By Cyberhog

After being for here for 4 days I hadn't experienced the Reno night-life yet. Heck, I've barely even sat down at a blackjack table. I decided tonight I need to drive into Reno to sightsee and to have dinner. After showering I headed into town and parked in Harrah's parking garage.

When I walked into the east tower, I noticed that this casino was really smoky. I guess the Las Vegas style ventilation is an unknown commodity here. Everyone seems to be smoking and with those low ceilings, the smoke is really noticeable. Harrah's has a Japanese steakhouse that also serves sushi. I could smell the food outside on the street, but in the smoky casino all of that seared meat smell was overpowered by cigarettes.

I took a look at the menu and the prices!

Downtown Reno may remind me a lot of downtown Las Vegas but the prices remind me more of the strip!

I wandered around Harrahs and the ingenious corporate types have come up with the brilliant idea called "WinZone". A separate high tech like area with steel and blue lighting along with flat screen TVs. In the WinZone area there are 8 blackjack tables all dealing 6:5 Blackjack (of course). What makes this BJ pit so special is that the game is dealt by girls in bikinis. What a concept! Except the girls were more or less in shorts and bikini tops. Most of these ladies didn't belong in a bikini anyway. But the worst: they were wearing nylons and gym shoes. What's with that? If I were running things and I expected a dufus to sit at a 6:5 game, I'd put the gals in bikini bottoms and high heels. Sheesh. The problem here though is that this type of ploy might go big on the strip in Las Vegas, but in downtown Reno? Most of the patrons here were 50 on up. They had all 8 tables going and there must have been about 20 patrons playing.

I couldn't find any place suitable for me to eat at Harrahs, so I wandered outside. Downtown Reno is very similar to downtown Las Vegas in feel. You have a strip of hotels mixed in with some cheesy gift shops and even pawn shops, but no walkin restaurants. The "back streets" like Lake, Center and Sierra were devoid of any business that resembled a restaurant.

I walked into the Eldorado Hotel, a nice old world Las Vegas style hotel. I walked around the casino and there were quite a few 5 and 10 dollar tables on a Friday night. To my horror though I found another 6:5 Blackjack table. Aaaack! The virus is spreading! And here, the lemmings were filling up the table and waiting to jump off the cliff.

The Eldorado advertised a sushi place and I was looking for it. All of the restaurants were on the second floor. They had an Italian restaurant called "La Strada" which supposedly was voted one of the top 10 Italian restaurants in the United States. The prices on the menu matched that superlative. Another was "Roxy" which also has a martini/piano lounge upstairs, while downstairs they serve roasted meats and fine wines. Outside of the Roxy was a garish fountain reminiscent of the ones at Caesars Palace. Once again the prices were steep. They also had a brewpub "The Brew Brothers" (also voted the top brewpub in America--who voted? I don't know), which was packed to the gills with folks. The coffee shop is called Tivoli Gardens and the buffet was up here as well, but I couldn't find the sushi place. Looking in on some of the fru-fru places like Roxy and La Strada, I got the distinct impression I was under dressed anyway. Lots and lots of guys in suits and ladies all dolled up for a Friday night.

I went back down to the casino and I found the all-you-can-eat sushi called "Golden Fortune", except all the seats at the sushi bar were taken.

So, I walked across the street to the Silver Legacy. This was a really nice casino. A little ritzier and more understated than the Eldorado. Once again, I found the 6:5 Blackjack here. Oh I will never forgive Harrahs for introducing this virus into the game I love!

The Silver Legacy also has their restaurants on the second floor. Must be a trend. Possibly to avoid all of the cigarette smoke from the casino, although to it's credit the Silver Legacy casino didn't seem that smoky, or maybe I was just getting used to it. I went upstairs and to my disappointment I found that the Eldorado and Silver Legacy share a walkway and the Eldorado's dining establishments double for the Silver Legacy's. I later would find out that Silver Legacy and the Eldorado share common owners.

Well, it's almost 9 o'clock now and I haven't found anything down here, so I walked back to the car and I would drive down Virginia Street. I had seen a couple of places just outside of downtown on my first day's reconnaissance. If I didn't see anything, I'd just head over to the Peppermill and eat at the coffee shop.

When I got out of Harrahs garage, I was sort of turned around. It turned out I was driving the wrong way. I turned around and wound up in back of Harrahs again and just as I was about to make my way toward the main street, I noticed a little area over the bridge with a miniature "Welcome To Reno" sign. It looked like an entertainment district, so I headed over that way. Instead, the street led me into the parking lot of the Siena Hotel.

