What better place than here, what better time than NOW.Zack de la Rocha, 1999
Yes, that’s two song lyrics to start a post. Fucking sue me.
We are back in the saddle this weekend for the first time since February 2020. Heading back to the crown jewel…no, the shining star….no, how about the glowing beacon…(shit NO still too much credit)…the lightly lit 45 watt light bulb in your grandma’s basement staircase Atlantic City – just kidding babe, you know I love you – for a 4 day bender with Wing Man #1 and creepy Raul.
It’s about time we get back to normalcy. Do I plan on traveling all over town collecting free shit and rooms I never intend to use? Yes. Do I plan on walking to the Trop and complaining how fucking far it is just to eat at Chickie’s & Pete’s. Yes! Does that mean black chips will fly late night like axes will fly at that place across from the Showboat? You are godamn right they are! (By the way, that ax throwing place better be open and not a victim of this pandemic bullshit, or all hope is lost in America. If we can’t save a place that sells booze and let’s you throw heavy sharp objects at a somewhat forgiving wooden board after signing a flimsy-at-best liability waiver than what the fuck are we doing?)
4 days, 2 new places (hey, it’s not my fault Sugar House and Harrah’s Chester rebranded, I am just following the rules) and hopefully a bankroll that lasts until the end.
Now excuse me, I’ve got some blackjack dealers to hit so hard, their girlfriend dies (not literally, culture yourself below with the greatest “fictional” athlete of all time. Suck it Prefontaine!)
(Yes, I’ve been to PA and AC a few times. Here are some reminders for those who love to live in the past like me)