Casinos Near Houston, Texas – Closest Ones, Map & Directions
SugarHouse Casino & Sportsbook NJ | Best Online Gambling NJ
All Aces Casino Creations, Inc. - Houston, TX
Best 19 Casinos in Sugar Land, TX with Reviews - YP.com
RV Parks in Sugar Land, Texas - Top 20 Campgrounds near
Casino Near Sugar Land Texas - chismecalientito.com
Casinos Near Sugar Land Texas - nilecruiseofegypt.com
RV Camping in Sugar Land Texas: 136 Campgrounds in the
Naskila Gaming Home | Livingston, Texas | Electronic Gaming
casino near sugar land texas
casino near sugar land texas - win
OBLIGATORY FILLER MATERIAL – Giving thanks edition: Kickin’ around Caracas, Pt. 5
Continuing… (It's Part 6 in the saga, I fucked up. Sorry.) So, after a few re-fueling and impromptu cigar-purchasing stops in South and Central America, we wheel up to the deserted jetway at LAX. “Thought we were going to Elmendorf?” I asked. “This isn’t it?” the pilot replied, feigning worry. “No.”, I replied, “Looks like California. Fruits and nuts. All around. What’s going on? One minute we’re off to Texas, then Cali, then Texas again, now we end up here at the California airport of the iconic tower.” “Yeah, it’s confusing enough haulin’ civilians around. But when we get a call from Virginia, we tend to comply without any questions,” the pilot explains. “Aw, shit!”, I sort of exclaim, “Rack and Ruin called?” “Yeah”, the pilot replies, “Figures you’d know these guys. They said they were closer to LAX rather than Texas and had us divert here. In fact, you look over there, see that dark blue Chevy? That’s them; and evidently, your ride.” I tipped the airman from earlier a couple of cigars as he helped me with my gear off the plane and into the trunk of Rack and Ruin’s plain-Jane blue late modeled Chevy. Had to move the Sidewinder Missiles off to one side, though. “Most honorable Agents Lack and Luin!” I quipped in my faux-racist greeting. “What the hell, guys? I’ve got to get to Japan and get some newly rigidified digits.” “Let’s see your hand”, Agent Rack asks. “Nasty.” “Yeah”, I sigh “And with the medicos in South America and their penchant for plaster, I don’t so much have a left hand as more of an ankylosaur tail.” “Or Thagomizer”, Agent Ruin tittered. “Anyone gives you grief, and one upside the head should set them right. Or dead.” “You’re a riot, Ruin.” I replied, “But not entirely incorrect.” We all agreed that I really didn’t need any extra accouterments to make myself look more dangerous. I mean with my severe haircut, stern beard clip, and perpetual ‘Go fuck yourself’ scowl. “Yeah”, I replied, stroking the aforementioned beard, “I just can’t get that. I’m such a people person.” After Agents Rack and Ruin finished drying their eyes from laughing what I thought was en extremis, we finally got down to business. “So, what’s the skinny, guys”, I asked. “New marching orders?” “No. Not as such”, Agent Ruin said, still sniggering over my ‘people person’ comment. I see we’re moving. Agent Rack is just driving casually, like Chewbacca when they were waiting to see if the Empire went for that expensive Bothan code. “Then, what?” I asked, getting a slight bit piqued. “Well”, Agent Ruin noted, “When you went to South America, you took some of your artillery collection with, correct?” “You know I did. You even made some snide comments about my personal choice of sidearms and their ‘excessive’ calibers, if memory serves”, I reiterated. “And if you are proceeding normally, as you always do, they’re all nestled in the trunk of this very car. All cleaned, quiet, unloaded, and smelling sweetly of Hoppe’s Number 9 and WD 40, correct?” Rack inquired. “Yes?” I cautiously venture. “Well, ya’ big dummy, do you think they’re going to let you saunter into Tokyo armed like the Third Fleet?” Agent Ruin chuckled. “Um…well…I do have a Diplomatic Passport.” I ventured. “That’s not going to work this time.”, Agent Ruin said, shaking his head. “They’re tighter than Dick’s Hatband about sidearms. Want to bring in your Rigby SXS .500 Nitro Express double rifle? Not a problem. Sidearms, especially in your alien hunting calibers, nope.” Well, that’s just….*dandy!”, I reply, semi-put out. “Now what the hell am I going to do?” “Ever think that’s why Ruin and I are here, now?”, Rack asks. “And here I thought it was just so you could bask in the warm glow of my fucking wonderful personality. Or that you actually cared about me as a real goddamn human”, I joshed. “Ummm…yeah”, Rack replies, “There’s no way we can answer that without going on some Deadpool list. “ I agreed. “OK, here’s the deal: you get your sidearms, ammunition, speed loaders, brass knuckles, Asp, laser range finders, Sap, Zeiss scopes, Kukri, Wisconsin Cheese Whittler, Buck folding skinner, Marine K-Bar, those two ultra-illegal Cheburkov Cobra titanium switchblades...” “Three. Olga the KGB lady sent me one for Geologist’s Day.” “Ahem. Those threeultra-illegal Cheburkov switchblades, that Wyoming Speedholer, your MASER Time-Distance Computer, garrote, pocket rail gun and whatever else lethal you carry and deposit it in the iron box in the trunk. We’ll ensure that it’s delivered to Esme post-haste. And by post-haste I mean one of our guys will deliver it personally.” “Well…I suppose”, I conceded, “But best send someone who’s been to the house recently. I don’t know how much bigger Khan has grown since I left on this little fantasy trip. Wouldn’t want a star on the wall in Langley for someone eaten by a mastiff. Want to see a picture….Oh, bother. That’s right. My phone’s at the bottom of fucking Lake Maracaibo.” “Good point”, Ruin interjects, “Guess we’ll do a little road trip and deliver it ourselves. Best call Esme and let her know what’s going on.” “I have no objections to your proposals. Please give Esme this when you see her. I had some luck in the Calaveras Casino and if I don’t send her some mad money. Ouch. She’ll never forgive me for not taking her along to Japan.” I asked. “But I thought Esme hated Japan? Too crowded and too ‘fussy’, I believe was her estimation.” Ruin asked. “Yes, but once she saw the Ginza, all bets were off. Shopping the likes of which even Allah himself hasn’t seen.” I replied, slowly shaking my head. “I see”, Ruin said, “Well, since you’re off to Sapporo, perhaps you can do a recon for Esme on the shopping there.” “Not bad. Not bad at all.”, I smiled, “Now I know why I let you guys hang around with me.” So, as advertised, I am now standing on the tarmac at LAX, basically feeling naked. “Can’t I keep just one switchblade?” I moaned to Agent Rack. “Go ahead, if you’re really keen on donating it to Japanese customs”, he replied. “Fuckbuckets.” I groused. “There, there now. That’s the usual Dr. Rocknocker of which we’re all so fond.” Agent Ruin chuckled. “Remember, you do have that wallet-sized credit card gizmo from the Company. So you’re not entirely ‘naked’. Think of it as an emergency breechcloth.” He smiled. “I’d like a larger model if you don’t mind. It’s chilly out here.” I joshed. After Agents Rack and Ruin stripped me metaphorically naked as they de-weaponized me, they handed me a Business Class ticket to Tokyo, and a pass to the Japan Airlines Hospitality Suite and Lounge. “So sorry you guys can’t hang around and have a few farewell snorts”, I chided, “But you’ve got a bit of a drive, so best be off before the weather turns to shit.” “Who says we’re driving?” Agent Rack asked as he hooked a thumb over his shoulder at the ready and waiting C-130 cargo plane currently taxiing slowly in our direction. “Well, in that case”, I smiled even more broadly, “Let’s invite the flight crew to join us. That’ll make the flight home all that much more interesting.” After near tear-jerking farewell sentimentalities, i.e., “Piss on you”, “Get stuffed” and “Take a fuckin’ hike”; Agents Rack and Ruin, my weapons and the Agency’s plain-Jane Blue Chevy were all nestled snugger than buggers in ruggers in the belly of the thundering C-130. Now truly on my own, I trudge the hundred thousand or so centisteps to my departure terminal, make a quick recon that my flight’s still slated to go in a generally westward direction, and hightail it to the nearest courtesy desk to ask for a motorized cart to take me and my remaining luggage to the JAL Hospitality Suite. Hey. I’m old, infirm, and currently among the walking wounded. Anyone that disagrees risks an Ankylosaur tail club swat or Thagomizer to the skull. Finally ensconced in the JAL Hospitality Suite, Polo Lounge of course; I was drinking Tokyo Teas (3 oz. vodka, 2 oz. gin, 2 oz. rum, 1 oz. triple sec, 1 oz. Midori, good splash of lime juice, a slight splash of 7-Up (diet, of course), over ice with a lime wheel) with Pabst Blue Ribbon Extra 1844 chasers and Hangar One’s “Fog Point” vodka on the side, hiding from the brutish realities of this foul year of two thousand and twenty-something, Common Era… I’ve already called Esme and we’ve had a good, long chat. She still managed to give me her shopping list for whenever I find myself bored on the Ginza. She’ll be shocked when she learns that I’m not going to be in Tokyo long, but have 1st class tickets on the Bullet Train to Sapporo. Still, I’ll probably find myself in Pole Town or the Stellar Place there, trading piles of US greenbacks for locally produced Japanese curios and clothing. I can hardly wait. I order another round of drinks, as the wonderful attendants in the Hospitality Suite were bored out of their skulls because of the COVID-induced drop-in customers flying anywhere that requires a hospitality room stay, and I was virtually the only one around. They tried their level best to outdo each other when it comes to Japanese efficiency and friendliness. After a couple of hours, they ask if I would like something from the grill, as the day chef had “the COVID” and the night chef just arrived. A quick perusal of the menu and I chose a 28-ounce dry-aged Porterhouse and another round of drinks. I usually don’t like to eat too much before I fly, but JAL tells me the flight is going to be virtually empty, something like <121 pax, all told, so restroom availability shouldn’t be too much of a concern. Plus, who am I to say no to a free, blue 28-ounce dry-aged Porterhouse? There was a bit of difficulty conveying to the chef through the intermediaries of the hospitality just how I wanted my steak. “Blue,” I said. “Brue?” was the reply. “Rare. Very, very rare.” I continued. Look of total bewilderment. I drag out my Personal Language Pro, speak “Steak, very, very rate” into the infernal gizmo, and hand the contraption to the attendant. “珍しい、非常に珍しいステーキ?”[ Mezurashī, hijō ni mezurashī sutēki?] “Raw! Nama!” I say, louder than need be. They toddle off to find the chef. “How is it sir, that you would like your steak cooked?” he asks. “Very rare. Just a minute or two per side. Inside still cold.” I instructed. All I got for the trouble was a puzzled smile. “Give me the language gizmo…” I type in a few words… “お尻を洗い、角をノックオフして、ここから出してください” [O shiri o arai,-kaku o nokkuofu shite, koko kara dashite kudasai.] “Wash its ass, knock its horns off, and walk it out here.” “OH!” as the lightbulb pops. “Rare. Got it! Excellent!” the chef laughs and zips back to the kitchen. Like I always say, I’m nothing if not the international ambassador of amity and goodwill. “Crack tubes!” Dinner was fantastic. I do wish I could have somehow mailed the Porterhouse bone back home for Khan. After that hambone incident, he might even taste it. Finally on the plane, in an almost empty Business Class, the flight captain informs us that we’re headed to Haneda Airport Tokyo and anyone not headed in that direction better ‘haul ass off’ the flight or forever hold their peace. Late-night international flights tend to be a bit more wooly than your average Chicago to Omaha gig. Especially when the flight’s damn near empty and we have the next 12 hours or so to be best friends. We taxi, turn and head into the wind. I’m doctoring up a couple of dossiers and keeping my personal cabin attendant, Luna since there were two of us in Business and two business flight attendants, busy with her trying to play ‘Stump the Geologist’. “I’ll bet you never had this before.” She beamed and handed me a tumbler of very dangerous-looking brown liquor. I cautiously sniff, take a modest gulp, swirl and glug the rest down. “Ohishi Single Sherry Cask”, I say with a muffled belch. “Light. Fruity. An Englishman’s drink.” “Oh. You knew. Let me try again.” She smiles beatifically. “I have no objections to your proposal.” I smile as nicely as this crotchety old Komodo Dragon could. She returns with another flagon of spirits; it smells of obsidian, leather, and earth. I just had some of this back in LAX. I take a snort, smile, and shotgun the rest. “Hibiki Japanese Harmony…lovely stuff.” I smile. “A little light for my jaded palate, but I’d never turn it down if it were free.” “Oh, you win again. Wait. One more.” She smiles and skitters off to the galley. She returns with another soupçon of some more dangerous brown liquor. “Here, try this. It will make you very popular at social gatherings”. She smiles. Sniff. “Splendid.” Snort. Swirl. Smile. Shotgun. “Kanosuke New Born, if I’m not mistaken.” I smile back. “Very nice. I really do like this one.” “You too good at this. One more!” she stands and stomps off defiantly. She returns in a trice and hands me the glass. “Hmm…brown. Light notes of earth, leather, dating your daughter, and Kentucky… “Beam Suntory, right?” “You know them all!” she says, feigning irritation. “And I thank you. Those were all excellent. Now, anything in the dangerous clear liquor category? I asked. Luna smiled as I palmed off a 20k yen tip. “Oh, no sir. Wait until we land.” She demurred, referring to the gratuity; which is know is not de rigueur in the Orient, but she didn’t seem to mind. “Just in case we never make it to Tokyo”, I laughed, unknowingly presciently. We both chuckled about that last line as she tried out various sakes and shōchūs and an actual Japanese ‘White Liquor’ (ホワイトリカー), which were all excellent as was the company. I tell her that I need to get some work done and could she bring me a tall Rocknocker. After explain the origins and construction of the eponymous drink, she brings me one that must