Please ADD your own Las Vegas Trip Report. Date of Trip: January 10, 2006 to January 13, 2006 Hotel Stayed At: The Fremont - Day 2 Report by: Walt <> From: Framingham, MA

My body's saying: "Time to get up." I look at my watch (no clock-radio in room). It reads 4:30 am. Only 4:30 am! But then, I think, "It's already 7:30 am back in Boston." No way I'm going back to sleep. Before showering, I take a closer look at my room. I'd estimate its dimensions at 10' by 15'. It has an iron and ironing board in the closet and a safe for valuables. Other than that there are few amenities. The bed itself (king-sized) was fine, but the pillows were softer than I like. The bathroom is postage-stamp sized. The toilet (it was diagonally positioned) looks like it was "shoe-horned" into place. In fact, you'd have to do an imitation of Fernando Valenzuela (former LA Dodgers pitcher) throwing his left-handed screwball (twist-wrist palm-to-the-left) to flush the toilet that was tucked under the counter.

Well, as I step into the shower, I notice that the the shower nozzle is set in the wall at chest height. This may be good for a Pygmy, but I'm six-feet tall. I literally feel like Shaquille O'Neal ducking under a low-ceilinged room. Frankly, it was not one of the more comfortable showers I've ever taken. Oh, I notice this little sign above the toilet; it says that if you use the "five-finger discount" and pilfer one of their towels, they'll charge you $40. They're are lesser amounts for pillow cases, etc. Finally, the door does have a dead-bolt (comforting) and there's a TV on the bureau. The window has louvered wooden slats that keep out any light. In a word, the room was ---- adequate.

Before I leave the room, I decide to call my wife (she must be up by now; it's past 8:00 back east). I try the number on my phone card. No connection. I call downstairs to the registration desk. I'm told they have to "activate" my room phone and that there's a fifty-cent charge for a phone-card call. It's no big deal, yet, it seems like a Micky Mouse nickel-and-dime fee.

After talking with my wife ("Are you having a good time?"), I take the elevator (about 100 yds. from my room) to the casino floor. Everything's pretty quiet. As you might expect at this hour, there are only a few slot players and a couple guys playing table games. There are easily more casino personnel than players. I decide to go on a "Recon Mission." I'm looking for a slot machine called "Spin Till You Win." On the rare occasions I do play slots, the one time I did hit for a jackpot was on the "Spin...." machine (two or three clowns). I looked everywhere. No "Spin" sightings. I also had an eye open for the "Coral Reef" slot (a secondary target). Again, no sightings.

I then decide to go across the street to the GN. I must say before I chronicle the day's activities that the GN is "the jewel" of the downtown hotel/casinos. It's like a "Strip" hotel being transported to the downtown area. Clean Neat. Bright. Inviting. There are many adjectives I could use. I walk toward the back of the casino to the craps tables. There is one that's open. It's the one that I had played only eight hours before. There are only three or four players along the rail. Well, I immediately notice this man (he's the shooter) at the straightout (top of the table) position opposite me. He's got a vast stack of blacks ($100) and greens ($25). Well, about three or four rolls later, he "sevens out." I proceed to ask the man next to me "How's the table been?" He tells me the guy that just sevened out had had a "monster roll" (held the dice for about twenty minutes). "Ouch!" I think to myself. I could have made some serious money if I had been here when he started. The man with all the chips "colors in" to the tune of $6,500!

I begin by playing $5 PL bets and taking $5 ($6 if the point is 5 or 9) free odds. I'm having mixed results. I win on some shooters, lose on others. There is no streak like the one I just missed. When I get the dice I make a pass (point), but I seven-out on my next try. What's interesting --- besides the game itself --- is that one of the dealers (they all have name tags that tell their city of origin) is from Liverpool, NY. For those not familiar with upstate NY; Liverpool is a suburb of Syracuse. I was born in Syracuse. Both my father and mother's families lived in Syracuse. Anyway, we got to talking about Heid's of Liverpool; they served hot dogs, coneys, sausages, fries, ice cream, etc. We also talked about the Solvay Process, Lake Onondaga and the Syracuse Chiefs (now Skychiefs) baseball team. Anyway, about a half-hour later, I decide to leave. I'm about even for my brief craps session.

