Back to Blackjack--But Did I Martingale?

The Nightmare Before—And After—Christmas

Chapter 8

And we pick up the saga right after I've checked into my room at Buffalo Bill's, right on the state line between NV and CA.  The previous chapter is here, and remember you can find all the posts in this series by using the label, "Stranded in Vegas," even though at this point in my story I'm actually stranded in Primm.

With all the stuff I thought I needed in my room, I was totally exhausted, both physically and mentally.  I was also starving.  I also had an aching back.  I was so tired I looked longingly at that bed and wanted to just collapse on it.  I might have actually done that but my hunger won out, especially because I knew I had to eat very soon so I could take my meds.

The room, by the way, was fairly nice.  It was surprisingly big, and it had a work desk and a chair to use with it.  And yes, it was, thankfully, non-smoking.  Much later I found out that the worse thing about the room was the choice of stations on the TV.  There were some oddball channels I wouldn't have expected (like National Geographic and the History channel—at least I think) but not a single cable news channel.  Weird that they didn't have CNN, Fox News or MSNBC. I guess they figure if you are there you want to be kept away from the real world.

I limped down to the casino to find some food.  When I checked in, the clerk gave me a map of the property and mentioned some of the food options.  He also mentioned some of the food options at Whiskey Pete's & Primm Valley Resort, all of which sounded a lot better that what I had available to me at Buffalo Bill's.  I can't remember them, but there were real places to eat at those other two hotels.  What did he mention for Buffalo Bill's?  Well, he said there was a 24-hour Denny's.  And a Panda Express in the food court which was also 24-hours (or maybe he just said they were open late, not sure).  And he said something about a McDonald's.

Surely there must be other options, right?  This is a hotel/casino, after all.  I dismissed the idea of checking out the better sounding food options at the other two hotels.  There was no way I was going to drive anywhere that night.  And not just because my car was not trustworthy.  Recall that I had gotten what seemed like the last parking spot at my current location.  No way would I risk giving up that spot and having to return to find nowhere to park.

There's a monorail that connects the properties.  When I asked about it, I was told it was closed that night (not sure if it was closed for more than just that night, I didn't care).  They did have a shuttle. I never asked about the location or the hours, I figured I was enjoying being inside, out of the cold, too much to try and take a damn shuttle. I would just make do with a meal at Buffalo Bill's.

I looked around the place.  There was a food court, but the only place there aside from the McDonald's and the Panda Express was a pizza place.  Well that would do…..except it was closed!  WTF?  Why would a pizza place in a casino be closed on Saturday night (before 7pm) on a big holiday weekend?  Desperate, I checked out the Denny's.  Hadn't eaten at a Denny's in a long, long time.  Well, since it was the only actual sit-down restaurant in the joint, it was crowded as hell. There was a big crowd of people who had already given their names waiting to be called.  I thought about at least asking how long the wait would be, but after 10 minutes of waiting for someone to come to the front, I just gave up.

I guess I had noticed that the McDonald's was not too crowded, surprisingly, so that was it. Why not Panda Express?  As any of you who have ever tried to eat with me in Vegas surely knows, I don't like Chinese food. And there were no other food options at all.  It had been ages since I'd eaten at a Mickey D's, although not as long as it'd been since I'd partaken in a Denny's.  But last I heard, McDonald's had salads, right?  Recall that I had been cheated out of a salad for lunch because the place I went to was out of green stuff. 

However, when I looked at the menu, I didn't see any salads on it.  Ugh.  No healthy food for me this day. So just a burger then.  But you know, after the day I'd had, I decided to treat myself to something I rarely have these days—some fries. I felt I was entitled.  However, I did resist the temptation to get a shake and just had a diet Coke.

I was impressed they got my special order right, and the burger was—adequate.  It was ok I guess, but when your fast food burger of choice is In-N-Out Burger it was a significant step down in quality.  But it was sustenance and it didn't make me sick, so there's that.  The fries, I must admit, were quite good.

While I was eating, I tried to figure out what I was going to do.  I had no place to stay beyond that night.  In theory, I had to be in Vegas Monday morning to get my car fixed (again).  There was certainly no reason to stay another night in Primm if I could help it.  And I figured by now I was stuck in NV through New Years.  It was going to be incredibly pricey, but I had to try to find a place in Vegas to stay for the next few days, through the 1st, at the very least.

So I headed back to my room and booted up the laptop.  I started searching for hotel rooms.  I remembered those Trivago commercials and used them since it would theoretically show me deals from all the other travel sites. 

