We've never flew out at night for a trip, so this was different.
We boarded our Southwest Airlines flight at 7 PM, due to land in Las Vegas at 10 PM.
Since there'd be no driving, I enjoyed cocktails (cough) on the flight and then took a nap.

We landed, and immediately I was insulted by Sin City.

I had to check - yep - all they had was that awful Cuervo swill.
They had expensive Cuervo swill, too, but it's all Cuervo swill to me.

We got luggage and took a cab to The Palms. 
Tally got us "special rooms" at a "special rate" because she has her own "casino host," 
like Sam on NBC's "Las Vegas," but he was a man so he wasn't as cute as Vanessa Marcil.

They gave us a spectacular, brand new room in the "Fantasy Tower" that just opened. 

         Even the drinking glasses in our room seemed drunk.

It was so new, they were still doing construction.  Oh, that's lovely. We got the 18th floor 
and construction was on the 19th floor and in Las Vegas, they need rooms so badly, some 
construction was 24/7 - I kid you not. It was late, we were tired from the trip so we called it a night.

The next morning we waited for Tommy, Tally, Chicago Jim and his wife to arrive.
Mrs. Bart went to see the Van Gogh paintings at the Bellagio, but I only had one thing on my mind - poker!
But first I wanted to eat at one of my favorite Vegas restaurants - Vegas Subs!

I don't know how they do it, but they have the best ham in the world.
I've had a half dozen sandwiches there, and their ham is the tastiest, prettist ham you ever saw.
First, there's no rind, (Hear that, Subway?) and it's the most perfectly uniform pink color you ever saw.
So "white things," no "pools of dark red," just perfectly perfect ham, so I ordered "extra meat."
Hmmmm boy, you can't beat a Ham & Provolone from Vegas Subs - then I was on to The Poker Room.

By 6 PM, the gang was all here so we had to make another food plan.
Of course, I suggested Vegas Subs, but Tally shreiked at the suggestion! 
She wanted to eat fine food.
When I protested "fine food," they offered to pay because they're DINKS. (Double Income, No Kids)

So the six of us went to Smith & Lewinsky's for a fine steak dinner. Tommy and Jim are both world travelers, 
(I stopped leaving America after I was thrown into a Mexican Jail with my good buddy Carl.)
They know all about which wines to order, and they got lobster and weird stuff I couldn't pronounce.

After that, it was back to Jim's suite at Paris for some U2, pre-concert DVD watching.
(Note: There were no drugs of any kind at this party, nor was there any alcohol.)

We watched Sunday, Bloody Sunday from Sloan Castle, where the songs ends with Bono
screaming the names, apparently from memory, of the 29 people killed in Dublin that day.
I was impressed, but I'm sure Bono was just being "fake" again. He's such a showboater...

Next was Until the End of the World from the same show - the most exciting version ever.
Next we watched the other "fake" part of the Boston DVD show, where Bono pulls a young gal
from the audience to lie with him onstage as he sang With or Without You to her.
Then the big closer, Bullet the Blue Sky where Bono recreats the assassination of John Lennon.
The song ends with his head snapping back from the bullet, a la the Zapruder film.

U2 - they're so fake.

Then it was Friday, the day of the big, big show. As I headed towards The Palms Poker Room, 
I was alone on the elevator when a well-dressed black man got on.  I sensed I was about to be robbed 
(because he was black) so I tried to "disarm" him (learned that in poker) by speaking first.

"Are you winning?" I asked?
That's what you say in an elevator in Vegas because, "Nice weather," is a damned lie.

He looked at me as tho I was speaking Chechnyan.

 I rephrased the question: "Are you ahead or behind on your gambling?"

He said, "I'm not here to gamble, it's all business." 
I asked what kind of business he was in and he said, "Busta Rhymes."
I said, like the dorkiest white guy ever, "Are you Busta Rhymes?"

He laughed and said, "You don't know what Busta Rhymes looks like?"
I started to say, "I could probably pick him out of a line-up," but stopped myself 
because you know how blacks can be - he might've cut me with that knife they all carry.

I told Tommy about it and he said The Palms has suites with fully-functional recording studios,
in case some rocker is partying there with some musician friends and a killer riff pops into his head.

Semi-poker story:
In the Poker Room, I heard Sharon, the smart, confident and foxy Poker Room Manager saying she was 
sitting in for a male dealer later that weekend because the dealer couldn't keep his eyes on the game. 
Intrigued, I leaned in for more details.

Turns out Hugh Hefner was in da house with his six personal playmates, and they were playing
Strip Poker, (by invitation only) and they needed a female dealer who could concentrate on the game.

Why do I mention that?
Because that's one reason so many people claim to f-ing hate Las Vegas, because they know that someone is 
playing Strip Poker with topless Playmates there (probably for TV) and it's not them, so Vegas is bad, bad, bad.

Now it was approaching time for the U2 concert.
I'm not going to bore you with the details, thus preventing many subscription cancellations.
It was a great show, and no, I didn't get to hear End of the World.

In closing, (crowd sets cars on fire - it looks like France in here) after the show we split up because
those four had some serious partying to do and we had to be up at 8 to catch a 10AM flight home.

But we had a great time, U2 rocks and so does The Palms Poker Room.

Oh, I almost forgot - while we were partying, Tally wanted to "F" with Tommy so she asked me to
go online with my laptop and play BCR 83 Part 5 where Tommy Mack sings the closing song.

I'm like, "WTF? BCR 83 didn't have a Part 5," but it turns out it does.   Since I'm a dumbass, I left out 
the link for BCR 83 Part 5 and now it has been restored - the lost BCR 83 Part 5 where Tommy sings.
To hear the restored links to BCR 83 Part 5   Click Here  for the radio archives.
 

Click Here to Listen to BCR producer Tommy's industrial Deiter-does-Disco impression.
Click Here to download it.

You might also hear something hauntingly familiar - ha ha
 

...and remember, as always, if you are contacted by an IRS agent and asked 
"Why do you read/subscribe to  bartcop.com ?" please say, "Because of those bad-ass, 
wish-we-could-be-there, super-fun trip reports Bart writes when he gets home."

That could save me from prison, thank you.
 

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