tip the scales at 1 or so liters. She settles down to an empty seat and I get after the work that I need to finish before we land. I’m about ½ way through my drink when it felt as if the plane hit a brick wall. She quivered and quaked and clutched at herself while I made some comments about the pilot’s mental health. We dropped like a paralyzed falcon, then just as suddenly, felt like it was an express elevator to Angel’s 11. The plane bucked and shimmied, wickedly. Then we slam-danced right and fell a few more stories. It was like we were in a Mixmaster and the owner was trying out every speed. The emergency lights in the 777-300ER popped on, and the fasten seat belt sign barked loudly so even sleeping travelers could enjoy the show. Rinse. Spin. Shudder. Repeat. Finally, the ride smooths out and we hear the captain on the blower. “This is your captain speaking…ah, we seem to have hit some uncharted turbulence back there.” “Thanks, Captain Obvious”, I muttered. “Everything’s A-OK. “ he reports. “That’s good”, I note. “But…” “There’s always the but…” I groan. “…we have a couple of warning lights for which we can’t quite account. So to just be safe and certain, we’re going to divert to Hawaii, get a clean bill of health and resume this flight once we make sure everything here is hunky-dory.” There were scattered groans and applause. Add them together and divide by two and the average response on the flight was “Meh. Whatever.” Except for the other guy in Business, with whom I hadn’t shared two words. He began to absolutely lose his shit. “Oh, man! We’re so screwed! Mechanical malfunction? What does that mean?” he positively fizzed with fear. The flight attendants tried to calm him down, to no avail. They basically gave up and said they’d report his misgivings to the Captain. I motioned over to my personal flight attendant, Luna, and asked if I could be of service. “Oh, Doctor Rock”, she smiled at me, “If you could speak with him. You are so calm, and he is…” “Losing his bloody mind”, I chuckled as I finished her sentence for her. “Of course, I’ll take a stab at it.” So, I grab my drink and ease over to my Business Class partner and introduce myself. “Hey, pal. How’s it going? I’m Dr. Rock, gentleman, scholar, and connoisseur of cigars and things alcoholic. You doing OK?” He looks at me with an ashen face and his eyes the size of bloodshot dinner plates. “Yeah. I’m Todd Schotts. I’m flying to Japan for business.” He mumbles “No surprise there,” I reply calmly and take a slug of my drink. “But now we’re all going to die. The plane is busted and we’ll crash…” he started off again. “So, Todd is it? Good. You drink?” I asked. “Yeah?”, he stammered back. I asked Luna to make us a fresh batch of my eponymous cocktails. “OK, Todd, listen up”, I began after the drinks were served, “I have flown literally millions of miles over the last 4 decades. On Aeroflot when it was still the USSR. On TACA (Take A Chance Airways), on Chalk’s in the Caribbean, on Bob’s Verrifast Plane Company in Rhodesia, on regional carriers that don’t even exist anymore. All over the world. Had some bad experiences flying, and me ol’ mugger, this ain’t one of them. This is nothing more than the glitch for this mission.” I chuckled lightly and complimented Luna on a fantastic drink. “Yeah…yeah…yeah…but we have to land and check out some lights…” Todd squealed. “Well now, Todd. It would be rather difficult to do any external assessment while in flight, don’t you agree?” I asked. “But we’re diverting. We have to land and that adds more risk. We’re going to crash and die!” he was coming more and more unglued. “I will bet you every cent you have on your person and home bank accounts that that will not happen”, I chuckled. That took him by surprise. At least it shut him up for a while. “Look, Todd. This is Boeing’s latest model. They have the most incredible safety record. And if a little clear air turbulence were to be knocking planes out of the sky, don’t you think we’d hear about it as the press went berserk?” I asked. “But they don’t know what the lights mean! What if one of the engines’s out? How far can we fly on one engine?” Todd stuttered. Having my fill of a supposedly grown man with inane childlike fears, I calmly replied, “All the way to the crash site.” He went white. “...hope we hit something hard. I don’t want to limp away from this.” He went limp. Then I went to my seat and motioned for Luna to prepare a reload. Of course, 45 minutes later, we land without incident at Daniel K. Inouye International Airport, Honolulu Hawaii. We were told to just wait around until they figure out what the problem if any, was. They had officials waiting at the end of the jetway to check our COVID status and passports before they let us loose in the terminal. I asked Luna if she knew this airport. She noted that she did. “Is there a JAL hospitality room here at this airport? I asked. “Yes, Doctor. It’s the Sakura Lounge. It is located on the third level above The Local, Terminal 2.” She replied. “Please notify whoever needs to know that that’s where I’ll be for the duration”, I smiled and handed her my business card. “See you soon, I hope.” “Oh, Dr. Rock”, she replied, “I am sure it is nothing much. We’ll be back in the air within mere hours.” “Well then”, I smiled, “Guess I’d better get ready to hoof it to the lounge.” “Oh, Doctor Rock”, she smiled, “No rush. I will call for you a courtesy cart. You are injured, you are Business, you are priority.” “I love that Asian efficiency.” I smiled back and toddled down the jetway. At the terminus of the jetway, I show my COVID-clear papers, dates and times of my Anti-Virus vaccine administrations, the letter from Virginia clearing me of all detention, and my red Russian diplomatic passport. While in the cart, whizzing our way to the JAL lounge, the driver said “Man! You must be some kind of VIP. You were through that welcoming committee in less than two minutes!” “Me? Nah!”, I chuckled, “Just an old phart of a geologist that they didn’t want to mess with. Not on such a bright, sunny day as this.” “I see you’re not wearing a mask.” The driver quipped. “Very observant. There are reasons for that.” I replied. He careens around a corner and if this were a normal pre-Covid day, I’m certain we’d have killed hundreds. However, the airport, as I’ve come to grow accustomed to, was virtually deserted. “Yeah? Like what?” he asks. “Well, Scooter, 1. I have an active and hardworking immune system that I let off the chain every once in a while for exercise. Got to let it know what it’s up against, right? 2. I’ve had all my shots and some that were experimental. They seem to have worked. And 3. I find it difficult to drink and smoke cigars while wearing a mask. However, if you’d prefer, I will mask up. No problem, though it still is optional.” “Nah, man”, he said, “I was just wondering if you were one of those religious idiots or conspiracy nuts.” Nope”, I smiled back, “Just another geologist out in the world plying his trade for cash. Y’know, whorin’ around for money.” He laughs aloud as we skid to a stop right in front of Lounge. I slip the guy a $20 and ask if he’d listen for the JAL flight I was just on. If we’re going on ahead today, I’d need him to scoot by and putt-putt me back to the plane. He laughs and pockets the $20 as quick as a mink ruts. “No worries. I’ll just hang around this area. I hear anything about the flight, I’ll come and let you know.” He grins. “Good man”, I say, as I hand him my card. “I’m Dr. Rocknocker. Call me Rock”. “And I’m Kapula Mano, call me Kap” he replies. “Good man”, I say again, “Hope to see you in a while.” He grins, floors his electric cart, and peels out at speeds approaching 4.5 MPH. I wander into the lounge, show my credentials, and am escorted to a post up on Mahogany Ridge. The bar is very quiet. Besides the bartender, I can’t see anyone else in the darkened and Smooth Jazz-infused drinking emporium. I order a local drink, a Mai Tai, just for the experience and something a bit different. It’s served in a goldfish bowl on a stem, bedecked with a slice of lime, a sprig of mint, a stick of sugar cane, a polychromatic orchid, and the obligate paper umbrella. “Ah. Mai Tai. I will enjoy it.” I said to no one in particular. One was enough, and I decided to go back to the old standard. Once I explained to the bartender what that was, he made them heroic and enthusiastically. I’m reading up on a random dossier, making notes in a new file, and puffing away on a Fuentes Onyx double Maduro Churchill cigar. I hear a slight cough coming from my right, and this here lovely lady, she sat to my immediate starboard and looked at me semi-quizzically. Not in the mood for shenanigans of any stripe, I give her the obligate Baja Canada nod and tilt of the drink. I return to my dossiers and continue to read and take notes. “Excuse me!” I hear. Fearing the worst, either the woman is Karen-oid anti-smoking or a religious fruit-and-nutburger, I slowly turn to face her and reply, somewhat glacially, I have to admit. “What?” “That cigar…” “Here we go…” I mutter, eyes rolling northward. “Smells exquisite. Could you tell me the brand? My husband would enjoy some like that.” She notes. Instantly my demeanor switches 1800. “Yes, ma’am. It’s an Arturo Fuentes Onyx. Churchill size, or 60 ring x 7” length, double Maduro. Here, take one for your husband. I have an ample supply.” I smile. “Oh, no. I couldn’t. Could I?” she asks. “Please. I insist.” I smile the best I could given the circumstances. “Thank you. You’re too kind…umm…Mr….?” “Doctor. Doctor Rocknocker. World traveler, oilman, and international ambassador of amity, good drinks, and fine cigars. Call me Rock” I said. “Oh! A Doctor?” she brightens. “Yes, of Petroleum Geology and Engineering. Not medicine.” I chuckle. She chuckles back. “And I am Hella Aaberg”, as she offers her hand for a quick shake. “Interesting name, Hella. Scandinavian or Old German heritage?” I ask. “On my father’s side. He’s Finnish.” She replies. “But I’ll wager your mother is not Scandinavian, correct?” I ask. “She was from Truk, an island…” “In the South Pacific, Micronesia. Was she from Weno city?” I asked. “Why yes. How could you possibly know that?” she asked. “Oh, I’ve been there. Great diving amongst the WWII wrecks. I think it’s actually called ‘Chuuk Lagoon’ or something like that now.” I said. “That’s right! Amazing. Where else have you been?” she asked. “Anywhere there’s oil, strife, booze, cigars, heavy explosives and typically long distances from whatever most normal people call civilization,” I replied with a chuckle. Suddenly, I hear a voice booming out behind me. “Why don’t you save that rapier-like wit for those musky-fuckers back home, Rocko?” My expression changes. My eyes pop fully wide open. “Hella?” I asked. “Yes?” “May I ask you a favor?” “You can ask…” “Thank you. Now, looking over my shoulder, is there a hulking goon of a person, thin up top, paunchy halfway down with the most ridiculously tiny sized shoes you’ve ever seen for a so-called grown man?” I ask. “Yes. Yes, there is.” She replies. “I thought so. Many thanks.” I spin and launch off my barstool and grab Toivo by the hand. He hadn’t seen my left-hand Thagomizer yet. “Toivo! You old sumbitch. What the flying fennec fox fuck are you, of all people, doing in Hawaii?” I laughed. “Just keeping an eye on you, Rock!” he laughed equally as loud. “No, fucking-A, seriously. What the actual fuck? What are you doing in this actual nice place?” I asked. “Just headed to Tokyo to conduct a bit of service company business. I walked into the lounge and smelled a foul cigar. I figured it can’t be the venerable Dr. Rocknocker. He’s back at some school up north terrorizing geology and engineering grads and undergrads.” Toivo laughed. “But there I was. Surprise!”, I laughed and pumped his hand. “What the fuck, Rock. Now what did you do?” he asks, referring to my Ankylosaur tail club left hand. “Ah, fuck. Long story. Oh, pardon me. Toivo, this is Hella. We were just talking about the South Seas Islands.” I said. “Planning on running off together?” Toivo laughs, to the amusement of neither party. “Oh, and this idiot is Toivo, a man with a congenital foot-in-mouth disorder. He’s mostly harmless.” I noted to Hella. Greetings were shared all around. Hella made some small excuses and said she needed to depart. I gave her another cigar for her husband, shook her hand, and wished her well. “Here’s my business card. If your husband has any questions, have him drop me a line.” I noted. Hella smiled beautifully. She said she would. Then she thanked me shook our hands, and like that, there she was, gone. “Well Toivo, you old bastard. Don't just stand there in the doorway like some lonesome goddamn mouse shit sheepherder, get your ass over here and have a drink.” I motioned over to my perch on Mahogany Ridge. “Don’t mind if I do”, he says as he deftly winds his way to a seat to my left, snagging a cigar out of my pocket on the way over. “You might want these”, I say in an exasperated tone, and hand him my gold Dunhill Hobnail lighter and V-cutter gizmo. He cuts and fires up his heater. “What you drinkin’, Rock”, he asks. “Anything with alcohol, as usual. You know that Toiv.” I reply. “No. I mean right now.” He clarifies. “Well, I had a Mai Tai. Very nice if you like fruity, flowery drinks. It’s the locals’ favorite.” I reply. “Sounds good. I’ll have several. And you?” Toivo asks. “My usual. The bartender is already apprised of the situation.” I reply. Toivo smiles the smile of one knowing his sobriety is going to be taken out for a swim. Hell, taken out and tossed into the deep end. Toivo and I sit there, swapping lies, smoking cigars and sipping at our toddies. Hell, Toivo was slurping them like a sump-pump during an extra-wet summer. We chattered about family, work, whether or not Tokyo was going to host the Olympics or if the COVID-boogie man scared everyone off. Toivo, always one afflicted with TB (“Tiny Bladder”) got up to go to the loo for the third time that hour. He left his pocket organizer on the bar and I swear on a stack of Origins of Species, I didn’t touch it. I reached over to his vacated seat to retrieve my cigar lighter when I looked down and saw in