While our Vegas vacations are what really keep us going, every now and again we need a quick fix. The nearest Indian casino leaves a LOT to be desired: the exterior has a distinct warehouse feel to it, the buffet is reminiscent of Imperial Palace’s, the drink service is limited to non-alcoholic beverages, and, the most unforgivable offense: the employees are not just apathetic, they are, almost without exception, downright rude (this place could definitely stand to take lessons from the Indian casinos in Minnesota, which tend to be relatively classy establishments, albeit take your money just as quickly). However, we are fortunate enough to live a mere 45-minute drive from Deadwood, South Dakota, a town rich in history and opportunities to divest yourself of your riches.
To get into the Vegas spirit, I wore my Klingon-logo polo shirt from the Star Trek Experience (Q’plah!). As we missed a couple episodes of our favorite podcast, Five Hundy by Midnight (link to the right), in the preparation for, engagement in, and recovery from our last Las Vegas adventure, we downloaded those and burned a CD for our listening pleasure as we traveled (this saved us having to talk to one another, something which married folk trapped in a confined space with one another should never have to do).
Normally, as summer starts to wind down, Deadwood becomes a less busy town, which is just how we like it. We figured that an arrival very early in the afternoon on a Sunday prior to a 3-day weekend in late August would be a good call. However, despite the prevalence of Deadwood event information on the Internet, we failed to do our due diligence, and ended up catching the tail end of the Kool Summer Nights festivities, sponsored by the local oldies station. Side note, this also meant that all of the establishments were playing oldies music, which kinda makes my skin crawl.
Not to be stymied by the lingering crowds and our lack of planning, we made our first stop in accordance with tradition: an oyster shot for luck at a wonderful little dive called Oyster Bay. Unfortunately, bartender, drink-delivery, cashier-window, and waitress duties were all being performed by the same person due to staffing issues, and as the place was fairly hopping, we had to wait a while for our lucky snack. The gal was very apologetic, however, and as Oyster Bay ranks as one of my favorites (their Friday all-you-can eat fried seafood extravaganza is greasy enough to stop a rhino’s heart, but he will die with a smile on his face), it was easy to muster the requisite patience.
As you may have correctly inferred from our previous trip reports, we loves us some video poker. However, South Dakota is not the place for video poker; the vp machines are all tied to a central state lottery computer, and your win (or more likely, loss) is predetermined by Big Brother when you hit Deal. There is no skill involved; you are told which cards to hold. As such, your odds are really no better at video poker than they are at playing slots.
Blackjack, on the other hand, is the way to go in Deadwood. 3/2 games with $2 minimums abound. While the odds are still in the house’s favor, learning basic strategy allows you to hemorrhage your money slowly while free drinks are brought your way (sadly, Deadwood is a town of free house wine or tap beer as your only comp options).
We first stopped at Nelson’s Auto Garage and played some of our all-time favorite slot machine, Fox N Hound, an old reel-style machine with a fun little bonus game. Fox N Hound used to treat me extraordinarily well back when the Las Vegas Hilton had it on their floor (now it’s just a lame nickel video slot machine that carries the same name); I was very sad to see it gone from their casino our last couple of visits. While I never hit a jackpot on it, I always ended up at least a few sawbucks on the plus-side after playing it, and on one occasion, well over $100 ahead; I can’t say for sure how much over $100 ahead, as Cutty Sark done me wrong that evening.
(While the helpful among you may report that the reel version can be found at various places off-strip in Las Vegas, all those which we have found are those without the mini-game, which is where the real money can be made. If anyone is aware of one somewhere in Vegas, the reel version with the mini-game, I beseech you to let us know where it lives.)
Though the machine at Nelson’s was not nearly as liberal (though April did indeed once hit the jackpot on it during a prior trip), it was friendly enough to allow us to each play the bonus game this visit; I ended up about $20 ahead. We went to the back to check and see if the blackjack table was open (it was), and we spent some time there. The dealers at Nelson’s are a fun bunch; they’re the stereotypical salty old dogs with hearts of gold who are more than happy to help the players out when needed, often even unsolicited if the player is making a major faux-pas. After about an hour’s time, I ended up $10 ahead.
We then made our way to the Four Aces, at which we have players club cards. For some reason, I always seem to be sent a pair of $5 match play coupons, while April does not, despite the fact that we play on separate cards (which were initially established with different last names and addresses, even). This means that I have to share my match play coupons, which I tend not to begrudge, as for some reason placing a match play coupon beneath my chip tends to be the kiss of death for any hand. I believe that if you flip the coupon over, it says in fine print: “This coupon entitles the bearer to be dealt a 15.”
