Posts Tagged ‘Atlantic City Diaries’

Atlantic City Diaries, Chapter 13: The Atlantic City Marathon

Posted: October 20, 2013 by rorypatrick in Atlantic City Diaries
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The BEST AUTUMN EVER begins in Atlantic City with something completely unexpected.  This entry contains a shocking lack of both gambling and alcohol abuse, replaced with a startling amount of healthy activity.  As you may have guessed by reading the headline, Keith and I participated in the 55th annual Atlantic City Marathon!

Well, to clarify, we ran the half-marathon, but together, we ran the full one.  Whenever I had to clarify that, it always reminded me of the “very proud, minus” line from Arrested Development.  Conversations went akin to this: “Oh wow, you are running a marathon, what an accomplishment.”  “Well, actually, I’m running a half-marathon.”  “Oh… what a half-accomplishment.”

Now, Keith is a regular runner.  He is the only man I know who has woken up from a night of drinking and gambling and immediately went on a jog on the boardwalk.  He is even participating in the New York City Marathon in two weeks.  Yours truly, on the other hand, am not a runner by any stretch of the imagination.  I mainly disliked running because I’m both slow and easily distracted.  Doing one thing over and over for two hours would, on paper, drive me crazy.  In fact, as I write this, I am taking breaks every 15 minutes to either check football scores, play games on my tablet, practice the guitar, or stare at the wall.

Furthermore, I also hate “running culture.”  If you look at any running website, you’ll find corny positive-attitude slogans posted everywhere.  “You are lapping everyone on the couch!”  “You have a strong spirit!”  “You’re the best…AROUND!  Nothing’s gonna ever bring you down!”  While these cliches may inspire others, they just make me roll my eyes.  They seem desperate, insecure, and delusional.  Here’s my motivational phrase: running is putting one foot in front of the other at a quick pace, and it will make you healthier.  That should be all the information you need to make the choice of whether to run or not.

I signed up for the half-marathon because a family member signed up for the full one, and stupid old me thought: “How hard can 13.1 miles be?”  I started training this June, and immediately regretted this decision.  I intentionally made no references to it in the previous AC Diaries because I was not sure this post would ever be written.  But, without a running partner or a specific training plan, I eventually built up my distance (but not my speed: my first mile run took me 10 minutes, and my 10 mile run took me 100 minutes).  Training gave me these two breakthroughs about humanity:

1. People walk strangely.  In my training, I was running from my apartment, over the Brooklyn Bridge, and back.  I can’t count the number of times people will just randomly stop walking in front of me, or just drift to the left when I try to pass them.  Seriously, pay attention to your walking some time, and you’ll realize how hard it is to keep yourself going in a straight line.  Also, I ran over the Brooklyn Bridge about eight times during my training, and I’m sure I appear in roughly 2,376 tourist photos.  Sorry, couple from Australia, but I can’t break my flow!

2. Fat people are amazing.  First, imagine your dream life.  Are you sweating, with your knees and feet aching like hell?  Or are you relaxing on a beach, eating ice cream, and surrounded by beautiful women?  Fat people may not be at the beach or surrounded by beautiful women, but they have the “eating ice cream” part down.  They are closer to living the dream than you are!  And imagine the guts it takes to be fat.  Everywhere you look, people are demeaning you, saying you are not only ugly, but you’ll die soon.  And these brave lardos ignore all medical advice and go for the ice cream!  It’s damn impressive.

Anyway, this is the longest amount of time I’ve spent in Atlantic City consecutively (from Friday to Monday), so let’s begin this journey:

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Atlantic City Diaries, Chapter 12: The Killers at Borgata and the Gambler’s Fallacy

Posted: August 12, 2013 by rorypatrick in Atlantic City Diaries
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Well, the BEST SUMMER EVER is hitting the home stretch, so I figured it was time to check back in with the greatest city you can go to if you take exit 38 off the Garden State Parkway.  This time, we were off to see one of my favorite bands, the Killers, playing at one of the casinos I’m least familiar with, the Borgata.  Sure, they played the night before at Prudential Center, which is much easier to get to and the tickets were much cheaper.  But what fun is it going to Newark?  All my memories of the Prudential Center involve watching Devin Harris lead the Nets to 20-ish win seasons.  Whatever – this isn’t the god damn Newark Diaries!  Anyway, yadda yadda, and OB and I are at Port Authority…

1:00PM – I’m telling you, the time is right for someone to come in and usurp Greyhound’s stranglehold on buses from New York City to Atlantic City.  The price for Fridays has been raised up to $44, which is really taking a bite out of the value of the ride.  Also, Greyhound has now instituted a policy where you can only go to the gate area if you have a ticket.  While this does crack down on the number of bums meandering the facility, it makes it really inconvenient if you buy tickets for a friend, knowing that said friend will be showing up later (a situation that happens to me all too frequently, as you may recall from Chapter 9).  So we are paying more money for worse service, but there’s really no better alternative at the moment.  Basically, Greyhound is the Netflix of bus lines.

2:00 – Aboard the bus, I am drinking like a fish.  Unlike last time, when I was nursing a hangover, I am ready to party, fully prepared for all the negative consequences – terrible gambling decisions, lack of memory inhibiting my ability to write this diary entry, vomiting and pooping at the same time, etc.  OB is not intimidated, however, making my drinking efforts look amateurish by downing a water bottle full of Jim Beam.

(Just a side note with my man OB: he is returning to Atlantic City for the first time since July 4th.  In 2012, he went down to Revel on July 4th, and won a staggering amount of money, which led to the circumstances of Chapter 4.  This year, he went to Showboat, but kept the winning alive.  He now has a handler at the Boat of Show, and the room and our meal would be complimentary.  It should also be noted that I was not with him during any of his large wins, but I have been present at all of his large losses.  Yeesh.)

