So I had a date last night. Sort of. It was advertised as a date, and it started out like a date, but I don't think it was a date.

I think it was more of an interrogation.

But that's okay. It was still fun. We ate at this seafood place in The Rio. The food was fantastic.

But no slaking took place, and it ended early because she had to go to work.

Anyway, with my newfound winnings, I took a cab to downtown Vegas. Specifically, I went to Main Street Station, more specifically to the Triple 7 brewpub therein.

Usually when I go to downtown Vegas I spend some time dicking around Fremont Street, but it was too cold for that last night. So I got right down to business. The business of beer.

I had three Black Chip porters (153). That beer is world-class. Easily worth the cab fare to get downtown and back. All of their other beers suck, so I didn't see any need to mix things up by ordering anything else.

After my three beers it was still too cold to dick around, so I took a cab back to The Rio and went to The Tilted Kilt.

The place was packed, but HenPeckedGuy managed to find an empty stool for me at the end of the bar. I had a Tilted Kilt Ale (480) and talked to some dude from Belgium for a while. He was drinking a fucking Stella. Yuck.

Then later some pompous doucebag took offense when I laughed out loud at his demand for two orange wedges in his Blue Moon. So I asked HenPeckedGuy if he knew how to make a Heterosexual Blue Moon. That's one without any fruit.

Then I asked if OrangeWedgeGuy could get a little umbrella for his beer.

My Blue Moon (318) was good. The look on OrangeWedgeGuy's face, as he stomped out of the place, was priceless. I bet he went back to his room and cried himself to sleep.

I never do this.

I never reach out. Not to anyone.

Not when they're in need, and not when I'm in need.

And it's pretty fucking rare, pretty fucking, special maybe even fucking unprecedented that I find myself, in need, reaching out to another in need.

Wait, that's not right.

I have done this before.

It's not unprecedented. This has happened before.

In September 2005.

That time, it worked.

That time, I found myself a friend who I think will be with me as long as I live.

But this time, this time it's not working at all.

This time my arms close on emptiness.

I'll never do this again.

Today after lunch I stopped at this little bar thingy in The Rio, at a video poker machine.

Just to have something to do before the afternoon sessions started.

I'd already used up all my luck the other day, so I figured that I'd lose my $20 daily allocation pretty quickly.

I was playing 3-play deuces wild, a five quarter bet on each hand. If you've never played 3-play before (I hadn't) what is does is it deals you five cards like normal, but your hold cards get duplicated to two other hands. Then you draw for all three hands. It's kinda cool.

So I was about $10 into my $20, and the thing dealt me four deuces. Before the draw, not that that matters. You can't improve on four deuces.

So I won 1000 quarters. $250.

I hit the hold button for the four deuces and watched them duplicate for the other two hands. Then I hit the draw button because you still have to do that.

Well the machine didn't pick that moment to malfunction, to my mild surprise.

I won $750.

Ka-Ching, right?

Well that was my first thought.

My seconds thought was, fuck!

See, if I'd been a man instead of a mouse, I'd have been playing dollar bets instead of quarter bets. If I'd been a man instead of a mouse, I'd have won $3,000.

But wait!

There's more!

That machine also offered 5-play and 10-play modes.

So, if I'd been a man instead of a mouse, and if I'd been a man with big giant barbed-wire balls instead of a regular man, I'd have been playing dollar bets in 10-play mode.

I'd have won $10,000.

Like I said, fuck!

I don't expect much pity here.

Tuesday night, as promised, I did a formal beer comparison instead of just drinking beer.

This certainly slowed me down. I hope you appreciate it.

This is not a competition. So, as David Letterman used to say, Please, no wagering.

I got to The Tilted Kilt at about 8:00. I'd have been there earlier but I had a yummy cajun burger and a yummy Alaskan Amber (2150) at this All-American Grille place first.

HenPeckedGuy was working at The Tilted Kilt. He didn't even bat an eye when I asked for four small servings of four different beers. In fact, he acted like weird people ask him to do strange things every day. It must be some Las Vegas thing.

Once I had my four beers in front of me, along with my notebook, I got down to business.

Appearance
Tilted Kilt: Cloudy brown. Some graininess to the clouding.
Rogue Dead Guy: Kind of a flat copper color. A little cloudiness.
Fat Tire: Bright dark copper.
Newcastle Brown Ale: Very dark brown, almost cola-colored.

Aroma
TK: Yeast and malt.
DG: Malty, and a little hoppy.
FT: Strong malty sweetness.
N: Deep malt. Some hop notes.

Mouthfeel
TK: Slightly thick.
DG: Oily and coating.
FT: Watery and a little drying.
N: Fairly thick, no coating.

Foam (after 10 minutes and a few sips)
TK: No head, no lacing.
DG: 40% thin foam covering.
FT: 100% thin foam covering, great lacing.
N: 10% thin foam, pretty good lacing.