Of course everything was expensive.  Last minute and the holiday weekend.  It was just nasty.  I almost booked a room at Sam's Town but then saw a deal at Gold Coast for a few bucks more.  The convenience and proximity to the Strip—and to TC's shop—made it worth the few extra bucks.  So, through some travel site that Trivago sent me to that I had never heard of—Agoda—I booked three nights at Gold Coast starting Sunday.  For those three nights, I paid $470.72, upfront.  That included taxes but it did not include the resort fee, which I'd owe directly to the Gold Coast.  I think the resort fee was like $20-$22 a night.  So yeah, I was getting hosed again.

Gold Coast is a hotel/casino located right across the street from the Rio.  I was very familiar with it.  Back in my pre-poker days it was one of my favorite places to play because they had low limits on their table games.  In fact, before I started staying where I stay now, it was also my go-to place to stay while in Vegas. 

That done, I could relax a bit.  Nothing more I could do about my accommodations or my car on this night.  I was ready for an exciting night of casino action at Buffalo Bill's!

As I returned to the casino, it suddenly dawned on me.  The absolute worst part of this entire episode was this realization:  I was spending the Saturday night before NY's Eve surrounded by a bunch of people who thought it was a good idea to spend the Saturday night before NY's Eve at Buffalo Bill's.

Of course, there is no poker room in Buffalo Bill's or anywhere in Primm.  There used to be.  I recall setting it up on PokerAtlas not long after I started.  Then they moved it to Whiskey Pete's and closed it down.  Then they reopened it at Buffalo Bill's on weekends only.  But in late 2013, they closed it down for good.

Much earlier in the day, when I thought I was likely going to be staying there one night and then could head home, I was thinking that I could play online at WSOP.com that night.  But by this time that idea had deserted me. I figured if I was gonna be stuck for a night, paying $140 for the room, I needed to have a casino experience.

By now I had realized that Buffalo Bill's was actually a lower quality casino than Whiskey Pete's.  And checking out the game action was further proof.  I looked for some Pai Gow.  That was the game I'd played the most the last few years before I starting playing real poker.  Guess what?  Not a Pai Gow table to be found.  I was shocked.  I assumed they have it at the other two casinos but I wasn't about to check them out.  In fact, they only had three varieties of table games available at all.  Blackjack, Craps and Roulette.  When I first started hitting Vegas I played a lot of Craps & BJ but never acquired a taste for Roulette (the odds were too bad).

I checked out the Craps tables.  There were two of them, but one was like 3/4's size. And it was empty.  The other was less than half full, not exactly appealing.  Unlike almost all of the tables I see in Vegas, it was only a $5 minimum bet. But the way I want to play Craps (keep betting the pass line, the come and always take max odds), I could go through a buy-in ridiculously fast at $5 minimum.  That's why I pretty much stopped playing the game in Vegas when the $2 minimum bet disappeared.  But you know, I was probably too tired and my back was bothering me too much for me to stand at a craps table for very long anyway. 

I figured I might play a little $5 BJ but before I did, I noticed one of those "bubble" Craps machines.  You know, it's circular, can sit about 6-8 players and in the middle are these two huge dice.  The floor under the dice starts to bounce and then the designated shooter pushes a button and the dice pop up and that's your roll.  I've seen them in Vegas all the time, and have always been intrigued by them, never tried it.  I just figured you were much less likely to get a shooter with a hot roll on a machine than in a live game.

But desperate times call for desperate measures.  I figured what the hell, I'd throw a $20 into the craps machine just to see what it was like.  Actually, it wasn't that bad. It took me a while to figure out how to take odds on come bets.  But I got it eventually.  And they even let you take odds that you'd never be allowed to take at a real table because they pay down to the penny.  Like you could take $2 odds behind a $1 pass line or come bet on a 6 or 8 and they would pay you $2.40 if you hit it.

The drawback was it was easy to touch the wrong spot and make a bet you didn't intend.  I did that multiple times.  Of course there's a way to take back the bet if you act fast enough, but you don't really have enough time and then, if you do take back the bet, you'd almost never have enough time to make the bet you actually intended to make. I missed a lot of odds bets that way.

Of course, even though there were often players at the other spots, it certainly lacked the excitement of a live craps game.  I was down below $10 and then I personally had a really nice roll.  When I finally had enough, I cashed out a ticket that was worth over $25.  A nice five-buck profit!

I was tired and was headed back to the room but I passed a BJ table with a couple of open spots.  It was $5 minimum and I figured I really needed to play a little live action to complete the experience.  So I bought in for $50.  It was the first time I'd played blackjack in years. 

Aside:  I just realized that in telling this story over the many chapters, I've mentioned the need to do laundry, problems with Uber/Lyft/Rideshare, and now I'm playing Blackjack.  I fear my blog is turning into a poor man's version of Tony's.

Almost immediately after I sat down, a waitress came around. If ever I needed  a drink, this was the time.  I ordered a Corona.  Truth be told, a fifth of Jack Daniels was what was really called for after the day I had.  But the Corona would do.  Then I noticed she had a tray full of Coronas and just gave me one, even though I hadn't previously ordered it.  I guess maybe she just walks around with a tray full of them?  Perhaps Corona is the drink of choice at Buffalo Bill's.  Maybe it's the only beer they have?

