Jeff Kay's Blog, page 18

If You Got A Tattoo When You Were 10 Years Old What Would It Have Been? How About 20? 30?

I’m not a tattoo kind of guy. I have no problem if somebody else wants to get one, or 27. I mean… whatever. But it’s not for me. My ass is not a canvas, thank you very much. Although there’s enough room for a mural. A tattoo artist (are they all named Snake?) might take a look at all that real estate and swoon. But, no thanks.

However, it’s fun to think about what “ink” (I’m very cool) I would’ve chosen at various times during my life. I thought I’d quickly take a shot at three specific ages, and what I suspect would’ve been my choice or choices during each period of my life. Then I’m gonna turn it over to you guys, and hope you’ll do the same.

When I was 10 I know for a fact that this, or something very similar, would’ve been my first choice. I was fully obsessed with baseball, especially the Cincinnati Reds. I went to my first game when I was nine, so I was already experiencing the mania by 10. And the thing about it? I’d still be cool with it today. God knows there could’ve been worse choices.

The only other possibility would be this one, of course. At 10 I was also fully invested in MAD magazine, and all that entailed. Including sarcastic remarks around the house, a cynical view o’ the world, etc. Ahhh… MAD always felt so right. Still does.

By the time I reached 20, I probably would’ve gone with something like this. It might be the first one I regret of my imaginary tattoos. Not that I have a problem with The Clash — I still love them, of course — it’s just the whole idea of having a band logo. Ya know? It’s fairly hack. Or am I wrong about that?

Here’s another possibility from the age of 20. Hey, I’m just basing it on my main areas of interest at the time… For some reason, I went through a period when Rolling Rock was “my beer.” I’m very embarrassed by all of it. The fact that I chose R-squared, as my friend Cambo used to call it, and that I even had a “my beer.” Stoopid. This one I would definitely regret.

And finally, at age 30 there would’ve only been one choice. In fact, it’s the only one I ever actually considered. I used to go out drinking with Mark Maynard and he’d attempt to talk me into it. He had me close a time or two. But come on… As I said, I’m not a tattoo kind of guy. I don’t think I’d COMPLETELY regret this one, though. OK, maybe. It’s hard to say.

What do you have on this? Anything? I know most 10-year-olds don’t get tattoos, but what would’ve been your choice? And keep going up by 10 years, and let us know your thoughts for each era. I could enable images in the comments here, but somebody would upload an extreme closeup of a vagina within four minutes. So, just describe it, if you don’t mind.

And before I call it a day here, I want to direct you to the latest episode of the podcast. Right here. And this is the summary:

In this one, I describe the circumstances that led to me leaving a beloved job in Greensboro, NC and moving to Atlanta — one of America’s most intimidating cities — with no means of support and a horrible apartment rented sight-unseen over the phone. During the first few weeks, I was freaking out, man! I hope you enjoy it. Please let me know.

Here’s a half-assed graphic I made for it… last night, after a few adult beverages (not Rolling Rock):Have a great day, my friends!

I’ll be back on Thursday.

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What Would You Do If You Were Given A Once-Only Opportunity To Go Back In Time For A Week?

It might seem weak, but I’d go back to my hometown of Dunbar, WV and attempt to just blend in. I’m a big fan of time travel books, and sometimes movies, and have done an inordinate amount of daydreaming on the subject. And sure, there are other scenarios I’ve concocted. Like, for instance, going back and witnessing the Beatles (the Quarrymen, then) when they were 17 years old, or whatever. Or maybe the Beatles in Hamburg, Germany in 1962? You know, that kind of thing? Or there are many, many baseball-themed time travel fantasies. I’d love to see Babe Ruth play or Ty Cobb. Or maybe Johnny Bench when he was in high school?

And that night at Ford’s Theater would be interesting, don’t you think? Maybe chillin’ at the Gettysburg Address with the ol’ Railsplitter? The list would get long in a short amount of time.

But, if I had a once-only opportunity, I think I would almost certainly just go back to Dunbar in the late 1940s. After WWII, but not immediately after. Maybe 1947 or 1948. I’d have to get some clothes that would allow for the blending-in. I couldn’t go in my Magnolia Thunderpussy shirt or anything like that. Then I’d rent a room at a boarding house in town, and just walk around and soak it all in. I wouldn’t even want to sleep.

I’d probably be considered a real-life giant, and the whole town would be buzzing about the huge stranger suddenly in their midst. That would be unfortunate, and could possibly ruin the whole blending-in part of it. But I think people back then were a lot smaller. It’s amazing when I see uniforms at the Baseball Hall of Fame, from the 1930s and 1940s. They look like they’d fit modern-day middle schoolers. Same thing at the Civil War museum in Gettysburg. The clothes and uniforms are shockingly small. So, I have a feeling I’d tower over most people, and be much, much fatter. That could be a problem.

One of the things I remember most vividly about Stephen King’s great time travel novel, 11/22/63, is when the protagonist first travels to the 1950s and tastes root beer at a drug store lunch counter. He describes how great it tastes without all the additives, etc. Those are the small little moments that I’d get the biggest kick out of. I’d have to be careful not to start shouting in amazement at every tiny little thing.

Needless to say, I’d spend ample time in the local taverns. It would be weird, but I might run into my grandfather. Or grandfathers, even. I don’t know how I’d react to such a thing. But that wouldn’t be the main reason for going. I’d just like to taste the beer and talk to the people. And… again, just soak it all in. For some reason, the notion of meeting people from my family kinda scares me. I’m afraid I’d somehow fuck it all up. I don’t trust myself with such a responsibility. Ya know?

