Gonzo ends streak on a high note; Imperial Porter
Brew Clues
Dennis Mongello
Issue date: 6/6/08 Section: Arts & Entertainment
We drove for another 40 minutes. I had finished my first four pack, but he was still working on the joint. He made a right turn off the highway. We finally got to the Borg and he realized he was going to have to throw the blunt away. He tossed his keys to the valet and chucked the J right down the sewer, much to the valet's dismay. There must've been $40 worth of gange left in there, but putting things into perspective, we were here to throw away a lot of green. I got my other four pack from the trunk and we entered the building.
Before checking in to the room, we hit the casino floor. We walked past the high roller table when I saw the first real weird thing of the night (the rest of the night never got weird enough for me). Robin Williams was shooting dice and tossed me a black chip. I thanked him and walked away. It left a good taste in my mouth, like bitter chocolate mixed with toffee. Where else have I had that type of taste recently? Oh yeah, the porter. Just as I was about to crack one open, the security told me I was going to have to throw it out or get off the floor. I didn't like either of those choices. I already had 4 in me, so I was feeling a little brave. I shook one up and aimed the neck of the bottle right at the guard. Before he could radio for back-up he got a face full of foam. That was just the distraction me and Rube needed to get to our area of the casino, where the minimum bet wasn't $1,000.
We found ourselves by the penny slots, but that was a little too cheap, even for us. At about two bottles till an empty case, I came across the roulette table.
"Bet it all on black," I said.
Too bad the little ball was seeing red. Maybe black isn't my lucky color.
"Don't worry about it," Rube said, "I've still got enough money for the both of us."
So we finally got to the black jack table. Black jack isn't really my thing, but black jack is Rube's game and we are playing with Rube's money, so I can't complain. We sat next to these two strapping young lads. One wore a soul patch like a badge of douchery and the other was shaking so hard you just had to think something was wrong with him. I offered him a beer, but he just shook his head no. I was relieved. His friend asked for one, but I decided he just wasn't Gonzo worthy. Good people drink good beer. I could tell from his look that he was not good people. He just wasn't going to appreciate it. Even though it looks like a Guinness, this is no Irish stout. Anyway, we got through four hands. I busted on each. The other guys were doing good, but Rube hit 21 each time, and each time the dealer declared "Winner winner, chicken dinner!" Rube was about to hit a fifth, but the shook one gave him a wide-eyed glare and made a bee line for the exit.
Before checking in to the room, we hit the casino floor. We walked past the high roller table when I saw the first real weird thing of the night (the rest of the night never got weird enough for me). Robin Williams was shooting dice and tossed me a black chip. I thanked him and walked away. It left a good taste in my mouth, like bitter chocolate mixed with toffee. Where else have I had that type of taste recently? Oh yeah, the porter. Just as I was about to crack one open, the security told me I was going to have to throw it out or get off the floor. I didn't like either of those choices. I already had 4 in me, so I was feeling a little brave. I shook one up and aimed the neck of the bottle right at the guard. Before he could radio for back-up he got a face full of foam. That was just the distraction me and Rube needed to get to our area of the casino, where the minimum bet wasn't $1,000.
We found ourselves by the penny slots, but that was a little too cheap, even for us. At about two bottles till an empty case, I came across the roulette table.
"Bet it all on black," I said.
Too bad the little ball was seeing red. Maybe black isn't my lucky color.
"Don't worry about it," Rube said, "I've still got enough money for the both of us."
So we finally got to the black jack table. Black jack isn't really my thing, but black jack is Rube's game and we are playing with Rube's money, so I can't complain. We sat next to these two strapping young lads. One wore a soul patch like a badge of douchery and the other was shaking so hard you just had to think something was wrong with him. I offered him a beer, but he just shook his head no. I was relieved. His friend asked for one, but I decided he just wasn't Gonzo worthy. Good people drink good beer. I could tell from his look that he was not good people. He just wasn't going to appreciate it. Even though it looks like a Guinness, this is no Irish stout. Anyway, we got through four hands. I busted on each. The other guys were doing good, but Rube hit 21 each time, and each time the dealer declared "Winner winner, chicken dinner!" Rube was about to hit a fifth, but the shook one gave him a wide-eyed glare and made a bee line for the exit.
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Randall
posted 6/07/08 @ 4:32 AM EST
Dennis,
Sounds like you both had a blast! Where can I get some of your Gonzo Imperial Porter and just wondering...When did Rube get home?
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