Anyway, on the ride down, we had one notable conversation about statistics.  OB mentioned learning about the “gambler’s fallacy” in college.   In layman’s terms, it basically means that past random events do not predict future events.  For example, if I roll a 7, it isn’t less likely that I roll a 7 next time – the odds remain the same.  Surprisingly, OB tells me that he thought his professor was wrong, that it WAS less likely.  Unsurprisingly, he told me that he had to take statistics three times in college.  I do my best to explain the fallacy again, and he reluctantly accepts my argument, but I hear lingering doubt in his voice.  How this man has won more money in Atlantic City than anyone else I know is, literally, one of the biggest statistical anomalies.  It’s a case that would probably make Nate Silver throw up his hands and go “Fuck it, I quit!”

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Atlantic City Diaries, Chapter 11: Arbitrary Sin

Posted: June 26, 2013 by rorypatrick in Atlantic City Diaries
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In last month’s Atlantic City Diary, I made the bold mission statement that I wanted to make this the BEST.  SUMMER.  EVER.  And, to accomplish such a grand task, there will have to be a lot of trips to the Lost City of Atlantic.  However, taking a three-hour bus ride to go get drunk and lose money does need some justification.  As explained in my guide to Atlantic City, I usually go down to see a concert or comedy show.  However, a good 90’s band or horribly offensive comedian does not come to Atlantic City every weekend.  You’ll have to invent excuses to go down.

This time, we celebrated my buddy Finn’s “birthday,” which was actually over a week ago, and involved the usual crew of drunken vandals.  The cast of characters this time involved Keith, OB, Finn, my girlfriend, Polar (making his debut for the AC Diaries) and yours truly.  The setting – the Boat of Show, also known as Showboat.  Let the adventure begin!

12:00PM – The previous night, my girlfriend and I both proclaimed that we would not get drunk and stay out too late.  We split up to hang out with our respective friends, and, of course, found ourselves coming home at 3:00AM and nursing killer hangovers the next day.  At noon, we headed for the subway to Port Authority, and she was asking me how I got home.  Struggling to recollect the experience, I say, “Well, I think I said goodbye to my friends, left early, and walked back by myself.”  As soon as I finish this story, I hear my name being called.  It is the friends I hung out with last night.  So, my girlfriend asks them how I got home last night.  The answer:

“We walked you home!  And you kept drunkenly shouting, ‘Are we there yet?’ every block!”

So that was my Friday night.

2:00 – We reach Port Authority, where we meet up with Keith and OB.  Unlike previous experiences, I’ve learned to eat heartily before the trip.  OB grabs a sausage-and-egg sandwich, which the master chefs at Port Authority stick in a microwave and nuke to high heaven.  OB tries to stuff the scalding hot sandwich in his mouth, his hand shaking the whole time, nearly breaking into a sweat.  Some may call it an impressive feat, but those people must have a very low threshold for being impressed.

On the bus, we are immediately treated to an argument between passengers.  One guy is playing a video game very loudly.  A man shouts from the back, “Could you turn it down?”  The offender retorts, “Mind your own business!”  The complainer explains, “I’m on the damn bus!  This is my business!”  Nice.  The man continues to play his video game, albeit at a quieter yet still audible level, then turns it off, and eventually borrows Keith’s newspaper.  What a guy.

During all this, my girlfriend and I are sitting out on the typical “drinking on the bus down” festivities, due to the previous nights activity.  OB, however, is engaging what I like to call “pregnancy drunkenness” – he’s drinking for two.

5:00 – We arrive at Showboat, with OB two flasks lighter.  I haven’t been to Showboat in a while, but the bus center has taken on a distinctive cheese smell.  Like all the world’s problems, this problem too can most likely be traced to the Earl of Sandwich.

Keith and OB have rooms next to each other, so they go up together to the Orleans Tower.  As my girlfriend and I check-in, I inquire to see if there is a room available on their floor.  The person checking us in is very polite, and taps away vigorously on the keyboard, searching for rooms that fit our criteria.  Unfortunately, she can only get us a room in the NEW Orleans Tower.  That’s fine, we say.  However, little known fact: the NEW Orleans Tower and the Orleans Tower are, you know, the same tower.  We’re a five-minute jaunt from Finn’s room.  Gotta love that customer service you get in Atlantic City.

While my girlfriend takes a nap, I go and pregame with the gentlemen.  However, before we can gamble or drink more, it is decided that we are all starving and need something to eat.  We don’t want to do the buffet, and Scarduzio’s is too expensive.  So what do we decide on?  A little mom-and-pop joint called Jonathan Rockets.

Keith Stone: While OB and I were walking to the room, we happened upon a rambunctious family that was having trouble deciding where everybody should stand for a group photo. OB settled the argument by walking right into the middle of the shot and becoming part of the family. Now they can tell everybody about their crazy Irish cousin.

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When we arrived at the room, the real drinking began and we were joined by Finn and Polar. For some beautiful reason, Polar had with him three Million Dollar Man tuxedo T-shirts, so OB, Polar, and I threw them on, and began laughing like only Ted DiBiase could. Because I am an idiot, I decided to wear my shirt for the night of gambling, and that, ladies and gentlemen, was the beginning of the end.

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Atlantic City Diaries, Chapter 10: The Bachelorette Goes to AC!

Posted: June 18, 2013 by rorypatrick in Atlantic City Diaries, TV
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I must say, I have recently become a huge Bachelorette fan.  It is something my girlfriend got me into, and it simultaneously makes me laugh, makes me cringe, and makes me pause the television and go on extended rants.  While I watch it with my girlfriend, I believe this show should be required viewing for all single straight men.  Basically, every single man needs to find a competitive edge over their fellow single men.  Watching the Bachlorette takes very little effort – it takes two hours a week, and you barely have to pay attention.  You can do chores around the house, work out, or even write a blog post while watching it and not miss much.  By doing this, however, you will gain a competitive edge in the dating scene – you will be able to talk to women about the Bachelorette.  Now, I’ve heard the objections, such as “Won’t women find me less manly if I admit to watching the Bachelorette?”  Well, if a woman came up to you and started talking football, would you be turned off because she was less “woman-ly”?  Of course not!  There’s nothing hotter than a woman who knows her sports.  Not every woman will watch the Bachelorette, but it is a small investment with a potentially huge payout.