It's now about 6:30 am. I hook a left out of the GN and walk up Fremont St. toward Main Street and the MSS Hotel. On my last visit to Vegas (Sept., 2003), I had breakfast at MSS's Garden Buffet. I remember it was very good. As I walk past the Golden Gate, I can't help but think about the first time I ever visited Vegas. On that occasion, some fifteen years ago, I took my then 21-year-old daughter. My daughter will travel anywhere. She's been to every continent except Antarctica (as we speak, she's just returned from a trip to Hawaii with her husband and my grandson). My wife, on the other hand, has never joined me on any of my Vegas trips. It's simple --- she hates gambling! My wife's idea of gambling is to eye a piece of jewelry in a dept. store and hope that somebody else doesn't snatch it up before it gets marked down. What do they say: "Men are from Pluto and women are from Neiman Marcus." There's only one way my wife would come to Vegas. "What's that?" you ask. Well, if, some day, they built "The Mall of the World" here. I should have known when I saw her college yearbook candid; it showed her trying on a dress!

I arrive at the MSS. It's about 6:45 am. I go over to where the buffet's located. It opens at 7 am. There's a man standing there. I ask, "Have you eaten at the buffet lately?" He says, "Yes." I say, "How's it been?" He says, "It's OK. Good food," he continues. "But," he goes on, " I think it's slipped. I've been coming here for many years," he added. Well, I decide to walk back down Fremont St. to The Fremont. Before going over to The Fremont's Paradise Buffet, I walk over to the keno station to play four games of Keno. I buy what are called "way tickets," e.g,, one way to make ten, four ways to make five, etc. The cost is $15. I then head for the Paradise Buffet that's just opened. I might mention at this time that my room: two nights, tax included, is costing me $85. That includes three $10 food comps. Also, my flight on NWA from Boston to Las Vegas RT has cost me $190, all taxes included.

About a minute or two later, the hostess seats me at a table not far from the buffet spread. The seating areas are horseshoe-shaped. Frankly, they're difficult to get in and out of. I feel like a contortionist. The food is plentiful. Many chioces. I try the eggs, hash browns, nut bread and even a banana. I also have some hot oatmeal (it turns out to be lukewarm). The juice I'm served tastes like it's from concentrate. The coffee's good. I have to tell you that as much as I want to say good things about the Paradise Buffet --- I can't! It's OK --- if you don't particularly care about the food you eat. I'd rate the whole experience as average. If you're going to eat at the Paradise Buffet, I'd recommend the evening buffet. Of the three seatings, that'd be the best (I use that word advisedly). Also, I'm not particularly fond of the fake trees and shrubs that are part of the tropical setting. It makes me feel kinda creepy. Like I half expect an insect to come out of these leafy shrubs. Not "my cup of tea."

As for breakfast, the best part was my server. He was from one of the Pacific Islands, Pohnpei, in Micronesia near the Marshall Islands south of the Philippines. He was very pleasant. He told me about where he lived and the people on his island. We talked about World War II. Interestingly, a man nearby overheard our conversation and chimed in with his military experiences on Johnson Island in the Pacific. It lead to an interesting three-cornered conversation. I left my server, his name was Style, a generous tip.

After breakfast, I went over to the keno station to check on my play (I usually watch the keno board while I eat breakfast, but I was distracted by my conversations). The keno girl put my ticket into the reader. I'm hoping. Not. I collect .25. So much for a surprise hit. Seconds later, I'm in the elevator and on my way to my room. I chill out awhile and by 8:30 am I'm back down the elevator and on my way to The Fremont's race/sportsbook to play "the ponies." When I get there, I introduce myself to a pleasant woman named Jody who's from Newburgh, NY (near West Point). We talk. She tells me about her two sons. Her 20-year-old is a skateboarding enthusiast who's doing a movie on skateboarding. Jody tells me he's a throwback to the late 60's-early 70s. He loves groups like "The Rascals," "The Doors," "Mamas & Papas," etc. Anyway, I tell her that I'm going to be pumping in some solid action at the racebook. She tells me she'll chart my play to see if I deserve comps. I buy a Freehold Raceway book for a dollar and study it.

