"What do you want to do?"
"What do you want to do?"
"What do YOU want to do?"
And so it went, all day yesterday, except for the parts where we were napping and realizing that this, the sleeping and not working, was all we wanted to do. Mike, tired from his first week of full-time (outside the home) work in almost a year, and me, just scorched to the soul by freshmen who won't work, needed a little conk-time. But at least now I have a scout, and as Mike subs at different schools and reports back to say the grass really is greener out in the burbs, I'm beginning to believe that it's time to leave the inner city.
Napathons over, it was eventually Saturday evening and time to consult our dining options:
1. Use a coupon for a Station buffet or cafe discount
2. Try something new at full price and justify it as a new adventure
There was also Option 3: before going out, listen to some song on YouTube that Mike loved as a kid. Alas, I wasn't in the mood. You know how it is when people send you links and you're, like, OH MY GOD DO I HAVE TO CLICK NOW WHY IS THERE ALL THIS PRESSURE - or maybe that's not a shared experience? Mike forgave me, though, and if his enjoyment of going out was dimmed by the possibility that we'd get into a car accident and die and I'd never hear this song, he didn't let on.
I mention all of this because it's foreshadowing. The song, I mean. There was no car accident. In fact, at one point while whizzing up Rancho and successfully deflecting many sudden lane changes by other vehicles, Mike said, "You're a great driver. I would've crapped myself by now."
But look - I've given away too much already. Forget that we were on Rancho. Rewind. We're still in the living room, and it occurs to both of us, independently, that if we want something new, we should try a Greek restaurant.
Startled by the synchronous thinking, we brainstorm our plans toward the new restaurant on Rainbow, but THEN, then we remember - hey - what about the Greek Isles casino? We've never been! It could be a restaurant notch and a casino notch! Let's go!
And so we headed to the former Debbie Reynolds casino. But first, we kissed Snorre's goodbye:
Right, right, left, right, left, right, and right again into the Greek Isles parking lot. Heh. Um. We remind each other that this is an adventure as we lock and relock the car a few times. Really locked now? Really? Okay.
I take several photos. It's dark out, and I'm using the little camera, so they're blurry. Finally, I suck up my pride and use the flash in night-mode:
I do love these old signs across the street for the shopping center and the motel. This is what new signs should look like. So much better than rectangles and backlit plastic.
I decide to wait to take a photo of the entrance until we leave.
In we go, and the lobby is nice, like we're in a La Quinta in Athens. Directly across from the entrance is a glass door leading to, I think, the pool. And just on the other side of the double-wide door are two cops, arms folded, watching us through the glass.
Okay, er, the small lobby seems deserted, so we pass through an arch on the right into the casino area.
Or, as it turns out, the casino living room. On one side, where maybe your entertainment center and workout machine would be if you were playing The Sims, karaoke is happening. Very, very bad karaoke, with two soccer mom groupies step-touching on the dance square and one unintelligible guy with Elvis jumpsuit and pompadour. Yes, it's so bad it's almost cool, but as we notice another policeman in the doorway with his arms folded, staring at everybody, we decide to keep walking.
Ah, look, it's a little hall and - whew - looks like shops and stuff beyond. "I was afraid that was the whole casino!" I laugh. Mike laughs, too, relieved. "I know!"
We pass in a very short space the wedding chapel (or room with folding chairs) and an open, empty area with some t-shirts in glass cases, and then the restaurant. The restaurant hardly gets a glance; it's dark, and despite being 7:30 on a Saturday night, it doesn't look like it wants to be open. And the special, "Shrimp Diablo," doesn't say "authentic Greek dining adventure" to either of us.
We keep walking, though, encouraged by the sights to see beyond. However, some velvet ropes get in the way.
"Are you folks here to see the show?" (The Greek Isles has a nightly rat pack tribute. As I notice a guy in a Sinatra-style hat, slumped against the slots and watching the crowd, I wonder if the performers are killing time.)
We say we aren't, that we're just looking around, and the usher says, "Oh, there's nothing to see down here. It's just mirrors. This is the end."
We squint. She's right. Wow. So... that... that was it. That bar with 25 slot machines and the karaoke pad is, like, the whole casino?
The people-vibe is just getting creepier, and later Mike will comment that it felt like an old West saloon, and all the piany music stopped when we, two strangers, stepped through the swinging doors. I reckon that, years from now, they'll still be talking about us. "Remember that night when those two people came in?"