Anyway, how did the Bachelorette find itself in the Atlantic City Diary?  Well, the episode this week sent the Bachelorette and 13 of the finest bros to your favorite city and mine.  I’d be remiss if I couldn’t share their misadventures.  Anyway, as a departure from my normal diaries, here’s the breakdown of the whole ordeal, from start to finish.  Pour yourself a glass of white wine (the only way to read a Bachelorette recap) and dig in.

8:00PM – We start as many reality shows do – with a preview of what’s to come, and a recap of everything we’ve already seen.  There are 13 men left, and if they get roses we see them next week, and if they don’t, they have to leave.  You still following me?  Do you need me to repeat this?  No?  Good, let’s move on.

(Side note: the Bachelorette shows random tweets along the bottom of the screen from fans and former Bachelors/Bachelorettes.  There are fairly distracting, and I won’t be commenting on them.  However, there is a tweet in the beginning from Arie, one of my favorite suitors for Bachelorette Emily last season.  In it, he bashes New Jersey!  And that dude is from Arizona!  Only Jersey bros can bash Jersey!  Shame on you, Arie, you are dead to me).

Anyway, upon learning they are going to Atlantic City, the boys reach the level of excitement they are contractually obligated to meet.  The next two hours will be a shameless tourism commercial for my dying city, and these dudes sell it with all the muster 13 fame-whores can muster.  The most excited is Mikey T., a meathead who reminds me of Jersey Shore Ronnie’s drunken uncle.  He will henceforth be known as Drunken Ronnie Uncle Bro.

Bachelorette Desiree says in the most strained voice that she is “very excited to be there.”  The Atlantic City tourism board may be regretting the money they paid for this.  A bro named Kasey (to be called Hashtag Bro for his tendency to speak using the word “hashtag”) declares it “Las Vegas on the ocean.”  Hashtag I wish.

After the boys arrive, they receive the first date card.  Some random guy named Brad gets it.  I’ve been watching the show all season, and I don’t know who Brad is.  Apparently, neither do the other bros, as he is described as the quietest bro in the house.  By the way the other guys describe him, his odds of coming back from this date with a rose look worse than hitting a hard 10.

Desiree and Brad Bro walk the boardwalk, go on some rides, and eat some taffy that is cut to fit the mouth.  Meanwhile, Zak W. (aka Shirtless Bro) is glaring down on them from a suite in the Revel.  He wrings his hands and fumes in anger.  I worry about Shirtless Bro. Commercial!

8:11 – And we’re back!  Brad Bro and Desiree go to a sandcastle, and Brad lays down what he wants in a relationship, which is, quote, “nothing specific” and a “great mom.”  Glad we cleared that up, Brad Bro.

They go to dinner at a lighthouse, and Brad Bro turns up the charm by saying he hates people who “can’t be serious.”  Yeah, doesn’t laughing suck?  He spends more time examining his food during the date than talking to Desiree, and has difficulty describing the rides they went on that day.  So Desiree brings him up to the top of the lighthouse and gives him the old “It’s been a lot of fun” speech.  And Brad Bro hits the road.  That’s one less name to try to remember.  For some reason, Brad Bro cries in his goodbye interview.  I guess he truly hates not being serious.

8:23 – Now it’s time for the group date.  Eleven bros head to Boardwalk Hall to compete in a Mr. America contest/commercial for the Miss America pageant (coming to Atlantic City on September 15th – get your tickets today!).  On the way over, Shirtless Bro seems to be falling hard for Desiree, calling her a “shining light.”  Brooks, one of the more likeable bros, compares her to a “unicorn.”  Brooks always seems stoned, so I’ll be calling him Stoner Bro.  Michael G., however, is easily the deepest-in-the-closet bro, so I’ll simplify his name to Closet Bro.  Upon learning he will be in the Mr. America contest, he proclaims that he has dreamed of being Mr. America since he was a kid.  My girlfriend remarks, “He’s kidding, right?  He’s kidding?  He’s got to be kidding.  He’s kidding?”

The bros have to grab random props for the talent show.  A Latin hearthrob named Juan Pablo goes to work with a baton (Juan Pablo shall be called Hermano, FYI).  Juan Pablo has a Tony Parker-esque creep quality about him, in that you don’t want him within thirty yards of your girlfriend.  As my girlfriend said, “He’s the type of guy you fuck before you get into a serious relationship.”  Chris, the funny one who reminds my girlfriend of me (aka Rory Bro) immediately puts on high heels and prances about.

8:33 – We’re back into the Mr. America pageant.  The bros stress how embarrassing this will be to them.  For those new to the show, the bros complain about being embarrassed by every group date, whether it be being in a rap video, pretending to be cowboys, or playing dodgeball.  Basically, if they have to wear shorts, it is the most emasculating event of their lives.

They begin by asking the bros Miss America style questions.  Would you rather be fire or water?  The bro answers fire, but I would’ve answered water – you gotta make the girl wet (hey now!).  Stoner Bro gets a question about which animal he’d be, and without hesitation answers “Lion – he’s the king of the jungle!”  Rory Bro reminds me of me, by overly explaining his answer to comedic effect.  Drunken Ronnie Uncle Bro goes on an epic rant about how women don’t respect men’s feelings.  Good show, Drunken Ronnie Uncle Bro!

Next, they move on to the talent show.  Hashtag Bro does a terrible tap dancing routine, which Stoner Bro declares as “genius.”  Stoner Bro follows up the performance by singing a song on a ukulele, then smashing said ukulele.  Shirtless Bro seems surprisingly competent, with limited guitar skills yet a surprisingly strong singing voice.  Stoner Bro finishes in third, Shirtless Bro in second, and Hashtag Bro takes the top prize.

8:47 – After a tough day for the bros (especially tough for Closet Bro, who saw his childhood dream crushed), they hit a pool in Revel (which did not quite look like the pool I went to, but whatever).  The bros make several romantic overtures to woo Desiree for a much-coveted rose.  Rory Bro shares his poetry, while Bryden (aka Army Bro) uses his time to bitch about Ben (too many B-names!  This guy is Dad Bro, because he brought out his son in the first episode).  The producers have been trying to paint Dad Bro as the villain all season, and it seems like a stretch – all he does is talk to Desiree, and the other bros immediately get mad at him.