It seems hard to believe. It's only 9:30 am and both Aqueduct and Freehold are about to start. I begin by betting some parlays at Aqueduct (you can look at the Daily Racing Form) on a lectern at the back of the racebook. I also bet a bunch of "doubles" (Daily Doubles) at Freehold. Well, neither my parlays nor my daily doubles "pop." I'm down about $30. When it comes to the races, I love to play the "exotics," particularly the pik-3, pik-4, pik-6 and pik-8 (at Freehold). They can be expensive bets, but the rewards can be lucrative. Case in point: just before Christmas I played a pik-4 at Freehold in which I had going into the final leg the only live pik-4 (four out of four) in the country. All the others were paying off on three out of four. Unfortunately, in the last leg of the pik-4, my horse, Cannae Hammer, finished third. If he had won, I would pocketed $5,000. As a consolation, I made a measley $64.

I won't bore you with every last detail. However, suffice to say that I wasn't having a good day. My best chance at a decent win was to have hit for $200 on a pik-3. Again, I'm snake-bit. My horse finishes second. It's now about 1:15 pm. I'm down about $150 after my morning's racing action. I decide to play some craps, first at the GN and later at the Four Queens. In both instances, I have some decents rolls, but not decent enough to make a big dent in my morning's losing racing session. About 3 pm I head back to the GN and go over to their sports/racebook. Although I'm a degenerate gambler, I don't --- nor have I ever --- made sports bets with bookies. Personally, I consider sports betting to be "the crack cocaine" of gambling. In a word --- dangerous. Yet, when I'm in Vegas I will make an occasionbal sports bet. I look over the odds board. I see that Syracuse is playing Notre Dame in basketball. I believe the spreasd is plus 2 in favor of Syracuse and that the over-under is 141. I know little about SU's basketball team, except that they have an excellent point-guard named Gerry McNamara). I decide to make a $33 bet (11-to-10) on the over to make a $30 profit. I end up winning the bet as the Orange prevail 88-82 and easily cover the over.

After I make the bet, I go back to The Fremont to play the evening harness races (4 pm Vegas time): the Meadowlands, Balmoral, and Northfield. Again, my nemesis has been the races. I'm not getting hurt, but I'm losing money in dribs and drabs. The races remind of this beautiful coed I used occasionally date in college. The good part was when I dated her I felt that I was "on top of the world." The bad part was that she was so difficult to get a date with. I don't want to get carried away, but it's like a variable ratio of reinforcement. I get just enough occasional wins playing the races that it keeps me coming back. This type of behavior is very difficult to extinguish.

It's now 8:30 pm. I head for the Paradise Buffet for dinner (or as my family used to call it: supper). Again, a vast selection, but not the greatest quality. Tonight, Wednesday nite, is "steak night." They have a special serving station with cooked-to-order steaks. I try one medium-rare. Again, I wish I could say good things. I can't. My piece of meat's got lost of fat and gristle. I feel like I'm disecting a frog. I'm trying to find little morsels of meat. I felt like I needed a magnifying glass. Dissapointing. The tab for the meal was $14, Hardly worth it. However, my meal was free. Not because I used one of my $10 coupons (I would have had to pay $4 additional dollars), but because Carol Boyd, the racebook manager (a real sweetheart) gave me a comp for my day's racing action.

After supper, I went back to the GN's craps tables. I managed to eke out a small gain. However when all was said and done, I had dropped close to $200 for the day. I was, after two days (actually a day and an evening), down about $150, I walk back to my room at The Fremont. It's now about 11:30 pm. Fifteen minutes later, I "hit the sack." One last full day ahead of me. I can't wait.
Walt <> - Framingham, MA    2814

---