So, I turned around and as I was heading back I was about to make a turn onto First Street when I noticed a little place on the corner. No sign, just a gold awning with the name "La Famiglia" written on it. I looked through the window and there was a small restaurant in one room and a cozy, warm bar in another.

This was perfect! Just what I was looking for.

I sat at the bar and ordered some Polenta with mushroom and gorgonzola along with some Penne and Sausage. Man I was starving! I was sitting next to a couple on my right and 2 ladies were down the bar to my left. Before I ordered, a waiter from the restaurant came back with a bottle of wine, an Italian Barbera, 2003 Aldo Conterno Barbera d'Alba "Conca Tre Pile. I'm guessing about a 25 dollar bottle of wine in the liquor store (or about 50 to 60 in the restaurant). The waiter told the bartender that the guy at table 8 sent it back because the wine was "off". The bartender poured a little in his glass, sniffed it and drank. "It's not off, it's perfectly fine!" he intoned. Oh well, the customer is always right.

"What are you going to do with that bottle?" I asked hopefully, "Throw it out?".

The bartender said no, that he'd probably wind up drinking it unless I wanted some. The guy next to me said he'd share it with me and we wound up getting the bottle on the house. Woo hoo!

A couple of guys joined the gals at the other end of the bar. One of the girls got up to show off her cleavage enhancing bra and appropriate dress with plunging neckline. Boy there was a lot showing here as she pressed her breasts upward. What is it with women in Reno and cupping their breasts? This is the third time on this trip that I've witnessed this phenomenon. The lady next to me hit her husband because apparently he was gawking along with me as well.

"You two act like you've never seen breasts before" she said.

"True" her husband said"But we think that whenever we see them, it'll be a long time before we see them again".

"Oh brother" she moaned.

At this time, an older couple joined us at our end of the bar. They were from San Francisco. The owner of La Famiglia, a young, balding bespectacled gentleman joined the bartender behind the bar. He seemed to know the couple at the bar quite well as they were talking about old times in San Francisco and about wines. Apparently, the bespectacled dude is the owner and I suspect the MILFy looking lady wearing an apron is his mom. I don't think she cooks because she was at the bar talking to the gals with the wonder bras.

I was bantering along with the son and the two couples. He impressed me by naming the wine we drinking by simply sniffing it.

"You can tell this is a Conterno Barbera. It's got that smell of wet soil to it."

Great wine he tells us and I told him it was rejected as off by somebody in the restaurant tonight. He tells me that it happens all the time and it's usually a guy trying to impress his date.

I was enjoying the conversation and the leisurely pace of the meal. The couple from San Francisco had just stopped by for cannolis and coffee. After they left, the wonder bras and their dates left. I was still only about a quarter of the way into my penne and we still had a good half bottle of wine left. Outside the window, I saw a white hummer limo pulling up. Out of it stumbled 3 middle aged men and a limo driver. They piled into the restaurant. All of them except one of the guys were wearing expensive suits (even the limo driver had one on). This looked like a scene from "Goodfellas": small Italian place on the corner, not many patrons.

The limo driver and one of the gentlemen was Italian. This guy had dark hair with just a fleck of gray, I'm guessing early to mid 40's. He had on a very nice dark suit with a white shirt along with a gold and red tie. He had on super chic, European eye glasses (most likely Italian) along with a red pocket hanky. He was slim and trim and attractive for a guy my age. The limo driver was in his late 20s and the guy that wasn't wearing a suit seemed to be in his 40s as well. He just wore a dark shirt open at the collar and gray slacks. Finally, there was a blonde haired guy, kind of stocky. He seemed to be the most flamboyant of the group with a candy striped pink and white shirt along with a wild dark pink/light pink and white thin striped diagonal tie. He too had an a dark suit and he had pink cufflinks on his white cuffed shirt. Of course he had a pink pocket hanky to boot.

It was obvious that the Italian guy and the blonde guy were best buddies and they were showing the casual guy around almost like it was his birthday or something. I noticed the mood of the bartender and owner had changed dramatically. There was no more chatter, only purposeful duties and taking of the orders.

"Whaddaya think about this place?" the blonde guy asked the casual guy.

"It's nice. Sort of like an old world Italian family restaurant, I like it" he said.

The Italian guy had gone into the restaurant to place an order for food with the mother of the owner, but the blonde guy was already shouting a competing order over to the bartender.

"You got foccaccia pizza? You know? Foccaccia with pizza toppings on it? I want basil, tomato and cheese and my friends want raviolis and meatballs"

The bartender was about to write the order down when the mother came in and said

"Never mind, I got the order already"

 

"Ok" the blonde guy said, and he started naming some super expensive tequila (I think) that the bar didn't have.

