Ninety-Six Frugal Hours: Homage to Jean Scott

I've followed Jean Scott, she of the Las Vegas Advisor's "Frugal Gambler" blog, since she first began writing. Back in the 80's and early 90's, while staying in Las Vegas 90 days a year each football season, Ms. Scott's tips and coaching helped me survive on very tight budgets.

These days, I do most of my Las Vegas football scouting, checking futures odds and evaluating available contests, during an annual July trip lasting just a week or so. In the past, most books have held off on college football futures odds and finalizing contests until July. But with sports wagering now legal in many states, some Las Vegas books are posting futures odds earlier so as to beat states to the punch. There is, after all, only so much money (in theory) to be committed by the public to football futures. Thus, in 2023, I decided to head west in April. An April excursion, it turned out, offered the opportunity to exercise some long out-of-shape frugality muscles. As I designed the trip, I realized that April offered some opportunities to, ahem, be cheap that weren't likely to be available in July. Emulating Ms. Scott while also emulating the frugal me of my youth, it turned out, were admirable goals, but easier said than done. I managed to channel her frugal essence in some instances but failed badly in others.

Flight and Hotels

The flight itself was a jackpot of frugality. I had never taken any flight to Las Vegas for just 15,000 air miles, much less a flight from the relatively small TRI (Tri-Cities) airport. But I was able to procure such a flight, and my outgoing went through DFW, which I prefer.

I have, however, lost some of the oomph of my youth, and my flights turned out to be a bit more of a physical challenge than expected. The outgoing flight required a dash through DFW and a late-night arrival in Las Vegas. The return flight required a pure red eye to Charlotte with a four-hour layover, and those E terminal connections in Charlotte rarely go without a hitch. That 15,000-mile frugality came with a physical cost. 

My hotel choices featured a night at the Horseshoe (the strip casino formerly known as Bally's), a couple of nights at the Four Queens, and a night at the Tuscany. I waited to book the Horseshoe until I knew I would make my DFW connection, therefore I got a good rate, but not the best. My late arrival, however, led Horseshoe to upgrade my room. Very much appreciated. I try to support the Four Queens since it's one of few Las Vegas hotels that doesn't tack on a "resort fee." Four Queens was fine. My final night featured a Hotels.com booking at the Tuscany, one of my favorite places. Combined with my first night at the Horseshoe, I added two notches to my Hotels.com stash enroute to a free room (10 notches). 

The Gambling

I did almost no actual gambling this trip. I scouted numbers, reviewed limits at various sports books, and verified that ownership/brand changes had not yet affected the aegis of on-site books at the Horseshoe and Mirage. I also verified that South Point no longer had satellite books downtown. My other responsibility was to pin down a schedule for a documentary filmmaker friend who'll be visiting Las Vegas in July. He needs a structured short list of mob highlights and locales. 

In terms of table and machine play, I used a couple of Las Vegas Advisor coupons to massage me through maybe two hours of video poker play with a net loss of, ta daa, $34.

Recreation and Food

I used an LVA  coupon to knock four dollars off my Mob Museum admission. The museum is impressive, and one can spend a full day there if invested in the subject. I had intended to spend at least half a day at Area 15, but between horrendous traffic and the fact that I had a vehicle rented for just 48 of my 96 hours, I decided to save Area 15 for a longer trip.

My opinion of the South Point buffet matches its LVA ranking. In a world where the charm and value of old-style LV buffets have almost disappeared, the South Point buffet has created a time capsule of quality and price. I must also give a thumbs up to happy hour at Oscar's, which featured very reasonable prices in a very attractive setting. In addition, while at the Four Queens, I had my usual bang-up breakfast at Magnolia's.

Of course, I also availed myself of the classic off-menu Ellis Island $9.99 steak special, right around the corner from the Tuscany. You no longer have a beer included, so I shelled out four bucks for an iced tea, but it was still a retro meal deal in a nice room with great service. I was flanked by two couples also enjoying that special.

The Car Rental

In keeping with the frugal spirit, I plugged into the lowest price two-day rental on Priceline, which required picking up and dropping off at Treasure Island. Well, as I waited in line to pick up at the Dollar kiosk hidden away on the second floor, I eavesdropped on customer after customer being told that the only vehicles available for their reservations were electric, and none had a full charge because Dollar did not have a working charging station. The most-charged car was at 57%.

Fortunately, my reservation had been made sufficiently in advance (and paid for in advance) that they had saved me an actual gasoline vehicle. My renting a car, however, turned out to be a royal pain. 