his organizer a tab that reads “Rack & Ruin”. “Oh. No. Fucking. Way.” I recoiled as I’d just reached out and petted a 6-foot hungover scorpion. “One of my best friends? Secretly allied with the Agency? No. Not possible.” I drained my drink and called for another. “No. No. No. It can’t be. No. No fucking way…” as doubt began to dissolve when I thought back to all those times I had just ‘run into’ Toivo. “But he’s oil patch as well. That could be chalked up to coincidence.” I ruminated quizzically in my brain. I quickly reflected back on J.M. Darhower: “Yes, you see, there’s no such thing as coincidence. There are no accidents in life. Everything that happens is the result of a calculated move that leads us to where we are.” She may be the author of the execrable New Adult Sempre series, which Esme likes and I loathe, but she might just be right on this occasion. Toivo return, lighter in the bladder and good sense. He never even noticed he’d left his organizer out in broad bar light for all to see. “So, Toivo, when’s your flight?” I ask. “Oh, man. Was I lucky. The JAL flight to Tokyo from Los Angeles had mechanical trouble and had to divert here. I got a ticket on the plane for that flight, when it continues. “You mean ‘if it continues’,” I replied. “Yeah. Yeah. That’s what I meant. Hey! Was that your flight?” he asks innocently. He’s really innocent of fieldcraft. I decide to have some fun at my old friend’s expense. “Yep. Hit some CAT (Clear Air Turbulence) and the JAL pilots reported some lighting problem. No apparent ruin to any of the systems. They relay racked their brains to figure it out, but they couldn’t that’s why I here.” I said, waiting for the words to swim upstream in Toivo’s coconut and make some sort of connection. “Yeah. Double lucky. No problem with the plane and I get to go to Japan early.” Toivo crookedly grins. “So, no trouble with the plane? Then why haven’t I heard that the flight’s going to resume?” I asked as I pushed a fresh, seriously strong drink to Toivo. “Oh, must have heard it in the john.” Toivo countered and tried to cover his tracks by taking a huge gulp of his drink and damn near dying coughing. I pound on Toivo’s back. “Heimlich time?” I ask. Toivo signals ‘no’. “Jesus Christ, Rock. What was that?” he asks. “Just my usual”, I innocently replied. “Holy fuck. No wonder you have the reputation of…” Toivo realizes too late that he’s said too much. “Yeah. They can rack you out. Really ruin a person if they’re not careful.” I reply icily. “Why, Rock. Whatever do you mean?” Toivo slurred as he realized he’s been caught out. “The jig is up, you turncoat. You know Agents Rack and Ruin from the agency. Right? You keeping tabs on me for them? You Quisling! You Benedict Arnold!” I almost was on the verge of losing my cool. “It was nothing. They approached me years ago as I kept being mentioned in your reports. They asked me for some information. One thing leads to another…” Toivo was ready for an Ankylosaur tail club swat to the bean. “Oh, put your fucking hands down, you asshole.” I smiled and chuckled. “You’re not mad?” Toivo slurred badly. I had the bartender make him another special drink. “No, Toivo. Not mad. Just disappointed.” I said, smiling like a Komodo Dragon just finishing up a fortnight-old wildebeest. Toivo sat there and puzzled and puzzled until his puzzler was sore. “You’re not going to kill me or anything rude like that?” Toivo asked, half-assedly trying to inject humor into the proceedings. “Nah. The paperwork’s too ridiculous for me to do another liberation. But, Jesus Fucking Christwagons, Toivo; you could have mentioned it to me. Fuck, I thought we were friends to the end?” I said, dejectedly. I was really getting through to Toivo. I could tell he was loaded; feeling like shit and massively deplorable. Great fieldcraft, indeed. I told him things “are what they are” and that I won’t blow his cover nor his honorarium. He began to feel better. I often wonder if he was serious about the sanctioning thing. Then I delivered the strategic missile strike. “Just remember, Toivo. I wrote your dossier for the Company…” He swivels to look at me. “And one for the KGB. Olga says ‘howdy’.” I grin evilly. Toivo short-circuited at that. Russia is his company’s bread and butter. Now he has the KGB as well as his best buddy looking over his shoulder at every move. I bought him a few more drinks and continued to needle him about his ’leading a double life’. He was well and truly fuckered when the electric tap-tap driver from before came looking for me to whisk me back to the plane. Seems it was simply some knocked-out wires on the plane, or slammed bulbs that were generating a false positive, indicating something other than the system that alerts one to something haywire went haywire. Toivo was pretty much down for the count. I got him sober enough to hand them his ticket and ensure that he was really supposed to be on this flight. Thing was; h e was in Economy, and I was, as always, in Business. I spoke to Luna, and the plane was going to be even less crowded than previously because some folks could or wouldn’t wait, or didn’t want to go on with the rest of the trip on a ‘damaged’ aircraft, or were just stupid and superstitious. “Luna, could I pay for the difference between Business and Economy for my less than 100% conscious friend here? He’s had a rough day.” I asked. “Dr. Rock. Just put him into Business. No one will be the wiser. Luna says so.” As she gave us a grand smile. “Luna, I owe you. Thanks so much.” I said. “Now get on board. Your friend looks like he needs all the downtime he can get.” “Yes, ma’am!” I said and saluted here be best I could which dragging a schnozzled Toivo down the jetway. I dumped Toivo in a window seat well away from my seat. I know Toivo. He snores like a semi-load of live hogs rocketing downhill locking up the brakes at 88 MPH. Surprise! There was no one else in Business. Luna looked at me, at Toivo, and gave me a thumbs up. Whatever I can write to further her career at JAL, she’ll have it before I deplane. We finally get everyone settled, and with Captain Kangaroo at the helm, we bounced gracelessly off the tarmac, into the warm, tropical Hawaiian air, finally headed for the Land of the Rising Sun. Toivo was snoring like a chainsaw hitting rusty nails as I worked on the various letters, communiques, and dossiers which needed updating before we reached touchdown. I gave Luna a thick letter with instructions not to open it until we were on the ground and Toivo and I were well off and away into the terminal. We left Hawaii at 1300 hours, so we should arrive at Tokyo Nareda around 4:00 pm, the previous day. I was so bereft of time and time zones, I couldn’t figure out what time it really was, as judged by my biometric rhythms, so I asked Luna for a stiff drink as I was kicking off my boots and going to attempt to get some kip. She brought me another liter or so eponymous drink. I was sawing logs by the time I slurped the last swig of that nifty drink. Suddenly, or later, I have no idea really, some loudmouth drunk asshole from way-the-fuck-back in economy-land toward the ass end of the plane staggered into Business demanding free drinks. Luna was nothing but civil, and asked him to both shut up and return to his seat. His air cabin hostess, or whatever the fuck they’re calling them these days, will attend to his needs. “Naw they won’t! They want me to pay for more drinks! I’m broke but I demand more booze! You fucking owe me.” railed the asshole. “I sat at the bar in Hawaii for four hours. Them fuckers charged me an arm and a leg!” “No, they don’t owe you shit”, I said in a voice that unmistakably loud and clear. “Fuck you, old man! You stay the fuck out of this!” he bellowed. “Shut up or I’ll do ya’!” “’Old man’? ‘Do me’? Excuse me. Luna, may I have a word alone with this individual?” I asked sweetly. Luna shook her head in the affirmative, and I stood up to confront this flagrant asshole. “Now look, Scooter. You have gone way, way over the fucking line. You are loud. You are abusive. You are obnoxious. And you stink. Plus you insulted a person who is just barely containing his righteous wrath right now. So, I’m giving you one and one only chance to shut up, sit back down before your body spontaneously develops all sort of bruises, contusions, broken bones, and unconsciousness.” I said calmly, evenly, and threateningly. “What da’ fuck you think you’re going to do…old man?” he screeched, trying to inflate himself into full mammalian threat posture, all 5’ 9” of it. He didn’t notice Toivo walking up quietly behind him, as Toivo was returning from the head, quiet as a moose. “Well, Scooter, I am an Air Marshall. Duly appointed, fully trained, and properly pissed off. Right now, I can arrest you, physically detain you, turn this flight around and take you to the Hawaiian police, at your cost for the inconvenience of the entire flight. Or I could arrest you, physically detain you, and turn you over to the Japanese authorities when we land. It’s really your choice. Choose wisely.” To be continued…⇝
10 Violent Women 13 Ghosts Abar, the First Black Superman Absolute Beginners Across 110th Street After Hours Alice Sweet Alice Alien from L.A. All Night Long Alone in the Dark The Alphabet An American Hippie in Israel The Amityville Horror The Amputee Anatomy of a Psycho Another Son of Sam The Apple Assault on Precinct 13 Attack of the Crab Monsters The Awful Dr. Orlof The Baby Barbarella Bayou The Beast with Five Fingers Beat Street Belladonna of Sadness Below the Belt Ben Beyond the Valley of the Dolls The Beyond Big Bad Mama The Big Cube The Big Doll House Billy the Kid Versus Dracula Black Caesar Black Christmas Black Gunn Black Mama, White Mama The Black Sleep Blacula Blast of Silence Blood Feast Blood Freak The Blood on Satan's Claw Bloody Birthday Blue Sunshine Blue Velvet Bobbie Jo and the Outlaw Bone The Boogens Border Radio Born in Flames The Born Losers Breakin' Breakin' 2: Electric Boogaloo Brewster McCloud Bride of the Monster Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia The Brood A Bucket of Blood Burnt Offerings Bus Riley's Back in Town Butcher, Baker, Nightmare Maker C.C. and Company Caged Caged Heat The Candy Snatchers Carnival Magic Carnival of Souls The Cat o' Nine Tails Chained for Life Cherry 2000 The Chocolate War Chopping Mall Christmas Evil The Church Ciao! Manhattan The City of the Dead Class Class of 1984 Cleopatra Jones Cleopatra Jones and the Casino of Gold Coffy College Confidential Cookie Count Yorga, Vampire Countryman Cover Me Babe The Crazies The Crazy World of Julius Vrooder Crumb Darktown Strutters Dead of Night Dead Sleep The Dead Zone Deadly Friend Death by Invitation Death Force Death Race 2000 Death Watch Deathsport The Decline of Western Civilization Part II: The Metal Years The Decline of Western Civilization Part III The Decline of Western Civilization Deep End Dementia Dementia 13 Demon Seed Diagonal Symphony Dirty Mary Crazy Larry Disco Godfather Dolemite The Doll Squad Dolls Dreamscape Drug Stories! Narcotic Nightmares and Hallucinogenic Hellrides Dudes DumbLand Dusty and Sweets McGee Earth Girls Are Easy Eating Raoul Electra Glide in Blue Emma Mae Equinox Escort Girl Evil Dead II The Evil Eyes of a Stranger The Fast and the Furious Fast-Walking Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill! Female Trouble Final Exam Five Minutes to Live Five on the Black Hand Side Fleshpot on 42nd Street The Fog The Foreigner The Fox Foxy Brown Frankenstein 1970 Freaked Freaks Free Radicals: A History of Experimental Film Fright From Beyond The Full Treatment Funeral Parade of Roses Galaxy of Terror The Gamma People Ganja & Hess The Garbage Pail Kids Movie Gator Ghosts Before Breakfast Ghoulies The Giant Spider Invasion Girls on the Loose God Told Me To Grand Theft Auto The Grandmother Greaser's Palace Grizzly Guru, the Mad Monk Gymkata The Hand Hard Ticket to Hawaii Hardcore The Harder They Come Hatchet for the Honeymoon He Knows You're Alone Head Heavenly Bodies Hell Up In Harlem Hell's Angels '69 Hercules Here We Go Round the Mulberry Bush Hex The Hidden The Honeymoon Killers Horror Express House The House by the Cemetery The House of Seven Corpses House of Women The Hunger Häxan I Bury the Living I Saw What You Did I Was a Teenage Serial Killer I'm Gonna Git You Sucka The Incredibly Strange Creatures Who Stopped Living and Became Mixed-Up Zombies!!? Incubus The Iron Rose It's a Small World It's Alive J.C. Jennifer on My Mind Jesse James Meets Frankenstein's Daughter Jigoku Kansas City Bomber Killer Party Kiss of the Tarantula Kitten with a Whip Ladies and Gentlemen, the Fabulous Stains Lady Snowblood Lady Snowblood 2: Love Song of Vengeance Lady Street Fighter Land of Doom The Last Man on Earth The Lawnmower Man The Legend of Hell House The Legend of Lylah Clare Lemora: A Child's Tale of the Supernatural Let's Kill Uncle Let's Scare Jessica to Death Lifeforce Little Darlings Little Stabs at Happiness Mac and Me Machine Gun McCain The Mack Macon County Line Made in U.S.A. Madhouse Making Mr. Right Maniac The Manitou Mark of the Vampire Mary Jane's Not a Virgin Anymore Massacre Mafia Style Meshes of the Afternoon Miami Connection Mixed Blood Monster a-Go Go Motel Hell Mudhoney Multiple Maniacs Multiple SIDosis The Mummy's Shroud The Mummy The Muthers Myra Breckinridge Mystery Train Near Dark Never Too Young to Die The New Centurions Night of the Creeps Night of the Demon Night of the Eagle Night of the Lepus Night of the Living Dead Night School Night Train to Terror The Night Visitor The Ninth Configuration Notes on the Circus Nothing Lasts Forever Orca Orchard Street Outlaw Blues The Panic in Needle Park Pat Garrett & Billy the Kid Performance Phase IV Piranha Plan 9 from Outer Space Poltergeist Polyester Poor Pretty Eddie Portrait of Jason Possession Premonitions Following an Evil Deed Pretty Poison The Private Files of J. Edgar Hoover Private Parts Private Property Psych-Out Psychomania The Psychopath Punk Vacation Putney Swope The Pyramid The Queen Rabid Race with the Devil Rad Rappin' Rat Pfink a Boo Boo Razorback Rebel Rousers Red Sonja Repo Man Return to Macon County Rich Kids Riki-Oh: The Story of Ricky The Road to Ruin Roadgames Roar The Robot vs. The Aztec Mummy Roller Boogie The Sadist Santa Claus Satanis: The Devil's Mass Scary Movie Scenes from the Class Struggle in Beverly Hills Scream Blacula Scream Screaming Mimi Secret Ceremony Shack Out on 101 Shanks She Freak Shock Shoot First, Die Later The Shooting The Silent Partner Sister Street Fighter Sisters Six Men Getting Sick Skidoo The Slumber Party Massacre Smithereens Snapshot Some Call It Loving Sometimes Aunt Martha Does Dreadful Things Sonny Boy Spider Baby Spine Tingler! The William Castle Story The Stepfather Strait-Jacket Strange Behavior Stunt Rock Stunts Suburbia Sugar Hill The Super Cops Super Fly Superstition Suspiria The Swinger Symbiopsychotaxiplasm: Take One Symmetricks The Take Tell Your Children The Tempest Terminal Island The Terminal Man The Terror of Tiny Town The Terror The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2 Thank God It's Friday They Live The Thing That Couldn't Die Three in the Attic Times Square The Tingler Tower of Evil The Town That Dreaded Sundown Trick Baby The Trip Twice Upon a Time The Twilight People Twin Peaks: Fire Walk with Me Two Thousand Maniacs! Two-Lane Blacktop The Twonky The Undertaker and His Pals The Unholy Rollers The Unholy Three Up in the Cellar Vanishing Point Venus in Furs Vibes Videodrome Vigilante The Visitor Warriors of the Year 2072 West of Zanzibar When a Stranger Calls White Lightning Who's That Girl The Who: The Kids Are Alright Whoever Slew Auntie Roo? Wicked, Wicked The Wicker Man Wild at Heart Wild Guitar Wild Seed Willard Willie Dynamite Witchboard Witchfinder General Women's Prison The World's Greatest Sinner Xanadu Zaat Zabriskie Point Zardoz The Zodiac Killer
