As I mentioned before, in Vegas you see slots already in the airport. While we were waiting for our luggage, people already sat at the gambling machines. I, myself, wanted to try slots in a better atmosphere than an LED-lit airport. Anyways, it seemed funny to play games on a big touch screen and I made sure that Vegas is a gambling paradise. We, though, put only so much money in the slots to get the free drinks.
After a few hours, I was already walking through the Vegas strip. It was interesting to observe the gigantic hotels, countless lights from slots, cozy Americans and the bewitched tourists that all were just thinking of how to faster spend all of their saved up money in the slots.
It was surprising just how many people were heading every night exactly to Caesar’s Palace. Well, it wasn’t a surprise, considering that this hotel was enormous, the casino space was even more enormous, but even all of that was topped by the shopping mall, which, of course, was also full of slots. There were 16 restaurants in the same hotel space. And have I mentioned that the second-largest nightclub in the world Omnia nightclub Las Vegas, was also located here? While I and Dāvis were walking around the hotel we got lost a few times and it was very complicated to talk of a place to meet.
The New Year’s party for us continued for two days and two nights. We met the most real American party groups as well as girls with whom we spent together nights. Unfortunately, the fast pace of Vegas meant that all of those people already packed their bags and left by 2 January. But my friend and I wanted to relax a little bit after all of the partying.
In the following days, we went to the Grand Canyon with a helicopter. We ordered a helicopter tour, which started in Vegas, flew to the Grand Canyon and flew back to Vegas. This tour made us feel a bit like celebrities, considering that a limo drives you from hotel to the helicopter and then you take off and fly over the whole Las Vegas. The helicopter landed next to the Grand Canyon. We also got to enjoy a glass of champagne and some snacks, which was offered by the tour. The canyon has been created by washing the Colorado River through granite rocks for thousands of years, leaving a unique and glorious memory of the wonders nature can bring. While flying over the I couldn’t take my eyes off of this amazing beauty. By the way, the Grand Canyon is almost the size of Latvia. Truly worth seeing, if you happen to be in Vegas and want to experience something exclusive with a dose of adrenaline.
To balance out cultural wonders with scandalous events, on this night we chose to enjoy Las Vegas Titty Time and went to strip club. The easiest way to get there was to go to the Vegas Strip and check out the advertised offers. It wasn’t long before we got offered a good price, as well as a limo that will take us there. Then we got offered an even better price, then a cocktail, then - a private lap dance and in the end, we got offered a meal. At that moment we couldn’t resist their offer anymore and we went to a strip club. We didn’t even know where they were taking us, but we wanted an adventure and we wound up in Larry Flynt’s Hustler Club. The place was just like my expectations of what an American strip club should look like - big neon signs, angry-looking bouncers, a bit dirty atmosphere and a lot of foreign girls. While there we exchanged our money into one-dollar bills and went straight to the dance hall. I haven’t ever seen someone work that hard to earn one dollar. The view was quite enjoyable, to be honest, I had imagined it being a bit different, but striptease is like a delicate choreographic dance - there was nothing vulgar about it, only erotica. Definitely, only a confident woman can show herself off like that. Their feminine bodies helped as well. Their breasts were rarely real, though, mostly it was just some surgeon’s masterpiece. As a big female lover, I can say, that what allures me more is the naturality.
We got offered lap dances and when we heard the price, we were surprised. Only twenty dollars. I would even say that that is unforgivably cheap for us just to try it once. We started buying dances for each other, till cash in the wallet was nearly gone. We thought of a challenge to invite all of the girls in the club for the lap dance to get the “full experience”. Personally, my favorite was the only girl who had real breasts. Some of the girls wanted us to take the “private room” for 120 dollars. Some even offered the special “private room” for 500 dollars, but as they implied, it was more than just a dance. I politely declined as I didn’t think I had to pay someone for that.
In the following days, we continued to do stuff that is in any Vegas tourist to-do-list. For example, we went to Gordon Ramsey’s famous Hell’s Kitchen restaurant. Dāvis, my companion on this trip, as well as partly its initiator had reserved us a table, but we still had to wait in line. At the start, we just chatted between each other, but it seemed like this hour will be spent in boredom, till girls, who were standing in front of us, turned around. One girl, who later turned out to be a literature teacher for middle schoolers, said that our language seemed interesting to her and asked where are we from. At that moment, the girls' openness didn’t surprise me, all the people in America were unusually nice and ready to start a conversation with strangers. Of course, girls were also intrigued by our unusual language and exotic European charm. Dāvis and I were as well intrigued by the girls’ exotic and alluring American charm. Long story short, two tables for two turned into one table for four. After the restaurant we persuaded the girls to spend the following evening together, going through the smaller Vegas streets and bars.
One more adventure was going to Death Valley. We rented a yellow Ford Mustang convertible, to really enjoy this trip. It’s really unbelievably hot there, but the locals say that during nighttime you might freeze. Death Valley is something everyone should see in their lifetime. The Vegas hotels disappeared pretty fast and all we saw was large, vast desert and majestic mountains. I would call it a surreal view, honestly pretty unbelievable that there is something like that on the Earth. While walking through the vast salt lakes you get the feeling like you’re in a “Star Wars” movie on some distant planet. Just standing in the middle of the field gives an illusion that you are somewhere far from civilization because wherever you look, there is no sign of life.
When back in the city we again focused on something more worldly, such as going to clubs. Interesting, that even on 7th January, which was just a Tuesday, Omnia nightclub was filled with people. I’m talking thousands. Well, the party wasn’t anything special, compared to the New Year’s party. Maybe I just wasn’t in a party mood. But then I saw a beautiful blonde standing next to the bar and, quite naturally, went to her and we started chatting. We didn’t talk for long, because I took her hand and we went to the middle of the dance floor. We danced all night till the club was about to close. The girl had a very short, tight dress and she didn’t have any panties on. From time to time I checked her dress, which was constantly sliding up, so the whole club wouldn’t see her nakedness. The moment when the music stopped, we were holding each other and making out. After getting back into reality, I realized that I have no plan on what to do with this beautiful girl further. We went to a hotel pool. We started talking about life in the USA and in Latvia and how they were similar but also so different. I didn’t want the romantic evening to end, so I thought of a plan. In American movies, couples always go skinny dipping. I persuaded the girl to jump in the water with me, naked. I hadn’t thought of water being so cold during the night and we froze in a moment. Good, that I could save the situation by offering a warm shower in my hotel room. She agreed. We went to shower together and warmed up so much that we didn’t even get to the bed. The next morning the girl quickly took her things and disappeared. When I checked her Instagram account I understood why - she had pictures with her husband (or boyfriend) and children. Now I have experienced the saying that goes - What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.
submitted by "King-high diamond flush," I said boldly as I laid my cards out on the table.
Despite my strong hand, my heart still thumped in my chest as I waited for the only other player in the hand to reveal his cards. Although my odds of winning were good, I was nervous. If my opponent had the ace...
"Ace-high diamond flush," my train of thought was disrupted and heart my sank. My opponent had the goddamn ace.
Unlike any other time I had played Texas Hold 'Em at a casino, I had no idea what to expect. See, I wasn't at a normal casino. I was at the Holy Grail Casino, where one does not gamble with money.
My opponent had wagered a finger, and I thought that that had been some colloquial way of making a small bet. Just as we frequently say "an arm and a leg" figuratively for an exorbitant cost, I thought that 'finger' was being used in the same context. I was proven brutally wrong when the dealer, without a hint of emotion, pulled a large knife out from some concealed location and chopped my pinky finger off.
I screamed, both in pain and disbelief. I had been expecting the most intense gambling experience of a life time, but I hadn't imagined anything of this magnitude.
I had finally found a form of gambling even I balked at.
I'll come clean and say it, I'm a compulsive gambler. I've had an enduring fixation on Lady Luck as early as I can remember. As a child, I loved making bets - even small and petty ones - with my peers.
When I was eighteen, and had my first job, I squandered a bigger portion of my very first paycheck than I care to admit on scratch-off lottery tickets.
With my addictive proclivities, I ignored the glaring net financial loss that this incurred, instead gravitating to the mere twenty dollars I did win with those tickets.
Now you can tell me that my gambling winnings are heavily outweighed by my losses over the years, and you'd be right. It's a stubborn fact that cannot be truthfully denied.
But it didn't matter to me. I was addicted to gambling. I was always convinced that the big, life-changing win I needed was right around the corner. It is this lifelong habit that has not only brought about a life of financial strain, but which, I fear, has brought about my imminent appointment with my own mortality.
You see, my gambling problem reached its zenith last year after I cajoled one of my poker friends, Dallas, into taking me to a secretive and high-stakes casino that he frequently spoke of, and this is as good a place as any to begin telling what happened.
"So, is this the night you're finally going to accede and tell me more about the mythical 'high stakes venue' you claim to frequent, Mr. Big Shot?" I asked my friend Dallas.
Dallas was a pro at gambling. At least, he swept the floor with the competition nine times out of ten and the backroom card games we frequented.
Dallas groaned loudly in the passager seat.
"Come on bro," I said doggedly, "you can't just set something up on a pedestal like this and not expect someone to persist."
"I don't know man. This isn't kitty shit. This is the big leagues." Dallas answered.
"I'm not a lightweight." I objected.
"No...but this is way more than anything we'd ever bet back there," he said, referring to our backroom games, one of which we had just left.
"This is the real shit. Hard-fucking-core. This is the most hardcore gambling around." Dallas continued.
"Like what, Russian Roulette?" I joked.
"Nah man." Dallas said cryptically.
"Look man, I give you rides to these games every week. You owe me." I was getting seriously annoyed at his reticence.
"Fine," Dallas groaned, exasperated.
I couldn't believe it. I had actually worn him down!
"But I'm warning you. This is serious shit." Dallas said sternly.
"I want to go." I said firmly.
Dallas reached into his wallet and handed me a medallion.
Upon inspection, I saw one side was affixed with the design of an ornate, bejeweled chalice with the words 'Holy Grail Casino' written above it. On the other side, written in elegant calligraphy was the phrase 'omnem marmora' - "all the marbles" in Latin.
This certainly bore the look of a ritzy and exclusionary place. I had a feeling I'd either win the jackpot of jackpots or end up homeless on the street. The reality would prove much worse than the latter.
Dallas was looking at me oddly, almost as if he was worried. But he could tell he wasn't going to be able to talk me out of it. I still hate him for his acquiescence to my pestering.
"When can we go?" I asked excitedly.
"I was planning to go tomorrow-," Dallas started.
"When I should I pick you up?" I interrupted.
"That's...not how we get there." Dallas answered.
"What-," I started, but it was Dallas' turn to interrupt.
"When you go to bed tomorrow night, write your full name on a piece of paper, then put it and the medallion in your pocket when you go to sleep."
I looked at him incredulously. Had he been fucking with me this whole time?