And I’d walk through every business in town, and up and down every street. It would probably be bizarre: the familiarity of it all, mixed with the big differences. But it would be amazing. I’d listen to baseball on the radio and all the programs of the day. Maybe take a day trip to Charleston, on the streetcar or whatever. It would be fantastic!

That might seem like an odd choice, but it’s the scenario I return to whenever I think about time travel. A psychiatrist might be able to get to the bottom of it… What about you? What would you do if you only had one opportunity: one week in another time. I suppose it could be in the future, although that doesn’t much appeal to me. I’m all about the past. In any case, tell us how you’d spend your week. Use the comments link.

And, by the way, one of my all-time favorite time travel books is Time and Again. It features an unfortunate sappy-ass love story, which I wish wasn’t there. But the author puts a lot of emphasis on the small little things I mentioned above, and how amazing that stuff is. The main character travels back to 1890s NYC. There was a sequel many years later, published when the writer was approximately 150 years old. I think he typed THE END, and dropped dead. It’s good too, but not as good as the original. If you have any suggestions for great time travel novels, I’d love to see those too!

And before I call it a day, here’s your Thursday podcast episode, hot off the presses. And here’s the summary:

In this loose and erratic episode I tell you about a surprising modern-day phenomenon I discovered at Target, the current seasonal mash-up we’re living through, an explanation of Bourbon Season, an attempt at some music talk without being all music nerd about it, and the time in Atlanta when a delicate Australian musician was nearly pulled off a stage for being pompous. All that, and the Whistle Dick of the Week! It’s a bit of a mess but somehow hangs together. Enjoy!

I hope you guys have a great weekend!

I’ll be back on Monday. You know, in the future? Wow… lame.

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A Few Quick Things, vol. 19

Apparently it’s fall now? Is that what I’m to understand? Suddenly, without even a hint of a transition, it feels like Bourbon Season is upon us. Good. I don’t like the idea of driving forty miles, back and forth to work, on slick roads. But other than that… bring it on. You can take your hot, and especially your humid, and ram it deep and on a slant.

However… Toney and I were out yesterday and noticed some ridiculousness. My car said it was 63 degrees out there, and we saw many people bundled up like Russians out doing their Defence of the Motherland Day shopping. It’s 63, not 23. Why the dramatics? And it works the exact opposite way in spring. I posted this at Facebook yesterday:

63 degrees on October 1: wool coats and winter hats.

63 degrees on April 1: flip-flops and cargo shorts.

Why can’t people just be realistic? Is that too much to ask? Sweet sainted mother of Morganna The Kissing Bandit.

While we were out, we stopped at a great little Mexican restaurant called Chicano’s. Hey… don’t blame me, I didn’t name it. But the place is fantastic. I always just get tacos, because they’re great. It’s one of those deals where you’d like to branch out, but don’t want to go there and NOT have the tacos. They’re so simple, and yet so tasty. I love that place. In fact, I think I have a photo of the tacos on my phone. It was taken on a previous visit, not yesterday… Hang on a second and I’ll try to find it. Here it is:

I think I could literally eat 20 of those bastards, every day for the rest of my life. As I say, they’re so good, I don’t dare venture deeper into the menu. I’m a prisoner to their excellence! Are you familiar with this phenomenon? Damn, I wish I had some right now.

I bought a 256 gig microSD card for my phone. Is that overdoing it? I certainly hope so. I could put my entire massive iTunes library on there and it would still be like an empty warehouse. Hello? …Hello? Is there anybody here? I moved over all 900 or so episodes of the Jean Shepherd radio show on Saturday. It took a while. But I now have every surviving episode of that great, great program at my fingertips. It’s amazing. And that didn’t even take up 6 gigs. It’s fantastic. Are you familiar with Jean Shepherd? He was a funny man and a brilliant storyteller. His show was on in NYC from the late 1950s to the late 1970s. Good stuff.

Next up: Phil Hendrie! Pure, undiluted comedy genius.

For a Question, I’ll just tie it into Chicano’s, mentioned above. I’m not sure if that’s an odd name, really. But it feels like it is. Maybe not? In any case, I’d like to know about the businesses you’ve encountered with especially memorable names. That can be because it’s highly inappropriate (my favorite!), genuinely clever, totally bizarre, or truly funny. Whatever the reason, let’s hear ’em. Use the comments link.

Two jump immediately to my mind. Do you remember a Denny’s-like restaurant chain called Sambo’s? According to the Wikipedia page, they had over 1000 locations at one time. I think it would fall easily into the “inappropriate” category, right? I know they claim innocence, but regardless… you can’t have a restaurant called Sambo’s.

Also, in Atlanta, we passed a place on our way to work every day called Doing It For The Lord Hair and Nail Salon. Now that’s a memorable name!

Do you have anything on this? If so, please share.

And finally, the Monday episode of the world famous Jeff Kay Show is up. Here’s your link, and here’s your description:

In this one I tell you about my almost-new piece o’ shit computer and the latest trick it’s doing, Neck Beard Johnny the man who insists there’s nothing wrong with said computer, our recent visit to Chipotle and how their pico de gallo ratios were way off, and my possibly inconsistent reactions to places where horrible things happened. I also introduce a new weekly feature: The Totally Out of Context Quote of the Week. Thanks for listening. I hope you enjoy it!

I hope you guys have a great week!

I’ll see you again on Thursday.

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In Celebration Of The Worst Public Bathrooms We’ve Encountered!

This is going to be super-quick. I hazz no time. So, I’ll just get to the point, ask my question, and let you guys take it from there. Sound good? Good.