[For Sale] Making Space for Baby - Selling Sealed Indie Records - Mostly Colored, Limited/Exclusives, Signed, and Box Sets
Preparing for a baby early next year and the wife is making me sell a lot of my personal collection to make some space. Long-time lurkecollector (as shaznay4508), first-time poster. Find my 100% positive feedback and other items for sale on Discogs as shaznay4508 and on eBay as musicsaves4508. Happy to get verified if that is possible. Items are all in-hand and ready to ship from North Carolina within 24 hours of payment. Everything is factory sealed and in Mint/Near Mint condition unless stated otherwise; most are Limited Edition or Exclusive releases, and most will include download codes. I'm a bit manic about my records, so everything has been stored carefully in a smoke-free home. I want my records to make it to a good home in the same condition they left my home; so you can rest assured I will do my best to package all items securely and carefully. Some will be priced to sell and some may be priced higher, probably because I have a personal connection and would really prefer to keep it part of the hoard. I am tired of eBay and Discogs fees and have been wanting to try posting here for once to see if I have traction or just get shamed. The stuff listed is only a small selection of my actual collection, so let me know if you have any questions/offers/trades (I have one copy of Endless, not for sale, but I would trade it for Black Friday Blonde). Keep in mind I have been subscribed to Vinyl Me Please and Third Man Vault for quite some time; if you know of any releases on your want list, make me an offer I can't refuse. If this goes well I can post more. Shipping is $5 up to 5 discs (up to, every 5 LPs adds $5 more) (Media Mail to the US only; message me for international options). Prefer Paypal, but can accept Venmo, Cash App, and ChaseQuick Pay. -Standard, Colored, Limited Edition, & Exclusive Releases: Angel Olsen - My Woman (Purple) - 2LP - $45 Angel Olsen - Phases (Olive Green) - LP - $40 Aphex Twin - Syro (Gatefold, Black) - 3LP - $25 Better Oblivion Community Center – Better Oblivion Community Center (Orange LP) - $40 Car Seat Headrest - Teens of Denial (Black) - 2LP - $20 Clams Casino - 32 Levels (White) - $40 Cody Jinks – Lifers (VMP, Yellow/Red Splatter) - $70 Dave Chappelle - The Age of Spin & Deep In the Heart of Texas (Clear w/ Black Smoke) - 4LP - $40 DIIV - Is The Is Are Special Edition (Clear w/ Marbled Blue/Yellow, Pink/Red), - 2LP - $50 Father John Misty - Pure Comedy (Loser, Colored) - 2LP $35 Father John Misty - Fear Fun (Red) - LP - $40 Florist - Emily Alone (Black/White Split) - $50 Flume - Skin (Purple Swirl) - 2LP - $95 Frightened Rabbit - Midnight Organ Fight (180g, Black LP, 10th Ann. Ed.) - $50 Future Islands - The Far Field (180g, White LP) - $25 Jim James - Eternally Even (Gold LP) - $25 Jungle - For Ever (Gold) - 2LP - $35 Kanye West/Jay Z - Watch the Throne (Official Picture Disc)- 2LP (VG+) - $95 Khruangbin – Live At Lincoln Hall (Purple LP) - $80 Khruangbin – The Universe Smiles Upon You (White LP) - $100 Khruangbin – 全てが君に微笑む (Japan Exclusive compilation of early Khruangbin singles) - $75 Kyle Dixon, Michael Stein – Stranger Things Volume One (Soundtrack, Score) (Clear w/ Black Smoke) - 2LP - $30 Led Zeppelin - Physical Graffiti Remastered Deluxe Edition (180g, Black) - 3LP - $50 Led Zeppelin – The Complete BBC Sessions (Black LP) - $120 Leon Bridges - Coming Home (Red LP) - $100 Linkin Park - Hybrid Theory (Black LP) - $25 Mac Demarco - make offers on his entire discography Maggie Rogers - Heard It In A Past Life (Red LP) - $50 Migos - Culture (Gold LP) - $25 Mountain Goats - Goths - 3LP (2 Red, 1 Green) - $25 Nina Simone - At Town Hall (Pink) - $25 Pink Floyd - The Wall (180g, Black) - 2LP - $40 Radiohead - In Rainbows (Black) - $20 Rhye - Blood LP (2LP, Purple) + Summer Days (12", Red) - 3LP - $75 Sleigh Bells - Treats (180g, Black, Issued unsealed in a poly outer bag) - LP - $20 Sylvan Esso - Sylvan Esso (Coke Bottle Clear LP) - $75 Tame Impala - Currents - (Violet/Amber) (US Edition) - 2LP - $100 The Avalanches – Wildflower (Red) - 2LP - $55 The Band - Music From Big Pink (Pink) 2LP - $65 The Beatles - Abbey Road (Black) - LP - $30 The War On Drugs – A Deeper Understanding (Yellow/Orange) - 2LP - $60 The War On Drugs – Slave Ambient (Blue) - 2LP - $55 Toro y Moi - What For? (Blue/White Starburst) - LP - $40 Tops - Sugar at the Gate (Yellow LP) - $20 The Mountain Goats – Beat The Champ - 3L P(1 Orange, 1 Green, 1 Red) - $40 Vampire Weekend - Father of the Bride (Spotify, Blue/Green Split) - $95 Viktor Vaughn (MF DOOM) - Vaudeville Villain (Silver, 15th Ann. Ed.) - $30 Weezer - The Blue Album (180g, Blue) - $40 -Signed: J Cole - KOD (Red, Signed) - $75 Kacey Musgraves - A Very Kacey Christmas - (Signed, Green) Amazon Exclusive Edition - $200 Kendrick Lamar - Untitled Unmastered. (Black, Signed) - $50 Mac Demarco - This Old Dog (Signed Poster, White Vinyl) - $80 Matt Morton - Apollo 11 (Soundtrack) (Black, Signed by both Morton and Director Todd Douglas Miller) - $30 Mitski - Be the Cowboy (Signed Poster, Polaroids, /100) - $50 TLC - TLC (Black, Signed LP) - $50 Vampire Weekend - Father of the Bride (Black, Signed) - 2LP - $100 -Box Sets: Amy Winehouse - The Collection (Black) - 8LP - $120 Black Eyed Peas - The Complete Vinyl Collection (12LP) - $160 David Bowie - Sound & Vision (1989, Clear) (Used) - 6LP - $180 DJ Koze - Knock Knock (Indie Exclusive) 3LP+7"+10"+CD Boxset - $45 Ella Fitzgerald & Louis Armstrong – Complete Studio Master Takes (Black 5LP, Blue 10") - 6LP - $80 George Harrison - All Things Must Pass (Black, 2017 Lt Ed) 3LP - $60 Gorillaz - The Now Now Deluxe Box Set(180g, Blue) - LP - $75 La La Land OST - The Complete Musical Experience 2CD/3LP (Blue, Black) - $105 My Morning Jacket - Okonokos (Live at The Fillmore San Fran) - 4LP - $40 Red Hot Chili Peppers - Stadium Arcadium - 4LP - $35 Run the Jewels - RTJ3 (Limited Edition Super Vinyl) (Blue 2LP, Gold 2LP) - 4LP - $120 Songs: Ohia - Love & Work The Lioness Sessions Box Set (Purple) - 2LP - $60 Sufjan Stevens - Songs For Christmas (Black) - 5LP - $55 The Beatles Stereo Box Set(180g, Box Set + Book) - 16LP - $500 The War On Drugs – A Deeper Understanding (Coke Bottle Clear 2LP, Black 12", Clear 7", + CD) - $80 Thundercat - Drunk 4x10 inch (Red) - $35
So, you wanna go to SHOT show? You think it's all fun and games? Get to play with guns? See Jesse James and R. Lee Ermey? SHOT show is the annual pilgrimage of the unwashed masses to Las Vegas to rub elbows with youtube celebrities, bloggers and overseas businessmen copying US made equipment and share infectious disease. If you love guns, gambling and gonorrhea - SHOT show is for you! It is not my typical idea of a good time. I am not a big fan of Las Vegas. However: I do attend for a few reasons. First, I do enjoy travel and I'm platinum on AA so I can usually score an upgrade. Second, industry people are in there that I do hundreds of thousands if not millions of dollars with business with so it's nice to put a face with the name and see what deals are out there. SHOT for me has been a bust for the past few years. Being a value guy, I want to buy at $1000 and sell at $3000 and as of recently the gun business is more like buy for $1 and sell for $1.10 if you get what I mean. We used to do business at SHOT and now it's just checking in on foursquare, instagram and rubbing elbows with bloggers and the like. I want to make money, not spend money so this is very annoying to me. Anyways, onto the play by play. Monday, January 22nd. One day before SHOT show. The TSA line is a shitshow thanks to, well TSA. I have pre check and breeze right through. I slog my way to the lounge, as shitty as it is to wait for my winged chariot to DFW. I have gone from being in an abusive relationship with Delta to being in an abusive relationship with AA. Although if you really want to experience the battered spouse feeling, UA is a few gates over. I board my flight to Dallas/FW and my Renton assembled chariot is having a problem with one of the ring laser gyros, the hate agent tells us we are delayed for an indeterminate amount of time. Even as an AA Plat, I have no cleared upgrades. I am number 4 on the list with one seat open to Dallas/FW. I am 39/61 for Dallas/FW to LAX. Fuck my life. I gate check my bags to make life easier for me and the rest of the folks slumming it. If I don't have to worry about being short on time, I like to gate check to free up bins for those who are not as fortunate. Eventually I board and ask the FA to say hi to the captain and get a ride report. Light chop all over north texas today and we're going to take the long way around the field due to wind. Me: I guess it's true. Dallas always does seem to blow a little harder in the postseason... CA: Hahhahaha FO: You got that right! Go eagles! Having brightened the day of the flight crew, I head back to my MCE seat in Y and kick back and relax by listening to my Rumours, my favorite fleetwood mac album on my ipod. We land at Dallas an hour and a half late eating into my 4 hour spa layover I had planned. I hightail it to the Centurion lounge in terminal D, my home away from home. Thankfully I don't need a massage since I brought my friend Laura some homemade chocolate rice crispy squares and she gave me a one hour massage and gave me a happy ending. I grab a plate and help myself to some of the excellent chicken and some mashed red potatoes and bacon It is cheesy and DELICIOUS. Between that and the poblano rice, I can feel it going straight to my thighs. No, I do not care. NOM NOM NOM https://imgur.com/a/WBcyd The lounge is packed. The bar is full and I grab a quick single malt as I have my meal since American's not going to feed me. They begin boarding to LAX as I walk out of the lounge. I make it to the gate and the entire plane has boarded because the screens say they are boarding group 9. Giving the FA a friendly nod, I ask to say hi to the captain and I stride through J and say hello to the two gentlemen flying today. Aviation nerd protip: CHECK YOUR ROUTING! I didn't, but I had a hunch since arriving from the east we'd get the ANJLL 1 or the HLYWD 1 arrival. I got a 50/50 shot. Let's see how good I am. Drop my bags at the threshold, poke my head in. Me: Howdy guys, we still looking good for the Hollywood 1 tonight? CA: Man, you did your homework yes we are! GABBL transition as a matter of fact! Damn I'm good. FC: Nice! I know you guys take a rash of crap from drunk Parker so I like to say hello to the folks who do the heavy lifting and I'm a total airplane dork so it's cool to check the place out. CA: I'm an airplane dork too! I'm Jeff Rowland, nice to meet ya! SUPER nice guy. He gave me a tour of the airplane, even took a picture of me in the left seat. https://imgur.com/a/xVIy6 Here he is showing me some stuff around the airplane. He gives me the grand tour of the 787-9 including this neat feature that actually measures how many G's they have on landing so they know whether or not they need an overweight landing inspection or not. AMAZING airplane. I'm shown all the bells and whistles and they tell me how fun the plane is to fly. Jeff takes a few pics of me in the best seat of the house. I tell the guys I'll see them at the in and out burger on Sepuldeva and I hike back to my seat in W. The FA's were wondering where I was, and they gave away my assigned seat. I take an empty center aisle seat and make life easier for everyone. W in the 787-9 is a solid hard product. The BE Aerospace MI-Q seat is a good ride whether in it for 3 hours to LAX or 13 to CDG like I was in a few months ago. https://imgur.com/a/iPHVh The boarding door closes for an on time departure and I watch another airplane movie - American Made with Tom Cruise. He's so dreamy. Jeff's PA's were really lame and had a whole bunch of people laughing in the back on the way to LA. The flight was not long enough. The landing is a perfect grease job on 24L and we await a tug to get towed into gate 41 at LAX. I say thanks again to the flight crew - worthy of note, http://andystravelblog.boardingarea.com/2018/01/29/pilots-lette My next hop via a 737 to LAS is uneventful. I stop at the Centurion lounge for some freshly squeezed OJ. It is DELICIOUS as AA's app tells me my bags are being unloaded. I grab my things and hop in the last car Hertz has in the gold section - a 2016 Toyota Corolla. Times are rough. I'm at Circus Circus again. I check in and tell the lady about the last time I was