Shirtless Bro decides to use his time to continue his song from the Mr. America pageant.  It is a cringe-worthy scene that reminded me of Nick Andopolis singing “Lady L” to Lindsey Weir (how’s that reference for you?  I do watch good TV shows, too!).  However, this works for Shirtless Bro, and he comes away with the rose for the group date.

9:00 – After walking around in a robe and drawing himself a bubble bath, our final bro, James, is ready for his one-on-one date.  James shall henceforth be known as Nice Ronnie Bro, for he seems like the Nice Ronnie that Sammy Sweetheart and America fell in love with.  Here, however, the episode takes a serious tone.  Instead of a crazy, over-the-top date, they decide to tour the ravaged coast of post-Sandy New Jersey.  The latter half of the episode becomes an advertisement to help Sandy victims — not that I’m against this by any stretch of the imagination (my mom was displaced by Sandy, and finally moved back into her home last weekend after 7 months away), but it put a damper on the lightheartedness that comes along with every Bachelorette episode.  Oh well, it is nothing more white wine can’t solve.

9:09 – Nice Ronnie Bro and Desiree meet up with an old couple in Seaside, and “generously” give up their Atlantic City date to them.  Yes, what better place to send a couple that has lost everything than to a city whose mission statement is to make people lose everything.

9:20 – Instead of going to the Revel, where all the bros and previous dates were, the old couple is sent to the Showboat, so apparently the Bachelorette didn’t want to spoil these Sandy victims too much.  In a show with tons of fake, manufactured romance, however, we are actually treated to see two people in love, eating in an undisclosed location in Showboat.

Meanwhile, Nice Ronnie Bro and Desiree are getting pizza in the most upscale dive bar in Seaside Heights.  They share an awkward kiss, Nice Ronnie Bro describes the mortal sin of cheating on his girlfriend when he was a freshman in college, but proclaims he is ready for commitment.  Desiree is engrossed in Nice Ronnie Bro, for some reason.

9:30 – We go back to our favorite old couple in Showboat.  It is a sentimental date, but I’m kind of itching to see them do what all lovers in Atlantic City do – play slot machines for 12 hours.  Eventually, they are treated to a private concert by Hootie from Hootie and the Blowfish.  You have to love that Hootie became the most popular African-American country singer of his generation.  Nice Ronnie Bro and Desiree barge in on the date, and start making out in front of the old couple.  Nice Ronnie Bro earns the rose, and you are reminded that you should be giving to the Red Cross, you cheap bastard.

9:40 – Now, it is time for the Bachelorette staple – the rose ceremony.  Before there is a cocktail party, where the bros make their final statement to try to stay on until next week.  Army Bro feels doubtful about the process, and I can’t imagine why – everyone knows true love is only formed on reality TV!  He tries escape, but Desiree’s eyes bring him back in, and he’s around for another week.  Closet Bro’s overly-romantic overture is to spell out things that he loves about Desiree using all the letters in her name.  She is slightly impressed and slightly confused, and they share an incredibly awkward kiss.  Rory Bro gets her to pinky swear that they’ll be friends forever – a total Rory move.

9:51 – The roses are given out.  In order: Rory Bro, Stoner Bro, Hermano, Drew (aka Arizona Bro, since they always have a bro from Arizona on this show), Closet Bro, Dad Bro, Hashtag Bro, Army Bro, and Drunken Ronnie Uncle Bro.  The poor bro eliminated?  Some guy named Zak (not to be confused with Shirtless Bro aka other Zak).  I didn’t know he was on the show.  This Zak takes about 20 minutes to go down the escalators in Revel, attempts to cry, and makes a forgettable disappearance into obscurity.  Thanks for playing.

This concludes my first, and most likely last, Bachelorette recap.  I hope you all enjoyed reading about it as much as I enjoyed watching it.  And by that, I mean, I hope you drank a lot and feel slightly worse about yourself.

Atlantic City Diaries, Chapter 9: Third Eye Blind at Caesar’s

Posted: May 28, 2013 by rorypatrick in Atlantic City Diaries
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As a young lad growing up in New Jersey, summer was my favorite season.  Not so much because of the weather, but really because of the all the free time I had.  I loved the freedom from the regimented school day, and used this new-found autonomy in the most efficient way possible: playing video games and reading comic books.  However, as I’ve become older and more grizzled, summer is dropping down in my season power rankings.  I’m sweating in the subway to work, all vacation spots are increasing their prices, and I spend 20 minutes putting on sunscreen to go out and check the mail.  And yet, even as the glory days of summer become a thing of the past, I still love Memorial Day weekend, as it signifies the start of what will assuredly be the greatest summer ever.  This year, things kicked off the way my younger self would have whole-heartedly approved of: a Third Eye Blind concert.

The crew for this adventure consisted of the Atlantic City veteran and man of leisure, OB, and good-friend-but-Atlantic-City-novice Steve.  Like many of our trips, this tale begins in the subterranean basement of Port Authority, waiting at gate 80….

3:30PM – OB and I are waiting on an ever-growing line for a bus to Caesar’s.  As it is Memorial Day weekend, the crowd is more numerous and more hostile.  Behind us, a crazy women dressed like Stevie Nicks is monitoring the line, yelling at people she suspects may be cutting in (when in reality, they are just asking if this was the right gate, or they had been in line already).  We are slightly nervous, as Steve has been unresponsive so far, and sneaking him into our spot in line may prove difficult.  However, another bus to Atlantic City shows up at the adjacent gate, and the crazy lady hops on it.  The first crisis of the weekend has been averted.

4:00 – Due to the excess of people, there are two buses waiting to take people to Caesar’s at the scheduled time.  We begin to board, with Steve still incommunicado.  We have to pass up the first bus, and things are starting to look dicey.  The next bus is the “last of the Mohicans,” a strange Greyhound worker tells us.  As OB and I try to unwrap this baffling piece of information, Steve makes a dramatic last minute appearance, and we are able to get the second bus.  Second crisis averted, and we are off to Atlantic City!