A few days ago I went into the men’s room at the Wendy’s near my house. I try not to use public rest rooms, on account of the grossness and the awkwardness. But sometimes you’ve just gotta let the piss pony run. What?! Not sure where that came from, but I assume you get my point.

So, I went in there and was instantly reminded of that bathroom’s ludicrous configuration. It’s a small room, weirdly-shaped, and there’s a sink and one stall. But inside that stall are both a toilet and a urinal. So… how’s that supposed to work? Two dudes go in there, shut the door, and engage both pieces of hardware simultaneously? That’s too weird to even contemplate. Who thought of this layout??

Thankfully nobody else was in there, and I was able to complete my urination equestrian event without incident. But it got me to thinking about the worst public bathrooms I’ve encountered in my life. A few notables jump to mind.

I’ve been in multiple situations where there are no individual urinals, just a big open bathtub-like trough against the wall. So, you have to sidle up to that thing, and pee shoulder-to-shoulder with some stranger. It’s horrendous. Maybe I’m the weird one, but I don’t want to urinate with a bunch of other dudes… wangs out, with the very real possibility of friendly-fire splashback. Oh god.

The worst such situation was in an old stadium somewhere. I can’t remember where… It was an old place, built during the early part of the 20th Century, it feels like. And they had a big circular piss-catcher in the middle of the floor. There was water running through it, continuously. But what kind of freak thought of this?? You not only have to stand shoulder-to-shoulder like the bathtub thing I described above, but you’re also standing across from some other guy with his schlong extracted from his trousers. It’s unbelievable! It’s as if they invented it with maximum lack of privacy as their goal.

What do you have on this? I’ve also been in bathrooms that were laid out OK, but trashed. Like the one in the basement of a rock club in North Carolina. The men’s room was just a big room with a toilet, two or three urinals, and no dividers whatsoever. I walked in there one time and a guy was attempting to take a dump in the toilet, and he was right there. The seat had long ago been wrenched off and was gone forever. So, he was attempting to hover above it and barely able to keep his balance. I think I audibly reacted to that terrible scene, and so did he as I walked through the door. Ugh.

And I remember the bathroom at a ZZ Top/Loverboy show a million years ago, at the Charleston Civic Center. I went in there and it was loaded with drunken hillbillies urinating into anything that was even mildly toilet-suggestive. That included all of the sinks, the trash cans, old beer cups, and the drain in the middle of the floor. People were just pissing everywhere, and it sounded like Niagara Falls in that room. It’s obvious at this point that I’ll be scarred for life.

What do you have on this subject? Please use the comments to fill us in.

And before I sign off, here’s your link to the Thursday podcast episode. And this is the summary:

In this one I go against my own advice and tell you about a weird dream I had involving a cigarette-smoking 1970s TV star, a job interview that took a surprising turn at the end, my new 256 gigabyte memory card and thoughts about my first computer, which had a 1.3 gigabyte hard drive. I also tell you about my triumphant return to KFC, and reveal the Whistle Dick of the Week. Enjoy!

Have yourselves a great weekend, my friends!

I’ll be back on Monday.

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A Few Quick Things, vol. 83

A fresh new piping-hot just out o’ the oven podcast episode is up. Here’s the description:

Good news: This one is about 98% Las Vegas-free! I’ve now moved on to other nonsense, including my thoughts on how David Bowie’s “Let’s Dance” was recorded, the leg cramps that freaked me out for a few hours, a retired baseball player who now sounds like he should be cooking beans on a wagon train, and the night last week when I came home covered in taco grease. I fully expect a Pulitzer Prize for this episode. I hope you enjoy it!

And here’s your link. Last night I was informed that the show is now available at iHeartRadio. That’s the final piece of the puzzle, I think. It’s now available “everywhere,” as they say. It doesn’t mean it’s any good, it’s just… widely available. Pass the beer nuts.

I mention this in the podcast, but my six month trial period with SiriusXM was ending and they emailed and informed me the price was going up to $21 per month, starting next week. So, I put it off as long as possible and finally made the call yesterday. I hate shit like that, but there’s no way I’m paying twenty-one bucks, right?

I got some guy with a weird voice, as well as a weird accent. And it wasn’t the normal kind of accent, either. Maybe Swedish, or perhaps Finnish. I had trouble understanding him. But he asked why I wanted to cancel, and I told him it was too expensive. So, he asked if I could hold for a minute. And when he came back on he said, “How’s $5.99 per month sound?”

So, there you go. Easiest negotiation ever. I figured we’d have to go back and forth for a while, and might eventually end up somewhere near $5.99. But he went straight there. Cool! It’s a monthly payment, not due all at once, and it’s only good for 12 months. So, I’ll have to do this dance again in a year. But that’s OK. I can handle anything that’s a full year in the future. Ya know?

Hey, I just thought of this! If I’d bargained further and got that squeaky-voiced Swede down to $4 it would’ve been the Chicago discount: 21 or 6 to 4. Oh shit… it’s 25. Dammit! I thought I’d come up with the most creative thing ever. Oh well.

I saw something while I was driving a few days ago, that I’d never seen before. Some dude had a refrigerator in the back of a pickup truck, hauling ass down Interstate 81. And the fridge still had magnets stuck to the door. I was a couple of car lengths behind him, in a different lane, and saw at least two of those things come sailing off. I was laughing pretty hard. Half-assery on parade!

Many years ago, when I still lived in West Virginia, I saw a piano fall off the back of a truck on Interstate 64. It was one of the more memorable things I’ve seen on a major highway. It made a hell of a satisfying sound when it hit the pavement.

What’s the craziest thing you’ve seen on the interstate that wasn’t a wreck? I’ve seen many, many full-blown houses being hauled up and down 81. And those big-ass windmill propellars… What non-wreck craziness have you witnessed on an interstate highway? Use the comments link above or below, if you’re so inclined.

