on the 2nd floor far away from the main floor of the casino, so it had a nicer feel than most poker rooms – but then they put it front and center on the floor and it just blew – in fact, I THINK maybe the WPBT that year WAS at the IP –
Vegas is like any relationship – it changes as the years go on but sometimes you get what you put back into it
Did you do voice work for MGM Resorts? Last time I stayed at the Grand I heard a promo in the casino that sounded exactly like you would sound if you did a promo for a casino.
I haven’t, but now I need to go there and try to hear it!
You are right. I forgot all about that promo! I was so sure Wil did it that I just went “oh neat, Wil did that” and didn’t think about it again.
My husband and I used to meet his sister and her husband in Vegas every few years (it was the most convenient in-between location that Southwest flew to) and we’d stay for a long weekend. We’re not big gamblers, we mainly just wanted a location to get together and hang out and people watch. Anyway, we stayed at the Imperial Palace once; to this day we refer to it by its initials: GDFSH (that is, Gd Dmn Fcking Sht H*le.) Seriously, when my son turned 21 and he wanted to go to Vegas with friends, he called me to ask “What’s the real name of the GDFSH? Cuz we wanna NOT stay there.”) Also, now I want to go play a Star Trek penny machine!
Thank goodness for Anne. She’s like duct tape. She can mend any story.
Ah, Wil- there’s so much to do in Vegas that has nothing to do with gambling. Enough to probably make you enjoy going there again. Next time you’re planning on going, I’d be happy to point you in the right direction…
Ah Vegas is just one of those places with a weird vibe. I can go for several days and hate it and love it at the exact same time. Every time. Remember getting drunk lost (worse that regular lost) in one of the really nice casinos. We wandered around until we were in the very mundane office suite area (those things are HUGE). Even the fact that it was all a facade of fantasy on top of pure 9-5 banality was attractive and repellent at the same time.
Vegas is rough some times. I live here and avoid the strip like the plague. Next time your here try the pinball hall of fame. It’s a way better way to lose your money.
And now I’m feeling really nostalgic about playing in poker tournaments on PokerStars with you. The password was “monkey”.
Ahhh Vegas…my mother used to drag me and my sister there 6x/year when we were growing up. To this day I cannot set foot in Circus Circus without horrible flashbacks of waiting for my mother while she played blackjack for hours. (Do you know how fast a kid can blow through $20 in the Circus Circus arcade area?!?)
That’s just a story filled with all kinds of sad.
Wil, I want to express how much I relate to your posts, and what it means to me that someone feels the same way I do. I often complain about my luck, or my lack of it, how terrible it makes me feel, and yet how amazingly nothing really bad has ever happened to me. I’m very happily married. My children are smart, wonderfully talented, and all around good kids. I have solid friends and family.
And yet when it comes to win or lose, I’m always 1 inch short. I was just short of being a good athlete. I have a college degree, am smart, talented, and hard working, but I am always the second choice for the job. I’ve never been broke enough that I was concerned where my next meal was going to be or if I could pay my mortgage, but I’ve never felt like I could simply buy something that wasn’t mostly practical if it was somewhat expensive.
In general, I consider you and the life you have made for yourself as a rousing success, even though I know you have had your own troubles, and it helps to remind me that nothing really is as bad as I always think they are turning out to be. Thanks for that.
In my mind, Vegas is a massive contradiction – vulgar and garish and beautiful all at the same time. Gambling is the lava flow underneath it all, threatening to swallow it up, but atop it floats amazing sights, shows and performers – where else can you see acrobats and magicians perform at that level? Even the casino floors can be beautiful – for some reason, I love the sounds as you walk through. But I can easily see how it can turn sour quickly.
Aaww…. . I’ve never been there before.
Great story. One of the things I really dig about you is that you don’t tap out. So many people do – and the higher the fall, the bigger the train wreck. But somehow you have a lot of grit – thank your parents, your wife, and your own stubbornness – wherever that backbone comes from – but when you hit the ground, the ground dents. Then you get up and go at it again. It might not feel like that to you at the time, but that’s how it looks from the bleachers.
Rock on, Wil.
I dunno. I have no desire to gamble at all and can’t see the fun in it, or in glitzy casinos. I’d rather stay home and snuggle my hubby and pets, and save my money for a rainy day. 🙂 Casinos rather remind me of that New Years Eve frenzy thing, where you are supposed to be having such a great time and people get kind of frenetic and desperate if they aren’t. I was born sensible I guess. Or maybe born to be a killjoy, depending on your point of view. 😀
I moved away from the AV when I was 18, so I never got to do the spontaneous Vegas weekend. But my mom went to a conference there every year. This is before GPS, which she wouldn’t be able to figure out anyway. Somehow she managed to get to Vegas from Lancaster via Death Valley. She’s been referred to as The Navigator ever since.