there with the neighbors and the extremely loud sex. Full story: tail end of this - https://www.reddit.com/guns/comments/5podeq/shot_2017my_tales_of_adventure_in_las_vegas/ She damn near busts a gut laughing and upgrades me to a skyrise room and gives me a line pass and complimentary buffet. I arrive to my room where housekeeping has not cleaned it to my exacting specifications. Specifically, there are like three hairballs from a cat in the chair next to the desk. I ask for another room and they set it up for me. It's now 1AM. In and out burger is closed. Fuck. Tuesday, January 23rd SHOT Show Day One You gotta get into the palazzo garage before 8AM or you are not getting a spot. I get in at 8:01 and miraculously find a spot. They are doing so much construction at the resort that I don't recognize it. I grab my pass and check in with some other industry associates. My first day is semi-eventful as I check out the sig 365, a very promising concealed carry product as well as a few other really neat things and many many useless items. I run into u/chugbleach in the basement and we trade stories. He shows me some neat stuff he's been working on. We plan to dine later in the week and I continue walking the show when I see the most amazing booth ever. Backstory: https://www.reddit.com/guns/comments/7ag6oj/gsg_stg_44/dp9u9hw/ I let fluff buy the hook, he posts $120 to win $100 if he gets his HMG gun by the end of Q1. If gun arrives on time, he gets $100 from me. If no, I get $120 from him. I walk back to chug. FC: DUDE DUDE DUDE YOU GOTTA SEE THIS COME QUICK CB: Okay lets go We walk briskly not 100 feet. I stop quickly. Chug looks confused. I gesticulate wildly to our right. This is what we see. I crack up laughing and can barely contain myself. This is the greatest thing I have seen in weeks. On that note it is time to take a break for lunch. I head up to one of my vendors who has a hospitality suite for the show and they are serving jambalaya for lunch every day. As a Louisiana boy, we do love jambalaya. There's a reason I spend lots of money with them. I eat and have a coke as I trade gun jokes with other gun dealers. I wander around the show and nothing else jumps at me. I walk the footbridge over to the Wynn to see how the house is doing. The poker room is full. I draw $2500 from my credit line and head down to the craps table to throw some dice. I have some mixed success as it's getting late and I want to hit the in and out burger so as I'm getting ready to leave, Laura sends me a bunch of filthy text messages about what she wants to do to me when I get back. My chips and raging boner leave the tables quickly as I duck into the bathroom to tell her that if she wants to treat me like a prisoner on a conjugal visit - I went to 8 years of catholic school, she's entering a world of pain. She says game on. After a quick trip to the cage to cash out, I'm up or down something like $100. I swing by in and out burger for a double double. It is delicious. Sleepy time. Wednesday, January 24th. Day 2 of SHOT show. Alarm goes off at 7:45 AM. I wash up, eat and get breakfast. In the garage by 8:15. Still manage to find a spot! Attendance is down this year. I get in line at Larue. They run out of dillo dust at 8:39. This is the line at 8:35 https://imgur.com/a/KLHrg The show opens at 8:30. Fuck my life. I grab a dillo and some stickers for some friends and a few HK calendars. I wander around and talk to the guys over at Franklin Armory and their new SBR that isn't an SBR, SBS that isn't an SBS and rifle that isn't really a rifle BUT IS STILL A FIREARM. The projectiles they want to sell have fin stabilization and it's like a 55 grain flying Lombardi trophy. It's an interesting idea but I'm not 100% certain I would buy one personally. I trade war stories with a few other friends I meet up with at the show. I head down to the basement and I'm looking at a few accessories from Tactical Walls. Just as I'm ready to leave - Joe Mantegna shows up and says hi to the reps. FC: Mr Mantegna! I love your work! Can I get a picture? JM: Sure. Someone grabs my phone and snaps a pic FC: You are great in the simpsons as Fat Tony. Just the best! JM: (in fat tony voice) I don't get mad. I get stabby. FC: That's awesome! Thanks! Enjoy the show! I send the pics to some friends who enjoy snappy Mamet plays and they are all jealous. I head down to the basement. The ATF booth is vacant due to the government shutdown. So is the FBI booth. Oh well. I head upstairs to the manufacturer supplier section and I find out that Olympic Arms is still in business making things. I do a lap and get some business cards from some precision machine companies that can make some elaborate parts. Jambalaya again for lunch. Nom nom nom. I head down to FN to talk shop with the guys down there and give them shit. FN's new innovation is a two tone FDE/Black gun. So now 50% of the gun does not have to match. I trade barbs with Mike Hoffman and we debate the age old question, is it really gay if you can suck your own cock? Just as I mention this, Steve Bannon shows up at the booth. That's my stop. I say hello to the director of commercial sales on my way out and go to the Knights booth where I find they're making 6.5 Creed stuff now. Interesting how quickly that cartridge has caught on. I talk shop with a few of the KAC guys and then I steal some more HK Kalendars for friends back home. I hit the Circus Circus buffet with my free pass for the unpleasantness and it is not that great at all. They ran out of roast beef. I mean, really? SHOT SHOW IS IN TOWN! We are beef eating gun owners, and you're gonna run out of roast beef? This would never happen at the Wynn, an amazing property. I make a mental note to sell my MGM Mirage stock and buy some Wynn in the morning. I head back to the craps table and lose a shitload of money. I witness a heater happen after I color up and watch people go nuts. My luck at MGM properties has not been good. Ugh. I don't feel like doing gunnit live and head to sleep early. Thursday, January 25th. Day 3 of SHOT show. I message Chug and let him know that it's gotta be tonight if we're gonna hang since I fly out Friday night for Boston. We plan to make plans for dinner. I head to the show and get there at 3 minutes to 8. One of my best customers calls me wanting an XM2010. I head over to Remington and through some finagling they manage to say YES WE CAN SELL IT EVEN THOUGH WE ARE NOT SUPPOSED TO SELL IT. I work up a quote and get the customer the info and tell him what's what. I visit the nighthawk custom booth where they have a new gun chambered in .45 APC. https://imgur.com/a/9bNe7 I kid with a few FBI guys about their attention to detail. I saunter about the show. Leatherman Tool Group always has some nice things to play with. Tim Leatherman is engraving tools for people with his autograph. I'm happy with all of his products I own and I stop by to shake his hand and tell him that my wave has saved my ass on a hundred different occasions and I once resurrected a Ford off the side of the road. He says he loves hearing the stories and he's a pretty nice guy. I wander about a little more and I find myself over at the Emerson Knife Company booth looking around. For those not in the know, Emerson has a bunch of specwar types as customers. Damn good knives and operator customers. One of them is behind the table wearing a badge that says JOHN SMITH - JOHN SMITH INC. He's got arms that are as thick as my legs and he looks like a Navy Seal. He bolts upright from his seat and looks at my wrist. "Is that a 1675?" FC: Sure is! Damn good eye! My dad won it in an underground poker game in Hong Kong in 1968 from a couple of navy guys on shore leave that flew F4's off Dixie Station. "Holy crap, that's fucking awesome!" We talk watches and guns and killing people for a while. He says he's in the navy and the budweiser insignia necklace he is wearing tells me everything I need to know. Nice guy. I wonder what his real name is as the show closes down and as I walk out the magpul booth gives me a laugh. A paper sign on the door says "DOOR IS LOUD AF CLOSE GENTLY" I'm not kidding - https://imgur.com/a/GgSkU I head over to Chug's hotel and he gives me the grand tour. It's way nicer than my hotel. We go out and have dinner. I'm asked if I like Thai. FC: Tie good, you like shirt? Nobody gets my simpsons jokes. We go to dinner where a good time is had by all. Chug gets a call and needs to drop off a SHOT show pass to a co-worker of his flying in. As opposed to all the mechanics of a dead drop at the palazzo etc I tell him fuck it, just give it to me and I'll pick him up from the airport. In exchange, I tell him I want all the leftover chicken wings from the Thai place. It's a deal. I grab the wings and head to McCarran. There's a guy in a BRZ hauling ass and I decide to see what this shitbox can do. I get the Corolla up to 115 MPH on the highway before backing down to a more sensible speed. After 5 minutes of MARCO / POLO I find the fellow and give him his shot show pass and a ride to his hotel. I find it funny that last year I ran an unapproved uber substitute and here we are again and the same thing is happening. I'm offered gas money or a beer after the show and I tell him hey, it's your first time at SHOT - enjoy the show, don't sweat it. I hightail it up the strip to the Palazzo where I play a bit and eventually see a heater in progress. I split the 6/8 for $120 each and they hit. I press it and they hit again. Maybe this won't be a bad trip after all. Table craps out and I cash out still down a few bucks but better than when I started. By the time I make it back to the room, it's 4AM. I eat the chicken wings. They're delicious. Friday, January 26th. Day 4 of SHOT show. I've gotten most of what I want to get done, done. I ordered some Firearm Instructor body armor from one of my guys since lots of people want me dead first thing in the AM and things were going good. I sleep in and debate what I want for breakfast when I realize things are going a little too good. Nothing really bad has happened this trip yet. I pack up and get ready to leave the hotel when I get a push notification. MOTHERFUCKER My flight to Boston has been canceled. My confirmed first class seats on one of the hardest to upgrade legs in the entire AA route network - LAX to BOS, gone. AA proactively books me on the flight leaving LA a few hours later IN COACH. A middle seat, even. No, just no. I call American and they tell me the plane is broken. Damnit. I look on the app for acceptable reroutings and there is nothing available in first. I say fuck it, I'll deal with this shit later. I have the rental car until midnight, lots of time to make a new plan. I check out of the hotel, throw my bags in the car and head down to the show and it's a freaking ghost town. Parking spaces everywhere. I say bye to a few folks as my phone sends me a notification. WSJ: STEVE WYNN ACCUSED OF DECADES OF SEXUAL MISCONDUCT Oh FUCK MY LIFE. I bought the stock back on Wednesday. GODDAMNIT STEVE WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS BULLSHIT I skip lunch and walk across the street to the Wynn and their corporate office. You see, I have a simple theory. If the allegations are false, they should have no problem sending someone out to listen to my concerns and say the allegations are false and here's everything we're doing to fight it. If the allegations are true, they'll send down hired goons to throw me out the door. It's sorta like spousal infidelity. If A finds evidence of B cheating, credit card statements, sexts, racy pictures, etc - and A confronts B and B admits it and says I want a divorce, B is guilty. If B says A is cheating on them what the fuck are you doing looking at my credit card statements and phone you're the one that's wrong and invading my privacy get the fuck out of my house - B is really guilty. That's the theory. If they go full retard and bounce me off the property, the stock is probably going to go down some more. If they address the concerns, things should not be as bad. Since I walked through the property the last time I was in town, I knew where the corporate office was. The name on my broker statement says WYNN RESPORTS and so did the sign on the doors. I walk through the doors and to the end of the hallway where there's another electronically locked door that is unlocked. There's a security guard who is nonplussed sitting at a desk wondering if I'm lost. I explain to him that I'm a shareholder and I want to know what this company is doing about this catastrophe. He says he can't say/do anything and I'm instructed to leave. I ask him if he can take a message. He says yes, and I'm like you just said you can't do anything. So what's that supposed to mean? I argue with him about what he supposedly can and cannot do as I eat raspberry macrons that have been plated at the reception area of the corporate office. THESE BETTER BE THE BEST FUCKING MACARONS I HAVE EVER EATEN GODDAMNIT. They are. Fuck. He tells me that my best bet is to talk to someone else at the resort, not him. Fine. I leave and head to the concierge desk - because from one concierge to another, we can solve problems. I explain the situation and instead of routing me to the press office or investor relations - they give me a phone and tell me to speak to guest services. AKA the people that help you with your stay as a guest of the hotel. I give the lady taking the message about 15 minutes worth of comments and she's assured me that they'll be passed along to management. Given the circumstances I think that's the best I'm going to do today. Now, there's the issue of me being stuck in vegas for another night. I look down at my phone and AA has offered three itineraries flying out of McCarran tomorrow IN FIRST CLASS that gets me to Boston in a timely fashion. I jump on the 625AM flight to Charlotte. This means I need to be at the car rental by 525AM and out the door around 0430. Fuck my life. And I have nowhere to sleep/showeshit/shave. As I'm walking back to the esplanade to cross back over to the Palazzo where my car is, I notice the registration desk. I get in line and a lovely lady asks what she can do for me. I tell her that I'm a shareholder