"Look...just trust me. Either do it or don't, but that's how you get there." Dallas said matter-of-factly.
I looked silently at the road as we neared the place where Dallas lived. Dallas seemed to be pensively looking out the window, as if he was debating whether or not he should have give me the medallion.
I dropped Dallas off without a word and raced home. I don't know why I was such a hurry - I guess I wanted to start waiting for tomorrow night as soon as possible.
After a torturous day of waiting, the next night finally came. Remembering Dallas' instructions, I wrote my full name on a slip of paper and placed it, along with the medallion, in the pockets of my sweatpants that I was wearing to bed for that purpose.
I could have sworn that I had heard my name being chanted as I drifted off to sleep, but the authenticity of those sounds is still ambiguous. What is not ambiguous is the fact that, shortly after falling asleep, I found myself in an opulent red-carpeted casino.
I was in a lobby of sorts, at least I think that's what it was. I was in a large, marble room with Greco-Roman style columns flanking a plush red carpet that led to two magnificent ebony doors, which boasted intricately carved ivory handles.
As I was soaking in the amazing luxurious sight, a man in a suit briskly approached me.
"You can't go to the floor dressed like that!" He admonished me, pointing to my sweatpants and white t-shirt.
"I'm sorry-," I began sluggishly, a bit confused by everything. Was I honestly expected to go to bed in a suit in order to gamble here?
"No worries sir," the man had a rather upper class accent, "we will get you outfitted here free of charge."
A short while later I was sporting a fine burgundy suit, a white dress shirt, and black loafers, and being led by the casino worker back to those grandiose doors. He stopped in front of them, held one of the doors open, and ushered me in.
"Enjoy your stay sir," he said as he closed the door behind me.
I took in the even more impressive sight that was the gambling floor. I stood at the top of a red-carpeted staircase with gilded railing, looking down at a large room. On the far end, the words 'Holy Grail Casino' were displayed prominently on the wall, illuminated by spotlights.
Like the lobby, a red carpet ran through the center, bisecting the impressive layout of games and tables. Interestingly, there didn't appear to be any slot machines- there seemed to be exclusively traditional games. Poker tables, blackjack tables, roulette wheels, and craps tables I all recognized.
Finally, I descended the stairs. The patrons and staff paid me little attention as I set foot on the floor. I briefly scanned the floor for Dallas but saw no saw no sign of him.
I shrugged and decided to jump into the games. All around me, finely dressed patrons were engrossed in their games, and others stood to the side, nursing cocktail glasses or puffing on cigars.
I had never had much of an affinity for roulette or craps, and I avoided blackjack like the plague (it's definitely rigged for the house). Accordingly, I quickly settled on poker.
After eyeing several tables I settled on a table occupied by just one patron - an uninterested old man in a black suit.
"Can I join here?" I asked.
The dealer replied affirmatively.
I sat down and noticed there were no chips in sight. I thought it had been odd that I hadn't received any, but I had just figured they would be given at the table. Curious, I asked.
"First time?" The dealer raised an eyebrow.
"Yes."
The old man sighed, annoyed. What the hell? Shouldn't a patron at such a purportedly high-stakes venue be eager to have fresh meat?
"Well, the rules state that one's first game is one round of betting only." The dealer said in a monotone voice. No wonder old man was annoyed.
I nodded and sat down.
"But the chips-," I began to inquire.
"We don't use 'em here." The old man spoke for the first time.
Before I ask what we did use, the old man placed what would apparently be the sole bet of this hand: a finger.
Had I heard him right? He couldn't actually mean-
"Bet is one finger." The dealer said, interrupting my thoughts.
As I stated in the beginning, I assumed that 'a finger' was being used in the same figurative context that one often uses the term 'an arm and a leg.' I called the bet.
The cards were dealt, and I felt confident as I laid out the King-high flush I spoke of in the beginning. But then came the old man's ace-high flush, and then came the chop.
I screamed. To my shock, none of the other patrons even looked up from their games at the sound of my screams and the chop. Was this an ordinary occurrence?
Before I could get up from the table, the dealer also procured some sort of ointment and quickly dabbed some on the nub where my finger had been. The bleeding instantly stopped, and the pain eased, but I was having none of it. I got up from the table and began to run back to the doors. This was too much. I had to get out of here.
I heard a despaired howl coming from the direction of the roulette wheels as I made it back to the center of the floor, but didn't dare look back at the source. I stepped onto the carpet and set for the stairs when I nearly collided with Dallas.
"Hey you made it!" He said. "Oooh tough break with the finger," he indicated my hand.
"How have you never lost anything?!" I asked pointedly, barely resisting the urge to shake his shoulders.
"Well I have," Dallas smirked.
"You-you have all your digits." I sputtered.
"Well that's cause I won them back." He said.
"You can win them back?!" I was in disbelief.
"Of course, they'll reattach it if you win one."
I should have just cut my losses. I shouldn't have been swayed by temptation. But if you know the rabbit hole that is gambling, you'll know how much people put themselves in the hole vainly trying to win back a negligible loss, all the while turning that negligible loss into something substantial.
I was still weighing my options (stay or quit while still ahead) when a booming voice disrupted my deliberation.
"Attention floor! We have a class ten loser! Death!"
He couldn't actually mean-
Before I could make any kind of move, the patrons become a mob, and the wave people pushed Dallas and I to the center with them.
A man, who I noticed was already missing an arm, was on his knees sobbing. An emotionless casino dealer stood before him, holding a sword.
"Everyone c-cut y-your loss-losses," the man stuttered through sobs.
Before he could say anything else, the sobs were cut off by the slice of the sword, and the poor man's head hit the floor and tumbled, landing at my feet.
submitted by I was eighteen when I met Reyna. I'd been at a local bar called Jerry's by myself since my friends had left me hanging. I was using a fake ID, not that I really needed it unless there were cops around. The bartender was the kind of guy who would let you have the booze if you could pay. He did have some rules, though. If you were under sixteen you'd get booted out of the bar real quick and he'd call your parents, and you weren't allowed to cause any problems with the other patrons or the same thing would happen.
I was always a usual since it was the laxest place in town, but I had bar-hopped before. Most of the places just didn't click with me. I needed a good vibe in order to drink. This was a night where not a lot of people were around, but those that were there were the usual old drunks. All aside from one.
I noticed her before she noticed me, and she was absolutely beautiful. Her scarlet hair practically glowed under the dim bar lights, and she was wearing a really expensive-looking dress. There was a small purse with a thin strap over her shoulder and I recognized the Louis Vuitton logo on it. I was curious about her, since the town I was living in was pretty small and not very rich. I guessed she must've been from out of town or something. She looked like she might've been nineteen or twenty, but the way she sat made her look older and more mature.
I didn't realize I'd been staring at her until she looked at me point blank with an eyebrow raised and a curious smile across her face. In the next moment she slipped off of her stool and started walking towards me. Okay, don't freak out. Don't freak out. Don't freak out. Stay cool, I thought nervously. My palms were sweating and I felt a lump develop in my throat. She took the seat beside me and ordered two shots. The bartender placed the shots in front of her, and she pushed one over to me. I just stared at it for a moment before looking at her. She raised her eyebrow again, "Are you going to drink it or just stare at it all night?"
I wasn't really a vodka person, but the fact that this beautiful girl had just bought me a drink rather than it being vice-versa made me feel a sense of obligation. I downed the drink and it left a burning sensation in the back of my throat. The girl smiled and downed her own shot, but it didn't look as though it had fazed her. "So... You aren't much of a vodka person, huh?"
I was slightly shocked by her statement, but I guessed I must've made a face or something. Her voice had been soft like velvet. I nodded, "Yeah, I usually like whiskey or beer or sometimes gin."
She shrugged, but the motion coming from her looked so graceful, "I understand. I don't much care for this brand, either."
I tried to think of something smooth to say but all that came out was, "Do you come here often?"
She laughed, but her smile quickly fell, "Really? That's your opening line? And here I was expecting something a little more interesting from you."
I shook my head, "No, no, no... I was really curious. I haven't seen you in this bar before, and I'm one of the usual customers."
Her smile returned and she nodded, "Well, then my answer is no. I've only been to this place a handful of times and you've never been here when I am. Perhaps fate has brought us together this evening. I'm Reyna."
I smiled, "I'm Todd..." I sighed, "Maybe you're right. I was considering going over to Mary's but changed my mind last minute."
She nodded, "I can understand why. You seem to be quite at ease here... but not completely."
I frowned, "What do you mean?"
She opened her purse and drew a cigarette and lighter, offering one to me, but I declined. She shrugged and lit her cigarette before continuing, "Your demeanor is calm but until I came over you were sitting very stiffly. You're worried about the cops coming in here and catching you, even if you don't realize it yourself. You'd have no cause for any concern if we were at the Crimson Cabaret."
"The Crimson what now?" I asked.
She shook her head, "Just my favorite bar. It's not too far from here and it's a bit of a tourist destination, but I enjoy it. See, police don't typically show up at that bar, but even when they do... Sixteen, eighteen, twenty, it doesn't matter. They don't care. You could even walk in being thirteen years old and you'd get away with drinking. Hell, they'd probably buy a round for you."
I was skeptical with the way she was hyping up this bar. Sure, everyone had their favorite place to hang and drink, and you always wanted to believe your place was better than anyone else's. Still, the fact that I'd never heard of the place being the bar-hopper I was made me feel like this was sort of sketch. "Right... So why bother bringing up this place?"
Reyna smiled and shrugged, "Being such an avid bar-hopper, I'd figure you'd like a place where you can be most at ease. I used to be a lot like you until I found the Cabaret. It's a really nice place, but it's also very expensive unless you go in with a member." She placed her hand on my shoulder, "I could show you."
I felt a shiver run up my spine from the warmth of her hand and smiled, "Ah... Um, no, I don't think so. I... I need to go home and get some sleep. You see, I have work in the morning and--"
Reyna removed her hand from my shoulder and shook her head, "It's alright. I shouldn't have been so forward with you." She frowned, "You remind me a lot of myself, honestly. I... I used to drink because of my boyfriend. You're drinking because of Cecilia, aren't you?"
My heart sank at this comment. Not because she knew my girlfriend by name, but... Because she was right. Cecilia and I had been dating since Freshman year of high school and at first things had been really great, but... Eventually they weren't? I don't know why it happened or how, but it happened. And she started cheating on me. I didn't break up with her, though. Once again I don't know why. I guess it was just because we'd been together for such a long time and I couldn't imagine my life without her.
No... No, that wasn't it. It was because of convenience. I was there to fulfill her needs whenever she wasn't out with other guys and she did the same for me. It wasn't healthy and it certainly wasn't because we cared about each other. We just were with one another. I never cheated on her because I was just a faithful guy. I wasn't above innocently flirting with girls now and again at parties or bars, but that was as far as I took it.
I sighed and nodded, "Yeah. We, uh, we don't exactly see eye to eye with each other anymore. But at least it's a relationship."