I wasn't playing for very long when I started to wonder if this was a 3-2 BJ table or a 6-5 table. I hadn't even thought about it before sitting down. Was I stupid enough to have sat down at a table that only paid 6-5 on blackjack?  I looked at the felt and it didn't say "Blackjack pays 3-2" like they always used to.  Of course, it didn't say "Blackjack pays 6-5" either.  But then I figured they likely wouldn't put that on the felt.

I assumed I'd find out eventually.  Sure enough, I saw someone get a BJ and they were paid 6-5.  Yeesh.  Even out here, 40 miles from Vegas, the evil corporations have ruined the great game of blackjack.  I didn't bother to check, I just assumed that all the tables—or certainly all the $5 tables—were 6-5.  In the end, it didn't make a difference for me, as I never got a blackjack.

Oh and by the way, I should have realized it was a 6-5 table before that because I saw no 50¢ pieces in the dealer's rack.  You would need those if they were paying 3-2 to pay off a $5 bet that hit a blackjack.

But one of the first hands I was dealt I did get two Aces.  It was weird seeing them, too.  As a poker player, my first reaction was "alright, Aces!" But then I realized that it wasn't the best hand in this game.  Of course I split them and immediately got another Ace. I asked and was allowed to split again. I don't remember the full results but I won two out of the three hands.

I wanted to text Woody & LM that I was playing BJ and having a beer.  They certainly deserved to know this vital information.  As I took my phone out, I suddenly remembered that the last time I played BJ, you weren't allowed to use your cell phone at the table (that used to be the rule when I started playing poker too, but that rule has gone the way of 3-2 blackjack).  Before my phone reached the table I asked the dealer about it.  "Am I allowed to use my cell phone?"  She shook her head no.  OK, no biggie.

But when she shuffled the 8 or 10 deck shoe, I stepped away to text my pals.  And when I came back, I innocently put my phone down on the rail instead of in my holster.  It wasn't there for more than a minute when a floorman came by and said, "No cell phones at the table, boss."  Hey, if I was his boss, I'd make the rules and allow them.  I didn't argue that the cell phone technically wasn't on the table, it was on the rail.  I just put the damn phone away.

I played less than half an hour and actually had a decent little run.  I ended up winning $30, which was nice.  I wasn't even really trying that hard, and I think I remembered the basic BJ strategy.  And no, I didn't Martingale. 

I headed back up to the room and called it a night, hoping the worst was over but not sure what to expect the next day.  And we'll pick up that next day next time. Stay tuned. Or you can just go straight to the next chapter which you can find here.

Getting Hosed in Primm

The Nightmare Before—And After—Christmas

Chapter 7

The previous chapter is here.  Remember, you can find all the chapters by using the label "Stranded in Vegas."

So I had just parked in the Whiskey Pete's parking lot, in picturesque Primm, NV, just before the damn needle on my car's temperature gauge hit the red. The first order of business was securing a room for the night.  Now as I was listening to my voice notes just now, I started to wonder why I hadn't booked a room while I was sitting there on the side of the I-15 just waiting for the engine to cool down enough for me to add more coolant.  And my notes gave me no clue as to my thought process.  And I don't really remember since it's been over a month since this took place and so much more craziness happened in the next few days.

I can only guess.  Perhaps it was because I couldn't be sure I was going to end up in Primm until I actually got to Primm.  And I knew that once I booked that late in the day, for sure I'd be on the hook for the entire night--$150—even if I didn't end up staying there.  That might have been it.  Or maybe I just didn't think of it?  I can't be sure.

Whatever, I entered Whiskey Pete's casino, and after using a real restroom, I went about getting a room.

Before going over to the front desk, I checked my phone to see if I could use Priceline or some such to get the room cheaper.  But everything I tried led me to the same conclusion—it was gonna cost me $150 for the night at Whiskey Pete's.  I looked up Buffalo Bill's (just across the I-15 from where I was) and saw that they had rooms for $140. But the $10 difference wasn't that big a deal to me.  So I figured I might as well just deal directly with the hotel. I waited in line at the front desk and asked for a room.  By the way, I assumed that a room at Primm Valley Resort, if available, would be more, since it was the nicest of the three properties.

He quoted me $150 (that included everything—room, tax and the wonderful "resort fee").  But he did warn me that the only rooms they had were left were smoking rooms. Ugh.  I got stuck in a smoking room a few years back and it was awful.  It just  reeked.  For some reason, I thought a smoking room at Whiskey Pete's would be especially pungent. 