And are you ready for excitement? On Saturday I went out and bought a semi-expensive (not really… but I think everything’s expensive) piece of carry-on luggage. We’ve got the travel bug, and while we were gone I realized my bag was looking shabby and beat all to hell. So, I replaced it. I’ve come to realize that you can put everything you need in one of those bastards, and never have to check a bag again. It’s fantastic! And now we both have new ones… with nowhere to go. We spent a big part of the weekend discussing our next overnighter, now that we were gone for a full week and the boys didn’t a) get arrested b) burn the fucking house down or c) beat the shit out of each other. That, and the fact that we no longer have the King of Dogs (unfortunately) provides us with a level of freedom we haven’t known in many, many years. Where should we go next? Within reason? I have a new bag and all…

And I need to call it a day. There are a couple of questions in this one. Plus, if you have any memorable experiences with SiriusXM, or any other companies that apparently have “negotiation” built into their business model, please share.

Have a great day, my friends!

I’ll be back on Thursday.

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The Big Fat Las Vegas Story: Volume 4

Wednesday

The day of the Grand Canyon. I talked about this adventure in Episode 21 of the podcast. You can hear it here. It was… The Longest Day.

Thursday

We would be returning home the next day, and the weight of that fact was already dragging me down. Sure, there was another 24 hours of living in this highly-distorted fantasy world. But the end was near, and I was getting preemptively depressed.



Of course, we started with the breakfast buffet. I was a complete pro by now, and the guy at the omelet station greeted me like an old friend. Ugh. Sadness… I asked for ham, green peppers, and a little onions in my omelet. And, of course, a load o’ cheddar near the end. Excellent as always.

Then we took the monorail down to MGM and that area again. It felt like we should at least walk through some of the top casinos we hadn’t hit yet. MGM is sprawling and outrageous, but its size is the only thing memorable about it. Right? The coolest, by far, from that day, was New York, New York. That place was something unique.

Outside it looks like the NYC skyline, and inside they have it set up like you’re walking the streets of New York. Check out the pictures linked below. That place is very cool, indeed. However… I went into a bathroom and it was trashed. That makes me wonder how it would be to actually stay there. I’m skeptical. I think you can tell a lot by the quality of the bathrooms. The Mirage, for the record, provides a palatial Poop Palace for patrons. It’s a shitatorium straight out of Architectural Digest. New York, New York? Not so much. But it looks cool as hell, and it’s a great concept.

We sat on “Bleecker Street” and enjoyed a couple of $4 bottles of water, discussing what we should do with the rest of the afternoon. We were in danger of wasting the day, I could feel it. But Toney eventually said, “How about we go to that pinball place, after all?” It was a place we’d talked about visiting, then removed from the list. It would require two more semi-expensive Uber rides, and I just didn’t feel like Toney was into it. So, I reluctantly allowed for its removal from the docket. But now it was back, baby!

The Pinball Hall of Fame is away from The Strip, but not that far away. It’s in a nondescript building that would be easy to miss, but inside it’s paradise! BTW, the Uber driver who took us out there was the worst of ’em all. She wasn’t completely rude, but it was bordering on it. I gave her no tip, and that was the only time that happened.

Anyway, the place was just great. It was one of the best things we did during the whole trip. It’s loaded up with old pinball machines from the 1940s to the 1980s. And you can just play them, for 25 cents each. There’s no fee to get in, you can just stroll into the joint and start playing great old games from the old days. An absolute blast! Toney was even into it, and that surprised both of us. We spent about thirty bucks there, and that’s a lot o’ quarters. Great fun! Highly recommended.

The driver on the way back to the MGM was a storyteller of the highest order. He was originally from Louisiana but has lived all over. While he was in the service, he told us, he was stationed in Alaska and they had massive numbers of giant mosquitos with white feet. White Socks, they called ’em. He said they had to wear face nets when they were on guard duty, and he could hear the buzzing of those things in his sleep. He received the max tip: $5. Good guy… as far as I could tell.

We took the monorail back to the Linq Promenade and had dinner at In N Out burger. And I know this might be controversial, but I was never a HUGE fan. Oh, it’s fine, but it’s not as great as people will tell you. It has a cult, and that’s why we went there, I have to admit. We gotta hit In N Out before we go back, I kept saying.

We got two Double Double meals, and they were OK. The fries are always like chalk sticks, but the burgers were good enough, I guess. Is that controversial? I ate there many times when we were in California, mostly because there was one very near our house. It’s fine. But Five Guys is better, much better.

Then we hit the rock n roll Walgreens again for beer. We had to carefully calibrate it, so we wouldn’t be leaving any beer behind. Ya know? We returned to the room, began our drinking regimen, and prepared for the Beatles Love show that evening.

I’ve never been to any kind of Broadway show or any sort of Cirque Du Soleil type of thing. So, I didn’t really know what I was getting myself into. But it was fun. They had bars open, of course, and everybody was boozin’ in there. Everywhere, at all times! But we’d pre-loaded in the room, and opted not to pay the ridiculous prices.

The show was basically Beatles music blasting, and acrobats etc. doing all sorts of craziness. One segment, while Within You Without You played, almost blew my mind. It involved a bed with kids on it, which was hoisted high in the air and the sheets kept expanding until it covered the entire audience. I’m not doing a very good job of explaining it, but it was crazy. My brain had a difficult time parsing the information that was being fed to it.