Reyna shook her head, "No, Todd, it's not a relationship. Call it a dependency, a multiple-night stand, but it's not a relationship. Not really." She put her hand back on my shoulder, but this time I wasn't so stiff at the motion. "You shouldn't have to live like this." She smiled, "Come to the Cabaret with me. Just as friends. We'll have some drinks and talk for awhile. You'll have so much fun you won't want to leave. What do you say?"
Something about Reyna talking to me in that understanding sweet tone... It made me feel like I could trust her with anything. That going and getting some drinks at this bar of hers didn't sound like a bad idea. I smiled and nodded, "Alright. Let's go."
I don't know why I decided to go with Reyna in her car. I guess... it was because I thought I'd had too much to drink? I don't know, but Reyna had a really nice car and it was pretty cool to be riding in it. We arrived at the bar which was quite a few miles outside of town through a thick blanket of fog, but the place looked really nice on the outside, so I figured the inside would be no different.
Reyna handed off her keys to a valet and we walked up to the doors where a bouncer was waiting. Reyna pulled a strange card out of her purse that had two holographic filigree Cs on it. The bouncer glanced between the two of us for a moment before nodding and opening the doors. And from the moment we stepped inside...
I was in love.
The entire place was decorated in rich reds and golds, and it looked like some sort of lavish casino rather than a bar. It was two stories high and, yeah, there were slot machines and card tables galore. On a big stage were girls dancing on both the stage floor and a trapeze hung from the ceiling in glittery costumes. The place was full of people and bustling workers carrying various cocktails in some crazy colors. I looked at Reyna, who smiled at me, "What? It's a bar first and a casino second. Or do you not like gambling?"
"No, I--"
"Then shush and let's go," she said with a coy smile.
She gently pulled me to the very long bar and we sat down at two of the padded stools. The bar was a transparent fish tank, and it had some pretty cool exotic fish in it. The bartender wasn't like Jerry in looks, being much more cheerful and smiley rather than tired and grumpy. "What can I get you?" he asked. I was about to say something, but Reyna spoke first, "Two galaxy lotuses, Benny." The guy nodded and started expertly mixing alcohols and came back with two tall glasses of alcohol that literally glowed and looked like he'd taken the stars and put them into a glass.
Reyna sipped at her drink and gestured for me to do the same. I picked up my drink and sipped it. It was smooth and warm. Nice to taste, too. Sort of oaky and fruity all at the same time. "It's good, isn't it?" Reyna commented. I nodded and she smiled, "Thought so. It's one of my favorite drinks to order here. After you finish do you want to do some gambling? I play a pretty good poker hand now and again."
I shrugged, "Sure, I guess so."
We finished up our drinks and she took me to a poker table that was about to deal a new hand. At this point I was buzzed and starting to drift into being drunk. I'm not typically the type of guy to go and get drunk drunk a lot of the time. When I'm buzzed, I tap out. I know it's not smart to do but I do have to drive home because I can't afford to call Ubers if I'm bar-hopping all night. It'd be more trouble than it's worth, I guess. When Reyna bought even more drinks I withheld a groan. There was no way I'd be able to drive home once Reyna dropped me off to pick up my car. I'd have to sleep in my back seat until tomorrow morning.
"Hey," Reyna muttered, placing her hand on my shoulder, "what's wrong?" I frowned, slightly confused and muttered, "Huh?" She frowned, "Your forehead is all scrunched up like you're thinking." She smiled and lightly pushed my chest, "Relax a little, Todd. I'm not going to leave you in that parking lot at Jerry's."
I don't know if I felt scared or relieved that Reyna seemed to be able to read my thoughts yet again. I guess she was just so pretty and I was getting drunker and stupider so I decided not to be weirded out. Reyna ordered more drinks and I finished mine yet again. Now, I know I said I was only a drink till' I'm buzzed kind of person, and that's true, but once or twice I'd gotten drunk drunk. When that happened I'd get really tired and typically let one of my friends take me to their houses and I'd crash on their couches. But right now... I didn't have anywhere to sleep.
"If you're tired we can go into one of the member's rooms upstairs. I don't mind you sleeping on my bed," Reyna said with a smile.
I don't know why, but I just nodded and allowed her to lead me upstairs. I was leaning on her for support and she opened one of the doors to one of the rooms. She walked and I stumbled inside. She closed the door with her foot and sat me down on the bed. I immediately fell over and wanted to go to sleep, but in the next moment Reyna sat down in front of me and started taking her heels off. I sat up and through my drunken haze noticed the blisters on her ankles and how she was wincing and rubbing them. "Are you okay?" I asked concernedly. She glanced back at me and smiled reassuringly, "Um, yeah. I'm alright. These shoes are new, so I haven't exactly broken them in yet."
I don't know why I did what I did next, but I pulled Reyna into a hug with her back pressed against my chest, resting my hands on her stomach. "You don't have to put on an act with me, Reyna," I muttered into her hair. "You've been so understanding and sweet all night. I think you can tell me whatever's wrong with you."
Reyna smiled and placed her hands on top of mine, "Todd... I hope you know I don't just bring any man back to the Cabaret with me or let them into my room. I like you. You're thoughtful." She turned around in my arms and wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me.
Since Cecilia and I had started dating I'd never even thought of any other girls. Even after she started openly cheating on me I refused to do the same. I hadn't put my hands on another girl in a long time... But Reyna... She was so beautiful and understanding... So gentle and sweet... Everything Cecilia wasn't. I kissed her back, and then we just laid there, holding one another. It was nice. "Todd..." Reyna muttered cautiously. I kissed her forehead, "Yeah?" She smiled slightly, "Would you do anything for me?"
I found the question curious, but nodded and squeezed her hand in reassurance, "Yeah. Yeah, I would."
She nodded, "I know you would. I just wanted to ask."
I don't know when or how I fell asleep, but when I woke up I found Reyna's side of the bed empty. I muttered a cuss under my breath and rushed out the door to her room. I caught sight of her crimson hair heading towards the exit and just managed to make it through the throng of people to catch her. She smiled as she looked back at me. Then I noticed... She looked different. She was still beautiful, but... Less so than last night. It made me wonder if my being under the influence had made her appear more gorgeous. She was also wearing some cheap street clothes which shocked me all the more. "Hello, Todd," she said. "Sleep well?"
"Where are you going?" I asked, confused and pretty hurt.
She smiled and gestured for me to come outside with her. I only noticed it was still night when we got out the doors. How long had I been asleep? It had been long enough to sleep off my alcohol, clearly, but... How was it still nighttime? Reyna and I sat on one of the benches outside and she lit a cigarette, taking a puff before finally speaking.
"You know I said I used to bar-hop like you?" she asked. I nodded, and she continued, "That was true. Then one night... One night I met a guy at one of my local hops who was dressed so nicely and was the polar opposite of my boyfriend who I was still with. His name was Rodger. We got to talking and he just seemed to get me and what I was going through. He mentioned the Crimson Cabaret as the best bar to visit and I let him take me to it in his car. I reacted the same way as you. I drank and drank way beyond my tolerance level and he offered to let me sleep in his room. Just like I offered to you. We got in there and I started crying about my boyfriend and then Rodger started kissing me. I wanted him to kiss me. He asked me if I'd do anything for him. I said yes.
"I woke up with his side of the bed being empty and just knew I needed to hurry. I found him about to leave just like you did me. He sat me down at this bench here and explained everything to me."
"Everything about what?" I asked, my mind starting to race with fear.
"The Cabaret." Reyna's voice was wistful and hollow, "How it works. What it does to you. I said you'd love it so much you'd never want to leave, but... You can't leave. Not anymore. At first it's great to be a member. All the free booze you can drink without the threat of a hangover, nice expensive clothing brands, a big room with all the food and entertainment you could ever want, and God if you don't wake up every single morning looking like your best self!"
She sighed, "But eventually it gets mundane. You don't age. It's always nighttime. The acts on stage get repetitive until you can predict what's going to happen that night. The bartenders come off less as cheerful and kind and more so robotic and creepy. You come to hate it."
I frowned and shook my head, "Why can't you leave? What is this place?"
Reyna extinguished her cigarette and shook her head, "See, the thing about the Cabaret is that you have to be a member to leave, but even then you can't leave forever. You have to bring back customers. People who will be easy to manipulate into forgetting themselves and just drinking and gambling forever and ever. The only way you can ever really escape is if you find someone to replace you. A new member. A new bar-hopper to give a home.
"Sometimes it's easy to find someone to replace you, but you can't pick just anyone. You'll know who can help you escape because it'll be obvious. You'll be able to see into their lives and know they want an escape. An escape... I've been looking for years to find someone who can help me. It's been about sixty, maybe seventy years. I looked and looked and looked for someone who could get me out, but I never managed to. Until I met you. I could see into your life and how much you hated it. How much you hated your girlfriend. How much you wanted anything different. And I knew. You were my salvation."
I was shocked as Reyna rose to her feet, pulling something out of her pocket. It was her car keys and her member card from the Cabaret. She handed both of them to me and smiled, "I really do like you, Todd, and I hope you'll find your way out soon." She handed me one more thing. A scrap of paper with a phone number. "Keep track of the time, and call me if you get out within the next ten years."
And then she took off, walking out of the parking lot and down the road. I watched as she began to disappear into the fog, her crimson hair being the last thing I saw.
It's been about thirty years. I still have access to the outside world via my phone, a computer in my room, and a TV that shows all the channels. It's been about thirty years now. I have since received only one text from Reyna. A picture of her in a wedding dress looking rather sad with the words, I waited, but I'm done waiting now, in the message. I don't blame her for moving on. And now as I type this on Reddit I hope that maybe it'll reach my replacement. But if you're not... Still... Come to the Crimson Cabaret.
You'll never want to leave.
submitted by Extremely long, please forgive me.
TL;DR — CMA for telling my coworkers I was fired because of my mental health?
So I used to work as a cocktail server for a casino in my area. Due to my state's regulations regarding reopening nonessential businesses during COVID-19, the casino was only able to reopen for business if it followed very strict criteria; for example, cocktail servers like me cannot run drinks out to patrons on the floor right now, and are instead stuck manning the self-serve soda machines to reduce the risk of customers spreading germs to each other.
There are a slough of other extremely important protocols and changes in place, and the tension is especially high among the bar staff - we're only able to serve alcohol at all by exploiting a loophole that says alcohol may only be served alongside a food item, and if we heck any part of that up, all bar staff go back on furlough. That we had already lost all but one senior cocktail (me) and three of our five bartenders wasn't helping, as we were all stuck pulling double and triple shifts to cover the gaps.
On top of this, the casino rolled out a few new changes NOT related to COVID-19 - namely, new uniforms: Long sleeved black dress shirts, long black slacks, and a clip on bowtie that necessitated the shirt collars being buttoned all the way up. No variations are allowed - not even neatly rolling up the sleeves in hot weather.