I'm not sure how we got there but he did tell me that rooms across the street at Buffalo Bill's were $140.  They have the same ownership but although he could tell me that, he couldn't book the room for me, I'd have to go over there.  And he couldn't tell me if they had any non-smoking rooms available.

Well I thought the saving of 10 bucks combined with at least the possibility of a non-smoking room made it worth a little more investigation into Buffalo Bill's.  Plus, in my mind, since Whiskey Pete's was the oldest casino, I thought Buffalo Bill's might be slightly better hotel.  Note: I should have known just based on the price that wasn't so. So I thanked him, sat by a slot machine, got back on my phone and booked a room at Buffalo Bill's.  And it said that it was non-smoking, which was great.  I paid for it with a credit card through Hotels.com. At least I had a place to stay for the night while I hopefully solved my radiator problem.  Note:  Only after I returned home after this ordeal was over, and I was going over all of my receipts, did I noticed that the confirmation I got from Hotels.com said that "non-smoking" was only a request and they couldn't guarantee me a non-smoking room.

I wasn't about to take the very short drive over the freeway to Buffalo Bill's to check in until I added more coolant.  And I had to wait for the engine to cool down to do that.  But I had something to do in the meantime.

Now I had been adding coolant from a jug of it that I put in my trunk at the last minute when I packed in L.A. and headed to Vegas—pretty much an afterthought.  I had it from that time in the summer when I almost overheated, as I mentioned previously.  I guess it was about 3/4's full when I started but by now it was getting close to empty.  When I mentioned this to Woody while I was stuck on the freeway, he said that there was a gas station next to Whiskey Pete's and they would surely have coolant for sale.  As he put it, "They may bone you on the price, but at least you'll have it."

I saw the gas station.  It was on the other side of the parking lot from where I had parked so it was a nice walk.  And by nice I mean, well, in lovely weather it would be nice.  Did I mention that although it was a perfectly sunny day it was still cold as a titch's wit?

Well I made it over there and actually it was more than just a gas station, it was a truck stop.  Inside there was a Subway sandwich stop, I think places to shower, and a limited section of auto supplies.  But they did indeed have coolant.  It was a brand I'd never heard of ("Peak") instead of the Prestone I'd been using.  Just to be totally safe, I called Woody and asked if it would be ok.  He said it was fine.

The place was super busy so it took a lot of time to make the purchase.  Of course, the price was about double the price they sell it for at Walmart (where I usually buy it).  But to be fair, I'm pretty sure it was actually a buck less than I paid for it at AutoZone when I had to buy my first jug of it in my neighborhood.  Note: I had a brand new, unused jug of Prestone coolant sitting in my garage at home.  Lot of good it did me there.

I trekked back to my car with the Peak coolant.  I had parked so far away there weren't a lot of other cars around it.  So as I approached it, it was real easy to see what looked like a puddle visible under the car, near the front of the engine.

Oh shit.

I examined it when I got to the car and it sure looked fresh.  Damn it.  To be certain, I moved the car and parked it where there was for sure no existing stain.  I looked at the liquid where the car had previously been.  It was green.  In other words, the color of coolant.  It didn't take long for me to see another spot where the car now was. I don't recall if I actually saw it dripping from the car but it was absolutely clear that the car was leaking coolant.  Yikes.

I called Woody and told him of this latest development. "Obviously there's a leak somewhere.  You gotta get TC to fix it."

Well great.  TC was about 50 miles away.  And I had no way to get to his shop.  "Should I have it towed there?"  He said, well, maybe TC can tow it, or he might have a connection that can tow it cheap, perhaps even at his expense.

It was now getting close to 3pm (I had gotten on the 15 in Vegas before noon).  But I did recall seeing a sign saying that TC's shop was open on Saturdays, until 3pm.  And I did have his cel number, so maybe he'd answer even after hours.

Meanwhile, while I was talking to Woody this guy pulled up alongside my car in a van.  He started talking to me, commiserating with me over my obvious car troubles.  He started talking like he wanted to offer me some help, and I didn't know what his angle was.  Maybe he was just a Good Samaritan?  He was telling me all about older cars—he once had a 90's Lexus.  But then he just rode off, just as mysteriously as he had shown up.  He did wish me good luck.

Anyway, I called TC and he answered.  I wish I could accurately report on our conversation, but I really wasn't understanding much of what he was saying and I don't think he was understanding much of what I was saying.  At one point he put one of his workers on the phone to talk to me. It might have been his son.  But he didn't understand me (nor I, him) either.

Somehow I got the point across that the car was leaking radiator fluid and he said, "Well, bring it in, I'll take a look."  It took me awhile to get through to him that I wasn't in Vegas and that I was actually near the border. He didn't seem to know anything about Primm, or Whiskey Pete's.

When he realized I was like 50 miles awhile, I asked him if he could tow it back there, did he know someone who could tow the car?  I told him, "I could tow it, I could call the auto club, but it will cost me a fortune."  He never really answered me about the tow.