 

"REALLY?" he said "You don't have Platinum? Maybe you should stock it!"

The casual guy starts laughing like it's the funniest thing he's ever heard. He was definitely the tag along guy that's for sure.

"Naw, I'm serious here, classy places need to stock good booze"

The bartender said he'd look into since it was the first request he'd had for it since he's worked there.

"Maybe it's the first request because you don't stock it" the blonde guy says.

The casual guy now can't control himself from laughter.

"Ah give me a vodka cranberry with a splash of orange juice"

The bartender asked if he had a preference of vodka.

"Yeah, I do, but you probably don't stock it".

I thought the casual guy was now about to fall off his chair. This was starting to get a bit surreal.

"Give me Grey Goose"

I started to get a bit nervous with these guys at the bar. The blonde guy was pretty loud and the casual guy was creeping me out with that laugh. It's been my experience that either something really good is going to happen here or something extremely bad is about to happen, nothing in between that's for sure. I noticed the owner was now gone, nowhere to be seen near the bar, so that's not a good sign.

The casual guy ordered a glass of wine. Meanwhile, now the Italian guy comes in. I mean this guy comes "right out of the movies style New York Italian."

"You causin trouble again?" he asks the blonde guy as he gives him a bear hug.

"What's he drinkin?" the Italian guy points to the casual guy.

He was drinking a Meritage of some sort by Ferrari-Carano.

"Man, that's great wine. You got style you know that? You can't dress up, but you got style" he says to the casual guy.

"I'll take a glass too" he tells the bartender.

I figured at this point I'm done eating. I was full. The bartender poured the last glass of wine from our bottle and he poured another glass of another wine for the lady next to me. Earlier in the evening she was halfway falling asleep, but with these guys at the bar and the limo driver behind us, she perked up. I decided to start writing in my journal that I was keeping for the trip. I was behind and with this crew, falling even further behind. Besides I thought it might be best just to keep my nose in the journal and my ears open. Best not to interact the wrong way with anybody, especially the guys that were clowning around at the end of the bar.

The blonde guy takes a sip of his cranberry vodka and asks the husband of the lady next to me,

"Hey pal, where are you from?"

"Right here, I live in Reno"

"Oh yeah? What you do for a living?"

"I'm a bartender"

"YEAH? Where at?"

When the guy told him where he worked, he said he knew the place well.

"I know Tommy, the owner. We've been golfing a few times. I keep telling him to stock Platinum, but he won't listen!"

 

Then he switched gears:

"Hey! Whaddaya drinkin? Can I buy you a drink?"

"No thanks" the husband says.

"I can't buy you a drink? What's with that? You don't like me?"

No, the husband replies it's just that he already has one and he's fine.

"Come on have a shot with me. How about some Patron? They don't stock Platinum here, ya know. Hey bartender, you stock Patron?" over the gales of laughter from the casual guy.

The husband steadfastly refused because he had to drive home.

"Huh! Tough crowd" the blonde guy says.

The Italian guy started engaging the couple in conversation while I just kept right on writing. About this time 4 big bowls of ravioli came out, two mushroom and two bolognese along with two plates of steaming meatballs.

"Where's the focaccia?" the blonde guy asked.

"I'll order it up for you right now" the bartender says.

"Geez, I thought you did that already" he says.

The Italian guy says "Hey, I told you I ordered for us already. We're here to test out the raviolis!"

These guys were "testing" the raviolis. The Ravioli Bolognese and the Porcini Mushroom raviolis. The bolognese really impressed the Italian guy.

The owner now suddenly re-appeared and the Italian guy goes

"This is really good fucking ravioli. This like the Northern Italian style. Really good, full of flavor."

The owner who was now dressed in sweats sheepishly says "thank you".

"I'm serious" the Italian guy continued.

"I grew up on this stuff, ravioli just like this. It's really good, the best I've ever had. My brother comes in here a couple of times a month and he tells me about how crazy he is about the ravioli here. This is really good ravioli".

I was amazed at how someone could go on and on about ravioli.

He tells the casual guy "I grew up on this stuff. I know!"

I was sort of amused by this, but I kept writing although every once in a while I'd glance up at those guys while they were clowning around more than anything else, almost like kids at school during lunch. They were barely eating anything!

"Hey you want a meatball?" the blonde guy asks the husband.

The husband says "no thanks".

"NO Thanks! What are you worried about??? Driving home drunk on meatballs?" the blonde guy says.

The casual guy is shrieking now, but the blonde guy looked agitated that he was getting rebuffed. At this point, I inexplicably stopped writing and I wound up making eye contact with the blonde guy.

"Hey you!" he says to me, "Are you a food critic or something?"