It is currently summer where I work, and we've already had several weeks of temperatures in the 90-100 range (Fahrenheit). All black clothes in starchy fabric, with long sleeves and fully buttoned necks, on a job where even the drink station workers move around A LOT. To add to this, anybody in security or food/beverage can and will at some point have to step outside into the full sun to run patrols or grab supplies from the outdoor containers, and the people in the cashier cage are working with zero air conditioning.
To further add to the work stress, management has repeatedly caught wind of employees stretching the rules to make their lives easier - cocktail servers having soda or tea behind the counter, or cashier cage ladies bringing in little battery powered fans - and shot every single one of them down. Remember how I said we can't roll our sleeves up? That's another example. We WERE until management decided it looked unprofessional, even when the sleeves were neatly cuffed.
TO ADD TO ALL OF THIS, over the last month I have had my six year old cat Izzy diagnosed with terminal lymphoma (and am nursing him through his last few months at home, which includes occasionally giving him an IV electrolyte push for dehydration); have received news that my mother is considering leaving my father due to his alcoholism (he is NEVER abusive, but she can't watch him drink himself to death anymore); and am faced with roughly $2000 in bills and loans that I need to pay off on what was an income of maybe $700 a week. On a good week.
I struggle with clinical depression, anxiety, and what we believe may be high-functioning autism. I do have a history of self harm, especially in the last two years. I made the casino very clearly aware of both of these things upon being offered a job.
On Sunday (July 5), due to ALL OF THE ABOVE, I suffered a massive depressive episode while in the employees' restroom at the casino, on the clock during a fifteen minute break. During this episode, I noticed there were two extremely sharp exposed screw points sticking a little bit out of the wall in one corner of the stall I was in. I was able to remove myself from the restroom WITHOUT injuring myself, but not before I had to spend five minutes seriously talking myself down from opening my arm on those screw points and another five in a ball on the floor pulling myself back together.
I went immediately to the security office and told them what had happened; then (because I am used to these episodes, and because I am significantly harder on myself than I have any right or reason to be) I went back out to continue serving drinks at the self serve. I was shaky, but no longer in a place where I actively wanted to hurt myself.
A few minutes into this, my supervisor comes to talk to me. He takes one look at my face and at my hands (which I had balled tightly in front of me, and which were still shaking anyway) and tells me to go home - "Don't worry about the casino, go home, take care of yourself."
On my way to the employee locker room - in a hallway only employees are allowed access to - I had a panic attack and went down to my knees again. I was not able to recover sufficiently to prevent EMS from being called, and spent the night in suicide watch. When I was discharged, the doctors ordered me not to return to work until Thursday (July 9).
On Wednesday (July 8), I received a text from one of my managers asking me to please call the head of HR. There was no warning and no explanation as to why (I later learned she had no idea why, either).
As it turns out, I was asked to call HR so that they could fire me. They had my phone number on file; there was no reason they could not have called me themselves, instead of essentially setting up an ambush.
I have had no history of behavioral or work complaints, barring one customer who got mad because I wouldn't give him drinks five minutes after the casino had shut down for the night. I have never been called in to discuss my work ethic or habits, and I have never been spoken to about my behavior or demeanor. Just the opposite: Even up to the day I went on suicide watch, my managers and supervisor raved about how much of a help I was and how grateful they were to have me on board.
HR officially listed my termination as "at will" - basically the common label for terminating a part-time employee who just doesn't quite fit in with the rest of the crew. However, not only was I full-time and off probation - something the casino's own handbook says PROTECTS AN EMPLOYEE from at will termination - but the timing and lack of corrective history prior to my termination make it very clear that I was fired due to my mental health. I was not spoken to prior to the termination.
In the state where I live, mental health is considered a disability, for which employers are not legally allowed to terminate employment if they have prior knowledge - which, again, I made sure the casino did. Beyond that, mine is only the most recent termination since we came back from furlough that could only be called "shifty" at BEST. We have lost ten other employees before me under questionable circumstances - in one case, my previous supervisor was terminated two weeks ago and nobody seems to be able to tell us WHY.
I had already been considering reporting the casino for shady and downright unhealthy practices, though I hadn't told anyone. After I had turned my stuff in, I went around to all my coworkers around the employee area exactly WHY I had been terminated. I did this knowing and fully hoping that it would encourage more of my coworkers to walk out. I still plan to report the casino for shady business practices, and am considering filing a lawsuit against them.
CMA, reddit?
submitted by We've been dating for three years. I've moved in recently to his house since we spent most of our time there anyway, and it was stupid to pay rent on my apartment too. I think we'll eventually get married, but I'm not in a hurry. Neither is he. He rushed into a marriage before and ended in a bad divorce.
Over the last couple of months, he's started to encourage me to wear shorter dresses or show more cleavage and more booty when we go out or people are coming over to the house. He's been buying me clothes that are what he wants me to wear. I know this sounds stereotypical but he has a poker night every other week. His buddies come over and they drink and play. He started saying I should wear a cocktail dress to make the night seem more like a casino. I agreed at first, but it just seems weird.
I agreed at first and now I think I'm in a hole where I can't go back. I like to dress and feel good, but this is been an escalation I think. How do I de-escalate without being a bad girlfriend?
TL;DR: BF is pressuring me to dress more revealingly than I want to and I'm uncomfortable now.
submitted by Continuing… “Well, if that doesn’t throw the damper on things.” Dax remarks on our trip back down to the ground floor.
“Yeah. How rude. Up and deceasing your own self without bothering to tell anyone beforehand.” I noted.
“This is going to be a bloody balls-up. Trust me. This is going to be inordinately messy. A bog-standard botch job. A total dog’s dinner, just wait and see.” Cliffs adds.
“First, we have to contact IUPGS. Then what? Does Bulgaria have a consulate or embassy here? I wouldn’t think so…Then what?” I grieved. For once, I was rather low; both emotionally and on ideas.
“Let’s go back to the conference room and let everyone know. We’ll pull a brain session together. We should be able to sort out what needs to be done. The hotel already knows, so the state security forces also do as well. Be prepared for lengthy interrogation sessions, Gentlemen”, Cliff advised.
Back in the conference room, we relayed the sad information. All were taken aback and there were general notes of commiseration. However, since no one knew Iskren too well personally, it was more detached professionalism rather than overt weeping and wailing.
“Let us toast to our fallen comrade!” was accepted as both entirely appropriate and a damn good idea.
I got on the conference room phone and ordered up some more sandwiches, mixers, and bottles of booze. The moment was obviously structured that way, I reasoned.
We made our toasts to our fallen comrade and we had half a chalkboard filled with suggestions of what to do next.
The main consensus was: “Nothing.”
As in there was not much we could do. We were foreign nationals in a strangely foreign land. Our comrade was the sole member of his country, that is, Bulgaria, and the closest geographically we had aboard was Dr. Academician Ivan. No one wanted to loose Ivan on the DPRK security forces and have to deal with all that international fallout.
After some number of hours, after I suggested we all remain in the conference room as we’d (A.) be together, as in unity there is strength, (2.) we’d have each other’s backs when and if it came to interrogations, and, (iii.) this is where the free booze was.
Then there was a polite knock on the door.
I, as the den mother of this special education class, slowly got up and answered the knock.
It was a cadre of DPRK internal security forces, kitted out in their spiffy, tailor-made, and actually, quite smart-looking uniforms. Shoes and buttons polished to mirror-finishes, pants creases that could cut flesh, and enough polished brass to construct a spittoon.
“Hello? Yes?” I said through the semi-opened door.
“May we please come in? If the time is convenient.”, the head military type, very treacly asked.
“Of course”, I replied, “Please, do come in.”
Four of them entered as one. They did a quick-step, tight-march formation together and went to the head of the conference table.
“Good day, gentlemen. I am Colonel Hwangbo Dong-Hyeon of Internal State Security. First, we must offer condolences on the loss of your comrade. It must have come as a shock.” He intones.
There are mutters of “Thanks.” and “Damn right it was.”
“I have been entrusted to update you on the, ah, ‘situation’. First, Dr. Iskren Dragomirov Dinev, recently deceased, has been examined by the best medical practitioners in the country. He was obviously a foreign national and state guest, and we do not wish this to be a cause of suspicion or mistrust, especially during this auspicious Festival season.” He asserted.
We listened with rapt attention.
“I am authorized to tell you that it does not appear that the late Dr. Dinev expired of any untoward circumstances; or ‘foul play’, I believe is the western term. It has been ascertained that he expired due to wholly natural causes; namely massive myocardial infarction. Given his age, apparent health, and, ah, mass, this does seem a most reasonable explanation. This has been verified by no less than three DPRK medical professionals; one of which is the Emeritus teaching professor of Cardiology at Pyongyang Medical University. Again, you have our deepest condolences on the loss of your comrade.” He continued.
“I do remember Iskren complaining of gas pains the other night at the bar,” Joon agreed. “Thought nothing of it, given the change in all our diets.”
Colonel Hwangbo studied Joon like an entomologist examining a particularly fascinating new species of beetle.
“Which has been fine! Just rather rich compared to our usual food!” Joon hastily added.
Satisfied that Joon wasn’t making light of the ‘fine’ North Korean cuisine, Colonel Hwangbo continued, “As such, the Bulgarian Embassy here in Pyongyang has been contacted and apprised of the situation. They have taken over the case, as well as recovered the mortal remains and possessions of Dr. Dinev; all of which were conserved and authenticated by his Bulgarian national counterparts.”
“Ah, that’s good”, I said, “I’m pleased that there actually is a Bulgarian embassy here.”
“Ah. So.”, Col. Hwangbo continued, “Yes. They have already taken possession of Dr. Dinev’s mortal remains and possessions as I had noted, and will handle their repatriation to his country and family. As you can see, we have acted in the best of faith and with the utmost respect for your lately departed. Again, our condolences.”
There were some “Harrumphs”, and “Yeah, rights”, from the crowd, but since I was the team leader, it fell to me to handle this situation from here on out.
“Yes, indeed”, I replied, “We see that and do so deeply appreciate your efficiency and your keeping open the lines of communication. We have absolutely no room to complain. You, your team, your country, and your services have acted to the highest degree of professionalism and decorum. Let me extend, for the team, our heartiest appreciations in this most unfortunate matter.”
That seemed to please the Korean security forces. So much so they didn’t see the rolling eyes and smirks of grudging compliance from the crowd. I gave the evil-eye to several who were twittering quietly at my delivery of a load of over-the-top twaddle in the name of international goodwill.
“Thank you, Doctor…? Doctor…?”, he asked.
“Doctor Rocknocker.” I replied, “It’s spelled just as it sounds,”, I chuckled a knowing chuckle.
Colonel Hwangbo cracked a small smile for the first time since we met.
“As long as our orders of business are concluded, “ I inquired, “Might we offer you and your men a drink or sandwich or…”
“Cigar?” he suddenly brightened.