When I see those two experiences side by side, I see the difference that maturity makes in those who gain it.
Incidentally, Vegas never takes money; silly people pay good money to come here and throw it at casinos. I will never understand it for the life of me.
This is off-topic, but I feel like I should relate this story.
I grew up in a very conservative Christian family, the “women shouldn’t have dominion over men” kind. We are supposed to be silent, meek, domestic…pretty much everything I wasn’t. In short, being a girl interested in science was a bit rough. Somehow, though, my extremely conservative parents really liked the first Star Trek, and so when TNG came on they were more than happy to let me watch…at least until the God episode. My 6 year old brain found it very obvious that Jesus was an alien con man, and so clearly we didn’t need to worry about this Christian stuff anymore. It was a very long time before I watched Star Trek again, but the damage was done.
My point is, I know it’s an absurdly long time, but the work you have done and are doing makes a difference. So thanks, and please take care of yourself. By the way, you can call me Dr. Potato in about a year 🙂
When I stayed at the imperial palace all but one of the elevators was broken. When it was time to leave, we waited for twenty minutes for an empty elevator to take us and our luggage down to the main floor but the doors always opened to a crammed and grumpy looking group of elevator riders. We ended up dragging our luggage down ten flights of stairs along with several other guests. Fun times.
The first thing you do in any busy hotel is locate the service elevators. The worst you will get for using them is a scowl from some random staff.
i always wanted to gamble in vegas, nothing major, may some blackjack or slots. i probably wouldn’t win much or even anything, but just the experience would be interesting. if i go i have to remember to avoid the imperial palace, which wikipedia says is called the linq now.
An excellent thing to go see is the national atomic testing museum in Vegas. Powerful stuff. However — skip the Area 51 component — it is like science fair exhibit created by a kid in grade school — not exactly high quality — more like the rest of the cheesy Vegas scene…
You two clean up REAL good. Glad to hear everything went well, and best wishes to the happy couple.
Wait! Not that it is our business, but…did Chris catch the bouquet? Is there another Nerdist wedding in the future!? And did Mr. Ray cry? He’s actually a softie inside, isn’t he?
I’ve been to Vegas once. It was for a Bead Jewelry makers retreat. We had 3 days of classes learning new techniques. Everywhere you turned there were slot machines, even in the airport. But somehow I was always running late to get to the next location I had to be. So I never gave myself a chance to try my luck. Not that I have much luck. I went to a college party fundraiser once, there were 40 door prizes. Due to a snow storm, only 41 people managed to make it to the party, you can guess who didn’t win a door prize.
Great story. Well done.
Nice story. Definitely paints a great picture of Vegas. Not the kind of place most people would want to live in and when you’re there, your mileage may vary.
I was there a few years ago on a completely weird trip. Weird because I’ve gotten to that point where I like my home and life and don’t need to find excuses to do anything crazier than staying up late with the wife on a Netflix bender. A friend of mine, let’s just say, walks in different circles (partially thanks to me, partially thanks to something else I’ll keep a secret). I used to be invited to a regular poker game with him and his friends, some of which have disposable income (my income is not disposable and is in fact something I try in vain to retain with dismal results).
So, I get this call on a Friday morning asking if I wanted to go to Vegas with him and some of those friends, all of which I knew well enough by now. I ask when they were going. He said that afternoon. One of said friends had rented a private jet. There’s that moment of excitement that is immediately followed by the crushing reality of how little money I had (see above note about disposable income). Even so, I figured I could scrape together a few bucks. My friend stays at the Bellagio often enough that he was getting a couple rooms comped and one would be mine. We’d be in Friday night and out Saturday morning. You in?
Of course, I said (after getting a positive affirmation from the wife in the form of “just go”).
Long story short:
Flying via private jet is friggin’ awesome. I may never do it again but no security, no lines, no one’s butt in your face as they try to get out of the row.
Being with people who are apparently good at spending money at a casino means you get a limo picking you up at the airport, comped rooms and markers (I did not get a marker because a) I’m not one of those people and b) I’ve got enough debt to contend with).
You find all sorts of motivation to stay awake all night even as you get older when you’re having fun.
There is something epically sad about Vegas and gambling.