6:25 – At our estimated arrival time, we arrive….at exit 102 on the Garden State Parkway.  The traffic is bad but not unexpected – it is Memorial Day Weekend after all.  However, the concert starts at 9:00PM, and I still do not have a ticket to the concert.  Just to explain the situation – OB was given two complimentary tickets, but the seat location was not set.  I would like to get a third complimentary ticket, but failing that, I would like to buy a ticket near where they are sitting.

Anyway, this bus ride was not as booze-filled as our usual trips.  Since it is just the Friday of a three day weekend, we are all playing the long game – you don’t want to get too drunk too early.  We pass the extended bus ride by playing a “top 3” game, where we name our top 3 songs by particular artists, or top 3 movies by particular actors.  We are cool.

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Atlantic City Diaries, Chapter 8: AC vs. Las Vegas

Posted: May 10, 2013 by rorypatrick in Atlantic City Diaries
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As you can tell by the title, this AC Diary will be a bit different from the rest.  Today, rather than recounting a raucous tale of alcohol-fused rabble-rousing, I’m going to compare Atlantic City to its older, more ruthless brother: Las Vegas.  Now, a bit of personal history: Las Vegas is where I popped my gambling cherry.  I was last there back in 2007, before finding a steady gambling partner in Atlantic City.  It was closer and more familiar, and I ended up developing strong feelings for the city.  However, Atlantic City and I have never had a monogamous relationship.  When I’m out of town, it is clearly fucking tons of other people.  And I’ve yearned for six long years for another lost weekend with my first love.  This past weekend, we were reunited and it felt so good.

Everyone already knows a plethora of things that Las Vegas can offer that Atlantic City can’t: sports gambling, incredibly cheap gambling options, dozens of performers and shows going on every night, incredibly expensive gambling options, etc.  What you can do in Vegas is only limited by your imagination, while Atlantic City is much more regulated and strict.  It doesn’t have the same Wild West feel that Vegas has (save for the Wild Wild West casino).  These are just the surface differences, though.  There are some differences between these two meccas of sin that can only be spotted by keen gambling veterans by myself.  So, let’s start with the beginning of each day:

Mornings: For some reason, after a long night of partying, I only end up sleeping for a couple hours, waking up usually around 8 AM or so.  As most of my friends are dreaming of hard 8’s, I usually go for a walk around the casinos to work off my hangover.  In Atlantic City, this walk is usually like a bucket of ice water to the face.  You are bombarded by happy faces of people just starting their day.  There are people checking into the hotel, getting breakfast, jogging on the boardwalk, etc.  It just makes me want to yell at them “DON’T JUDGE ME!  I WAS ONCE LIKE YOU!”

In Vegas, I had one of these 8 AM walks again.  However, this time, I was greeted by….no one.  It was a ghost town.  I walked up and down the strip for about an hour, and it was sparsely populated the whole way through.  Seeing a deserted casino is an unsettling experience, like catching my friend OB in the bathtub with a bottle of vodka floating around like a rubber ducky.  Why is there a stark difference in the morning routines of these towns?  The answer was fairly obvious: old people.

In Atlantic City, you have senior citizens pouring their life savings into slot machines one nickel at a time.  They rise at the crack of dawn, hop on a bus, sit at a slot machine for hours, then hit the early bird buffet special.  At night, you have some young folks, but they are mostly locals – they’ve done Atlantic City before, and they’ll do it again, so there’s no need to chase the night.  In Vegas, it is all young tourists who are mainly rookies to this type of party scene.  They will stay out to all hours of the night and early morning, leaving the breakfast buffets mostly vacant.  It’s a small difference that many might not catch, and, overall, I appreciate the bustling mornings of Atlantic City.  Seeing Vegas empty is just downright creepy.

Respect: Atlantic City is insanely disrespected, and that disrespect has been duly earned throughout the years.  However, people are still enamored with Vegas, as its bright lights and drunken revelry are still seen as glamorous.  When you come back from Vegas, people ask you where you’ve eaten, what shows you’ve seen, etc.  When you come back from Atlantic City, people ask you how much you lost.  Heck, just check out Bruce Springsteen singing about Vegas and Atlantic City.  Now, Vegas is definitely a less seedy and much more reputable place to vacation, but not as much as you’d come to believe.  I believe the respectability gap should be closer.

Blackjack: Now, I haven’t done any scientific testing, but based on my blackjack playing experience in both cities, there is definitely something sinister going on.  In Atlantic City, everybody knows how to play blackjack fairly competently.  If you make a mistake, be assured that there will be a crotchety old man yelling at you or an Asian business man sighing and throwing his hands up in disgust.  And even when everyone plays correctly, you, the old man, and the Asian dude will all lose.  It’s undeniable.  I’ve been going to Atlantic City for nearly six years, and I can barely remember any good blackjack runs.  Meanwhile, in Vegas, everyone plays blackjack terribly.  People stay with 14’s and 15’s against 8s!  People have to ask how to double down!  It’s insane!  But the thing is: everyone wins!  I was nearly falling-down drunk last Saturday, and ended up winning over $100.  My girlfriend lost $40 immediately, so I lent her $10, and she got two blackjacks in a row and worked that $10 into $75.  There is only one logical conclusion: Atlantic City is rigged.  Period.  And that’s why, despite the dead mornings and too much respect that Vegas gets, all gamblers should go there.  You will win.  Sure, you’ll spend the money on crazy Cirque du Soleil shows and $12 margaritas, but it is worth it to feel like a winner.  But I still love you, Atlantic City – and just to prove it, I’ll be there next month to test my “rigged blackjack” hypothesis.  Stay tuned…

Atlantic City Diaries, Chapter 7: The Anti-Social Comedy Tour

Posted: February 21, 2013 by rorypatrick in Atlantic City Diaries
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It has been far, FAR too long since the boys and I have putzed the night away in Atlantic City.  Our last adventure, featuring Finn, OB, Keith, and myself, was way back in September.  Well, this time, the same crew reunited, heading down to see the Anti-Social Comedy Tour, featuring Jim Norton, Amy Schumer, Dave Attell, and Artie Lange.  I have to tell you, having gone nearly six months without a hit, spin, or roll of the dice was giving me the shakes.    The night before our trip, OB and I got into the right frame of mind by watching “gambling” episodes of our favorite TV comedies, such as Futurama’s “Viva Mars Vegas,” The Office’s “Casino Night,” and South Park’s “Red Man’s Greed.”  Needless to say, I could already smell the extra oxygen they allegedly pump into the casinos.