I smiled the sly, smirking smile of one of those used to the old duplicitous game of international diplomacy.
“Why”, I replied smilingly, “Of course.”
Col Hwangbo gratefully accepted a brace of fine Oscuro cigars. Probably more tobacco he’s seen in one place at one time since the last he rousted a snozzeled Western journalist or hammered European tourist with an overage of custom’s tobacco allowances.
His team eschewed cigars, but gladly accepted a pack each of pastel-colored Sobranie cocktail cigarettes.
It still slays me to see these battle-hardened, armed-to-the-teeth, unsmiling servants of the great state of Best Korea mincing about the courtyard smoking avocado, baby-blue, and peach-colored pastel cigarettes.
The Colonel and his team left after a couple of quick smokes, sandwiches, and surreptitious beers. I even enticed the Colonel into a couple of convivial vodka toasts when his team was otherwise occupied.
“Well, gang”, I said, closing the door, “Looks like that situation has been handled, most appropriately at that. We’ll miss ol’ Iskren, but at least he went fast and hopefully painlessly.”
I knew that last one was but a load of old dingo’s kidneys as I’ve had run-ins with cardiac disorders in the past and they are anything
but painless. In any case, that was, as I noted, in the past. What was done is done. It was as it was. It is as it is.
“So, gentlemen”, I say, “Let us get back to work. Reality calls. Now, we’ve given you landlubbers the lowdown on our seismic pleasure cruise. Now we’d like to hear what you who had stayed onshore have come up with.”
Erlan, Graco, and Viv fill us in on the regional geology of Best Korea and lay out a plan to examine the sedimentary piles closest to the few paved roads in the north and east of the country.
We’ll be traveling by bus, as my request for four or five off-road vehicles was denied due to timing and lack of availability.
Yeah. Right. What a massive pile of bovine biogenic colluvium. A country with a military as huge as Best Korea’s and they can’t spare a few jeeps or Hummer reproductions?
Truth be told, they still don’t trust us and don’t want to let us out of their sight.
However, we did manage to snag some internal publications from the Central Geological Survey of Mineral Resources, which we figured as a major coup. Never before were Westerners allowed to even know of the existence of these materials, much less be able to research (read: slyly copy) them.
That ‘personal shaver’ I carried was actually a sneaky personal copier, a Vupoint ST470 Magic Wand Portable Scanner with all the external stickers peeled off, and any serial numbers abraded away.
Hey, they photograph us from every angle on the sly, listen in on our conversations, record our phone calls…hell, turnabout isn’t just fair play, it’s almost expected.
It’d be rude to refuse to play along.
Anyways, we learned that The Korean Peninsula (KP) occupies a junction area of three large tectonic domains that are the Paleo-Central Asian Orogenic Belt, Paleo-Tethyan Orogenic Belt, and the Western Pacific Orogenic Belt.
Tectono-fascinating.
To summarize:
- The Archean Rangrim massif is divided into the Rangrim and Kwanmo submassifs, high-grade region and greenstone belt, respectively.
- Early Paleoproterozoic rocks underwent metamorphism up to granulite facies, which may be correlated to the Jiao-Liao-Ji mobile belt in the North China Craton (NCC).
- Proterozoic rift sequences in North Korea are similar to those in the NCC with rare late Paleoproterozoic strata and more Neoproterozoic strata.
- Mesozoic igneous rocks are extensively distributed in the KP.
- The main Paleozoic basin, the Phyongnam basin in NK, have a similar Paleozoic tectono-stratigraphy to the NCC.
Of most interest is item #5. The Phyongnam basin is the only sedimentary and depositional basin of mention in the north of the Korean peninsula; and therefore the center of our attention as it pertains to oil and gas.
The potential source rocks, and possible reservoirs, include the Paleozoic Late Ordovician Miru Series was identified as the Koksan Series and subsequently renamed. The 170-meter thick limestone and siltstone centered around the P'yongnam Basin have extensive crinoid, coral, and gastropod fossils. Paleogeography researchers have suggested that corals formed in the Miru Sea-a branch of the South Yangtze Sea. At the base of the Taedong Synthem is the P'yong'an Supergroup, which lies disconformably atop older Paleozoic rocks.
In the Pyongyang Coalfield it is divided into the 650-meter sandstone, shale, and conglomerate of the Nogam Formation, the 500-meter Kobangsan Formation, 350-meter coal-bearing Sadong Formation and 250-meter chert-bearing Hongjom Formation, all typically assigned to an Upper Permian shallow marine environment.
In the Mesozoic, north of Pyongyang, Precambrian basement rocks are unconformably overlain by a Jurassic limestone conglomerate ascending to layers of siltstone and mudstone. The Upper Jurassic Shinuiju Formation northwest of Shinuiju has sandstone, conglomerate, and mudstone up to two kilometers thick.
Offshore drilling in the West Korea Bay Basin indicates these rocks are the onshore extension of offshore units. It is subdivided into fluvial rocks and Upper Jurassic black shale, limestone, conglomerate and sandstone formed in a lake environment.
There are very few Cenozoic sediments are known in North Korea, likely as a result of erosion due to uplift of the peninsula. Submarine normal faults along the eastern coastline may have driven crustal tilting. The 350-meter thick Bongsan Coalfield in Hwanghae Province on the west coast preserves and coal-bearing layers dating to the Eocene.
Further to the north, in the West Korea Bay Basin Eocene and Oligocene sedimentary rocks up to three kilometers thick unconformably overlie Mesozoic rocks, formed in lakes and coal swamps during the Paleogene.
What this meant is that we’d need to travel mostly northeast and/or southwest. This was fortuitous as the paved roads in the country were created in structural valleys formed by the primary fault trends in the country. The main trans-tensional set trended NE:SW and the conjugate set trends approximately 90
0 to the main set at NW:SE.
The topography was heavily dissected by drainages and the terrain consists mostly of hills and mountains separated by deep, narrow valleys. The coastal plains are wide in the west and discontinuous in the east.
The plan was to take the bus north to Sunchon, then hang a right off towards Unsan and Yongha. There were outcrops between the last two towns and they appear to be upper Paleozoic to Lower Mesozoic clastics. Ideal oil and gas hunting grounds.
From there, we’d head north-northeast towards Yangwon. There appeared to be some fair to excellent outcrops of rocks that are as of yet, unidentified as to age. From there, we’d continue to follow the outcrop belts either to their termination at the basin’s edges or at international borders with China or Russia.
But, once we hit the field, time goes into relative warp. Put a bunch of geologists out on some relatively virgin outcrops and just stand back as they spend hour after hour after hour first looking for evidence of the formation’s provenance, it’s age and field relations. Then begin the heartfelt, stalwart, and sometimes vicious, arguments between all concerned about each and every one of those salient points.
We were all looking forward to it and wouldn’t have it any other way. It’s our intellectual and scientific equivalent of meat and potatoes.
We all agreed on a way forward and generated a document to deliver to those in charge of our logistics on this trip. There would be a total of 11 Western geoscientists, four guides, perhaps a couple of national geologists or geophysicists, and whatever cadre the shiny suit squad wanted to include.
There would also be a driver, his relief, and a couple of extra translators. Good thing it was a large bus, as it’s going to be a huge crew.
We needed to allow our handlers a full day to arrange room and board for us while in the field, as we had to be bivouacked somewhere outside our fine hotel. It needed to be secure, pass sanctuary muster, and be ‘controllable’, referring to both Western scientists and nosy locals.
One thing we found odd was the lack of concern for long-term logistics, not to mention the end of our self-ordained indentured servitude. When this trip and all the Western geoscientists were contacted, we were all assured of an opportunity to meet with the Supreme Leader, Kim Jong-Un once our trip was completed.
We were to personally deliver one hell of an international photo-op. A ‘hey look how progressive we are’ meeting and our findings in this wonderful and progressive country.
But lately, with what we thought was the fallout of the Festival washing out all the usual propaganda, we’ve heard nothing about Herr Comrade Leader Supremo, K1J1-Un. Nor had we heard one iota about our intended final meeting with him before we left for China.
Since there are “absolutely no” COVID-19 cases in Best Korea, it seemed, well, odd that Beijing was our only possible current exit port of call, and onward to our individual homes.
There were all flavors of rumors flying all throughout the basement bars and casinos of the hotel. One claimed that Kim was now receiving treatment at a villa in the Mount Myohyang resort north of the capital Pyongyang after cardiovascular surgery. That he was near death and that his sister, Kim Yo Jong, is already warming up in the North Korean political bullpen if her brother kacks it.
Others said Kim is believed to be staying at an unspecified location outside of Pyongyang, with some close confidants. It was said that Kim appeared to be normally engaged with state affairs and there has not been any unusual movement or emergency reaction from North Korea's governing party, military, or cabinet.
There was also one other that tries to cover up any conspiracy rumors by shouting over a raspy bullhorn: "Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain!”, “Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain!"; but most ignored that little crank.
We all thought that rather odd, but of fairly low concern. In the final analysis, it would have little impact on our studies and their outcome. In other words, it wouldn’t affect our pay one way or the other. We all felt like we’ve given more than what was called for on missions such as this.
And we still haven’t a clue as to when this will all come to an end.
However, we all agreed to the consultation, it would have been fun to meet with him and have our pictures taken with the Supreme Leader. Dr. Academician Ivan Ivanovich Khimik. was especially cheesed that he might miss the opportunity to make finger-vee bunny ears behind the Supreme Commander of the Armed Forces of the DPRK during one of our photo sessions.
We all agree if we do somehow find ourselves in the same room with Ivan and Kim Jong-Un, we’ll form a human shield around the latter. We want to get back home; as we’ve all heard the rumors of the horrors of ‘political realignment’ camps here in Best Korea.
So the meeting breaks up and I’m left with Dax to take the final inventory. Two loads of sandwiches gone, piles of used napkins, ketchup-y table linens, bacon rinds and chicken bones, drippy ends of ice cream cones, prune pits, peach pits, orange peel, gloppy glumps of cold oatmeal, pizza crusts, and withered greens, soggy beans and tangerines, crusts of black burned buttered toast, gristly bits of beefy roasts…
“The hell with this”, I say, I grab the last nearly full bottle of vodka and hand Dax a bottle of Royal Navy dark Rum.
“Tally’s good”, I say, not really giving two tiny shits at this point. “At least, I think it is. Let’s make like horseshit and hit the trail.”
“I’m headed back to our floor and going to zone out in front of some old, looped BBC for the next few hours with a cold drink and hot cigar.” I proclaim.
“Oh, hell”, Dax says, “I agree. It’s been a weird couple of days. Let’s go.”
And so we do.
On the way, I leave the logistics concerns and itinerary for the upcoming field trips with the front desk clerk. I slip her 1000 won as its Festival! and I had a bulgy pocketful of same. She smiled and quietly said there’s be a surprise waiting for me in my room when I got there.