Las Vegas is redesigning and repaving the strip in preparation for a November Formula One race, which is evidently a bigger and more profitable deal than hosting a Super Bowl. Las Vegas Boulevard was therefore one lane in each direction from Paris to the Stratosphere, and the roads to the west of the strip were a labyrinth of cones and detours. Just a mess, and it doesn't figure to improve anytime soon. Had I attempted night-driving west of the strip, it would have been a complete horror. It was the worst non-holiday traffic I have seen in Las Vegas in 45 years. 

Blowing Taps on Frugality?

Every frugal day has its downside. The absence of certain frugal Gibraltars has had its effects on me. I had never fully recovered from the closing of the classic buffet/coffee shop at the Fremont Casino, and I was suddenly, surprisingly confronted with no Fremont Casino Lanai Express, my hangout for dollar shrimp cocktails and good soft ice cream. First no Golden Gate shrimp cocktails; now no Lanai Express. Very disturbing. It crushes my frugal spirit. 

I'll no longer shop for inexpensive car rentals since driving is such a major mess. If I need to check South Point or M, I'll do an on-site-wherever-I-am rental for 24 hours, regardless of cost, and live with it.

And as usually happens on flights through Charlotte (my return), my E-terminal flight was delayed a couple hours. There's nothing like plopping down in a freezing airport at 5 AM after a red eye and realizing (1) you're going to be there longer than expected and (2) there are three flights all delayed and scheduled out of the same little gate at the same time, so nobody knows nothin' about when you might actually get out of there. That 15,000 air-miles round trip came with a cost, as I said earlier. I won't be doing red eyes through Charlotte again. I'm just too damned old.

A Final Homage

Ms. Scott always kept a cheerful disposition in her writings, regardless of outcome or hassles. I try to do the same, but I'm not nearly as disciplined. 

I'm glad there's still an Ellis Island steak special (sans beer) and a South Point buffet and some classy happy hours. But I mourn the Lanai Express and the old bakery shop in Caesars' Palace, and I miss the overpriced but quality buffets at Paris and Harrah's and Planet Hollywood. I even miss the birds outside the old Flamingo buffet. I wonder how the hell anyone taking the strip busses can possibly get anywhere with one-lane traffic in both directions and pedestrians still crossing the strip. 

Las Vegas has always felt like home to me, a place where wits and judgement and frugality combined to present opportunities. In April, however, Las Vegas seemed more like a grotesque tourist trap, offering little in the way of playable video poker or slot clubs with meaningful benefits.

Perhaps my tone has been skewed by my sampling a $13 pastry called a "Feather" (glorified banana bread), featured where my favorite Caesars' Palace coffee shop has been replaced by a more bourgeoisie pastry counter. Or maybe that return red eye drained my 65-year-old positivity a bit. We'll see how dampened I am soon enough, as I'm scheduled to return to Las Vegas in July.

Until then, perhaps it's true that we cannot go home again. But just in case, someone please ask Jean Scott to save a chunk of Ellis Island steak for me. And tell her to lay off the Feathers. They're bad for the wallet, and bad for the frugal soul.

Bob Dietz

April 30, 2023

Dungeons and Drag Queens

On March 31, the eve of House Bill 9 banning Tennessee drag queens from performing in front of sub-18-year-olds, I attended a drag show initially scheduled for the student center at East Tennessee State University. The venue was changed 72 hours before the show as ETSU, in its usual conservative-pandering gutlessness, moved the performances to the Millennium Center across the street. The reason given was some non-legal mishmash regarding wanting to follow the spirit of the law before it became law. When the implementation of the law was delayed by a judge's order hours before it was to take effect, ETSU was predictably left with uber conservative egg all over its administrative face.

Can you imagine being forced to share a foxhole with the ETSU administration? Gumby has more backbone.

I'm not particularly big on drag shows, having attended just six or seven in my 65 years, but I'm a free speech advocate, so I was there. To me, the drag queens' arguments were obvious and persuasive. How can a state legislate that one subset of people dressing a certain way and performing dance routines is legal (say, ETSU cheerleaders) and another subset of people similarly dressed and performing the same routines is illegal? 

In other words, how can behaviors be deemed illegal based solely on gender? How can a state legislate differential treatment under a law? It's a hypocritical, self-contradictory can of worms. 

What Do I Know?