Our game plan was simple.  We had a room in Bally’s, which, fortunately, connects to one-and-a-half other casinos (Caesar’s and what is left of the Wild Wild West casino).  With this as our home base, we would have an ample area to putz about, without having to face the elements (it was freezing cold out).  The comedy show was at The Borgata at 7:30, which would help break up the night.  After that, we’d gamble until we rebuilt Atlantic City’s economy.  Like I said, the game plan was simple.  So let’s see if we stuck to it.

12:00PM – Our 12:30 bus arrived 30 minutes early, and left 10 minutes early.  I must say, this was a pleasant surprise.  Our bus driver was a friendly man with a thick accent who reminded Keith of his priest.  I didn’t drink much on the trip, using it to catch up with Keith and OB (Finn was driving down to meet us later).  Also, the light was out in the bathroom.  Not much to say here.

Keith Stone: Hey, what can I say? I went to church to absolve myself of my future sins, which may or may not include peeing all over the bus toilet seat. I also kept my streak alive of drinking Bandit wine on the trip down. I drank it out of a Gatorade bottle. Gotta keep hydrated.

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Atlantic City Diaries, Chapter 6: How I Do AC

Posted: September 17, 2012 by rorypatrick in Atlantic City Diaries
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With the economy in the tank, legalized gambling has begun to sprout up all over the northeast.  New casinos have opened in New York City and Philadelphia, and legalized sports gambling is being pushed hard by Chris Christie in New Jersey.  These venues have given hardcore gamblers a more local way to sate their sinful desires.  Personally, I’m not addicted enough to try out the New York City casino yet, as it is in the distant land they call “Queens,” and there’s much more fun to be had all over the city (plus, NO BLACKJACK!).

With this new competition, Atlantic City has been forced to dump money into new marketing, creating the “How I Do AC” campaign.  The basis of this campaign isn’t just to spotlight everything you CAN do in Atlantic City, but spotlighting what you DO do (snicker) in Atlantic City.  These ads encourage you to make Atlantic City your own, and they want you to share your personal experience on Twitter using the hashtag #HowIDoAC.  But, 140 characters cannot contain me, so I’ve created a 12-step program.  I humbly present to you: How Rory Does AC.

1. Take Public Transportation – I know some people fear public transportation.  Driving there offers more freedom – you don’t have to stick to a schedule, you can play your own music, and, most importantly, you don’t have to deal with the riff-raff that often inhabits public transportation.  But, when going to Atlantic City, you’ll be hard-pressed to find a better deal.  For one, the price can’t be beat.  If you are living in New York City, the bus will cost you just under $40, and that’s for the entire round trip.  Gas and tolls would easily cost twice as much.  In addition, many bus lines offer gambling vouchers which, while won’t cover the ride, are fun to put aside and use as an extra bet if you are down on your luck.  But, most importantly, the bus allows you to both prepare and repair yourself mentally from Atlantic City.  The “prepare” part comes on the way down, where I’ve taken to having a few adult beverages to get myself loose.  The “repair” part comes when you leave the city, as you recover from your long night with a solid nap on the bus.  You could drink and sleep in your own personal vehicle, but I certainly wouldn’t recommend it.

2. Get A Player’s Card At Every Casino – It baffles me that people do not get player’s cards.  They are free, and have literally no downside.  Through my player’s cards, I have gotten numerous free room stays and bets.  However, it is important not to overestimate the comp dollars you’ll earn with these cards – I’ve checked my cards after all-night gambling binges to see a robust $1.16 worth of comps.  But hey, that’s $1.16 I didn’t have before.  Many cards also have bonuses for new members, so if you haven’t signed up yet, make sure you do.

3. Gamble Almost Immediately – Really, get it out of your system.  There have been times where I’ve gone to Atlantic City, then checked into the room, then went to dinner, and then saw a concert.  And you know what was running through my head the whole time?  GAMBLE GAMBLE GAMBLE GAMBLE.  I couldn’t enjoy either the meal or the concert with that thought on my mind.  In Chapter 5, I gambled within minutes of debarking the bus, and was much happier for it.  Once you are done gambling, you can enjoy the other sites and sounds of the city, such as….

4. Walk The Boardwalk – Atlantic City has a beautiful, historic boardwalk.  On a lovely day, there’s nothing better than taking a stroll, stopping in novelty stores, hearing the ocean, feeling the sunshine…..

OK, you fellow gamblers know this is bullshit.  Really, just get outside.  Casinos have no windows, no clocks, and you are constantly bombarded by flashing lights and the ding-ding-dinging of slot machines.  A walk on the boardwalk will do you good, if only to get you fresh air and reconnect yourself with reality.

5. Buffets – The last two times I went to Atlantic City, I was fortunate enough to be treated to dinner by my good friend OB.  However, if you are on a budget, buffets are the way to go.  I’ve always liked the Resorts buffet, with its cheesy decor and endless crab legs.  The Atlantic Club casino seems to have the cheapest buffet on the boardwalk, but I have yet to try it out.  But, please, a moment of silence for the Wild Wild West’s Virginia City buffet.  It shall be missed.

6. Pool Time – Much like walking the boardwalk, this is another activity to relax you and keep you away from the tables a bit.  I’ve hit the pool the last two times with Keith, and have found it a nice way to both soothe your mind from the gambling you have done and will do.  While many pools offer a poolside bar, your best bet is to bring a drink down with you, as it can be a bit pricey.

7. Pay As Little As Possible For Your Hotel Room – When you go down to Atlantic City, you will be spending very little time in your hotel room.  The city never sleeps, and there is always something going on.  I feel like the world is passing me by whenever I’m in the hotel room.  With this in mind, try to get a comped room.  The aforementioned player cards will be useful in this regard – you can even add your friend’s card to the room to help reduce the price.  If the rooms are still too expensive, there are some seedy motels nearby.  I wouldn’t recommend these for everyone, but if you are on a budget, it could be a fun adventure.  The rooms there are such cliched dumps that it almost looks like they were purposely designed that way.