“Rock, you fucking old hound!”, Dax exclaimed as he punched me lightly on the shoulder. “Taking a dip in the hotel secretarial pool?”
“Dax, you surprise me”, I said in my defense, “I have been, and continue to be, happily married for the last 38 years to the most loving, most intelligent, most well-connected, and most accurate snap-shot with a Glock .380 Automatic I know of.”
“Well, me ol’ mucker”, Dax smiles slyly, “If one has been happily married for 38 years, one must have a little something on the side. Wink, wink. Nudge, nudge, ‘eh, Squire?”
“Oh, nothing like that”, I replied, while waiting the obligatory 30 minutes for the fucking elevator to arrive. “I couldn't break my word to Esme, and not because I don’t believe in a God that will send me to Hell without an electric fan or because it's not the right thing to do. I simply don't want to. A man is only as good as his word; and if he loses that, he loses too much. I couldn’t function without people thinking that I’m square and on the level. My business would crumble to dust. As would my marriage.”
“Yeah, there is that”, Dax agrees, “You say something is going to happen and God damn, it fucking happens. That’s what makes you honest and honestly scary.”
I stare intently at the annunciator that tells me the fucking elevator is stuck on 4 again.
“You’re not mob, are you?” Dax harshly whispers, snickeringly.
I turn to face Dax and smile wistfully.
“
Я с уважением отказываюсь отвечать, потому что я искренне верю, что мой ответ может обвинить меня”, I reply quietly.
“What the hell does that mean?” Dax demands.
“I respectfully decline to answer because I honestly believe my answer might tend to incriminate me”, I calmly reply.
“Oh, look. Bloody elevator’s finally here.” I note and stride aboard.
Dax gets caught up in the tsunami of the crowd and is carried bodily inside. It was so remorseless, he almost lost his grip on his bottle of Dark Rum.
Up on ‘our’ floor, I go to key open my room. Dax is just down the hall and looking around to see what special surprise might show up. I was too tired to wait so I just push in, and see all my field clothes fully laundered, pressed, and either folded or hanging.
Someone broke into my room during the day and committed a compound neatness.
“POUND! Pound! POUND!” Hmm, appears to be someone at my door.
“Yes, Dax?” I said.
“You too?” he fumed, “Everything, cleaned to within an inch if its life. They even polished my bloody field boots.”
“Oh, fuck”, I said and ran to find mine re-pristinized.
“FUCK! FUCK! FUCKITYFUCKFUCK!” I swore. They had polished my field boots and removed the fine years-of-work-to-acquire near-subsurface of the leather’s oil layer. They polished the water-proofing and conditioning out of the leather of our boots.
“OK. OK.”, I said, “Minor emergency. Cool out. I have the solution.”
I toss Dax a small can. It was brown, oily, and claimed to be “Neatsfoot oil”. It was the SPF- 500 of field leathers.
“Go ahead and oil them up with that”, I told Dax, “I’ve got another can, so don’t worry. Use what you need, don’t be shy, but if there’s any left, let me know. I’ll combine ours and offer it to anyone else in the team who had their boots steam-cleaned.”
So, a bit later, I’m sitting on my hotel room’s floor, on several sheets of newspaper, rubbing Neatsfoot Oil into my ancient, multinational size 16 EEE Vasque™ Tracker field boots.
Then there’s a knock at the door.
“It’s open. Enter carefully”, I say aloud.
It’s a bell clerk with a room service cart. On the cart are a bucket of ice, a bowl of sliced limes, I think, several gimlet glasses, some Best Korean ‘Air Koryo’ carbonated citrus drink, and a fresh bottle of “Kaesong” vodka.
“Compliments of the front desk”, the bellman says.
I stand up, tip him a few thousand won, and set a new record in mixology; a fresh brace of drinks in less than 7.3 seconds.
I offer the bellman the lighter one and he accepts with a wide smile.
I say “건배” (geonbae) literally means 'empty glass', which is similar to the expression 'bottom's up'. For you see, my Korean’s coming along a treat.
We clink glasses and send those drinks to the places that they’ll do the best.
The bellman smiles offloads the cart onto the table in my room, shakes my hand, and departs.
I finish my boots, my drink, and my cigar. After another drink or seven, I crater early. Dax was right; it had been a long, weird day.
The next day, Festival! is still going strong, but still no word on the whereabouts of
El Líder Supremo. I find that odd, only slightly interesting, and since it will impact the day’s events zero, I file it away for maybe later use.
I go to the hotel pool around 0530 and there’s no one there. I’m able to get in a good 100 laps, unburdened with either small talk or by yammering kids blocking my lanes. I go early as I don’t wear gloves in the water, obviously. Statistically, there is less chance there will be others, adults and kids included, that would get freaked out by my gnarly left hand. I really don’t feel like recounting the old Russian Rig Accident story again.
After a brisk shower and double shower-scotch back in my room, I dress casually and wander down to the casino and bar level. It’s essentially breakfast time, but with the revelers not giving two hoots to AM vs. PM, it’s surprisingly busy. I find a perch up on Mahogany Ridge and order a classical breakfast cocktail of one liter of beer and 100 milliliters of chilled vodka.
I see Mr. Ho is manning the bar. I ask him to ring the massage parlor down the hall and see if Ms. Nang Bo-Hee is free sometime this morning.
He does and reports that she has an open hour and a half at 0900. Would I like it or any portion of that time?
“I’ll take the lot”, I said. “Tell them I’ll be there spot on 0900.”
“That’s great.”, Mr. Ho says, hanging up the phone, “Doctor Rock, they tell me that with the Festival discount and you taking the full 90 minutes, they can cut you a very special deal.”
“I’ll bet”, I replied, “Like what?”
“Oh, I cannot say for they did not tell me”, he smiled, “They will tell you when you arrive.”
“Marvelous”, I exhaled tiredly. “Another, Mr. Ho; make it a double, if you would please.”
The massage center here is run by a group not employed directly by the hotel. It’s a separate entity altogether. They run specials and have different discount programs that are not only not controlled nor advertised by the hotel, but they’re also not in any way beholden to the hotel, except for rent, I suppose and run it like their own little fiefdom.
Ms. Nang, my preferred masseuse, is a little, tiny Korean lassie about 5 feet tall and probably all of 90 pounds soaking wet. However, she is amazingly well trained and could probably put me in the hospital for a lengthy visit with her wiles and methods of flesh, bone, and muscle manipulation.
She offers a whole suite of different massage genres: Swedish, hot stone, aromatherapy, deep tissue, sport, trigger point, reflexology, shiatsu, Thai, and Rolfing.
Oh, fuck. I know Rolfing. I tried that nonsense back in grad school with an old east Indian lady that could have linebackered for the Minnesota Vikings. That shit fucking
hurt. Today, it’d incapacitate me permanently. That’s a definite no-go.
I decide that it’s going to be the Hot Stone-treatment today. A geological-manipulation inquiry.
At 0900 I’m the only client at the massage ‘store’. It’s early, day two of the festival, and people are either sleeping off the previous night’s festivities or too wobbly to even think of partaking in a massage.
I’ve had several major back surgeries over the years, including one bilateral laminectomy about seven years ago that removed 7.5
kilos of overgrown bone and muscle from my lumbar region, so I’ve been very cautious about soliciting a massage. The masseuse has to know that area is strictly
verboten and will do everything to avoid annoying that particular piece of bodily real-estate.
I’ve walked or limped out of massages before where the practitioner said they understood my reticence, but went ahead and kneaded and provoked that land of keloids and deep-body scar tissue.
However, based on past experience, Ms. Nang knows full well my reluctance as well as my desires. That’s the reason I’m returning. She’s very, very good; a consummate professional and has a never-ending series of jokes and observations while she’s pummeling you into submission.
Today, we retire to a private cubicle and she hands me a small robe or napkin, not sure which, of Korean manufacture.
She tells me to get
au natural and to wear the robe while she prepares the tools of her trade.
OK, I’m not a small person; not by a long shot. This robe, however, is made for a sprite, not even for a small person.
She returns to our massage cubicle as I’m sitting there, at the end of the massage table, sipping my drink clad only in my dapper red-and-white checkered boxers.
“You need to be unclothed, Doctor. Use the robe. OK, sir Rock?” she says.
“Ms. Nang,”, I said, shaking my head, “It’s one or the other.” I show her how laughable the robe is as I can’t even get it over my upper arm. It’s not even as a tea towel when it comes to covering my expansive acres of exposed epidermis.
“I can close door.”, she says, “I’m used to it. I am professional. Does not bother me if it does not bother you.”
I lost all forms of bashfulness, timidity, or prudery long, long ago. After years and years of Russian
banya, Swedish massage, Turkish baths, and surgery; well, if it don’t bother you, it don’t bother me.
“OK”, I say, using the robe as a small two-dimensional breechcloth. She tells me to ‘hop’ up on the massage table and lie down, facing the floor.
After chuckling about the fact that I haven’t hopped for decades, I wander over to the nicely padded and extremely clean massage table and lie down. She rearranges the ‘robe’ to cover my backside and tells me to relax. She’ll be right back with the stones.
I’ve never tried this type of massage before, but as a geologist, I must; if for nothing else, progress in the name of science.
Ms. Nang returns with a large parcel consisting of many sizes of steamed stones. They were river-washed and tumbled basalt from the looks of them, all wrapped in a large fuzzy towel.
Now she finds the large towels…
She selects them one by one and places them in ‘special, strategic’ spots on my exposed back. From the lower 2/3rds of the nape of the neck, down the spine, over the fundus mountains, and down the back of each leg.
It’s a warm, almost hot in some places, but not an uncomfortable feeling. She returns to adjust them, grind them in a bit in places, and flip them to extract all that igneous lithological thermal goodness.
I have to admit, at that point, it was feeling quite delightful. Relaxed; I had my drink and was being kneaded My dorsal musculature was being de-lithified by the application of hot rocks and expert point massage.
All was going quite well as Ms. Nang was building a huge tip in her ‘job well done’ bank.
Then the rocks had all attained room temperature. She excused herself to reload with another minor outcrop’s-worth and told me to flip over for round two of the process.
“In for a dime, in for a dollar”, I said, as I flipped over and use the robe as a laughable forward-facing breechcloth.
Ms. Nang mentioned that she was always fascinated by Westerners and their surplus of bodily fuzz. With my long, shoulder-length silver hair, full Grizzly Adams beard that drooped down to my sternum, and torso that picked up where my beard left off; she was quite unprepared to see the beached silver-gray panda that awaited upon her return.
“Dr. Rock!’, she exclaimed, “You are as a bear! So much hair. And silver color!”
“Yeah, sorry”, I replied, “Just the hand genetics dealt me. I guess it’s an adaptation for ethanol-fueled organisms that never feel cold.”
“I will soon return.” She titters excitedly and almost runs out of the room.
“Hmmm. I wonder what that’s all about?” I muse as I lie largely undraped in the massage cubicle.