Flavor
TK: Malt and yeast. Sweet.
DG: Malty with a little bite.
FT: Malt and something else. Maybe vanilla.
N: Roasty and sweet, with a bit of a bite.

Finish
TK: Slightly dry, no bitterness.
DG: Coating and sweet.
FT: Slightly dry. Vanishes instantly.
N: Just a hint of a bitter bite at the end.

Aside
This one hot girl says she's dying to know what I'm writing. I wonder what she'd do for a peek.

As I said, this was not a competition. But, if it had been, Newcastle would have won. Newcastle would have been followed by Tilted Kilt, then Fat Tire, and finally Dead Guy.

All are very good beers though.

For the rest of the night I had three pints of Tilted Kilt (464). I did end up showing the hot girl what I'd written. I think she was underwhelmed.

Monday was a long day. The first full day in Las Vegas is always long. My EST ass woke up at 5:30 and refused to go back to sleep so I stayed up.

I did some stuff for work. I ate some breakfast. I caught up on some writing. I basically just dicked around The Rio until noon, then I took the shuttle over to the strip. Then I dicked around on the strip for a while. I'd thought that I might buy a new watch at this place by The Alladin, but all of the watches they had were ugly.

At 3:00 or so, I took a cab over to The Freakin' Frog. I had a yummy Alaskan Amber (2134) with my lunch, then I had another one for dessert (2150).

The bartender was new to me. I liked her because she didn't argue with me when I asked for an unchilled glass - always before it's been an international incident. I liked her even more when she pointed out that they also had Alaskan Smoked Porter on tap. I fell in love with her when she said that it was vintage 1998.

Wowie fucking zowie.

So, guess what I proceeded to drink four of.

Alaskan Smoked Porter is correct.

I had four beautiful and yummy 10-ounce pours (485), and I wish I could have had more. Being a lightweight really sucks sometimes.

Besides the bartender, I talked to the owner for a bit. I've talked to him before, and I can never remember his fucking name. Andy or Matt or Adam or something generic like that.

There was also a guy in a suit who was pretty cool despite his affection for Miller Lite, and an Hispanic guy who drank eight million Bud Lights in an hour then left a $1 tip.

Anyway, after 32 ounces of Alaskan Amber and 40 ounces of Alaskan Smoked Porter, I was a little tipsy. I was also exhausted. So I took a cab back to The Rio and took a nap.

Later, I went down to The Tilted Kilt and had a couple Tilted Kilt Ales (412).

...because I'm finding it difficult to stretch anything out beyond a few sentences.

I think that an implied lie might be even worse than an explicit one. Why would I think such a thing? Well, because an implied lie reveals not only the foolishness of the recipient, but also the cowardice of the liar.

---

I bought a new jacket on Friday, and this morning the snap thingy on the sleeve broke. So my luck may be turning. Yesterday was nice though.

---

When I leave the quiet and solitude of my room, and ride the elevator down, and walk out onto the casino floor, I always smile. It's like I forget where I am, and the lights and the music jolt me back to reality. I love it here.

---

It sucks to not have a camera phone anymore. I did bring my good camera with me, but I don't feel like lugging it around 24/7.

---

It would be cool to bring NotHideousGirl to Las Vegas. We could find an open-mike night somewhere, and she could sing and be discovered and become famous and shit. All thanks to me.

I did something kinda silly in the Summer. And by kinda silly I mean unbelievably fucking stupid.

I'd had this plan, see? Call it plan A. Problem was, if plan A was to have any real meaning at all, then there could be no plan B. Plan B had to be eliminated. So that's what I did. Like I said, kinda silly.

And then, then plan A never even got off the ground. Lack of opportunity and a myriad of other things all combined to thwart that plan before it could even get started.

It was mostly the other things. I could have forced an opportunity if I'd really tried.

Man, I'm rambling. I blame the hot blonde girl who just finished dancing on the platform thingy in front of me.

Anyway.

It seems to me that most relationships end.

This is relevant because...

I'm having a tough time coming up with words. Damn you hot blonde dancing girl!

It's relevant because, chance are, one particular relationship will end at some point.

Well, this entry just isn't going to let itself be written. I'm trying to be cryptic here, and I guess it's working because I'm not even making sense to myself.

So instead, I'll write an email to RockGirl. I don't have to be cryptic with her.

I'll write to her, and I'll tell her what I'm afraid of.

And she'll read it, and she'll respond that I'll do what's right because that's the kind of person I am.

And I'll read her words, and then maybe I'll be a little less afraid.

8:00
I was thinking about eating something. Not because I was particularly hungry. Just because I knew I'd be drinking.

I wandered around The Rio for a while, but nothing really jumped out at me, food-wise. Then I had the idea of going to downtown to grab some dinner and a Black Chip Porter at Main Street Station. then I remembered that I was supposed to call SpoonsGirl's brother, VegasDude. I called him and left a message. I guess there's a chance that we could end up downtown sometime this week. He's a guy, so the universe will not implode if he calls me back.