What do I know about the effects of drag performances on the minds of those under 18 years of age? I know nothing. It's not a research subject I've ever explored, much less kept current regarding. I have zero idea of the behavioral consequences of seeing one, two, or five thousand drag shows. I have no real opinion of what those effects might be on 15-year-olds, 10-year-olds, or five-year-olds. But I also have no idea what the effects of watching cheerleading championships or online porn have on those same age brackets. I guess life is one big mystery to me since I don't have the clairvoyant powers of the Tennessee state legislature.

What I do know is that you can't say that a man dancing a certain way and dressing a certain way is guilty of a felony and a woman behaving identically is not. One would think that even (and maybe especially) the hardest right-leaning incels would back the drag queens based solely on men's rights.

Keeping Letters Separate

What surprised me about the event was the dichotomous forced-choice message being promulgated by both the event's speakers and the "you're going to hell" protestors outside.

The Tennessee legislature had also passed a bill preventing "gender affirming" medical treatments for young people. In other words, transsexuals would have to wait until they are adults to commit to medically changing genders. Personally, I have no qualms with this. Get a little living under your belt before deciding which gender you want to inhabit for another 50 years. Evidently, however, based on the crowd's reaction to various speakers, I'm one of the few drag queen proponents to feel this way.

All of the gender letters seem to be glommed together as some kind of distressed super-minority. None of the speakers, including presidential candidate Marianne Williamson, separated the drag queen debate from the underage pick-a-gender debate. Logically, I find this bizarre. The topics could not be more different except for the fact that not many people imbibe of drag queening or medical gender change. 

White Dolemite

If you ever run into me while I'm wearing a maroon brocade suit and matching sequined shoes, look closely at my lapel. There'll be a name tag reading "White Dolemite."

I'm a big fan of Eddie Murphy's film My Name is Dolemite. I saw the original Rudy Ray Moore Dolemite movies when I was an undergrad at Penn State. In Murphy's biographical homage to Moore, he explains in one scene that he's not really a pimp. He's playing a character, a very carefully designed and detailed character. Such is the case for the drag queens in the Millennium Center show. They're promoting planned, practiced performance art. They are demonstrating an art form. They're playing characters. What the drag queens are experiencing can be described as the polar opposite of what underage transsexuals are experiencing.

Whereas the queens are performing well rehearsed characters and know precisely what they're doing on stage, underage transsexuals argue that they are being pressured to perform off stage in a gender that doesn't suit them. That they are being forced, moment to moment, to live inauthentically. 

From a locus of control perspective, the dichotomy is clear. The drag queens are imposing their characters on the outside world. The underage transsexuals see the outside world as imposing on them and trying to define them. Really, these two disparate groups have little logical reason to be politically joined at the hip. One contributing factor creating this kind of odd team-up is the moral/legal certitude (some might say fascism) of legislatures such as Tennessee's. Criminalizing folks does tend to provide some common political ground.

Drag Queens in Dungeons?

When GOP legislators in these states that are as RED as my initials try to justify their extreme moral authoritarianism, they usually muck things up as they did with the drag queen legislation. For example, somebody found a YouTube video of a queen lap dancing a 10-year-old. Doesn't matter if it's one queen out of a thousand. Doesn't matter if it happened years ago. Doesn't matter if there are 5,000 drag queen YouTube videos and it's the only inappropriate one. The offending video becomes the raison d'etre for banning drag performances in front of minors.

Being a gambler, I recoil at the ramifications of this misuse of evidence. If the GOPers were consistent in their intent and morality, every minor would be banned from stepping foot in a Catholic church, given the proven pedophiliac propensities in the Church's past. That, however, hasn't made it into a House Bill 10.

The drag queen components of House Bill 9 propose that drag performances in the presence of minors are a misdemeanor at first conviction and thereafter a felony. I'd like to suggest that readers look up Tom Holland's performance of Rihanna's "Umbrella" on Lip Synch Battle. Holland was performing for all ages, so he was guilty of at least a misdemeanor (in Tennessee), given his pelvic thrusts while dressed in drag. Not only that, if he had previously rehearsed in front of fans, he would be guilty of a felony since he performed more than once. He'd be headed to a dungeon for draggin'.

And finally, a warning for the political creatures who think a collection of letters sewn together as a political force must be a good thing. The problem with this theory is that you never really know if hindsight will render one or more of the letters as an irrefutably bad path for most people. When you sew everything together, one defective part can leave you helming a patchwork PAC, not capable of saying much that's specific, stumbling into unintended consequences. 

Just ask Victor Frankenstein.

Bob Dietz

April 14, 2023