Suddenly, the door bursts open and every female massage practitioner there herded into the room. They simply had to see the specimen upon which the delightful Ms. Nang was working.
OK, truth be told, I was a bit taken aback. Here I am lying on an elevated, and heavily padded, massage table. I’m ‘wearing’ only a crooked, worried grin and a sheet of a cotton washcloth that measures about 12x12 inches.
They Oohed! and Ahhhed!
I did feel like some form of an alien animal suddenly thrust out into public view. It was a bit disconcerting, but as usual, I just tried to deflect any unease with jokes and idiot remarks. At my age, not much is going to bother me, and this I found all the more laughable than troubling.
Suddenly, I was fielding their barrage of questions:
“You are American? All American men so…hairy?”
“Yes and no”, I replied. I also mentioned I hadn’t undertaken a study in that particular subject.
“Why you so big?” one tiny lass asked, eyes as big as dinner plates.
“Genetics”. I replied. “Just a corn-fed Baja Canadian doofus. We grow ‘em big back home.”
“Can we touch?” one particularly brave little lass asks.
“Touch what?” I asked. Look, I might be over 6 decades old, but there are still some areas reserved for my one and only betrothed.
I did tell Esme of this whole event later that evening during our nightly call. She laughed herself silly.
“Your beard! Oriental men never have such beard. We touch maybe?” she implored.
I was going to say “Go nuts”, but I decided that a simple “Sure” would be more fitting.
So they did. They were enthralled. They had never before, from what I was told, seen such a large silver-gray ZZ Top-style beard, especially here at the hotel. That part was weird enough, but when they started in on working their way south toward the equator, I had to say something to dissuade them.
“Where were you girls 45 years ago?” I laughed.
I don’t think they got the joke. They became somewhat bolder in their austral exploratory activities.
“OK! Time out! Ms. Nang! We have an appointment to keep”, I said as I shooed the rest of the lassies away, “We need to finish what we started.”
By the time that the third syllable of that last sentence came into being, I knew it wasn’t the right thing to say.
They all laughed and tittered as Ms. Nang ushered them out of the room. I could have sworn I heard the door lock behind them.
Ms. Nang reprieved her earlier stone placement therapy, with a couple of strategic detours.
She wasn’t that type of masseuse, and I wasn’t looking for that type of massage. She did, however, knead and pummel me mercilessly.
I’ve been bruised less from barroom brawls.
Finally, she announces that she’s finished. She’ll leave while I shower, as she used essential aromatic oils, and would await me out in the lobby.
After showering, I felt like a large bowl of pummeled Jello. I felt relaxed, and for the first time in weeks, my back was silent. My head was clear as a spring Sunday morn in Reykjavik.
The full 90 minutes, plus sideshow, was 4,500 won.
I paid the owner the required sum and handed Ms. Nang an additional 15,000 for a job well done. And for another anecdote that goes into the hopper.
I left the massage parlor feeling quite fine, thank you. I wandered over to the bar to see if I could augment and prolong this feeling of harmony with the universe. The mental picture even now of all those cooing Korean lassies in the massage room never fails to elicit a laugh and head shake.
A few hours later, I’m back in my room, tidying up my field notes and making certain all my paperwork was heavily encoded and up to date. It was, so I placed a number of expensive overseas calls to catch up with everyone on the outside.
I’m thinking of calling room service to have my mini-bar repaired when my room phone rings.
“Now who would be calling me at this hour?” I wondered.
It was the tour group leader. He informed me that the itinerary had been worked out and we’d be leaving tomorrow for the field at 0600. We were to arrive with all our luggage and be prepared to check out. We would spend at least a week in the field, if not two, depending on our results, and be bivouacking in different places in the interior of the country.
I thanked him for the information and said I’d inform the rest of the team. He told me that wouldn’t be necessary as they would come up to or floor, deliver the notice verbally, or by note if they were out of their rooms. If I wanted to later call each participant and ensure they were apprised of the situation, that would be most appreciated.
I assured him I would do so and that we’d be ready, to a man, at 0600 the next day.
I whip up 10 Post-it™ notes and stick one on each member’s door.
“Leaving for the field. Check out 0530. Wheels up 0600. Bring all luggage. Road trip!”
To be continued… submitted by Alright so, I took the default database from there
https://skribbliohints.github.io/ and with the help of html, I extracted the words to a list separated by commas. It's useful when you want to translate those words into your native language.
Word of advice, when using google translate, do not put all words at once there, it can rapidly worsen the translation.
(
And there is a last thing. Their algorithm of picking only custom words is not working really good, at least for me. Meaning that I often get duplicates, despite having a list this big and without duplicates. I'm still trying to find some solution to this, so if somebody is experiencing this as well, share the knowledge please, I will do the same.)
SOLUTION: Thanks for the reply from
PepegaWR who identified the cause. I also tested it and there seems to be a custom words limit of 5000 characters. The easiest way in my opinion is to shuffle the words before each session to minimize the impact. Also thanks to the
flynger who had the same idea before me :)
Finally, here it is, enjoy the scribbling ^^ :
ABBA, AC/DC, Abraham Lincoln, Adidas, Africa, Aladdin, America, Amsterdam, Android, Angelina Jolie, Angry Birds, Antarctica, Anubis, Apple, Argentina, Asia, Asterix, Atlantis, Audi, Australia, BMW, BMX, Bambi, Band-Aid, Barack Obama, Bart Simpson, Batman, Beethoven, Bible, Big Ben, Bill Gates, Bitcoin, Black Friday, Bomberman, Brazil, Bruce Lee, Bugs Bunny, Canada, Capricorn, Captain America, Cat Woman, Cerberus, Charlie Chaplin, Chewbacca, China, Chinatown, Christmas, Chrome, Chuck Norris, Colosseum, Cookie Monster, Crash Bandicoot, Creeper, Croatia, Cuba, Cupid, DNA, Daffy Duck, Darwin, Darwin Watterson, Deadpool, Dexter, Discord, Donald Duck, Donald Trump, Dora, Doritos, Dracula, Dumbo, Earth, Easter, Easter Bunny, Egypt, Eiffel tower, Einstein, Elmo, Elon Musk, Elsa, Eminem, England, Europe, Excalibur, Facebook, Family Guy, Fanta, Ferrari, Finn, Finn and Jake, Flash, Florida, France, Frankenstein, Fred Flintstone, Gandalf, Gandhi, Garfield, Germany, God, Goofy, Google, Great Wall, Greece, Green Lantern, Grinch, Gru, Gumball, Happy Meal, Harry Potter, Hawaii, Hello Kitty, Hercules, Hollywood, Home Alone, Homer Simpson, Hula Hoop, Hulk, Ikea, India, Intel, Ireland, Iron Giant, Iron Man, Israel, Italy, Jack-o-lantern, Jackie Chan, James Bond, Japan, JayZ, Jenga, Jesus Christ, Jimmy Neutron, John Cena, Johnny Bravo, KFC, Katy Perry, Kermit, Kim Jong-un, King Kong, Kirby, Kung Fu, Lady Gaga, Las Vegas, Lasagna, Lego, Leonardo DiCaprio, Leonardo da Vinci, Lion King, London, London Eye, Luigi, MTV, Madagascar, Mario, Mark Zuckerberg, Mars, McDonalds, Medusa, Mercedes, Mercury, Mexico, Michael Jackson, Mickey Mouse, Microsoft, Milky Way, Minecraft, Miniclip, Minion, Minotaur, Mona Lisa, Monday, Monster, Mont Blanc, Morgan Freeman, Morse code, Morty, Mount Everest, Mount Rushmore, Mozart, Mr. Bean, Mr. Meeseeks, Mr Bean, Mr Meeseeks, Mummy, NASCAR, Nasa, Nemo, Neptune, Netherlands, New Zealand, Nike, Nintendo Switch, North Korea, Northern Lights, Norway, Notch, Nutella, Obelix, Olaf, Oreo, Pac-Man, Paris, Patrick, Paypal, Peppa Pig, Pepsi, Phineas and Ferb, Photoshop, Picasso, Pikachu, Pink Panther, Pinocchio, Playstation, Pluto, Pokemon, Popeye, Popsicle, Porky Pig, Portugal, Poseidon, Pringles, Pumba, Reddit, Rick, Robbie Rotten, Robin Hood, Romania, Rome, Russia, Samsung, Santa, Saturn, Scooby Doo, Scotland, Segway, Sherlock Holmes, Shrek, Singapore, Skittles, Skrillex, Skype, Slinky, Solar System, Sonic, Spain, Spartacus, Spiderman, SpongeBob, Squidward, Star Wars, Statue of Liberty, Steam, Stegosaurus, Steve Jobs, Stone Age, Sudoku, Suez Canal, Superman, Susan Wojcicki, Sydney Opera House, T-rex, Tails, Tarzan, Teletubby, Terminator, Tetris, The Beatles, Thor, Titanic, Tooth Fairy, Tower Bridge, Tower of Pisa, Tweety, Twitter, UFO, USB, Uranus, Usain Bolt, Vatican, Vault boy, Velociraptor, Venus, Vin Diesel, W-LAN, Wall-e, WhatsApp, William Shakespeare, William Wallace, Winnie the Pooh, Wolverine, Wonder Woman, Xbox, Xerox, Yin and Yang, Yoda, Yoshi, Youtube, Zelda, Zeus, Zorro, Zuma, abstract, abyss, accident, accordion, ace, acid, acne, acorn, action, actor, addiction, addition, adorable, adult, advertisement, afro, afterlife, air conditioner, airbag, aircraft, airplane, airport, alarm, albatross, alcohol, alien, allergy, alley, alligator, almond, alpaca, ambulance, anaconda, anchor, angel, anglerfish, angry, animation, anime, ant, anteater, antelope, antenna, anthill, antivirus, anvil, apartment, apocalypse, applause, apple, apple pie, apple seed, apricot, aquarium, arch, archaeologist, archer, architect, aristocrat, arm, armadillo, armor, armpit, arrow, ash, assassin, assault, asteroid, astronaut, asymmetry, athlete, atom, attic, audience, autograph, avocado, axe, baboon, baby, back pain, backbone, backflip, backpack, bacon, bad, badger, bag, bagel, bagpipes, baguette, bait, bakery, baklava, balance, balcony, bald, ball, ballerina, ballet, balloon, bamboo, banana, bandage, bandana, banjo, bank, banker, bar, barbarian, barbecue, barbed wire, barber, barcode, bark, barn, barrel, bartender, base, basement, basket, basketball, bat, bathroom, bathtub, battery, battle, battleship, bayonet, bazooka, beach, beak, bean, bean bag, beanie, beanstalk, bear, bear trap, beatbox, beaver, bed, bed bug, bed sheet, bedtime, bee, beef, beer, beet, beetle, bell, bell pepper, bellow, belly, belly button, below, belt, bench, betray, bicycle, bill, billiards, bingo, binoculars, biology, birch, bird, bird