And there were parts where people were on roller skates, and other parts when they were bouncing on trampolines. And people were swinging from ropes… It was entertaining, for sure. No regrets. We’d paid about $100 each for the tickets, which made me twitch a little. But I’m glad we did it. It was an adventure and a memory.

Friday

After one final visit to the breakfast buffet, we checked out and took an Uber to the airport. I was near tears. How could it be over already?? We had a layover in Denver, then flew back into Philadelphia. The last leg was not sold out, so we had a seat between us again. But it was still uncomfortable, and unpleasant. It cost $66 for parking at the Philly airport, and then we had to drive 2.5 hours home. I was bouncing around from one Sirius/XM channel to the next, as Toney dozed in the passenger seat. It felt like it would never end. But we finally arrived back at our house around 2 am. The boys did reasonably well. It wasn’t 100% perfect, but not bad.

And I’m ready to go back… It was great fun.

Here are some photos from Thursday and Friday. They’re a little New York, New York heavy, but I thought that place was cool. That Crescendo pinball machine was the one I had the most success with. I won FIVE free games! Hell yeah. And the “just married” woman at the bottom got on our plane on Friday to uproarious applause. Needless to say, I just sat there.

If you’re a supporter at Patreon, I recorded a Thursday episode of the podcast with random odds and ends from the trip that didn’t make it into these updates. It’s pretty good, I think. Check it out here.

And I hope you guys enjoyed this. I’ll get back to the “normal” stuff on Monday.

Have yourselves a great weekend!

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The Big Fat Las Vegas Story: Volume 3

Tuesday

We started with the breakfast buffet, of course, and it was very good. By this point, I’d developed a buffet system that walked right up to the gluttony line but didn’t really cross it. Oh, I had it down, my friends. I wish I had access to such a thing every day of my life. Maybe I could live full-time in a hotel at some point? Like Howard Hughes or Little Richard?

After the food foundation was in place, we started walking around and going in and out of various casinos. Including The Linq and The Venetian. The latter was fairly fancy-pants, while the former was pretty much what you’d expect. Sprawling… smoke-filled… high-end yet somehow sad…

We eventually found ourselves on the Promenade at The Linq again, which is the photo above. It’s like an alleyway filled with restaurants, bars, and shops. We sauntered through there, and it was hot again. I mean, super-hot. We bought two bottles of water for $4 each(!!) and sat on a bench for a little while.

“Wanna go on that big bastard of a Ferris Wheel?” I asked.

Toney seemed surprised because I’m not a huge fan of heights. And this thing is the tallest Ferris Wheel in the world, supposedly. But you’re fully enclosed. I could handle that. If you went up with your legs dangling and a bar across your lap, like at Knoebels, I’d be in the ‘no fucking way’ camp. But this thing had air-conditioned pods.

It was $25 each, and, of course, they asked if we wanted to upgrade to a pod with an open bar. WTF?? I like to drink, it’s well known, but they shoehorn boozin’ into literally everything out there. We passed on that generous offer and waited for our pod to come around. I was hoping we’d have our own since it wasn’t very busy. But we had fellow travelers. Oh well.

It was fun. Extremely touristy, but that’s OK. I believe Toney considers it to be the biggest waste of money of the whole trip, but I liked it. Our dinner at The Still, from the night before, was the biggest waste of money, in my opinion. That STILL makes me a little angry when I think about it.

We had lunch reservations at Hell’s Kitchen, one of Gordon Ramsay’s restaurants. We wanted to go but didn’t want to fork over two hundred bucks for dinner. So, Toney made lunch reservations. It’s part of the massive Caesar’s Palace complex, and we had trouble finding it inside that casino which is roughly the size of my hometown.

We started with the Hell’s Kitchen House IPA, made especially for the restaurant by Stone Brewing in San Diego. Our waitress brought them out in very tall glasses and put Toney’s down with no problem. But something went askew when she attempted to move mine from the tray to the table. Everything tilted, she attempted to correct… and the beverage was slung all over an old man eating a salad nearby. I mean, he was fully drenched. Heh. Everybody came running and offering apologies, and the old guy was understanding about it. He didn’t have much to say. But the part that cracked me up was that his wife just kept on eating. She didn’t miss a beat. Good stuff.

The waitress brought me a new beer, and it was good. As I knew it would be. I ordered the “standard burger,” and Toney went with some sort o’ personal pizza. Everything was really, really good. I mean, seriously. And we even saw Michelle, the winner of the Hell’s Kitchen TV show, who was awarded the head chef job at the restaurant. She came strolling through a couple of times. The place was pretty crazy and noisy, but the food was top notch. I think our total bill was something around $70. Not bad.

After lunch, we took the monorail to Bally’s and Paris and that area. After checking out a few casinos we ended up at a place called Beer Park. It supposedly overlooks The Strip, and we had it penciled in as someplace we wanted to check out. But they were rude to us, and we left after one beer (and a $1 tip). I mean, they were just shitty for reasons unknown. And they were treating the people beside us like crap too.

Toney said it was ageism, that’s it’s a place for young people. But I don’t know about that. I think they might just be disgruntled bitches and bastards. It’s hard to know, but we didn’t stick around long. Plus, it was outside and impossibly hot. So funk dat.

We ended up walking through the Paris casino and saw some place called Burger Brasserie, which was advertising some kind of kickass happy hour. Maybe two-for-one drinks? I can’t remember the details, but we went inside. And we had a blast in there. The bartender was hilarious, and the other people sitting at the bar were a lot of fun too. It was completely impromptu, and one of the best drinkin’ experiences of the whole trip.

By that point, we had a pretty good buzz on, and we headed back to our hotel. We took the monorail back and was walking through The Linq, deciding what to do next. Toney took half the Hell’s Kitchen pizza home with her and told me she planned to eat it for dinner. “So, I’m on my own?” I asked. “I guess,” she responded.

