wait, i know, i'll fire a machine gun. there are ads for these guys all over town.
but it's gonna be a tourist-fleecing thing for sure. i bet it'll run $100 or so ... i call the range and, yes, it's essentially $50 to fire a machine gun, but $100 for a "package" that includes a t-shirt.
that's fine. i'm currently $114 up for the trip, but i don't want to pay for it out of my pocket ... so i part ways with my accomplice and head over to the blackjack tables. even here, under quasi-pseduonym, i'm not going to talk about BJ, what i know, or how i do it. i'll just say that i believe the game is beatable. if you want more details, and you know me personally, ask and i'll give you a whole lot more.
anyway, i head over to the table and in short order i've won the $100 i was looking for (biggest bet being $20).
i'm ready to head out but my accomplice wants to play some video poker, so i figure "why not," and sit down for a session.
well, here's one possible answer to "why not?" how about if you have a losing session? my accomplice and i were splitting wins and losses, on a positive expectation game that should smooth your fluctuations down some and make you more likely to be a winner.
but what should happen and what does happen can be two different things. after a couple hours, with a maximum bet of $1.25, we're down $175 each and i am pissed. nothing nothing nothing puts me in a fouler mood than losing in a game i know i can beat.
and worse, i'm now down for the trip.
the gun store closes in three hours and i can't justify paying for it out of my pocket.
now i'm not a guy who chases his losses. in fact, i'm known for walking from tables when things just aren't "right."
but (that's my big but) for damn sure i'm not going to walk from this vegas trip a loser. my accomplice wanders away after seeing the raw fire in my eyes and i cash $200 at the $25 table. i play a bit, up about $100, and then too many people show up at the table.
i'm up $61 for the trip now, but it's not enough. i had my sights set on firing that gun, dammit. and i'm still not paying.
i wander down the street, go in another place with a very chatty dealer (i like talking as i play, it makes it look less like i know what i'm doing), and in about half an hour, win $300 more.
right.
right right right.
it's 17:00, the gun range closes at 18:30. i grab my accomplice, who has lost yet more money, is down for the trip and is about half as pissed as i was an hour ago (which is to say "a lot") and head to the range.
there's a pimpstress working the front desk. the kind of young woman that in the 70's my dad would have called a "hard broad." her name tag said "jessi babe" and she talked with a hard east coast accent (sounded like NJ, but there are parts of FL that sound that way too).
she rattled off all the different possibilities. her fluency with guns is roughly equal to mine about hot wheels cars when i was nine -- which is to say ultra-enthusiastic and encyclopedic in scope. in brief, i could fire an entire arsenal of weapons for $130. but there's all sorts of catches, one of which is that the accomplice -- who has no interest in shooting (mostly from still being stuck at the VP machines), but wants to watch -- can't enter the range without a fairly hefty surcharge. i decide on shooting only an M249 SAW, which is essentially $50 for as many rounds and tack on the ridiculous $40 fee for a private range so the accomplice can enter and do whatever the hell it is you do when someone else is firing a machine gun in front of your face.
but before we go in ...
me: "so i've heard about good looking women like you at stores like this ... are you a wear bikinis and get filmed shooting automatic weapons kind-of-woman?"
her: "god no! I WISH! how awesome would that be? you shoot weapons in a bikini and men drool over you? god yes. think about it. women get famous to model in their underwear. they wear underwear and no one thinks bad of them. they're famous and rich. but shooting a gun in a bikini and getting FILMED? that would be awesome! i would do it, for sure."
"so how did you get this job anyway?"
""you really want to know?"
"of course."
she leans forward to share her closest secret. "because all the guys here were so hot. i thought 'i can work there and be around those hot guys and shoot guns.'"
reason enough.
we go inside.
"who do you want to shoot? bin laden?" i look up and there's a vast array of targets. osama, miscellaneous bad guys, a couple zombies, et al. i just feel really foolish. this is the end of the day, there's about half a dozen people in here, all dressed in urban camo, armed to the nines with tasers the size of large pigs.
"uh, no ..." i choose a non-descript human form. (i think CA has a law that you can't shoot a target that actually looks like a recognizable person.)
i put on safety googles and ear protection. the range that i've paid extra money for is being cleaned, but the rest of the range is empty (except for one final shot from some demon gun that scared the absolute bejesus out of me) so they let my accomplice just come in there instead.
the instructor is fast, but methodical. he's dealt with a million people like me before, for sure, and i seem to only make one unprompted error before shooting -- i'm standing a bit too far forward.
i've fired a few regular rifles in my life, and a hand gun once, but i've never been around anything like this.
holding the gun is a little odd. you grip like a normal rifle with your right hand, but with your left hand you over-hand grip at the stock, right by your shoulder (both times my natural inclination was to underhand it). then you rest your cheek on your left hand.
i'm told in no uncertain terms to not fire just a shot or two, but to do a burst of two or three seconds. individual shots can jam the gun.
"how much kick will there be?"
"almost none."
i set-up, peer through the scope and see a laser red circle on the inner lens. line it up. relax. and squeeze. the gun has almost no kick and is deadly accurate. the sound is fairly hushed and very quiet. i back off and can tell that the guy is not quite impressed.
"you're a good shot, but it ran a little long," it looks like i shot, maybe 25 rounds. "you probably have two runs left here. just a couple of seconds."
i line up again and it is over in a flash. there's no second round.
this is the center of the target. as i'd fire, the bullets ripping through the paper would make it move up and to the left -- like a drape in the wind ... that's what's causing the bullet spray pattern to move.
i'm happy. yes, it's an incredibly fleecing experience, but i knew that when i went in ... and hey, it wasn't my money.
with three hours left before going to the airport, we head over to casino royale. essentially the motel 6 of swank strip casinos, this is the place where you're mostly likely to see someone wearing an "i'm with stupid" t-shirt. it's also the place with the best over-pay coupons -- maybe in the world.
in less than 20 minutes i've hit four aces on a video poker machine (the penultimate payout -- $100 for a $1.25 bet and won $100 on match play on blackjack switch (an odd game where you're dealt two hands and can switch your bottom cards). i'm $172 up here.
now with two hours to burn before the flight we head to the paris. i want to snap some pix from the eiffel tower for you, dear reader (oops, pix coming later -- this 'net connection isn't quite fast enough for my needs right now). since i have a diamond card, they treat me like royalty.
now with one hour left we go into the restaurant to order what may well be the best dessert i've ever had in my life ... pistachio souffle ... suttonhoo and i had this several months ago -- and i wanted to see if it was as good as i remembered it.
it absolutely was.
a quick sprint to the airport and we catch the red eye to fort lauderdale.
all expenses included, i'm leaving town with about $165 more than i came in with. you tell me if this is a good leg.
view from inside the restaurant where i was seated for souffle
eiffel tower column inside casino
15 second exposure