But after this line of inquiry went on for a few minutes, he finally said, "I'll come to you."  "You'll come to me?"  I didn't believe it.  "Yes, where are you again?"  I told him Whiskey Pete's.  He said, "Text me the address."  Wow, he really didn't know Whiskey Pete's.  I mean, you don't need the address.  Just search Whiskey Pete's on Google maps and it'll come right up.  But whatever, I texted him the address.  And then I waited.  And I wondered if he was actually going to show up.

It was now like 3:30.  I could tell traffic on the 15 was still bad, so I knew he would be awhile.  I sat in the car for a bit and then realized I could wait in the casino where it was warm.  I also changed my jacket so I would be warmer when outside.

I waited a long time and it got dark.  I decided to call him to check on his progress, not because he was really late but just to make sure he was coming.  He picked up and assured me he was on his way.

I went back outside to wait in the car.  And froze.  But suddenly, he called me.  He was there, driving around the lot trying to find me.  There were no row or aisle identifiers in the parking lot.  I tried to guide him and was having difficulty explaining where I was, but he finally found me.

He pulled up in a Toyota van, alone.  The van was full of tools. He opened the hood, jacked the car up, starting pulling the engine apart and even took off the plastic cover from underneath the engine.  And he was working in the dark, with just a flashlight (it was a really good flashlight).

I was standing outside in the freezing cold, watching.  Once or twice he had me hold the light. It was not a fun experience.

Finally he said, "Hose no good."  And he showed me a hose that had some cracks in it.  "Where can I get new hose?"  Damn.  I had no idea.  There wasn't an AutoZone around, I was sure of that,  I told him I didn't think there was any place around, but that maybe, just maybe, that truck stop where I'd bought the coolant would have one—or at least they would know if there was a place anywhere around that would sell them.

I pointed out the truck stop to him and he said, ok, we'd go over there. And then he handed me his keys and said, "You drive."

WTF?  That was weird.  Why did he want me to drive?  I didn't mind driving, it was so cold that the walk would be nasty.  But why should I drive?  The only reason I could think of was that he looked at the design of the parking lot between us and the truck stop, and also his experience driving around it earlier looking for me, and decided he just didn't want to deal with it.

So I got into his van and drove us over there.  To be honest, I've never driven this type of vehicle before and it was a bit different, sitting so high.  Also—and this is embarrassing—I was really too far from the pedals to comfortably reach them.  I had to sit forward in the seat, and not rest my back against the seat.  Fortunately, it was a short drive.

We looked over the auto section and didn't see any hoses.  I waited in line to ask the clerk.  No, they didn't sell hoses.  "Where is the nearest place that would sell them?"  "Well, if you're going to L.A., Baker."  (About an hour's drive from where we were).  I asked, what about on the way to Vegas?  "Then, Vegas."  Yeesh.  Slightly closer than Baker, but barely.  But it was what I expected.

I told this to TC and he said, ok, let's go back. 

We did and he took the hose and then started to try to repair it!  He put some sealant on it, then wrapped some duct tape around it.  And put some clips on it.  And put the hose back on the engine.  Near the front of it, on the opposite side of the radiator reservoir.

And of course he added more coolant.  Lots of coolant.  He used his own coolant, not mine.  In one of my many conversations with Woody this day, he had told me of a trick that TC could use to add coolant that would greatly reduce the number of times I might have to add it myself.  It has to do with removing a bolt near the front of the engine and putting the coolant in there.  So I suggested it to TC and he seemed familiar with that method, so he agreed to do it that way (as well as adding it to the reservoir). Both spots were full when he was done.

Was that gonna hold?  I really couldn't see myself driving back to L.A. with a cracked hose that had been "repaired."

But he said, "You drive back, I follow you."  Well that wasn't gonna work.  "I have no place to stay in Vegas, I'm staying here. But the car can drive like this?"  "Yes, should be ok. Not leaking now. I follow you."  But again I said I had no place to stay in Vegas.  And it was kind of late to book a room now.  On a holiday weekend.  And I had a room paid for where we were.

Finally he understood that I couldn't really go back to Vegas. He said, well then, bring the car in to his shop on Monday and he'll have a brand new hose and he'll finish the repair.  "I can drive it now and it will get me there?"  Again he said, "Should be ok. No leak."  I pointed out all the stuff that he had take off the engine and the plastic cover too.  "It's ok, I put it back."  So he took all the parts he'd taken off (which were in the back of his van) and reassembled the engine.

He took off and I had to drive across the freeway to Buffalo Bill's to get my room.  I guess this was now 6pm, if not later.  I was worried about my room still being available.  Nervous as hell, even for such a short trip, I started the car and drove over to Buffalo Bill's.  It was never clear to me if he wanted to follow me because the hose might not last the trip, or if he was gonna have me drive back there with all my engine parts still in the back of his van and that was his concern.  But I did manage to get into Buffalo Bill's parking lot.