We shared the table with a perplexing sort: a blue-collar guy (even mentioned that he was in construction) who was plunking down on average $50 a hand, yet had no concept whatsoever of basic strategy, nor, it seemed, a real good grasp of how to play the game. His friends were all playing reasonably (save for his trophy girlfriend, who just sat idly beside him and expected all at the table to admire her), maybe going up to $10 a hand, but in general playing the low end of the limit spectrum. Said friends even tried to help the guy, but in response to such advice as splitting his pair of aces, he’d often reply something along the lines of, “I’m just not feelin’ it.”
I did fairly well, my bankroll down a mere $5 after about an hour of play. I then played a little on my lucky machine, Da Vinci Diamonds, and pulled out $20 ahead. On our way to cash our tickets (Deadwood is starting to migrate to a ticket-in/ticket-out system, which is ideal for antisocial folks such as myself, as that’s one less person to have to deal with in the course of the day), we discovered a cool little 3-seat bar tucked away in the back of Four Aces; we stopped to have a pair of Tom Collins (or Tom Collinses, whichever would be the appropriate pluralization), which came to a mere $2.50 each. There was a basket of spicy pretzel-n-nut mix (of which I’m fairly certain I ate more than $5.00 worth, so it was a wash for the bar), which was the perfect drink accompaniment to my way of thinking, though April’s eyes lit right up when the roaming cookie-tray lady came around. I finished my drink, then I finished April’s drink, and we made our way up Main Street (Deadwood’s equivalent of The Strip).
We had not ever tried the Lucky Nugget’s restaurant (unappealingly named The Grubstake), so decided to give it a shot. They have a (very small) buffet in addition to conventional entrée fare (steak, walleye, jumbo shrimp); interestingly enough, this establishment does all it can to foster the current trend toward obesity by offering the buffet gratis along with an entrée order (we did our best to resist, but in the end, the cheesecake was our downfall. Damn you, cheesecake!).
We paid for our meal, pooled our resources and re-split our remaining cash to balance out our win/losses, and ventured onward to Hickock’s, which is our friend/co-worker/fellow Star Trek fanatic Candace’s favorite place to play blackjack; she says that drink service is excellent there, which is all the testimonial I need. However, upon our arrival, we discovered that the blackjack table was a $5 minimum. We inquired about their typical $2 minimum; the dealer said that during event weekends, they raise their minimum bets. Ah, how very Vegas-like.
Passing on losing our money in turbo-mode, we went next door to Kevin Costner’s joint, Midnight Star. We really like playing here, as the dealers are all wonderful (except for one older gal, who tends to have quite a difficult time with math, and you’ve got to constantly keep tabs on lest she take your chips on your winning hand). Unfortunately, whatever lucky bills I was carrying must have made the transfer to April during our settling-up, as I dropped $40 in no time, and she finished $10 ahead.
Stinging from my painful (yet mercifully quick) defeat, we went to The Stockade, and Old West-ey place in which I’ve always enjoyed exploring my adventurous side with their two bottles of 50-cent “Mystery Shots.” The Mystery Shot bottles went incognito with paper bags, Unknown Comic-style, and reputedly, not even the bartenders knew what marvels the owner had put out to test the brave. Two things were universal about the Mystery Shots: they were all quite bad, and virtually unidentifiable.
Sadly, The Stockade had done away with the Mystery Shots at some point prior to this trip. My bad luck continued when, after asking for two Tom Collins(es?), the bartender explained she was new and asked what was in them. I ran down the fairly meager list of ingredients, at which point the bartender asked, “What is simple syrup?” I retracted my order in favor of a pair of bloody maries, which were good, though a little heavy on the tomato taste.
The bartender redeemed herself when she gave us the advice to move to the opposite end of the bar; turns out the people we had sat near were a recently-divorced couple who were celebrating their joint release from the shackles of holy matrimony. The term “drunken revelry” did not do this duo justice. We finished our drinks (yes, even April!) quickly, and moved on.
As Nelson’s Garage was in our return path to the car, we decided to stop in to visit our friend Fox N Hound again. Except this time, it had been replaced by its evil twin: it took my $20 without so much as an even-money win the entire time, and then proceeded to exhibit nearly the same behavior toward April. We made our way to the blackjack table in the back, but they were closing it down, as they had no customers in the past two hours. We played a few of the slot machines, but it was evident that whatever luck we had come into town with had long since abandoned us. We went back to the car, and made our way homeward.
