We spent the holiday weekend in Reno, celebrating my mother-in-law's 67th birthday. My mother-in-law pretty much rocks. She is beautiful and dainty and vibrant, a woman who is seriously able to ooze class and sophistication at the exact same time she declares that she's "so hungry she could eat the asshole off a skunk."
That was during our wait for breakfast in Boomtown, a funny little casino where I washed a bacon omelet down with a Bud Light, and then won $78.55 in a penny slot machine. A fine ending to a fine weekend! Before I left, people couldn't get enough of telling me how much Reno sucked. One friend sneered, saying the best thing about Reno is that "if you drive far enough, you can find a Macaroni Grill." But I'm here to tell you, people are wrong. Cheap gambling! Booze flowing! You can get a hot dog and a plastic cup of Coors for TWO DOLLARS! I ask you, what's not to love about Reno?!
We stayed at the Peppermill, a hotel and casino bulging with so much neon and mirror that it literally caused my vision to blur several times. I mean, it had to have been neon and mirror, right? No way could it have been the incredibly cheap liquor they used to make all those great free drinks! (And did you ever notice how after awhile, shitty gin smells a tiny bit like pot?)
The highlight of the trip was probably Saturday night. Unfortunately we had to leave the birthday girl behind (she had a terrible case of food poisoning), but it was fun for my husband and I to set off on our own. We started the evening with a very, very good steak dinner, and then, having grown tired of crappy alcohol, we found a bartender who could make us a real drink. He was a bit of a grizzled old fellow whose nametag said Stephen, but all the other servers called him Stevie. And let me tell you, our good friend Stevie does not give a fig about his employer's profit margin. Stevie was that swell, one-in-a-million kind of casino bartender who pretends not to notice that you're calling your liquor while playing 5-cent video blackjack. And, he brought refills (me: Sapphire and tonic, husband: mandarin and tonic) before we could even ask. Good ol' Stevie! After four or six drinks there, we visited that cool magic money wheel and each picked up an extra 30 bucks. Candy from a baby! Then we retired to a bar surrounding the "cabaret" stage, where dudes with guitars rocked out 90s hair-band tunes. Next to me sat a sweaty (but friendly) old fat man who talked my ear off about how passionately he adores tequila. Tequila this, tequila that, tequila, tequila, tequila. That's pretty much all I remember about that conversation.
Anyway, now I'm back and ready to blog some more! Thanks to everyone who reads this blog. I think now there are ... there are like eight of you! Wheeeee!