So, we parted ways and she headed back to The Mirage. And I took a hard left and went back out on the Linq Promenade. And I made a second visit to Gordon Ramsay’s Fish and Chips. Good shit, man… It was packed again, and I had half a snootful. There were a couple of elderly Asian women sitting at one of the picnic tables, and I just flopped down beside them. “Care if I sit here?” I asked after I had a big hunk of fish in my mouth.

They eventually left, and a British couple asked if they could sit with me. It was a communal situation. I talked to them, and they were cool. The food was spectacular, of course. At one point I said, real loud, “Yeah, this is good, but not quite as good as that Long John Silver’s.” You know, just to be provocative. I got a few chuckles, but not as many as I deserved.

And that was that. We had to get up very early the next morning for The Grand Canyon (aka The Longest Day), so we called it an early night. It was a good day. We had fun.

Here are some photos from Tuesday. Trigger warning: there are two pictures of food. Proceed accordingly.

UPDATE: I didn’t know if I was going to have it back in time, but the podcast producer just sent me Episode 22. If you’re a Patreon supporter, please check it out. I think it might be one of my favorite episodes so far. Here’s the description:

This is one of those surprising episodes in which I didn’t really know what I was going to talk about five minutes before I started recording, and it turned out better than some of the ones I planned for hours. Go figure. It’s basically just a collection of random notes from the Las Vegas trip, which didn’t make it into the Surf Report updates. There are some laughs, I think. I hope you enjoy it. And, as always, thanks for the support!

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The Big Fat Las Vegas Story: Volume 2

Monday

We were exhausted from all the traveling and lack o’ sleep Saturday into Sunday, and conked out relatively early on Sunday night. But we were up and swinging for the fences early on Monday. Toney wanted to check out a breakfast restaurant inside The Mirage called Pantry. Not The Pantry, mind you. Just Pantry.

So, we got ready and went downstairs around 8:00 or 8:15. And there was already a big-honkin’ line of people waiting to get into the place. So, funk dat. I’m not waiting in some kind of Space Mountain queue for eggs. “Wanna try the buffet?” she asked. Buffet?? Why wasn’t that our first choice?

It’s called Cravings and it cost us roughly twenty bucks each. It felt wildly expensive to me, but I was still young and inexperienced at this point. Oh… I would learn. I would come to realize that the breakfast buffet was a freaking bargain, compared to some of the outrageously-priced shit we encountered there.

A crazy only-in-Vegas thing happened as we paid our admission fee: the cashier asked if we were interested in adding unlimited beer and wine for $12.99 each. “At breakfast??” I bellowed. She just shrugged and took that as a no. And, as ludicrous as it seems, we actually saw people in there eating pancakes and drinking red wine. Before 9 am. WTF?? Were they hardened alcoholics, still up from the night before, or just on vacation and saying fukkit? It’s hard to know.

Some other buffet questions… In a world where every food in the world is available to you, why would you eat cereal? That almost pissed me off, for some reason. Also, people actually prepare giant stacks of buttered toast? I thought that only happened on Leave It To Beaver? But I saw multiple people with teetering toast stacks on their tables. Weird.

It was great, and we ended up returning every morning, except for the day we went to the Grand Canyon.  The omelet station was fantastic and served as a perfect foundation for the gluttony that was to follow. I actually developed a system, whereby I ate the same things every day, in the exact same order. Oh, I had it down to a fatass science. Highly recommended!

Then we ordered a car through Lyft, and the dude never showed up. At least not to our agreed-upon location. My phone told me he was there, but he was not. I called, and he never answered. That was annoying. There’s only one place they’ll let you do ride-sharing at The Mirage, and we were there. He was not. We were charged five bucks because WE didn’t show up. Bastards.

So, I ordered another car from Uber and got some redhaired dude around 30 years old. He seemed OK at the beginning, but as he continued to talk we realized he was a little braggy. Talking about how he and his wife are homeschooling their kids, and giving all manner of opinions about all sorts of things. All designed to make him seem highly accomplished and smart. He also used a lot of profanity, which is not really a problem, of course. But he didn’t know us. Right? By the time he dropped us off at the Neon Museum, I wasn’t a huge fan. Oh, he was fine, I guess. He just liked to pat himself on the back a lot.

I think this might’ve been the hottest day in a long line of hot days. Holy mackerel! While we were at the (outdoor) museum it was 106, according to my awash-in-sweat ass and phone. And it felt like the sun was reflecting off the metal of all those signs, making it even more “challenging.” The place was quirky and cool, and I’m certainly glad we visited it. But the thing I remember most about it: goddamn hot. Just impossibly hot.

Ol’ Red told us that the neighborhood — not far from Fremont Street — is sketchy. In fact, he doesn’t pick up fares there. He’ll drop people off but won’t pick anybody up. And it looked a little scummy, especially compared to The Strip. But not that bad. We wanted to check out Fremont Street but didn’t want to walk the half-mile in the heat to get there. So, we engaged our friends at Uber again.

A black man in his early 30s picked us up, and he had bottles of water and assorted snacks. Hell yeah. I knocked back some much-needed water, and he entertained us with some tall tales. He kept calling his car “a rolling air-conditioned oasis,” which I appreciated. He dropped us at Fremont Street, and I gave him a $5 tip on a $6 fare.

By this point it was about 3:30, so we went into a place called Banger Brewing. They make their beers on the premises, and we partook of several of them. Good stuff. We also had “bacon popcorn,” which was delicious. We were just trying to get our core temperatures down, after that hellish furnace we’d just endured at the Neon Museum.