and I'm pretty mad about the way the company is handling their sex offender in chief. And given the $18 haircut I took on the stock today, if there's an angry shareholder discount on a room tonight I think that would be more than fair given the circumstances. She agrees and gets me a bottle of water and the manager. The manager asks me if I've stayed at the hotel before, the answer is yes and asks to see my ID so she can see if she can plug me in at a repeat guest rate. A few minutes go by and I wait patiently at the desk when I'm tapped on the shoulder. There's two former NFL linebackers, one with his back towards me and the other introducing himself as the director of security. Hmmm. Lets see. For those not in the know, there's only one exit in and out of the wynn registration desk. If there's two bodies on me, there's gotta be at least two more at each side of the wall behind it that I can't see, I figure 4 sets of eyes running the eye in the sky all with their eyes glued to the monitors, the director of security is holding my ID which means he's already got my play, my comps, my markers, run me through central credit, my red card, he's got metro running me for wants/warrants and there's probably an unmarked metro ford next to a service exit with an open door and a seat reserved for me in the back. I look down at my watch. The market is closed. I can't sell. Fuck. Because there is no way in hell this stock is holding $180 monday morning. Quickly, I bang out a message to my brother letting him know I am about to be arrested at the Wynn and to start googling Las Vegas bail bonds. The two security guys tell me to step away from the front desk and they want to know what the hell I'm doing. I tell them I want answers from the management of this company about how they're handling this disaster. They say I can't just walk into a casino corporate office and ask to speak to someone. Well, I just did. Why can't I? They said it represents a major security risk and a breach of their perimeter. After all, Mr. Wynn takes his security at the hotel very seriously. Me: I suppose if I were a sex offender with hired goons, I'd take my security seriously too. And if you really didn't want people going back there - last time I checked, this is a casino. The doors have locks. Perhaps you should have oh I don't know, locked them? Wynn Security: What makes you think you can just walk in here and talk to us like that? Me: I'm a stockholder. Technically you work for me. Wynn Security: You honestly expect that a big company like us is going to send someone out of the corporate office to talk to a guy like you about a thing like this? That never happens in corporate america. Me: That's strange. Michael Moore did exactly that and that's what made him famous. What's your point? We bantered in the registration area of the Wynn for something like an hour and 45 minutes as the director of security wandered back and forth. They never backed down with the questions and I never backed down from the answers. A lot of casino security is former law enforcement so they're looking for that time you change your story like on an episode of cops. For instance, if it was cops it would go like Cop: who's drugs are these? 1: Never seen em before fast forward 2 min 1: I mean my friend smokes pot, maybe it's his Cop: I thought you said you never seen em before? fast forward 2 min 1: So I smoke a little pot okay Cop: I thought you said it might be your friends pot? fast forward 2 min 1: yeah it's my pot They were looking for a reason to throw me out and as far as I can tell, they probably still are. I'm sorta expecting a registered letter in the mail barring me from the property in a week. If I start yelling, it's disorderly conduct and they have a case. If start pushing someone around, same thing. But if I speak candidly and gesticulate wildly and raise cogent points about how every single hotel employee I've dealt with thus far owns a combined total of zero shares in the company - they have no skin in the game and I do. So, they can't really criticize my opinion as wrong because I'm the stockholder not them. At least, that's my opinion. I could be wrong. Well, the goons disagreed with me and said I was wrong. They also said that this could have been accomplished with a phone call. I said no, because you wouldn't take a phone call seriously. And now you're taking this seriously. So, match point: FC. They didn't like that. It would not surprise me in the least if Steve Wynn was in the security booth with a radio telling his guys to find some reason to arrest me and have me sent to Clark County booking. This guy just feels guilty as sin. I can't prove it but my gut has usually been right about this sort of thing. As I'm waiting for my inevitable arrest and booking, I wonder if American Airlines will allow me another flight change due to temporary incarceration. Because there's no way I'll be able to leave the state with an ROR or a signature bond out. I look over at Mean Joe Greene Jr and tell him I was too angry to eat lunch and I'd like to have a seat before my blood sugar crashes and my head hits the floor and Steve sends me a bill for the shattered italian marble. He gestures towards a chair in the reception area and I have a sit. He offers to bring me another water. I decline. He brings me a water anyways. I consume both the waters as compliments of the house as a sign of untoward cooperation. Out of the corner of my eye I see the director of security talking to two metro PD guys with handcuffs out. I hear over the radio they're asking for a rover to take me down to the security office for fingerprinting and photographs. He is gesticulating wildly. The director of security comes back over and he tries to get me to crack on my story. I tell him I'm here as a shareholder as a private citizen demanding accountability of the management. I will not apologize for walking through an unlocked door to the corporate office asking to speak to someone to hear out my concerns, I will not apologize for going to the concierge since the previous person was very unhelpful and I will not apologize for expecting the highest standards of a fortune 1000 company chairman and CEO. And until you pony up and buy some stock, I'm not about to take a lecture about what is and isn't acceptable behavior from people who don't have skin in the game protecting what should be by all accounts a registered sex offender. He looks back at Metro PD. They shrug. They've got nothing chargeable on me. Hell, I'm not even counting cards this time. Next thing I know he quickly walks away and returns with a late 20's hispanic fellow who introduces himself as the hotel manager. He says that he's gotten a report from security and that Mr. Wynn's private life he cannot comment on but the concerns I have will be sent up towards management. FC: So you're the hotel manager? So you report to Matt Maddox. You tell him that this is a mess. Nobody comes back from this sort of thing. Not Harvey Weinstein. Not Louis CK. Not Matt Lauer. Not Bill O'Reilly. Not Bill Cosby. Not Kevin Spacey. Not Charlie Rose. Not Al Franken. And the LAST time this happened at Mirage, a shareholder revolt wound up sending the company into the hands of MGM. What's to stop Sheldon from across the street from doing the same thing? You tell them that. The manager nods and offers me a room at a rate, inclusive of resort fee and taxes of $335/night. I take out my phone, look at the Hotel Tonight app and realize that I'm being charged more money than if I were to book the room from a consolidator. Now, I don't mind the lie about understanding where I'm coming from. I do mind the insult to my intelligence. I am handed back my ID and the hotel manager offers his business card. I take his business card and go over to the cage. I close my credit line and take my deposit out of the cage. I'm down for the trip. Fuck this shit, I'll deal with it later. I call my brother and tell him that I've been released. We look at some flights and to get back to Boston will require another night in Las Vegas. Everything leaving tonight is full due to the conventions closing up. AA has some seats open in first via Charlotte and Philly, I take the Charlotte flight leaving at 6:30 AM from McCarran and they confirm me seats in first all the way to Logan. This is the only thing to go right today. I purchase some clean clothes since I will not have time to do laundry in Boston anymore due to the delay and head over to the palace station oyster bar. The wait is about 2 hours but I make some friends in line while I'm there. I am torn between the alaskan chowder and the bouillabaisse. I ask Steve behind the bar what he thinks is best. He says do the bouillabaisse. I tell him that sounds excellent, and to add extra lobster. I ask him how long, he says could be 30 minutes but check back in 20. I tell him I'm gonna go hit the tables and I'll be back in 20. The timer on my phone begins counting down. I belly up to the nearest craps table and I drop my cash down. I tell them I want it in black and red and the croupier complies. I bet the 6/8 split with mixed success and the pass line with odds. The shooter misses the point. I look down at my dwindling stack of chips and there's 15 minutes left. Fuck it. Go big or go home. Lets get this shit over with. The point comes off. I drop $100 on the pass line. New shooter gets the dice and the come out roll hits a 10. I look at the gal with the whip. I throw her a stack of chips. FC: Full odds on the ten, $200 hard way, give me all the numbers and a nickel c and e. New shooter proceeds to hit every number on the board, midnight, yo and a speed limit. Pass line pays even money. Pass odds pays 2-1. I'm looking down at a big stack of chips. What the fuck just happened? I drop $100 on the pass line again, the point comes out for an 8. I take full odds and all the numbers. New shooter hits every number on the board, midnight, yo, except the 8. The guy next to me has the all or nothing at all working so the only thing left to hit is the 8 and it's gonna pay 175:1. The 8 does not hit. Everyone is chasing the 8'er from Decatur. I look down at my stack and the table limit and the boxman. FC: hey Joe, what's the juice on laying the 8? Joe: 5 points! I take down my pass line odds. FC: I want everything off and I'll lay the 8 for a dime. Everyone at the table looks at me like I'm a lunatic. I slide over two purple chips and two green for the vig. Time remaining until bouillabaisse: 8 minutes. Lets see what happens. The dice bang around a bunch of more times. I'm ahead for this trip. Way ahead. Next thing I know, the gal with the whip calls no roll. One of the dies have left the table. Time remaining until bouillabaisse: 4 minutes. This is my stop. FC: Take down my lay, and I'll color up. The boxman colors me up, I leave a nice tip for the crew and start to walk over to the cage to cash in. I hear screaming and profanity, I turn around and I see the dealers stacking chips. The shooter has 7'd out. Time remaining until bouillabaisse: 2 minutes. There's a long line at the cage. I walk back to the oyster bar and I see a big bowl with a plate covering it. Steve behind the bar has thought of everything. I turn the plate over and look down at my stack of chips. Maybe today won't be so bad after all. https://imgur.com/a/bjK7R The bouillabaisse is delicious. The win is even more delicious. I nom my way to the bottom of the bowl and settle up the bill. I leave Steve a nice tip as I head over to the Palazzo to say hi to some friends. I find myself at a craps table you can hang meat upon. This is not good. It's getting late and I head over to my room at the Mandalay Bay. Now, here's the fucked up part. This girl I've been hooking up with didn't hook up with me before I left for SHOT. She's been messing with my brain for a whole week. I check in to the Mandalay Bay where there's a goddamn pornstar convention going on. FML. I find myself down at a craps table at 11PM and bringing a frontier flight attendant named Amber back to my room. The lucky streak continues. My flight leaves in a few hours. I kick her out of my room and pass out. Flight leaves at 625 for CLT. Need to be at McCarran at 525. Out the door of the hotel by 5AM at the latest. I set my alarm. *Saturday, January 27th. * I wake up to see the sun shining through my hotel room. I look down at the alarm clock. 