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After experiencing the cab ride with Abdar (the Evel knievel of the sand land), you're just about ready to day-drink; which should've seriously started in the cab on the ride over. Abdar, the fucking lunatic, just taught you a valuable lesson: life is too short to go the speed limit. It would've been even shorter if he had side-swiped a tanker and caused a Micheal Bay scene on the freeway. To Abdar, driving like there is no tomorrow may work back over in the Middle East; where ever day, life is a shootout. However, here in America, it is safe to say that people would rather enjoy the pleasures of life instead of pretending to have a car bomb on the Boulder Highway Express.
Fuck'n Abdar.
The taxi stand is right next to Binions, you walk in. You're in a different world, one of history now. The smell of smoke, old carpet, past cheers, winnings and losses; it all hits your senses at once. It's still early, people are just getting to breakfast in the hotel eatery. You walk through the casino to play $20 at a Quick Hit machine before you go off to sight see the rest of Freemont. You win $80 off the third spin. It's a sign that it's going to be a great, fucking, day. You move on because that's what a man does. You don't get emotional about the casino and what it just gave to you. You pump and dump, leave on a high note; Binions will be there for later. There are literally thousands of other willing machines that will take your hard cash injection. Will they be loose and pay out? Will they be tighter than a prudish tease? Who knows and who cares. It's the thrill of the find, the adventure.
You're now walking down Fremont, passing all of the casinos, taking it all in. It's still too early for most of the street performers; no contortionists, no cartoonists or spray paint artists, no fat-nude grandma or the gold painted body's of human statues. However, it's not too early for a beer, it's actually getting quite late. With that thought you see a place called Mermaids up ahead; a place that is magical and filled with good vibes. Some say it doesn't exist anymore. Some proclaim that whenever you would step foot inside anything that happened was all an illusion. Little did you know that you would meet the waitress of your dreams; a server, a professional, an Asian goddess.
Her name was Ling Ling and she was the best of the best. The words you will never forget, the first words out of her mouth when she knew you were salivating for booze. The thick Asian accent that squeaked a drawn out, "Miller Lite, Bud Light?" Your heart sank, your life complete. She would soon become your very own personal waitress, for the day; since there were hardly any people around. Ling Ling got you fucked, feeding you cups and cups of beer. When one was half empty, she was there by your side with another; garnishing every one of them with her smile and Oriental charm. It truly did remind you as to why Asian women make for the best wives and girlfriends, and why Western women can take a back seat, learn a thing or two. Ling Ling knows men and what they want. She is the type of woman that understands what it means to be there for you. Yes, she works for tips--who doesn't? The thing is, she appreciates it. You could just tell by the way she talked and interacted with you.
It's only 11:20 a.m and Ling Ling has already gotten you Kiefer Sutherland fucked. You have to say goodbye as you still haven't hit up the D yet. She mentions that her daughter works the night shift at the D; what a coincidence. You then think, "Man...there couldn't possibly be two amazing women in this world, all within such a short radius. Could there be?" You get a picture with Ling Ling and some of the other waitresses. It's like you've known them for ages, yet you've only spent an hour or so along with $100; a mere dent in your day fund. Life is so good right now. The experience was worth way more and it was almost priceless. You promise to be back soon--like the same day. Ling Ling blows you a kiss for good luck. You grab that kiss with your mind and hold onto it, forever.