The last point reminds me of your story, Wil. On the plus side, your life seems, from what I can see here and on Twitter, to be going a lot better than you felt back then. On the down side, there’s something about the desperation you see. You were just down on your luck a bit but obviously still together enough.
At one point, I was playing craps (I love craps, terrible odds but just a lot of fun). I felt I did alright largely because I went in knowing the odds were NOT in my favor. It was more fun to just watch the action and keep my bets small so I lasted longer. The consequence was seeing the turnover at the table in spots. A few of us were there for long stretches for one reason or another: a good streak, careful betting, whatever. What you’d get though would be these random people passing by, throwing out a $50 or $100 chip on something ridiculous like hard 12 and losing it.
The one that made me sad was the older guy who came over. He was dressed in decent clothes. Not a high flyer at all but not like he was struggling in an obvious way. But the way he looked, his eyes spoke volumes. I don’t know his story–he came over, dropped a $100 chip I don’t remember where and promptly left when he lost it–but I imagine someone barely making it hoping for that SuperLotto win. It took the wind out of my sails and made me leave the table to check on my friends. But, regardless, to me, it epitomizes the undercurrent of Vegas.
On the surface, you’ve got high rollers and tourists. People come in, have reasonable expectations or just have limits so they can’t get into too much trouble, and they leave. Party’s over and they go home. But, the people who stay, especially those who hover around the casinos regularly, unless they’re playing something they can make a living off of (like playing poker late night against drunk tourists who barely know what’s going on…which by the way was how I evened out for the trip), seem to be stuck in this odd reality. I don’t know if it’s simply desperation or if it’s some long lost dream of the magic of a jackpot win–could be anything really.
Sorry, went on a bit of a digression…as usual. I’m just glad you’re in a better place now. I was just listening to the Penny Arcade staff podcast the other day when they mentioned you (it was about Acquisitions Incorporated). How things picked up and soon Aoefel would be needed elsewhere because of it. 🙂
Take care. All the best.
The Imperial Palace has been replaced by a (barely) more modern pile of regret called the LINQ. (Although they have a nice little outdoor mall attached).
The LINQ has a big outdoor display where you can type in your facebook account credentials if you are willing to trust an unknown device sitting in the middle of LV. I think it also emails you pictures it takes of you.
The Imperial Palace was great for when you wanted to move up from the Casino Royale (which is the casino between Harrah’s and the Venetian and it’s like the crappiest of downtown hotels right there on the strip.).
Wil, please don’t take this the wrong way. But you totally married up. Both from the picture and the story.
Oh, believe me, I know. I’m way above my station.
I’ve only been to Vegas once for a family wedding. Wedding couple stayed at the Mandalay Bay which was beautiful but the wedding ceremony was inexplicably at the opposite end of the strip at a dusty HoJo, outside in a cheesy gazebo next to a pool full of tourists. This surreal experience of extremes followed me for the rest of the weekend. Some of the hotels/casinos are gorgeous to visit, the others are sad and creepy. Seeing Cirque du Soleil’s ‘O’ was definitely the highlight of the trip, it made me feel wonder of a kind I hadn’t experienced since childhood. Fittingly, Vegas is quite a gamble. I’m glad you were able to enjoy this particular trip to Vegas by celebrating friends!
My mom supported herself up and down the west coast as a professional gambler for most of her life. She went to Vegas once, and hitchhiked back with her dress and no shoes. “What they do there isn’t gambling,” she told me. I’ve never been, and never regretted it.
My relatives attended this wedding also. Thanks to my 60-something undertaker cousin with a passion for photography, you popped up in my Facebook feed Monday. It was my own personal 6 degrees of separation moment way over here in Maine and it made me giggle. Looked like a great party, glad you had fun! Never enough fun.
I would just like to point out to you that telling us you turned $20 into $100 took one sentence, but telling us you lost $200 several years ago took 900 words.
Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose, sometimes you get “free” steak & eggs for $200.
Have you considered writing an autobiography? I find your style of writing about yourself very reflective and comforting. I feel like you have a great way of turning moments into stories and it would be a good book.
Also helps that I have Dido life for rent on as I read this which makes everything I read at the same time seem really wise. 🙂
Hello Wil. Just wanted to say hi.
Best wishes for you and your continued success.
David Saks
Memphis
You know how that story should have gone…I was dating a gorgeous blond when I was in my early 20’s and I was lucky that she later became my wife. We went to Vegas once and got to stay at the IP- which isn’t even there anymore. Wow- things change but I still have that gorgeous blond. Lucky, Huh!