8:01AM. My long standing joke is that I sleep like a dead prostitute. The evening of ravenous illegal in 48 states sex has taken its toll. Fuck. I grab the phone and press the button for guest services. I turn on the speaker as I open my bag wide and just stuff everything in as fast as I can. I throw my boots on as I tell them to check me out over the phone. I haul ass downstairs to the garage and I get to McCarran and board the shuttle to Terminal 1. I walk up to the AA desk knowing I am 11 different kinds of fucked. Nancy the gate agent starts working on my departure. AA's rule is 2 hours from departure on a flat tire. That's 8:25 AM. It's a few minutes before 9. Nancy the great agent cannot get anything to work. She has to put me in the special services line. By the time I get there, they tell me I'm flying standby and I'm on the flight to Philly leaving at 1PM in the afternoon. There is no way in hell they can get me on the 10AM to Phoenix. My cousin is getting married in Boston and she is going to fucking kill me. I told her I'd be there around 6PM on the rebooking. And now I'm going to be leaving for Philly in 4 hours. Granted, the Amex Centurion Lounge has freshly squeezed OJ but that's not going to be enough today. I run to TSA and get cleared. I run past the Centurion to head straight for the Phoenix gate. Hopefully other folks have had an irish layover. The gate agent there starts working me and she says that they have two open seats and that they're gonna get me on. Just sit tight. I step to the side to let her help a few other folks gate check bags. The clock is ticking and her colleague closes the boarding door as I'm standing next to the gate looking fucked. I take a deep breath and try to keep it together. A tap on the shoulder. "Sir, your boarding pass. Exit row window. I've taken the liberty and called back to make sure there's space in the overhead for my bags so you don't have to gate check. You are good to go." I look up at the three ladies working the podium. FC: Can I hug any of you? Gate Agent 1: No Gate Agent 2: I'm sick Gate Agent 3: Sure, why not? I head behind the counter and give her a hug. She seems pleased. I hightail it to the door. Gate agent 2 opens it up for me. I run down the jetway like a charging rhino, Chris Christie like. The flight attendants greet me by name and they realize that my nose is bleeding from the 8 ball I shared with Amber a few hours back. The FA points at my nose and asks me if I'd like to step into the lav. I realize it's probably pretty bad. I leave my bags in the galley and duck in and I stuff a bunch of paper in my nose as an ersatz tampon. I walk back out, grab my bags and I declare to the entire plane it's the dry air not a cocaine problem. Nobody believes me. I take my seat and there's an empty seat between me and an in uniform FA on the way home. We chat a bit and Cathy thinks my story is hilarious. She even gets on AA's PALL list for the flight to Boston and checks and says I'm number one on standby R4. A nice lady, I offer her one of my extra LaRue Dillo's. She thinks they're cute. The working FA walks back and looks down at the traveling FA and says very discreetly there's a 40 minute ground hold due to PHX losing a runway. This is gonna be really really tight. My connecting flight to Boston is not looking good. We wait the 40 minutes for the hold and make it to PHX about 15 minutes behind schedule. I bolt to the Boston gate. I ask if they've cleared all the standby passengers. They say yes. I say I should be number one and they hand me a ticket in coach. FC: Any way I can talk you into a seat in the front of the plane? The hate agent just looks at me funny. He does not seem to think that's happening. He asks me if I have status on the airline. Sure do. He says no promises. I tell him no sweat, I'm gonna go take a leak and come back around in 5. I walk back up and he hands me my new boarding pass. https://imgur.com/a/IJuPe I call my cousin and tell her that I'm gonna be a few hours late. Great ride all the way into Boston. I sleep like a dead prostitute. https://imgur.com/a/RKMSu Just as we cruise past the city of big shoulders, the FA wakes me up. "Mr Hayden, would you like some ice cream?" I look at my neighbor who is a middle age female executive and she is plowing through hers like Sherman through Atlanta. FC: You know what, Chuck? I've always wanted to say this. I'll have what she's having. https://imgur.com/a/our5R Ice cream on the ground, delicious. Ice cream on a plane, FUCKING FANTASTIC. FC out.
Re:UA | Chapter Fourteen: The Progressive Era [1901-1912]
The period following the end of the Liberation of Brazil was one of good feelings and America basking in its own glory. The Progressive Era that was ushered in by the election of Samuel Clemens back in 1896 continued well into the 1900’s. President Kimball continued his administration well into a third term, before leaving office in 1904, to be replaced by another Labor Party president, Quinten Allen (Labor, New York). His administration was defined by his focus on the destruction of the so-called “political machines”, breaking up several large trusts, and cracking down on the dismal conditions in urban industrial workplaces, continuing the anti-corruption and pro-union efforts of the Clemens and Kimball administrations. However, despite the progress made in advancing the strength of unions, cracking down on corruption in the federal government, Allen would not win reelection. Much of it had to do with his infamous extramarital affairs, but it also had to do with the hijinks of Congressman Ned Kelly (Labor, Illawarra) in Australia. A Labor Party extremist notorious for attempting to shift the party further to the far left, the Congressman from the state of Illawarra ended up being arrested in 1905 for a bizarre scandal involving collusion with a small group of communist bandits in the southeastern Australian bush. News of this was spread by opposition newspapers across the USAO, and the Labor Party would require a decade to break free from the stigma of “attempting to institute godless communism across our righteous Union”. As sudden as this sounds, this was actually the flashpoint punctuating a long-standing struggle within the Labor Party. The struggle pitted the civic nationalist, social democratic (as in, economic social justice within a capitalistic framework) faction, against an internationalist, revolutionary socialist faction which sought to turn the former spirit of Manifest Destiny into a worldwide crusade to liberate the proletariat. Kimball had managed to briefly bring these two factions together for 1896, while sidelining the most extreme militants. However, shortly after his first election, this alliance began to fall apart very quickly, boiling over into brawls in the National Acropolis, culminating in an event even worse than the Kelly Affair. On May 28th 1907, Senator Andrew Takahashi (Labor, New Texas) brought his gun to the National Acropolis and attempted to shoot moderate Labor senator, Edward Brenner (Labor, New Texas). Takahashi’s assassination attempt failed, and he was dogpiled by everyone in the chamber, as Senator Roberto Gutierrez (Conservative, South Peru) wrestled the revolver from Takahashi’s hand. The fact that Senators from across the political spectrum came to Brenner’s aid in that moment was satirically seized upon by satirists as “the first Congressional consensus in four years”. The aftermath of the Kelly Affair, the brawls in Congress, and the Brenner assassination attempt cost Labor a victory in the 1908 Presidential Election, and the far-left faction broke off from the Labor Party completely, to form the American Workingman’s Party – the farthest-left political party in USAO thus far. Anyway, in 1908, the Liberal Party succeeded in getting their first president in the White House, Wilbur H. Porter (Liberal, New South Wales). A representative born and raised in an upper-middle-class Buenos Aires neighborhood, he was the first British Argentinian president of the USAO, and his faction of the Liberals managed to win over the more centrist Labor voters left disillusioned post-Kelly Affair, while also out-lefting the more conservative members of the Liberals. He respected the Labor Party’s fervor for social justice, but felt they were getting too extreme in some regards and believed their goals could be achieved through other means. Despite defeating Allen in the 1908 election, he and his faction of the Liberals in Congress formed a coalition with the defeated Labor Party, to push for a resolution to the “Amazon Question”. Since the 1880’s, the Amazon Territory knew the horrors of logging camps, gold mines and rubber plantations worked by enslaved indigenous peoples. Entire towns were run by companies like Firestone, who regularly bribed the territorial government. And after the expansion of the Amazon Territory in 1901, you had large forces of armed mercenaries keeping these slaves in line. These mercenaries were mostly former soldiers of the Imperial Brazilian Army, who didn’t even bother hiding their distinctive tattoos; ironically, many were former IBA officers descended from Confederate soldiers. The mercenary armies would occasionally wage war against each other over territory, limbs and digits were amputated every day, and sexual assault was an instrument of terror. The entirety of the Labor Party, along with the Porter Faction of the Liberals, and a surprisingly large two-thirds of the National Party, came together in Congress to push for the Amazon Territory to be abolished and replaced with a new “Amazon Federal District”. Opposing them were the Conservatives and the faction of the Liberals led by Theodore Shepherd (Liberal, Pennsylvania – Porter’s opponent in the 1908 Liberal Primary), and the remainder of the National Party. The Whigs, who represented the small states of the Caribbean and Central America, abstained from voting. The Whigs objected to what they felt was an over-reach of federal power, while at the same time sympathizing with the intentions of the Labor-Liberal coalition. In the end, the Labor-Liberal coalition was successful in passing the Amazon Preservation Act of 1910, creating the Amazon Federal District. A federally-deputized paramilitary known as the Amazon Ranger Corps was formed to shut down the logging camps, mines and plantations, which led to pitched battles between these federal troops and the mercenaries. Backed by desperate rubber, gold and lumber barons, mercs under the command of Confederato Nataneal Whitaker (a former IBA colonel) attempted to wipe out the ARC garrison in Manaus, as part of a larger effort to establish a secessionist “Free State of the Amazon”. This insane plan ended in failure, as Nataneal’s troops were defeated and forced to retreat back into the rainforest to be pursued by the Ranger Corps, and the conspiracy’s backers were arrested. The “Manaus Incident” only convinced Congress to tighten the screws on their proposed regulations on economic activity in the AFD. Said regulations would declare huge swathes of the Amazon to be federally-protected nature preserves, and would limit the number of trees that could be cut down. Additionally, the AFD’s labor regulators would regularly inspect the rubber plantations and gold for incidences of abuse or exploitation, and ensure that the workers were compensated for their labor and that extraction and cultivation techniques remain sustainable. Other than that, the AFD would pretty much be OTL DC, only writ large and with more jungle. Make of that what you will. And in addition to preventing abuse of the locals, the Amazon Rangers would be responsible for search and rescue, tracking down poachers, and enforcing general law and order in the Amazon, though major cities like Manaus and Belem would retain their own police forces. The AFD was only the most radical of the USAO’s national parks, however. President Felix Strong created the first national park, Yellowstone National Park, in 1875. Avid nature-lover Aaron Kimball signed into existence national parks in Northern California’s Redwood Forest and Yosemite Valley, Entre Rios’ Iguazú Falls, Colorado’s Grand Canyon, the Alaska Territory’s Denali, East Florida’s Everglades, Mato Grosso’s Chapada dos Guimarães and the Galapagos Islands. Under the Allen and Porter administrations, Tasmania’s Great Barrier Reef, Deseret’s Zion Valley, Alta Colombia’s Ciudad Perdida, South Peru’s Machu Picchu and Nazca Lines, Yucatan’s Chichen Itza and the ancient Inca roads of the Andes, were added to the federal government’s protected natural wonders and archeological heritage sites. Throughout the early 1900’s, the Caribbean states began coming into their own. By 1910, Port-Au-Prince was the most advanced city in the Caribbean. Rebuilt after a devastating earthquake in 1892 with the latest in seismically-resistant structures and electrical infrastructure, the capital of Haiti received a flood of investment and was modernized, as was the rest of the state. As part of the electrification program begun under the administration of Haiti’s greatest governor, Jean Bolous (Liberal, Haiti), the island’s first telephone lines and power plants were built, and the economy of the island boomed with the increased demand for citrus fruits in North American cities. Additionally, the island began building up a strong manufacturing base in the eastern part of the state (“Spanish Haiti”) though widespread corruption would lead to child labor going on longer than in many other parts of the USAO. Elsewhere, over in the Lesser Antilles, you had Trinidad & Tobago undergoing the fastest rate of industrialization in the whole of the West Indies, with its oil, asphalt and natural gas fields and refineries expanding rapidly amid the pristine Caribbean jungle. Close behind Trinidad was Jamaica, with its more diverse mixed economy which really came into its own during the Progressive Era; a large garment sector, agriculture, refining of petroleum products from Trinidad and Gran Colombia, bauxite, gypsum, iron and alumina mining, a friendly tourism industry, and the Caribbean’s premier insurance and financial services, all allowed for Kingston proper and Jamaica as a whole to flourish in the early 1900’s, rivalling the growth and commercialization of the ascending Port-Au-Prince. Fruit, coffee, iron, bauxite, sugar and fishing in the other island states kept their economies afloat, as did tourism from middle and upper-class folks hailing from the rest of the USAO, as well as Europe. Politically, the Lesser Antilles were (and, today, still are) dominated by the Whig Party. The Whigs are a right-of-center conservative political movement which stresses fiscal responsibility and social moralism, a very “quaint” party preoccupied with limited spending, manners, state autonomy and local politics. They promoted the modernization of the islands’ infrastructure, the expansion of education, and the prohibition of alcohol. That last one would become the impetus for the “Wild West Indies”, a very long period of bootlegging and moonshining, equal parts OTL Prohibition, Wild West and Golden Age of Piracy. Though Whig politicians had some limited success in Central America, Polynesia and Australia, after a while, the National Whig Convention stopped seriously trying to expand their influence beyond the Caribbean. A little further to the north, in Dixie, the Reconstruction Era was in a way still ongoing. Though now, only a few Military Districts remained. West Florida, Arkansaw and Louisiana. In 1904, West Florida and Louisiana experienced a major revolt by Copperheads and Bloody Shirts. The situation never got worse than West Florida and Louisiana. In West Florida, the capital of Mobile was occupied by the “Confederate State of West Florida” and loyalist citizens (black and white alike) were forced to arm themselves and build barricades as federal troops put down the uprising. And in Louisiana, roving gangs of white supremacists in New Orleans staged a failed ethnic cleansing attempt against its