Now we just have to walk around the corner, the unlit corner, where suddenly no cops are, to get to our car. We're just around said corner when two guys follow behind and start to gain on us. "Crap!" I exclaim loudly. "You know what I forgot?" Exasperated at my unspecified stupidity, I turn around and head back to the casino, Mike in tow as the dutiful husband who is used to such featherheadedness.
But then I hear the two guys talking about the wedding that is about to happen inside (see how I didn't even mention the people unpacking yards of taffeta from a car out front while we wondered if they actually saw the place before agreeing to get married here) and I snap my fingers and say never mind, and we go back to the car, pretty sure we're not going to get jumped. (Mike is impressed with my caution and smoothness. At least he says he is, every time I ask for the rest of the night.)
So, we take our one non-blurry photo souvenir of the Greek Isles and head, on a whim, for Santa Fe Station. We have a coupon, and I decide I'm willing to give the buffet a second chance. Plus, Mike has remembered that we have free slot play.
The buffet is every bit as mediocre as I remember it, but it's okay enough for a cheap meal. Unlike Sunset, they still give the slot club member discount in addition to the coupon, which Sunset has recently started claiming is against new corporate policy. So, if you want to save another $2/person and don't mind boring food (except for the spiffy salad bar) in a buffet that's deserted at 8:30 on a Saturday night, well, enjoy.
Santa Fe, however, is very nice. They've been redoing it in the image of Red Rock, plus it has its own nice touches, like the best looking cafe in Las Vegas and a rather grand entrance to its movie theatres.
Our free slot play was a paltry $3, but Mike turned his into $1.65 profit on Wild Goose Chase. Me, I kept looking for the perfect machine.
And then I saw it.
Now with Lucky Hamster! SOLD!
It's a penny slot with 25 lines, so a 25-cent bet each time if you're like me and can't stand not playing all the lines. (I know it's not logical. A three-cent bet on only eight lines is far more satisfying if you win, but but but... I like to increase my odds of seeing the cute bonus games. Slot machine makers know this, hence the recent trend of 50-line and 100-line slots. Dorks. Even I don't play those. *hair toss*)
After a few spins without any sign of the lucky hamster, this happened:
Super Happy Pay! I don't know what happened, but as you can see, by the second free spin we had not only Super Happy Pay! but also Lucky Hamster! dancing to the cutest Hello Kittyish tune you could dream up in your pink anime dreams.
I won $10 or $11 off this spin, and after that the Lucky Hamster was all over the place. I knew these years of rodent stewardship would pay off! Lucky Hamster blesses the seed-bearers and wheel-oilers! Once my 12 spins of free play on Santa Fe's dime was over, we cashed out $20 the richer. Dinner, gas, tip - all free tonight. THANK YOU, LUCKY HAMSTER!
Oh, and it's an Australian slot! Amazing coincidence? No, I'll show you amazing coincidence.
So we're back home, sated, watching last week's Simpsons and running online traps, and Mike sweetly asks me to watch that YouTube video again. See, apparently, when Mike was in 7th grade he had a teacher who abused all of the students by making them do square dancing and Cossack dancing. The Cossack dancing was to a song called Moskau by Eurovision winners Dschinghis Khan ("Who?"), a song Mike had stuck in his head for two days and thought I needed to get stuck in mine:
I finally watch and, hey, it's as cute as Super Happy Fortune Cat! Except less like Sanrio and more like a 1979 parade of matching sci-fi glam suits 1979. But, I genuinely enjoy the song ("This is exactly what Britney needs to be doing to get her career back") and quickly favourite it for later. We sagely speculate on why the song was a hit all over the world but, as Wikipedia notes, almost escaped notice in the United States. Cold War sentiment or just not the yank's Sanka?
Mike is happy that I now know the song, a song he hasn't thought of in over 20 years, but once he did, he just had to share. Domestic bliss is as easy as this.
The evening goes on and I look through my RSS reader for some blog I haven't read in awhile. Language Log? Okay. Click.
And what's the most recent post of Language Log? A discussion of a new language-play fad. The fad? Taking foreign language videos, listening to them as if they were being sung in English, then subtitling the videos with the "English" heard.
And what's their very first example?
Now that's an amazing coincidence. And, hilarious.
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