Kinder Gambling Gods

First of all, Merry Christmas to all!

Yesterday, following breakfast at JB's Cafe, I dial up niece Kris on Internet chat, and I watch as she works on a new feature for my website. It fascinates me that I'm sitting here in a casino in Tunica, Miss., sipping coffee, while watching my website build in real time as Kris works her magic nearly 700 miles away.

I suit up for another workout at the fitness center. I'm figuring the center hasn't had a facelift since this casino/hotel opened as Circus Circus in 1995. I even think some of the equipment is the original. I ask the lady behind the window cut into the wall if I can see one of treatment rooms for massage, thinking these are antiquated also. She says she can't access the rooms because they are locked, and only the massage therapists have the key to "their" rooms, and all therapists are off work until Dec. 26th. I view this as rather strange since, technically, the massage rooms are part of MGM property and, and such, somebody from management should have access to these rooms. So I take this as a sign from "Our Lady of the Likely Disappointing Experience" (a lady with whom I am very familiar and thus am highly attuned to her subtle warnings) and decide to bag the massage for this trip. It's too bad, but I'm not willing to risk a C-note for a rub from some toothless chick from Tunica while laying on a piece of plywood stretched between two sawhorses. OK, it probably wouldn't be that bad. But in my two days here, I haven't spotted a single person that looks like a massage therapist, nor have I seen a single client enter or exit the steel utility door in the gym that leads to the two treatment rooms. Plus, there are no shower facilities here, and no changing rooms. (On the one hand, I can't blame MGM reasoning behind their inattention to this particular part of the hotel. It is probably the one area of the hotel where it is virtually impossible to spend money. But still, I believe it stretches the definition of a "full-service spa" advertised by the good folks at MGM Resorts, and for which I am paying a $7.50 daily "resort fee" as part of my hotel bill.)

The workout goes well, including another ride on the 2-by-4-up-my-ass spinning bicycle. Another dip in the pool, whirlpool, and I'm pink and clean as a whistle. I return to my room to find a message on the phone from Dawn, so I call her back and get caught up on the news back home. By this time, I am hungry, so I head over to the "Burger Bar" at the Horseshoe, and get an 8-ounce burger with the works, a free order a fries (the promotion today) and a large Diet Coke, all for for $11.50. I play one of the Family Guy slots there, and wind up $10.85 ahead. I walk back over to the Gold Strike, and play one of the blackjack tables until I am $12.50 to the good, and decide to quit while I'm ahead. So my winnings for the day total $23.35. One more item of interest: I see vending machines in the casino selling packs of cigarettes. $10.50 per pack, and the buyer must insert the exact amount. For in fine print that no nicotine-starved customer would possibly notice, the machine has a postage stamp size sign that states it delivers no change. I think this is highway robbery, until I check the gift shop and find out they are $11 a pack there. OK, I'm not a smoker, but it sure it surely strikes me as curious that somebody around here has the audacity to sell cigarettes for $11/pack and, more astoundingly, people are willing to pay for it. Christ, who needs to be a crack around here?

Back in my room, I work on my watch story a little bit, and read, while "A Christmas Story" plays on the TV, and I watch Ralphie, for the 100th time, unwrap his Daisy Red Ryder BB gun. It never gets old.

Bruce