8. Sleep – While you may stay out to the wee hours of the morning, get some sleep.  Be it four hours, three hours, or even 30 minutes, any amount of sleep in Atlantic City will do you wonders.  I’ve pulled all-nighters in Atlantic City, and by the end, you feel physically and emotionally drained.  Your judgement starts to dissipate, and you make careless errors in gambling.  You’ll even be too tired to celebrate winning, as gambling will just turn into a joyless chore.  So yes, sleep will do you good.

9. Visit Other Casinos – Get a feel for the whole city.  I always enjoyed perusing the other casinos to see how the atmosphere was like in each one.  You may walk into a depressing hellhole (like I saw at the Trump Plaza last time), or an unexpected party (like I saw at Showboat bank in Chapter 2).  Staying in the same casino all night gets boring – eventually you’ll start to recognize all the dealers and gamblers.  Sure, the other casinos may be worse than the one you left, but that will just make you appreciate returning back that much more.

10. Break Up The Night With A Show – Once Atlantic City hits 8pm or so, the pools, shops, and buffets start to close.  There really isn’t much to do outside gamble and drink, which is fun, but if you plan to stay up to 4AM, that’ll be 8 hours of partying, which would tire out Andrew WK.  That’s why I’ve based many of my trips down around a show of some sort.  The show will break up the night, and give you a completely unique experience.  Many times, when you head to AC, the show will already be pre-planned, such as my trips to see the Orion Music Festival, Summerland, and Louie CK.  However, there was one time I was down with OB, and we had no plans.  We were getting killed at the tables, and decided to spend some money to see a Beatles tribute band.  While the show wasn’t anything special, we got a solid 2 hours of entertainment away from the gambling floor.

11. Know Your Budget – Whenever you go to Atlantic City, you’ll either win money or lose money.  No shit, right?  And, more often than not, you’ll lose money.  However, that doesn’t mean you’ll have a bad time.  It is all about setting a strict gambling budget.  Your adherence to your budget is your best indicator of how much fun you’ll have in Atlantic City.

When I used to go down, I was soft with my budget.  I would plan to gamble a bit, lose it, then hit an ATM, then lose that money.  By losing more than I should, it ruined some otherwise great trips.  Now, I have a strict amount I’m set to lose – I even refuse to bring my ATM card with me (which has its drawbacks – sometimes if I win I’d like to put the cash back into the ATM, but can’t).  It is extremely important to gamble within your means, and to realize that this is not a way to make your riches.  I feel like telling that to a gambler is like telling a child that Santa isn’t real, but it is true.  However, just as you can still enjoy Christmas knowing it is all fake, you can enjoy gambling knowing that your money will be gone soon.  Bottom line – any time you place a bet, assume that you’ve lost that money already.  Your money is as good as gone as soon as the cards get dealt, the roulette wheel spins, or the dice get tossed.  And ask yourself, “Am I OK with losing this bet?”  If the answer is “No,” stop gambling.

12. If All Else Fails – BOOZE! – Seriously, if you are out of money, just booze it up!  Alcohol is extremely cheap in Atlantic City, so you should have no problem getting your drink on.  You could sit at a bar, pretending to gamble and get free drinks, or you could get back to your room with some beers (this strategy works well if there is a sporting event to watch on TV).  After being responsibly inebriated, go out and putz around!  Maybe you’ll meet someone to have a romantic rendezvous with, or a rich oil tycoon who is looking for an heir to his fortune.  The possibilities are endless!

And, really, that’s the key point.  Most see AC as just a gambling mecca, and trust me, it is.  But, most of my points (4-6, 8-10, 12) are about finding fun things to do away from the casino floor.  When I look back at my memories of Atlantic City, I remember mostly the concerts, the food, the relaxing, and the putzing (but yes, I do remember some bad beats and lucky hits).  Bottom line, with AC, you never quite know what to expect, which is WHY I do AC.  You’ll never get the same experience twice, and it could be good, or it could be dreadful.  But if you stick to my 12-step program, you’ll have better odds walking away with a win.

Atlantic City Diaries, Chapter 5: Louis CK at Trump Taj Mahal

Posted: September 7, 2012 by rorypatrick in Atlantic City Diaries
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Well, Summer 2012 is just about finished.  This past Labor Day weekend signified one last time to hit the beach, have a cookout, or find one last summer love.  For most Americans, that is.  For me, it was one last opportunity to recklessly spend money and drink.  Ladies and gentlemen, let’s just dive into this engrossing chapter of the Atlantic City Diaries!

Friday

3:45PM – The crew this time: OB (star of Chapters 2 and 4), Rainman Suite’s founder Keith, and yours truly.  The destination: Revel, again.  The goal: drunkenness.  As loyal readers know, I often have a low budget on trips to Atlantic City, and, at this time, I am in the process of moving, so my money is much lower than usual.  Therefore, I must exercise self-control, and by that, I mean I must drink more alcohol rather than gamble.  I’ve modeled myself after Charles Barkley, in the sense that I am not a role model.

As mentioned in previous chapters, taking the bus down always involves stealthy drinking.  However, due to my aforementioned money shortage, I went cheap – instead of buying several smaller bottles, I bought a giant two liter bottle of Pepsi that was on sale at the local CVS.  This, combined with my cheap liter of Rory B. Bellows brand rum, did very little to mask the fact that I was a bus rule-breaker.  Additionally, OB made sure to point out that I was drinking as loudly as possible, banging pots and pans like it was New Year’s Eve, marching up and down the bus aisle singing “RORY IS DRINKING, ON THE BUS!”  This may not be true, but it certainly felt akin to this as it was happening.

Keith Stone: I, meanwhile, had pounded a carton of Bandit wine at Rory’s apartment before the bus. When heading to New Jersey, do as white trash does.

6:30 – We arrive in Atlantic City.  Aside from some slight spills, the bus trip was without much ado.  While OB and Keith would be getting off at Showboat (which is next door to the Revel), I got off at Caesar’s.  I had a small amount of comped slot dollars to play, which expired at the end of August.  While I won absolutely nothing, it helped sate my appetite for gambling. When I arrive in Atlantic City, every second before my first foray into gambling is spent on thinking about when I am going to gamble.  This small detour helped me alleviate this thought – for a bit.

