Remembering the Klondike

Okay, so my first post on a “poker blog” isn’t poker related… deal with it. I guess it’s semi poker-related considering the trip in question was made as sort of a poker pilgrimage with a friend I met playing poker, and my wife, whom I also met playing poker. See a trend?

We were going to Vegas to hang out, play some cards, and otherwise just be degenerates. As we planned our trip we found out something sad; the Klondike Casino was closing, and our first night there would be the Klondike’s last.

What the hell is the Klondike? Well, if you’ve ever seen Vegas Vacation, you know the Klondike. You know the locals casino where they play “Pick a Hand”? That was the Klondike. Okay, they didn’t really play “Pick a Hand” at the ‘Dike, but it wasn’t much better. It was a lawless land of quarter roulette and penny slots. And that was before its impending doom. It was a place where one of their blackjack promotions almost bankrupted the joint. http://tinyurl.com/kw9zl5

So, the group of four of us, Me, my friend Chris, my brother Kevin, and my wife, Amanda, headed out to Vegas with a genius plan. For its last night, we would stay at the ‘Dike. The casino was located on the “strip” just before Mandalay Bay, across the Strip. It was right near the iconic Welcome to Las Vegas sign. The casino was about the size of my living room. It smelled of stale cigarettes and octogenarians. It was filled with slots that were about 12 years past their prime, and patrons that were about 40 years past theirs. It was a depressing place, but in the past, it had been a fun place for cheap gambling and local-mocking.

What we hadn’t taken into account, however, was that the last night of the Klondike was about 2 weeks after they closed the casino itself. You see, apparently the Nevada Gaming Commission wants things wrapped up in an orderly fashion when a casino closes, so the ‘Dike was offering no more gambling… well… no more sanctioned gambling.

The casino itself was filled with a depressing mix of locals without the ability to gamble, having one last beer at their favorite hang out. We decided to proceed to the hotel check in. The hotel itself was more of a multi level motel. You had to go outside to get to your room. The fact that the room was only $35 should have been a tip off. We spoke with the nice lady and got the keys to our rooms. It was still daylight when we walked outside, past the empty pool, to the row of motel rooms. My wife and I found our room, and Chris and Kevin found theirs.

The room was quaint. That is to say, it was nasty. The bed was bare, with the sheets and blankets piled on a chair in the corner. Oh, on top of that pile was a trash bag with someone’s wet bating suit. I thought it was a nice bonus. Amanda did not. The bathroom had no toilet paper, and the prospect of getting any was pretty bleak. The stains on the carpet were matched by the stains on the bedspread. Thank God we didn’t have a black light.

We walked down to Chris’s room, and he was sitting on his bed, staring into the drawer on the bedside table. I’ve never known Chris to be a particularly religious man, so I didn’t suspect he was perusing the Bible. He looked up at us. “Have you ever seen a crack pipe?” He asked? My wife answered (a little too quickly), “Yes, why?” “I think there’s one in my drawer,” he replied. There, sitting beside his bed in this scary little room was an obviously used crack pipe. Seems like the Klondike had some dirty little secrets.

It was time to regroup. We had rooms reserved at the palatial Sahara for the next few nights, and maybe they had a room opened tonight if we decided the Klondike wasn’t our cup of tea.

After discussing it we all decided it was time to at least head to the casino and get a drink. We needed time to calm down.

We walked toward the casino and noticed that the sidewalk was moving. Well, to be fair, the sidewalk was stationary, but the roaches that covered it were scurrying about. I have never seen this many cockroaches in one place. We walked faster. Then we walked past “the room.” There is a lot of controversy about what we saw next. The door to the motel room was slightly ajar, but inside was a contraption, on that we can all agree. But what I saw as some bizarre medieval medical device, the rest of my party believed was a sex swing. Whatever it was, it was horrifying. We were afraid that whatever troll it was that used this scary sex/medical device would start chasing us, so we raced to the safety of the casino.

The scene at the casino was reminiscent of Lord of the Flies. All justice and lawfulness had been replaced by mob rule. The huge roulette wheel in the middle of the room was being used, despite official gambling being discontinued at the ‘Dike two weeks prior. But now, small white chits of paper had become currency. There was a man eating a full chicken dinner in the middle of one of the roulette wheels. Security guards stood in the corner with an uneasy look upon their faces. The mob was frenzied. And we were scared.

The four of us made eye contact, and without another word, fled the gaming floor. We returned to our rooms, tiptoeing around the roaches, and grabbed our bags. We virtually ran to the front of the casino to hail a cab. Not a lot of cabs stop at the ‘Dike. We called a company that told us it would take an hour. As the drunks spilled out of the Klondike, fresh off of their illicit roulette wins, we became more uneasy. Finally we stepped up and basically threw ourselves in front of a cab to make him stop. Once inside, I don’t think any of us have ever been happier to be headed toward a second rate hotel. The Klondike may have history, but we didn’t particularly want to become part of its last chapter.