black population. There were also sporadic insurgent attacks in Louisiana, Arkansaw, Georgia, East Florida, South Carolina and Oklahoma. One of President Kimball’s last actions was sending federal troops into the Old South to quickly suppress the racist uprisings, though the role of National Guard units, law enforcement, local militias and armed civilians should not be discounted. Bloody Shirts were undersupplied, outnumbered and most ended up surrendering upon encountering armed resistance. This would be the “last hurrah” of neo-Confederate sentiment. The rebellion was crushed by federal troops and ragtag militias, received very little public support, and actually extended the date for which West Florida and Louisiana would be readmitted into the Union, from 1906 to 1930. Oklahoma, Georgia and Arkansaw, for not going entirely under rebel control, were readmitted on time in 1906. With the exception of the 1904 Rebellion, Dixie had come a long way. Aside from a few crazy people, the Confederate surrender at Nuevo Paz was considered the best thing to ever happen to the “Old South” (as Dixie is also known). The process of redistributing land to former slaves and educating both freedmen and poor whites had the effect of economically empowering blacks and mitigating (if not eliminating) much of the racial animus one would have otherwise associated with the region. The extremists were marginalized, and so by the time the 1904 Rebellion rolled around, the insurgents who had counted on the “white man awakening and rising up against federal tyranny”, found out the hard way how wrong they were in their assumptions. There was no “white awakening”. The masses of the Old South rejected their cause. Violently, in fact. Further to the north, in New York, the city’s now-famous skyline was coming along just fine. New bridges were being built. Newfangled motorcars fresh off the assembly lines had begun to quickly replace the horse and buggy on the city streets. The New York Subway System was opened in 1905. And the world’s tallest all-metal structure was built in 1906 on Coney Island. Costing nearly $1,500,000, the Globe Tower is an eleven-story, 700-foot-tall structure, containing restaurants (one of which rotates), an observatory, a United States Weather Observation Bureau and wireless telegraph station, a vaudeville theater, the world’s largest ballroom, bowling alley, a cinema, roller skating rink, casinos, 50,000-room hotel, 5,000-seat hippodrome, and four large circus rings, where PT Barnum’s famous troupe put on a show for the Globe Tower’s opening day. And the whole thing was fully electrified. Meanwhile, out in the North American West, the suffragist movement was gaining steam. The movement had already swept Australasia. The states and territories of the former republics of Australia and New Zealand gave their women the right to vote and run for office just prior to joining the US, and this equality was grandfathered in when they became new American states. The presence of Australasian suffragists emboldened suffragists across the USAO, with their most dynamic successes being made in the Rockies, beginning with Auraria in 1890, where the frontier economy actually created the circumstances for strong and empowered women to emerge as major players in their communities. The movement also reached the states of the Canadian prairies, and then down into Mesoamerica by the late 1890’s. Congress finally gave women the right to vote via a 1910 constitutional amendment, which was greeted by a suffragist demonstration in Liberty City, DC. Elements of the Conservative, Labor, Whig and National parties resisted the move, for different reasons. Speaking of Australia, about a decade after the political union with the United States, things were getting interesting. The people of Australia still thought of themselves as “Australian”, but also part of a larger nation of which they were proud to be members. Increasingly, immigrants from the New World crossed over the Pacific to Australasia. Many were “Yankees” from North America, though there were also plenty of Hispanics who made the journey over, looking for opportunity. The federal government encouraged this, as well as immigration of Australians (white and Aboriginal alike) to the New World, in order to encourage a sense of common nationhood, with similar exchanges taking place in the Philippines, New Zealand and Polynesia. However, the Aboriginal community (which is much larger in this timeline because a dead Indian sailor washed up on the Australian shore around 45 BCE) was split on whether or not they wanted to be part of the USAO. They were already split on the Australian republic. During the Australian Revolution, they formed an alliance with the white settlers against the British. The hatchets which were buried resurfaced after independence, though the Aboriginals were unable to really put up a united front – not in the Australian Congress, nor in the form of armed militancy - due to tribal politics getting in the way. However, small numbers of Aboriginal separatists attempted to resist the US government in this time period, to very little success. The Russian Imperium gifted the Statue of Brotherhood to the United States in 1902. The statue was placed at Middle Head, at the mouth of Sydney Harbor in the State of Illawarra. Dubbed by the newspapers of the time as “Lady Liberty’s Brother”, the statue stands about as tall as the Statue of Liberty, but it depicts the Roman citizen-soldier, Cincinnatus, holding a Fasces (rods bound together around an axe - a symbol of republican brotherhood and strength of unity) in his right hand, while leaning on a plough with his left, to symbolize peace and prosperity. All across the Pacific, the US was integrating its new island states and territories. Submarine cables were laid between the various archipelagos, connecting them to each other and to the Australian and American landmasses, as well as to the Philippines, China and Japan. Infrastructure projects on the islands put the natives to work and put energy into the economies of the island states. Investments in education worked to bring the locals into the 20th century, though this sparked plenty of conflicts with more conservative elements of Polynesian society. Given the vast expanses of the United States, it was one of the first nations to fully embrace commercial air travel. Airship flights to the Pacific states and territories boomed, as did airplane flights, though these would not truly take off (excuse the pun) until the 1920’s. The USAO dominated all of Polynesia, save for the independent kingdoms of Tonga and Samoa. However, the first step towards turning the Pacific Ocean into “an American Lake” began in 1907. In that year, the Samoa Reform Party won the position of Prime Minister, after winning half of the Samoan legislature three years previous. Established by a coalition of native Samoan Unionists and American expatriates (mostly missionaries and businessmen), this was the successor to the banned Samoan Unionist Party, which was outlawed in 1888 by the Samoan monarchy. An attempt by the Samoan king’s monarchist supporters to regain control of the legislature and prevent an inevitable annexation into the USAO resulted in a small civil war. Samoan nationalists targeted anyone they could find who was not ethnic Samoan (Americans, Chinese, Japanese), as well as ethnic Samoans who desired political union with the USAO. It got crazy, and after fervent debate in Congress (overshadowed by the Amazon Question), it led to United States Marines invading two years later, in 1909. King Tanumafili I was forced to abdicate after a referendum in 1910, establishing the Republic of Samoa. The republic voted for annexation in late 1911, though the Samoan nationalists would not go quietly, continuing the fight for about eight years. The impact of Samoa’s annexation would make things…interesting, in Tonga. Over in Brazil, most of the region was still under US military occupation to one degree or another. Though increasingly, local recruits began to outnumber the outsiders, and the last remnants of the IBA surrendered in September of 1908. That being the case, a new rebellion began to spring up. In spite of all that, however, the Italian Empire gifted the United States a statue of their own, the Statue of Equality, which was placed in Rio de Janeiro in 1906. More similar in design to her sister up north, this 151-foot-tall statue was carefully placed atop Mount Corcovado (the OTL location of the Christ the Redeemer statue), holding up a set of huge scales, with a sword wresting against her thigh. The “Lady of Rio” wears a toga, Phrygian cap, laurels, and a blindfold over her eyes. And finally, a little to the south, a new state was carved out along the borders of Chile and New South Wales. For over thirty years, low-intensity guerilla war raged between loggers and the indigenous Mapuche people in the Araucanía region of Patagonia. Realizing that they couldn’t hope to fight their way to independence, Mapuche activists became a persistent presence in Liberty City, arguing and lobbying in favor of a new state for the Mapuche. Their efforts ultimately bore fruit in 1910, when the State of Araucanía was admitted into the union. But for all the USAO’s good fortunes, big trouble was on the horizon in the Old World. More on that in the next chapter.
Explosino Casino is a multi-software, multi-platform casino providing Canadian players Casinos Near Sugar Land Texas access to thousands of top gaming from the best software in the business. Explosino Casino […] Places near Sugar Land with Adult Entertainment Mission Bend (5 miles) Stafford (5 miles) Missouri City (6 miles) Alief (7 miles) Crabb (7 miles) Richmond (8 miles) Thompsons (9 miles) Addicks (11 miles) Cinco Ranch (11 miles) Rosenberg (11 miles) Informed RVers have rated 20 campgrounds near Sugar Land, Texas. Access 5 trusted reviews, 0 photos & 1 tips from fellow RVers. Find the best campgrounds & rv parks near Sugar Land, Texas. Texas’ newest and closest destination for gaming entertainment is just a short drive from Houston and 15 minutes east of Livingston. Over 400 team members eagerly await to provide you with a first-class entertainment experience! Naskila Gaming has over 30,000 sq. ft. gaming facility. There is a Seven Feathers Circle Players Club with a free membership. The more you play, the bigger the Sugar Creek Casino has rapidly grown into the Premier Entertainment Destination in Western Oklahoma. Featuring 700 Vegas Style Class II & Class III Slots, Live & Electronic Table Games, Route 66 Buffet, Route 66 Roadhouse Café, Simple Simon's Pizza and the Winning Times Sports Bar; One of the Best Little Sports Bar in the West. Sugar Creek Casino also features the Sugar Creek Event Center an A casino themed party is a great way to add fun and excitement to your next event and that will leave your guests talking for weeks to come. We have provided high quality casino parties in the Houston area for over 10 years. We offer all of the most popular casino games including Texas Hold'em Poker, Craps, Black Jack, Roulette, Slot Machines and all the accessories. Our friendly, outgoing At SugarHouse Online Casino, you can play blackjack, roulette, baccarat and more with live dealers, 24/7! Or you can try your hand at video poker and other digital table games, including Let It Ride, Fortune Pai Gow, Single Deck Blackjack, Side Bet Blackjack and Ultimate Texas Hold’em. Score with the SugarHouse NJ Sportsbook Campgrounds in Sugar Land Texas: Campendium has reviews of Sugar Land RV parks, state parks and national parks making it your best Sugar Land RV camping resource. RV Parks. RV Parks Near Me Top Searched States with RV Parks Arizona California Colorado Florida Georgia New Mexico Oregon Texas Utah Washington; RV PARKS VIEW ALL Best RV Parks – 2020 Campers Choice Awards The Best RV Resort in Border Town Casino and Smoker’s Paradise – 117 miles away. Cash Magic Texas Pelican – 117 miles away. Lucky Delta Casino – 120 miles. Wajun Cajun – 136 miles. Other Notes. Distances from Houston suburbs to the closest casino in Lake Charles, LA: The Woodlands: 169 miles. Sugar Land: 162 miles. Pearland: 148 miles. Pasadena: 137 miles. Baytown: 122 miles Casino Near Sugar Land Texas, stagecoach casino rv parking, hella joof foredrag gram slot, cavities slot antenna. Gamble Responsibly BeGambleAware.org. 18+, T&C Apply,, New Customers Only. Gamble Responsibly BeGambleAware.org. Free Spins. 3-03/10/2019 Wager: 30x Min deposit: 20 EUR. Bonus. Gamble Responsibly BeGambleAware.org. Visit Casino-Wager. MrFavorit. Play now. In Winnings since 1995
1980's Atlas Traction Dumbwaiter at Clements High School ...
10 Secrets Casinos Don't Want You to Know. Subscribe for more amazing videos! http://bit.ly/Subscribe-to-Richest Casinos are multi-million dollar business... Filmed on December 11, 2015: Enjoy a full better view of this vintage old dumbwaiter here at my school. Please note that this was done with permission from t... About Press Copyright Contact us Creators Advertise Developers Terms Privacy Policy & Safety How YouTube works Test new features Press Copyright Contact us Creators ... 7-Acre Texas Lakefront Property For Sale In Spring TX -- http://supreme-auctions.com/auction/spring-tx/ -- Selling with No Reserve at Absolute Auction May 25... Buy Sugar on iTunes: http://smarturl.it/M5VSign up for updates: http://smarturl.it/Maroon5.NewsCatch Maroon 5 on tour all year long at www.maroon5.comMusic ... St. Theresa Catholic Church was established over eighty years ago to serve the needs of a sleepy town near Houston. Sugar Land has since grown into a large and energetic community, and our parish ... Music video by Sugarland performing Stay. (C) 2007 Mercury Records, a Division of UMG Recordings, Inc.#Sugarland #Stay #Vevo This classic Mediterranean custom home sits alone on a serene peninsula in the middle of a beautiful winding lake in Sugar Land, Texas. “The setting for this... A breast lift, https://www.mybodysurgeon.com/procedures/breast/breast-lift/ also known as a mastopexy, is a procedure to raise and reshape sagging breasts. A... Sugar Ray's Someday video off their "14:59" CD Release 1999