So I went and played three hands of video poker, got a royal flush, and decided to quit while I was ahead.

Now I'm sitting at the bar in The Tilted Kilt, having a Tilted Kilt Ale (348).

8:17
Just used my Blackberry to check the Freakin' Frog website. They always have their current drafts listed there. I see that they currently have my beloved Alaskan Amber on tap!

Yay!

So now I know where I'm going tomorrow.

8:22
The taps for Newcastle and Fat Tire and Dead Guy and Tilted Kilt are calling to me. I should do a formal comparison of those four. They're similar enough that it should be interesting.

8:25
StupidGirl is working. I should probably give her a new nickname, but I've become attached to this one. I'm sure I'll talk to her sometime tonight. She looks cute.

8:27
This bartender working tonight is slow.

8:28
Scratch that - while I was writing about how he was slow, he was already pouring me another Tilted Kilt (364).

8:35
I think I'll do the tasting on Tuesday when HenPeckedDude is working. This guy tonight would probably screw it up.

8:40
I need to eat something. For some reason I always crave grilled cheese sandwiches in Las Vegas.

8:46
I must remember to buy some lip balm.

8:47
And a case of condoms. Ha ha.

9:00
Piss time.

9:03
Another Tilted Kilt (380).

9:27
It's surreal to be sitting here. I've gone through a lot on this stool.

9:45
Piss time, and Diet Coke time.

10:00
So, I guess PictureGirl is seeing someone now. I think I'm relieved. I mean, it would have been nice to see her, but the thought of her waiting around for me to visit creeped me out a little.

11:15
Been talking to StupidGirl. I'd love to talk some more, but the time zone change is catching up with me. Time for bed.

It's funny how things work out sometimes.

Allow me to 'splain.

My mind is your basic two-track male model. Sometimes I can squeeze in a third track, but usually it's the same two over and over.

So, because of one of the tracks, I was looking forward to having Rogue Chocolate Stout while in Las Vegas. I discovered that wonderful beer here last December, and when I came back in August it was here waiting for me.

So I had it last December in Las Vegas. I had it at Rich O's during DaveFest in June and July, and I had it again when I returned to Las Vegas in August. Throw in the few times I've had it in bottled form, and I've had it a lot. About 1,000 ounces, up until last week.

Now I'm up to 1,172 ounces.

Because, last week, it came back to the Rich O's draft list.

Yay!

This was very cool, and it was made even more cool because it was a surprise to me.

But I remember thinking, last Wednesday as I drank a yummy pint, I remember thinking, Now what am I supposed to look forward to drinking in Las Vegas?

Fat Tire I can get here. I like Fat Tire, but it's not really enough to wrap an entire trip to Las Vegas around.

Ditto for the Black Chip Porter up at Main Street Station. Besides, that's only available up there, and it's a $50 cab ride away from The Rio.

I had no idea what beer would end up defining this trip.

Until I walked into The Tilted Kilt this afternoon.

There was no Rogue Chocolate Stout on tap.

But, that was okay, because in its place, there was...

*drumroll*

Pyramid Tilted Kilt!

Fucking yay and yay!

This beer, for those of you who haven't been studying me as much as you should, is a beer that I discovered here in the Spring of 2004. It immediately became one of my all-time favorites, and I drank a lot of it.

Then, I never saw it again. I was even told that Pyramid had stopped making it.

I was devastated, I tell you.

But no more.

Because Pyramid Tilted Kilt has come back into my life, and now I know which beer will define this entire trip.

I had two small pints (332) with my lunch, and now I've got to try to get some sleep.

But first, here's the rest of my day so far.

My suitcase was the third one to arrive at baggage claim.

The taxi line was a million miles long, but I overheard a dude tell a driver that he was going to The Rio, and I ended up sharing the taxi with him.

There was a hot naked chick at the check-in counter. She was yelling something about something.

I got a room right away. Sometimes I have to wait for hours before a room is available.

Anyway, I'm fucking tired now. I was too excited to sleep last night. I need to sleep now, at least for a couple of hours.

I'm sitting in a bar in the Cincinnati airport with most of an hour to kill before my flight to Las Vegas. I guess I'm about 90 miles from home.

The strange thing is that this is plenty far enough. I have no need to go any farther. Oh, I certainly want to go farther. I've been looking forward to this trip for a long time. But, and this is something that I've had pounded into my brain for the last few months, wants and needs are two different things. Sometimes they are two very different things. Sometimes they even oppose each other. They face off across the field of my life, prepared to battle. To the death if necessary. To my death if necessary.

Fortunately that's not the case with me here and now. Here and now what I need is a logical subset of what I want.

I want to go to Las Vegas. I want to drink some good beer. I want to see PictureGirl. I might even want to do some gambling or maybe take in a show or two.

But what I need, what I need is to get the fuck away from Southern Indiana.

So this is an unusual trip for me. I've always been pulled before. This time I'm being pushed. I guess Las Vegas is a pretty good place to end up.