Oh I see...two reviews for the price of one (free). Alright, well I walked through the casino which I've already told you about; up the stairs to Larry Flynt's Bar and Grill (which is what I was looking for in the first place). Usually it's "exit through the gift shop" but it would appear that here it's "enter through the money trap." That's alright, that's alright, I still love you Larry Flynt. And I do love a good set of stairs to get me where I'm going, but gosh I shouldn't have said that (there's a golden elevator too, mind you, right between the restrooms).
Now around the bar I found a spot right next to the register, but not so close that I was in the way. When finding just the right spot to settle, the démarche always brings to mind a dog turning circles on his/her bed before plopping down with a fat sigh, which in turn makes me smile.
It was just me and a guy wearing sunglasses, looking at his phone, and then two servers sauntering back and forth behind the bar. One gave me a menu, and I thanked her. I listened around and looked at the menu and made a thousand computations before the server came back, and still I needed another minute. I'm not usually like that (indecisive), but I wasn't about to cry about it either.
She came back and I blurted out "shrimp friend rice," but corrected myself with salted shrimp and steamed rice. By then I needed another beer as well, but the taps up here were foamy too (see previous review of Hustler Casino)! These girls knew how to circumnavigate such minor inconveniences, however, and before long, I had food and beer, what more could I ask for? A little female company perhaps, but nah, nah, y'all are busy, and that's alright, the TVs are on, and the man in sunglasses is loosening up to the advances of the servers.
The conversations that I overhear are all too often tepid for my taste, and I will wait for scalding hot before I pour the ice cubes in. A couple comes in to sit down at a booth, and he's covering her like a blanket, fine. Kobe Bryant is on the tube, and his smile is larger than life. I never realized how much athletes really have to act until just now. The cameras are always on after all, and something has to happen, the narrative must be visible in their movements and faces, because the interviews won't do. We, the observers, aim to plug the tub with our own hair and imaginations, and here I go suddenly fighting back the tears. A man orders coffee and he seems uneasy too. Was I uneasy? No, not really. A gorgeous gal with huge hoop earrings sits down across the way and things are shaping up. I try not to stare, and it's all good because she won't look this way. I think about Belgium and my brother, I think about basketball and girls and daughters, and wonder what any of it has got to do with beer and beef and fish and grills.
Anyways, here's Wonder wall. read more