bath, birthday, biscuit, bite, black, black hole, blackberry, blacksmith, blanket, bleach, blender, blimp, blind, blindfold, blizzard, blood, blowfish, blue, blueberry, blush, boar, board, boat, bobsled, bodyguard, boil, bomb, booger, book, bookmark, bookshelf, boomerang, boots, border, bottle, bottle flip, bounce, bouncer, bow, bowl, bowling, box, boy, bracelet, braces, brain, brainwash, branch, brand, bread, breakfast, breath, brick, bricklayer, bride, bridge, broadcast, broccoli, broken heart, bronze, broom, broomstick, brownie, bruise, brunette, brush, bubble, bubble gum, bucket, building, bulge, bull, bulldozer, bullet, bumper, bungee jumping, bunk bed, bunny, burglar, burp, burrito, bus, bus driver, bus stop, butcher, butler, butt cheeks, butter, butterfly, button, cab driver, cabin, cabinet, cactus, cage, cake, calendar, camel, camera, campfire, camping, can, can opener, canary, candle, canister, cannon, canyon, cap, cape, cappuccino, captain, car wash, cardboard, carnival, carnivore, carpenter, carpet, carrot, cartoon, cash, casino, cast, cat, catalog, catapult, caterpillar, catfish, cathedral, cauldron, cauliflower, cave, caveman, caviar, ceiling, ceiling fan, celebrate, celebrity, cell, cell phone, cello, cement, centaur, centipede, chain, chainsaw, chair, chalk, chameleon, champagne, champion, chandelier, charger, cheek, cheeks, cheerleader, cheese, cheeseburger, cheesecake, cheetah, chef, chemical, cherry, cherry blossom, chess, chest, chest hair, chestnut, chestplate, chew, chicken, chihuahua, child, chime, chimney, chimpanzee, chin, chinchilla, chocolate, chopsticks, church, cicada cigarette, cinema, circle, circus, clap, clarinet, classroom, claw, clay, clean, clickbait, cliff, climb, cloak, clock, cloth, clothes hanger, cloud, clover, clown, clownfish, coach, coal, coast, coast guard, coaster, coat, cobra, cockroach, cocktail, coconut, cocoon, coffee, coffee shop, coffin, coin, cola, cold, collapse, collar, color-blind, comb, comedian, comedy, comet, comfortable, comic book, commander, commercial, communism, community, compass, complete, computer, concert, condiment, cone, confused, console, continent, controller, conversation, cookie, cookie jar, copper, copy, coral, coral reef, cord, cork, corkscrew, corn, corn dog, corner, cornfield, corpse, cotton, cotton candy, country, cousin, cow, cowbell, cowboy, coyote, crab, crack, crate, crawl space, crayon, cream, credit, credit card, cricket, cringe, crocodile, croissant, crossbow, crow, crowbar, crucible, cruise, crust, crystal, cube, cuckoo, cucumber, cup, cupboard, cupcake, curry, curtain, cushion, customer, cut, cute, cyborg, cylinder, cymbal, dagger, daisy, dalmatian, dance, dandelion, dandruff, darts, dashboard, daughter, day, dead, deaf, deep, deer, defense, delivery, demon, demonstration, dent, dentist, deodorant, depressed, derp, desert, desk, desperate, dessert, detective, detonate, dew, diagonal, diagram, diamond, diaper, dice, dictionary, die, diet, dig, dinner, dinosaur, diploma, dirty, disaster, disease, dishrag, dispenser, display, diss track, distance, diva, divorce, dizzy, dock, doctor, dog, doghouse, doll, dollar, dollhouse, dolphin, dome, dominoes, donkey, door, doorknob, dots, double, dough, download, dragon, dragonfly, drain, drama, drawer, dream, dress, drink, drip, drive, driver, drool, droplet, drought, drum, drum kit, duck, duct tape, duel, dwarf, dynamite, eagle, ear, earbuds, earthquake, earwax, east, eat, echo, eclipse, eel, egg, eggplant, elbow, elder, election, electric car, electric guitar, electrician, electricity, elephant, elevator, embers, emerald, emoji, employer, emu, end, engine, engineer, equator, eraser, error, eskimo, espresso, evaporate, evening, evolution, exam, excavator, exercise, explosion, eye, eyebrow, eyelash, eye shadow, fabric, fabulous, facade, face, face paint, factory, failure, fairy, fake teeth, fall, family, farm, farmer, fashion designer, fast, fast food, fast forward, father, faucet, feather, fence, fencing, fern, festival, fidget spinner, field, figurine, filmmaker, filter, finger, fingernail, fingertip, fire alarm, fire hydrant, fire truck, fireball, firecracker, firefighter, firefly, firehouse, fireman, fireplace, fireproof, fireside, firework, fish, fish bowl, fisherman, fist fight, fitness trainer, fizz, flag, flagpole, flamethrower, flamingo, flashlight, flask, flea, flight attendant, flock, floodlight, floppy disk, florist, flower, flu, fluid, flush, flute, fly, fly swatter, flying pig, fog, foil, folder, food, forehead, forest, forest fire, fork, fort, fortress, fortune, fossil, fountain, fox, frame, freckles, freezer, fridge, fries, frog, frostbite, frosting, frown, fruit, full, full moon, funeral, funny, fur, furniture, galaxy, gang, gangster, garage, garbage, garden, gardener, garlic, gas, gas mask, gasoline, gasp, gate, gem, gender, generator, genie, gentle, gentleman, geography, germ, geyser, ghost, giant, gift, giraffe, girl, gladiator, glass, glasses, glitter, globe, gloss, glove, glow, glowstick, glue, glue stick, gnome, goal, goat, goatee, goblin, godfather, gold, gold chain, golden apple, golden egg, goldfish, golf, golf cart, good, goose, gorilla, graduation, graffiti, grandmother, grapefruit, grapes, graph, grass, grasshopper, grave, gravedigger, gravel, graveyard, gravity, greed, grenade, grid, grill, grin, groom, grumpy, guillotine, guinea pig, guitar, gumball, gummy, gummy bear, gummy worm, hacker, hair, hair roller, hairbrush, haircut, hairspray, hairy, half, halo, ham, hamburger, hammer, hammock, hamster, hand, handicap, handle, handshake, hanger, happy, harbor, hard, hard hat, harmonica, harp, harpoon, hashtag, hat, hazard, hazelnut, head, headache, headband, headboard, heading, headphones, health, heart, heat, hedgehog, heel, heist, helicopter, hell, helmet, hen, hermit, hero, hexagon, hibernate, hieroglyph, high five, high heels, high score, highway, hilarious, hill, hip hop, hippie, hippo, hitchhiker, hive, hobbit, hockey, holiday, homeless, honey, honeycomb, hoof, hook, hop, hopscotch, horizon, horn, horse, horsewhip, hose, hospital, hot, hot chocolate, hot dog, hot sauce, hotel, hourglass, house, hovercraft, hug, hummingbird, hunger, hunter, hurdle, hurt, husband, hut, hyena, hypnotize, iPad, iPhone, ice, ice cream, ice cream truck, iceberg, icicle, idea, imagination, impact, incognito, industry, infinite, injection, insect, inside, insomnia, internet, intersection, interview, invasion, invention, invisible, iron, island, ivy, jacket, jackhammer, jaguar, jail, jalapeno, janitor, jaw, jazz, jeans, jeep, jello, jelly, jellyfish, jester, jet ski, joker, journalist, journey, judge, juggle, juice, jump rope, jungle, junk food, kangaroo, karaoke, karate, katana, kazoo, kebab, keg, kendama, ketchup, kettle, key, keyboard, kidney, kindergarten, king, kiss, kitchen, kite, kitten, kiwi, knee, kneel, knife, knight, knot, knuckle, koala, kraken, label, laboratory, ladder, lady, ladybug, lake, lamb, lamp, landlord, landscape, lane, language, lantern, lap, laptop, laser, lasso, laundry, lava, lava lamp, lawn mower, lawyer, leader, leaf, leak, leash, leather, leave, leech, legs, lemon, lemonade, lemur, lens, leprechaun, lettuce, levitate, librarian, library, licorice, lid, light bulb, lighter, lighthouse, lightning, lightsaber, lily, lilypad, limbo, lime, limousine, line, link, lion, lips, lipstick, litter box, lizard, llama, loading, loaf, lobster, lock, log, logo, lollipop, loot, loser, lotion, lottery, lounge, love, 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A night at the casino is a great excuse to get your glad rags on and we all like to dress up for a special occasion. But, if you’re not a regular at the roulette wheel, the casino fashion code ... Glitz and Glam, Casino Style. Some casinos, like those in Las Vegas, are all about the glitz and glamor. If you're planning a night in Vegas, you want to dress in pieces that sparkle and shine. For women, go with a standout sequin dress and pair it with some sexy heels, or get a metallic top and wear it with dressy black pants and heels. Download Cocktail dress casino stock photos. Affordable and search from millions of royalty free images, photos and vectors. A nice cocktail dress like the type you’d wear to a wedding or to a relative’s birthday party will work in almost any casino or resort setting. Black is a great color, but you’ll no doubt already have a “little black dress” packed, so maybe avoid that color for now. A conservative cocktail dress; A sweater or wrap to pair with your dress; A pair of flats; A neat pair of blue jeans; A blouse that can be worn in the day or at night; Whatever your casino game plan is, remember to be neat and presentable and always respectful of those around you – patrons and staff alike! Casino Royale Dress. Saved by Lindsey Batty little bit of linds. 15. Casino Royale Dress Casino Dress Casino Outfit Short Dresses Prom Dresses Sequin Cocktail Dress ... These strategies will help you learn how to dress for a night at the casino… A White Tie. A white-tie dressing is considered the epitome of the western formal dress code; a white tie is an exceptional selection of formal wear. It is referred to as Full Evening Dress. To learn more about the Full Evening Dress, we need to go back to the late seventeen hundreds. The ambiance of the casino will influence the dress code. For example, if the casino has a vintage theme you might be tempted for a vintage look. You will also have to consider whether you plan on heading to another place during the night. If you plan on getting a cocktail then your outfit could be considered a little formal. 1-16 of 251 results for "casino dresses for women" Skip to main search results Eligible for Free Shipping. ... PORRCEY Women Sexy hot Diamond Process Sexy Dress Party Club Night Dress. 4.5 out of 5 stars 12. $33.85 $ 33. 85. ... TOB Women's Sexy Sleeveless Spaghetti Strap Backless Split Cocktail Long Dress. 4.1 out of 5 stars 1,309. $39.99 $ 39 ... Take a clutch according to the colour and match the accessories with it. And there you are, ready for the casino. Offshoulder Dress. An off-shoulder dress can be a gown or a cocktail dress. If you are wearing an off-shoulder dress, try to pair it with a nice neckpiece so that it doesn’t look off. You can pair it with nice heels and a sling bag.