But parking was an issue. Whereas Whiskey Pete's parking lot had lots of available spots, this parking lot was jammed.  I mean, it was like Costco's parking lot two days before Christmas. I drove up and down the aisles of Buffalo Bill's lot and couldn't find a spot.  Finally, on the last aisle, farthest from the entrance, I found the last spot in the damn parking lot.  Of course, it is entirely possible there were more spots in an area of the parking lot I didn't know about, I acknowledge that, but this was the first spot I saw and I grabbed it.

I was starving but of course I wanted to check in to my room before I did anything.  I grabbed my laptop and took the long walk to the casino. In the freezing cold.

Of course there was a huge line to check in. But eventually I made it to the front and secured my room. Now I had to bring in my stuff from the car.  The trouble was, when I packed all my stuff, and then when I loaded it into my car that morning, I had no idea I'd be staying somewhere for one night.  So I hadn't packed an overnight bag with just the stuff I'd need for a night.  And it was way too cold for me to spend a lot of time outside going through all my stuff to find just the items I'd need for that one night.  Bottom line:  With one or two exceptions, I ended up bringing in most of my stuff to my room.  I had to make like three trips to do it.  All for a (hopefully) one-night stay.  It was ridiculous.  And of course by the time I was done, my back was killing me.

And that's more than enough for this post.  Come back soon for a report on my night in Primm, NV, where the elite meet to celebrate the new year!  ....And you can now find the next chapter here.

Leaving Las Vegas

The Nightmare Before—And After—Christmas

Chapter 6

The previous chapter is here.  And remember, you can find all the chapters by using the label "Stranded in Vegas."

This day, Saturday, December 29, 2018, has to be considered the worst day of my life. The only exceptions I would make would be for days when a dear family member passed away, those were worse.  But aside from an actual death, this day ranks as the worst.  And remember, a little over two years ago, I had a triple by-pass!

I got up early that Saturday and packed up the car.  As I explained earlier, I take a lot of stuff with me on these trips and by the time I left, I probably had even more stuff to take home than I started with.  It took awhile to pack up, but I was able to check out of the hotel a bit before 11am. And as I explained a few posts back, I also topped off the radiator reservoir with coolant.  I wanted to eat before leaving town, so I headed to one of my favorite Vegas fast food joints, a place called Teriyaki Madness. It's a chain (in fact, they now have locations in L.A.) and I go to one that's sorta on the way out of town (and for some reason, the food tastes better at this location than the others I've tried).

I ordered my usual—a teriyaki beef bowl and a large green salad.  A few minutes after I paid, while I was waiting for my order, the girl came over to me and told me they were out of salad and would I like something else instead.

Out of salad?

How does a restaurant run out of salad?  Before noon on a Saturday?  I said no thanks and got a refund on the salad.  Damn, I really like their salads and one of the reasons I go there is that, in case I don't feel like stopping off at a supermarket when I get back into town after the long drive, I've already had my daily salad requirement.  Recall that I once said that I like to have a salad every day as it's pretty much the only healthy food that I actually enjoy.

I just thought it was bad luck but I didn't realize that it was an omen as to how the rest of the day was going to go.

After eating my disappointing lunch, I headed to the I-15 for the drive home.

Now I better explain the route a little for those of you who have never driven to or from Southern California to Vegas.  Vegas is about 45 miles inland from the CA state line.  Because Californians who are driving into Vegas shouldn't have to wait that extra 45 miles to start gambling, there are actually three casino/hotels right on the state line. When I first started going to Vegas, they actually called the area where these casinos were "Stateline."  But it got too confusing with the "Stateline" that was on the border in the northern part of NV, where Lake Tahoe is.  I think Stateline up there is an actual city or town or something.  So they decided to start calling the state line that I drive through all the time "Primm."  The three hotels there are "Primm Valley Resort," (by far the nicest one), Whiskey Pete's and Buffalo Bill's.

When there's going to be a lot of traffic on the way back to CA, the traffic starts slowing up before you get Primm.  That's because at the state line, the number of lanes is reduced from three to two.  Also, more recently they put a fruit inspection station right near the border (on the CA side) and every car entering CA from NV has to stop.  I could do a 145-part rant about that, but don't get me started.

As I explained in my previous post, I wasn't expecting any kind of traffic this day, I thought I picked the perfect day to go home.  I mean if someone had stayed in Vegas Friday night, why the hell would they go back home to CA on the Saturday with NY's eve just two days away? 

I wasn't on the 15 very long before I started noticing something with the Lexus.  It was the engine temperature.  I saw the needle on the gauge moving up.  And then it moved back down.  It returned to the proper position.  But I don't recall seeing that happen like that before.  It didn't get to the point of being in the red but the instability was worrisome. 