I strolled down the boardwalk, chugging my 2-liter-Pepsi-and-horrible-rum concoction, taking in the sights of the Jersey Shore in the late summer, which was primarily seeing a naked man get arrested.  The boardwalk is also littered by numerous t-shirt shops, pandering to the latest catchphrase of the day (i.e. “YOLO” and “Call Me Maybe” shirts).  However, MTV had just announced the cancellation of Jersey Shore, and you could see the disappointment in all the store owners’ faces.  Stay strong, my poorly-made crap-slinging entrepreneurs, I’m sure the next horrible exploitative phenomenon is just around the corner.

MKS: I’m looking at you, Honey Boo Boo.

7:30 – I meet Stone and OB at the Revel, where the great OB has procured us another comped room (although not a suite this time, but I’m not complaining).  We have dinner reservations are Azure again at 9:30, and we decide to drink more in the room as preparation.  Bad idea.

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Atlantic City Diaries, Chapter 4: Summerland at the Revel

Posted: July 30, 2012 by rorypatrick in Atlantic City Diaries
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In the last chapter of the Atlantic City Diaries, I was feeling a sense of burn-out with the city.  While I was financially successful, I suffered from multiple dramatic episodes, including an avian-related food disaster, a near fight with a complete asshole, and the potential of having to fill out a missing persons report for this website’s editor.  However, this trip was booked in advance and completely comped thanks to my friend OB, star of Chapter 2. Earlier this month (between the events recounted in Chapters 2 and 3), OB went down to stay at the Revel, for the sole purpose of building up his comp points.  And he ended up building a small empire.  While I don’t want to go into specifics, he ended up with enough winnings that he was assigned his own “experience manager.”  So this upcoming weekend was not only comped in one of the Revel’s nicest suites, but all room service and dinner would also be taken care of.  Additionally, we also had tickets to see Summerland – a concert featuring a who’s who of pop-rock 90’s bands.  With a bill featuring Marcy Playground, Sugar Ray, Everclear, Gin Blossoms, and Lit, I’m sure Fastball was feeling extremely left out.  To top things off, OB used his winnings to escort our group (including my girlfriend and Finn from Chapter 2) down from New York in a stretch limo.

Friday

3:30PM – My main experience with limos has been funeral-related, so this jovial, booze-filled ride was completely new and exciting for me.  It will be tough to go back to the Greyhound bus after this.  However, the only downside of drinking in a limo for three hours – you really have to go to the bathroom.  Each limo stop costs extra money, so you’ll be testing your bladder’s fortitude as you try not to break the seal.  I, unfortunately, broke the seal at our one rest stop – which was still about an hour and a half away from Atlantic City.  By the time we reached the Atlantic City Expressway, I was trying to remember anything at all from Phil Jackson’s Sacred Hoops – I needed to use the Zen Master’s advice to dissociate from my need to pee.  By the time we pulled up to the Revel, I pushed over my girlfriend and friends in a mad dash to the bathroom, much like George Costanza knocking over the children and old lady to get out of a fire at a children’s party.

7:00 – We checked into our room, and had some solid room service.  I ordered a burger, which, while nothing spectacular, sated me.  We then headed to the concert.  The concert opened at 7PM, and we arrived at 7:45, thinking that would be closer to the start time.  However, by the time we arrived, the lead singer for Everclear (who was hosting the event) was saying “Give it up for Marcy Playground!”  Well, one band down, four to go.  It made me wonder how long the sets would be – did Marcy Playground just go out, play “Sex & Candy,” and leave?  Next up was Lit.  Now, aside from “My Own Worst Enemy,” I was extremely unfamiliar with their music.  The set was…fine, I assume.  It gave me a feeling for how the rest of the night would go – they played for about 45 minutes, had a couple of the other bands’ members guest with them for a song or two, I would recognize a song that I forgot they played (in this case, “Miserable”), they would end with their biggest hit (the aforementioned “My Own Worst Enemy”), and the crowd mildly rocked around.

8:30 – After Lit’s set, I took time to look around the room.  It was a pretty light crowd, especially when compared to the Orion Music Festival.  The pit area (where we were) was maybe only two-thirds full, and it looked like many people there were past their best rocking days.  The interlude was very quick – in about 10 minutes after Lit finished, the Gin Blossoms started playing.  I have to give kudos to the stage crew – they kept it moving very quickly.  I’m a bigger fan of the Gin Blossoms, and they didn’t disappoint – they played every hit they had (of course ending with “Hey Jealousy”).  Two interesting notes about their set.  First, the lead singer really isn’t that charismatic – his only move was to ask the audience to put their hands up, which he repeated seven or eight times.  And secondly, during this set, two sets of what looked like 21-year-olds were locked in a vicious make-out session – they were, without exaggeration, rolling on the floor and making out for roughly 20 minutes.  It was distracting, but I was so impressed with their stamina in a crowd full of mostly older folks.

9:15 – Sugar Ray followed next, using the Saved By the Bell theme as their intro music.  Their set started with “Someday”, which had just awful harmonies.  Again, this wasn’t a band I was a huge fan of, and, much to my surprise, I found out here that “Someday,” “When It’s Over,” and “Every Morning” are, in fact, three different songs – my memory had blurred them all into one.  I always had a begrudging respect for Mark McGrath, he seems self-aware enough to know that his bread-and-butter is staying committed to the 90’s douche personality he’s developed.  (I remember one joke he had on the Adam Carolla podcast – “Wherever you smell funnel cake, Sugar Ray will be playing there.”)  McGrath spent more time talking to the audience than the last two bands and played a few covers, two signs that it was clearly tough for them to fill a 45 minute set.  The silliest gimmick was a “sing-along” part, where two random audience members were pulled on stage to sing random songs.  One audience member had to sing “Fight For Your Right To Party,” but ended up singing the lyrics after the lyrics had just be said, and got booed mercilessly by the hostile South Jersey crowd.  And, if you don’t know what song they ended with, I don’t know what to tell you.

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