Then we walked around a bit and wandered into the world-famous dive bar, Atomic Liquors. Toney didn’t like the looks of it, and whispered to me, “We’re only having one… and pay with cash.” Heh. But the bartender was great, and she stood there talking to us for a long time. Very friendly, and the beer was good. I love dive bars. Toney? Not so much.

That neighborhood was very questionable, indeed. The other end of Fremont Street seemed less so, but nothing happened. I mean, seriously. There was a shitty casino nearby, called the Western Hotel that I found fascinating. When we got back to the room I read everything I could find on it. Cool stuff!

Eventually, we were thoroughly sapped of all our energy, ’cause of the sun and beer. So, we had Uber take us back to our less-seedy digs on The Strip. A woman from Trinidad and Tobago (which is it??) picked us up. She was fantastic. Very funny and entertaining. She got the top tip, as well.

We went back to the room and decompressed. We cranked the AC down to about 57 and had another Sierra Nevada. Toney turned on the local news, and there was a story about how to coyote-proof your dog. One of their suggestions was a vest, like this one. I couldn’t stop laughing. We also saw a political commercial featuring one of the Property Brothers. I guess he lives there and is supporting something or other. I don’t like that.

Eventually, we went back downstairs, and that place was rocking. As soon as the elevator doors opened you could hear a roar of drunken humanity. Crazy. We wandered over to the Concierge desk and purchased two tickets to the Beatles Love show for Thursday night. Roughly $100 each. Shit!

Then we went to a “funky” restaurant called The Still. We’d picked this place out via the internet, and it seemed right up our alley. They told us it would be a ten-minute wait, even though I could see many open tables. So, we just wandered off and went through the Beatles shop nearby. When we were finished there, we still had nothing from The Still saying our table was ready. So, Toney put a dollar into a slot machine, did one spin and won $15.75. She cashed out, and our table was ready. That was the full extent of our gambling.

And I would not recommend the restaurant. They have an old Airstream camper in there, where the food is prepared. You have to walk up to it, place your order, and pay there. But if you want drinks, you pay a waitress. So, you’re paying in multiple places. And I mean PAYING. We had two orders of “street tacos,” and it ran us something like sixty bucks. They were fine but should’ve cost thirty, or maybe twenty-five.

Plus… get this! We had one beer each, and it cost us $27.82. That’s with a $4 tip. I took a photo of the receipt, so I’d remember the exact amount. Is that insane, or what?

I was mildly pissed when we left that place, ’cause of the high cost of the mediocre food and drink, and the general unfriendliness of the staff. Like Johnny Rotten once said, “Ever get the feeling you’ve been cheated?”

And I don’t have any more notes about that day, so I guess nothing else happened?

Here are some Monday photos.

I probably won’t be able to update tomorrow, because I need to record a podcast. But I’ll be back on Thursday and Friday.

Have a great one, my friends!

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The Big Fat Las Vegas Story: Volume 1

I’m going to try to keep this thing under control. Once I start on these big epics, I tend to get carried away and go way too deep with it. But I’m going to attempt to give you guys the highlights (and a few photos) of our big 25th Anniversary trip to Las Vegas in two updates, and one podcast. Even that seems ridiculous, but I have some good stories, I think. So, today I’m going to cover Sunday through Tuesday here, and Wednesday in the podcast. How’s that sound? Let’s get started, shall we?

Sunday

I couldn’t sleep Saturday into Sunday, because of all the craziness that would be happening the next day. I might’ve gotten four hours, but I’m not even sure about that. We left our house about 8 am and headed toward Philadelphia, where our flight was scheduled for 12:40 or somesuch. We gave the kids one more warning speech and told them we’d see ’em in a week. Gulp.

It was rainy and cold and felt like full-on fall out there. It put me in a good mood. There’s nothing better than a dreary overcast day.

The flight was on time but packed to the hilt. I was jammed between Toney and some hipster and was riding on the cusp of a full claustrophobia freakout the whole time. But I maintained. We landed in Chicago a couple of hours later, but it felt like six hours. Or maybe ten. I’m not a fan of Southwest’s seating scheme, where it’s basically first-come-first-served. That’s boolshit.

This guy was across the aisle from me. Good times.

Anyway, we had a two-hour layover in Chicago and scarfed down a burger each from a Billy Goat Tavern outpost. I’ve been to the original location and remembered that it was pretty good. But the burgers on Sunday were only so-so. The buns were good, I’ll give them that much. Then we just hung out and charged our phones before the people-packing re-commenced.

However… right before they started boarding, an announcement was made that sent shockwaves through the poorly-dressed and fat-wrapped crowd: there will be 45 open seats on the flight! There was spontaneous applause. So, Toney and I had a seat between us, and that made it a million times better. But, people were coughing and hacking on that thing like we were in a 1956 tuberculosis sanitarium. Good god!

When we finally arrived in Las Vegas I summoned a car through Lyft. I generally use Uber but had two $5 credits. An Asian man named A&W (or something similar) picked us up in a fancy SUV and took us to The Mirage. He was friendly but not super-interested in chitchat. I snapped the photo at the top as we walked in. It’s a beautiful place, some kind of rainforest oasis in the middle of the desert.

Oh, and by the way… when we left Philadelphia it was 55 degrees, and 104 when we landed in Vegas. Yikes.

We went up to our room and it was nice. I wished the view was better, but whatever. Why start looking for negatives, right out of the box? There would be plenty of opportunities for such things.