As I was wondering what to do, all of  a sudden traffic came to a halt.  Not quite a total stop, but I was now driving five miles an hour at best.  Well, I noticed a few emergency vehicles up ahead (moving towards the state line along the left shoulder) but it also appeared that my supposition that there wouldn't be any traffic returning to CA this day was way off.

While I was still driving, I decided to call Woody and see if he had any sage advice.  But when I called, he didn't answer, all I could do was leave a message.  I was having great doubts about  my ability to make it home.  So I decided to be proactive.  I called the hotel I had just checked out of to see if there was any way they could give me my room back if I needed to turn around.  It was a long shot, I knew.

I called and told them my predicament.  As predicted, the girl said they were completely booked—overbooked in fact.  I pleaded my case.  She said that she needed to talk to her manager, but she wasn't there at the moment (must have been the assistant manager since the manager is a guy).  She said she'd be back soon and she would talk to her and either call me back or have the manager call me back.  I said thanks and hung up.

Note:  At no time during the rest of this trip did I ever hear back from the hotel. Not a peep. That's certainly annoying. However, had they called me back a few minutes later, I would have likely told them that I didn't need the room after all because of my subsequent discussion with Woody.

Woody had called me back while I was talking to the hotel and I had to call him back.  By the time we had connected, I noticed the needle on that temperature gauge was no longer ever going down and kept creeping higher and higher.  It was getting way to close to the red so I actually pulled over to the shoulder of the freeway and just sat there.  That's when I spoke to Woody.

Woody thought he knew exactly what the problem was. He surmised that I just hadn't done the trick of adding coolant then warming up the car to let it empty into the radiator and repeating this enough times for it to take effect.  Since the last time I had gotten the car back from TC the day before, I had added coolant three times.  "It's not enough I guess.  You may have to do it like 10-12 times."  Ugh.  When I had my issue over the summer I didn't have to do it that many times, but it was quite a few times.

Now on the I-15, once you cross over into California, you almost immediately start a really long, really steep climb up the mountain.  They add a traffic lane just for trucks that can't make the climb at the speed limit.  And you frequently see economy cars that can't drive the climb at the speed limit.  Another thing you find is cars pulled over to the side that have overheated trying to make the climb.  Woody was very familiar with the climb.  He said, "You're gonna need to make sure that radiator is full before you make that climb."  Well considering I couldn't even get to the damn border (and this drive was flat) at the moment, that sounded quite logical.

He suggested that I may have to stay in Primm overnight, keeping adding coolant and warming up the engine, and if I did that enough times I'd be able to finish my journey on Sunday.  That sounded like a lousy way to spend a day but it might just work.  The trouble is that even a crummy place like Primm would jack up their hotel rates for this weekend.  And that's assuming they even had rooms available. 

While we were talking, LM was checking online about rooms.  The good news was Whiskey Pete's had rooms available. The bad news was they were charging $150 for the night.  Now I have never paid anywhere near that much for a room in Vegas.  To pay that much for a room in a dump like Whiskey Pete's was unseemly.  But it appeared like it might be the only solution for me.

Of course, that was assuming I could even make it to Whiskey Pete's.  I was stuck on the side of the freeway, a good 10 miles from there, with traffic moving at about 5 miles an hour.  Of course I was currently moving zero miles an hour.  But Woody felt that if I waited for the engine to cool so I could add coolant, I could get there.  Maybe it would take a few stops/refill/starts, but I could make it.

He had another idea.  Rather than do all that, call the AAA and have them tow me to Whiskey Pete's.  Sounded like a good idea.  So I tried that.  Unfortunately, AAA told me that they could only tow me to either a repair shop or a residence. That was their policy.  I told them that Whiskey Pete's was going to be my residence for the night but they wouldn't buy it. 

I suppose I could have had them tow me back to Vegas, to TC's shop. But at this moment, I didn't think I needed the car to be repaired, I thought I just needed to keep adding coolant. Besides, I was well out of the 7-mile range they tow as part of the membership fee.  It would cost a pretty penny to get towed back to Vegas and then I'd be in Vegas without a room for the night.  And if a place in Primm was charging $150 a night, how the hell much would any place in Vegas be charging for the night?  I just needed to get to Whiskey Pete's.

So I just sat there on the side of the freeway, wondering how long I needed to wait to try to open the radiator cap and add more coolant.  Well I didn't just sit there. I had to do something else.  You see while I was waiting, I had developed the pressing urge relief myself.  Yes, my bladder was sending me nasty signals.  And obviously I couldn't reach a Men's Room seeing I was stuck on the side of the road.