Across the street was a Walgreens that we’d already scoped out via the internet. They sell beer and wine and liquor, and various other essentials. So, we headed over there, to get our room set up for the stay. And man… that place was crazy. It was all about the booze, and it felt like everybody was already drunk anyway. They had many, many cashiers and just rapidly cycled through the customers. Wild shit. We bought a 12 pack of Sierra Nevada and various other items, including a questionable environmentally-correct “cooler.”

The nighttime picture above was snapped during one of our excursions to the Rock n Roll Walgreens as I dubbed it. You can’t see it in the photo, but it’s over there somewhere. I was there a half-dozen times, and it was ALWAYS raucous.

After we got our room in order and enjoyed a couple of well-earned adult beverages (see me drinking to the right), we headed over to Gordon Ramsay’s Fish and Chips for dinner. It’s on The Linq Promenade, which is a fancy-ass alley lined with businesses, basically. It’s just a carryout place, where you order at the counter. Freaking fantastic. I don’t know if I was just hungry, or what. But that shit was great.

And do you see how it goes? I’m a full update into this thing and barely finished with Sunday. I’ll have to write on Tuesday and Friday, I think, in addition to Thursday. In the meantime, here’s your link to the Monday podcast. And this is the description:

In this one, I  tell you about our day trip to the Grand Canyon during our recent Las  Vegas visit. Was it worth it? Was it fun? Well… you’ll just have to listen to find out. You’ll also get to meet The Spaniards, the unfriendly hippies from Luxembourg, Bucket Boy, the woman who barely escaped a horrible sandwich death, and  a cast of thousands. Oh, it was quite memorable. And the Canyon was pretty interesting too.

I’ll be back tomorrow, my friends. I hadn’t planned on it, but need to get this story on virtual paper before I forget two-thirds of it. I’ll also post some Grand Canyon photos to go with the podcast episode. Have a great day!

See you on Tuesday afternoon.

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The Last Update And Podcast Episode Before Vegas! And Our Most And Least Favorite Tourist Traps!

I just uploaded the 20th episode of The Jeff Kay Show podcast, over at Patreon. It went well, I think. Some of ’em go better than others. This one flowed, in some kind of highly amateurish way. The title: The Swirl Was Starting To Sag! And the description:

In this one, I power through several topics I had scribbled in my big notebook o’ nonsense. Including an update on the brand new Dairy Queen near our house, the reason I can’t return to the KFC near my job, a crazy man with a dog inside Costco, our son who likes to run up restaurant tabs, a man who’s reportedly never burped, and a Beatles-themed Whistle Dick of the Week. There might be other little tidbits in there too that I’m not remembering, but those are the “highlights.” Enjoy!

I’m getting mixed signals on the podcast. On one hand… almost no feedback. That indicates to me that it’s not very good. However… the Monday episodes are being downloaded in large number. So, I don’t know. I’m not sure what’s going on. In any case, I’m having a blast doing them. It’s fun, and I’m frankly surprised that I’ve been able to pull it off so far. Twenty episodes already! That’s crazy.

Anyway, this is a Thursday episode, available to Patreon supporters only. But there are five episodes available at all the normal podcast places. Including — as of just a few days ago — Spotify. They’re the most difficult, requiring a lot of hoops-jumping, etc. Even more than Apple, if you can believe it.

So, there you go. I’m loving the podcast so far. I hope you guys are getting some enjoyment out of it too.

This is my last update for a while. Toney and I leave on Sunday, for our big Las Vegas trip. I told her I’m only going to care about two things next week: Carrot Top and roulette. That’s a joke, of course. I have no idea how to play roulette and no interest in learning. If there’s any gambling at all, it’ll be twenty bucks in a slot machine. And even that probably won’t happen. With twenty bucks I could go full-all you can eat somewhere. Ya know?

And Carrot Top… I sneer at the man because he pulls a trunk full of props onto the stage. Right? And that screams hack. But the thing is, he’s a pro and I’d probably be laughing my ass off. I won’t be finding out, however. There will be no Carrot Top in my near future. You know, as far as I know.

No, it’ll be all about food and beverage, a day trip to the Grand Canyon,  the Neon Museum, a few other odds and ends, and some more food and beverage. Follow me on Instagram and I’ll keep you updated on our whereabouts. Should be fun!

When I lived and worked in California we had multiple “meetings” in Las Vegas, and always stayed at Treasure Island, for some reason. My boss’s boss LOVED going there and booked as many so-called meetings in the city as possible. After his best friend dropped dead at an early age, he took an early retirement and moved to his beloved Las Vegas. He planned to travel the world, and not squander his remaining time working. And… he was promptly murdered. At a Vegas car wash. And how’s that for an uplifting story?

But I’m hoping to understand his love for the place. I’ve been there multiple times, and it’s… interesting. But I never fully understood why he was so enamored. He’s literally one of the smartest guys I’ve ever met. I’m hoping to unlock the mystery next week. We’ll see what happens.

For a Question, I’d like to know your favorite tourist traps. You know, places that attract massive numbers of tourists… but are just super-enjoyable regardless? Myrtle Beach jumps to mind. It’s the definition of touristy, and hipsters turn their noses up at it, but I have a blast every time. Without exception. I’m hoping to add Las Vegas to the list, but it’s still undetermined. What do you have on this one?

Also, what were the most disappointing tourist destinations? The automatic answer for me: Niagara Falls. I was bored within the hour, and everything felt kinda… seedy. Help me out with this one too, if you’re so inclined.

And I’m going to call it a day here.

I’ll be back on September 17, with a new Surf Report update and a new podcast episode.

Follow me on Instagram for ridiculous travel updates, as well as my world famous #baseballweirdness photo series. And I use the term “world famous” loosely, very loosely.

Have a great weekend!

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