Well, I didn't know how long it was gonna take me to get to Whiskey Pete's—or even if I could actually make it there at all.  Of course, off to the side of the 15 there was this vast nothingness.  Just a bunch of brush and tumble weeds.  And I realized I was going have to get out of my car and wander a few yards from the freeway and take a whiz out in the open air, just like the cavemen did.

The trouble with that was, I would have an audience.  I mean, traffic on the freeway was still stop-n-go.  There was just a shitload of cars right there.  A lot of the people in those cars would be able to see a guy wandering into the desert and doing what comes naturally.  I wasn't worried so much about exposing myself as I was just getting busted for public urination.  After all, I had seen a few emergency vehicles in the area.  What if a Highway Patrol car just happened by while I was peeing out in the open?

Well, as it happened, I actually had a possible solution.  I was carrying a "Travel Johnny" for just such emergencies.  I owe one of my blog readers, Cranky, for this life saving device.  Alert readers will recall a story about a trip to Vegas where I got caught in a massive traffic jam and really had to go and was just stuck on the freeway (see here). Cranky left a comment suggesting I travel with the Travel Johnny and even gave me a link for them on Amazon.  I did indeed order a box of them and have traveled with one ever since.  Fortunately I had never had the need to use one—until right now. 

I decided it was time to try one.  I opted for getting out of the car, walking off a few yards away from the highway and using it for relief.  I suppose I could have stayed sitting in my car to use it—that's really what it is designed for—but since I had never used one, I didn't want to risk using it improperly and um, well, staining the inside of my car.  Taking a little walk and using it would hopefully hide what I was doing from passersby.  Not sure if I would actually be able to beat the rap for public urination if caught but I figured I had lessened the chance of getting caught.

Anyway, it worked fine.  Those things can be used multiple times (until they completely fill up) so I took the thing back to my car and stuck it in a safe place in my trunk.  Of course, that made it inaccessible (at least while driving) if I needed it again on the trip but that wasn't concerning me at the moment.  Just getting the car moving again was more of a problem.

Anyway, thanks, Cranky, for the great suggestion.

I dunno how long I was there, on the side of the road, before I tried putting coolant in the car.  Half an hour maybe?  Longer?  But using a rag I was able to get the radiator cap off without burning myself.  Unfortunately, the coolant did bubble up and out of the reservoir when I pulled the cap off.  But it did take a fair amount of coolant.  I was ready to get back on the road, and hopefully make it to Whiskey Pete's. 

But sadly, it didn't take very long for the needle to start reaching the top half of the gauge.  And before I knew it, it was near the red and I had to pull off to the side of freeway yet again.  I think I might have been able to have made it (maybe) if the traffic wasn't so bad.  Certainly that 3-5 MPH pace was not good for a car that was having overheating issues. And so once again, I was just sitting in the car, waiting for the engine to cool down enough for me to add more coolant.

I sat and sat.  Then I looked in the rear view mirror and noticed a vehicle coming up to me with flashing lights (yellow lights, not red).  It pulled up right behind me and a guy got out of it and approached the car from the passenger side.  I could see that the truck he was driving said something like "Freeway Service Patrol."  I had no idea what that was, but the guy asked me what the problem was and I told him.

I said that I was waiting for the engine to cool off so I could add some more coolant.  I told him what Woody had told me about how this car needed to have coolant added a few times before it finally filled up.  He said, "Oh, you mean you have to 'burp' it?"  Woody had never used that term for it but it seemed to fit.  I told him I was just trying to get to Whiskey Pete's for the night.

I popped the hood and he looked around a little bit, then volunteered to add more coolant for me.  He got the coolant out of the trunk and added some, replaced the cap, gave me back the coolant and said, "Well, that should at least get you to Whiskey Pete's."

I thanked him and he took off.  And I started the car up and re-entered the highway.  Unfortunately, the guy was wrong.  That needle climbed and climbed and I could see that I was thisclose  to it getting into the red.  So yes, I had to stop and pull over for a third time.  And by this time I was really close to Whiskey Pete's.  I mean, I could see it from where I was.  I could have easily walked to it.  But I couldn't have driven to it without that needle hitting red.  So I stopped and sat. 

And eventually was able to add more coolant.   And yes, the coolant already in there bubbled out a bit.  I think it also had for the guy who helped me.  I assumed I was just not letting it cool off enough for the coolant to drain as much as it otherwise could have into the radiator and that's why I had to stop so often.  But I was trying to get off the damn freeway and into Whiskey Pete's parking lot.

Anyway, third time's the charm and I reached the exit for Whiskey Pete's.  Fortunately the place is right there, just off the exit, as by the time I got into the parking lot, that damn needle was really, really close to the red.  I didn't even try to find a spot close to the casino.  I parked a good distance away because of the needle getting too high.

And that's where I'm going to leave this chapter, having just pulled into the Whiskey Pete's parking lot.  More to come, of course.  In fact the next chapter can be found here.