"No, I'm not"

"Really? What are you writing? A novel? You work for a magazine?"

"No, it's just a journal."

"A what?"

"A journal"

"A journal? What's that?"

"Sort of a diary of my trip to Reno"

"Oh yeah? Where you from?"

"Chicago" (I was trying to be brief, but I was getting the distinct feeling I was being rude at this point).

"Whereabouts?"

"Des Plaines"

"Des Plaines? COME ON MAN! That's not Chicago!"

"Close enough."

"I know Chicago." the blonde guy says "I lived in Arlington Heights."

"Really!"

"Yeah really, smart guy! So I know Des Plaines! And it ain't Chicago!"

"Ok, fair enough. I'm from Des Plaines then."

"Hey what are you drinking?" he suddenly asks.

"Same thing he's drinking" as I motioned to the husband

"Hey bartender, get him another glass of that wine he's drinking"

All this time the casual guy, the Italian guy and now the limo driver were talking about where they were going to next. The casual guy wanted to go home, but the Italian guy would have none of it. They kept discussing this in the corner amongst themselves.

I told the blonde guy I was sharing the bottle of wine with the husband.

"Then, I'll pick up the tab on that bottle, that way I can at least buy "Mr. Afraid To Drive Home" here a drink."

"Not necessary", I said. "We got this wine on the house, because somebody at a table sent it back". 

The blonde guy was incredulous.

"What kind of place is this? You don't stock Platinum and now you serve reject wine?" he rhetorically asks the bartender.

 

"Hey!" the blonde guy says in midstream, "Journal guy!  You want a meatball? They're pretty damned good".

"No thanks" I said "I can't even finish this bowl of pasta"

"How many times can a guy hear "no thanks" around here?" he asks almost exasperated.

At this time the Italian guy settled up the plans for the evening.

"Did I hear this guy's a food critic?" he asks pointing at me.

"I got to tell you, friend, that this is the best fuckin ravioli I've ever had. I know. I grew up on this stuff. It's in the Northern......".

"Don't waste your time" the blonde guy interrupted. "He's a writing a journal"

"A journal? As in Ladies Home Journal?" the Italian asks "A journal? About what?"

"About his trip to Reno. He's from Des Plaines"

"Huh? Where's that?

"Chicago" the blonde guy says.

 

"Hey! Where are you staying?" the blonde guy asks me.

"The Grand Sierra Resort" I answer

"Hah!" the blonde guy says

"That place is a dump" and he starts laughing.

"I don't know about dump. It has it's shortcomings, but I've got a junior suite and it seems nice enough."

"Junior suite??" the blonde guy asks

"Junior suite or no junior suite, that place is a dump! Why don't you stay at a decent place, a nice place when you're in town?"

I told him I stayed there because it came recommended to me by a guy who travels to Reno on business all the time. He gave me a list of really nice places, so I picked the one he wrote down first.

"Was the Eldorado on that list?" he asks

"Well, it was along with the Silver Legacy and The Peppermill."

"That's a good list then. But the Grand Sierra is still a DUMP! Next time pick the Eldorado!"

"I stayed with Grand Sierra because of the ski package and the 50 dollar food and beverage credit and the 50 dollars worth of match play. Plus the total cost was still about 200 dollars cheaper than what I originally booked through Heavenly Tahoe. I used the savings to upgrade to a junior suite which was only about a hundred bucks more!"

"You a golfer" he asked

"No, I ski"

"You don't golf then?

"I'm thinking about taking it up"

"Thinking about it? What's there to think about? Stop thinking about it and book a golf package through the Eldorado. They've got some great promotions, I should know I work there. COME ON! Have a meatball!"

The Italian guy comes over to me and sits on the stool that the wife had just vacated to go freshen up.

"You're a food critic, right?" he asks

"No, really. I'm just writing"

"Writing what? A book?"

"No, just a journal"

"For what??"

"So I can document my trip"

"Yeah, I know that, but for what?"

I didn't want to tell him I was posting this to "Hangin With The Hogs" because it took me awhile just to convince everyone I'm not a food critic. He'd probably engage me in all sorts of questions about that. Or maybe I should have told him so that I could give some legitimacy to what all of them thought was a weird activity.

"Well, put in that journal of yours that this place has the best fucking ravioli around. I should know. I grew up on this stuff. The sauce is that great Northern Italian style sauce. Are you writing this stuff down?"

Right then, the wife came back and the Italian guy apologizes for taking her seat while she was gone.

Then he turns back to the blonde guy and says "He's not a food critic dummy! He's writing a "Journal" whatever that is".

The blonde guy laughs "I know. He's staying at that dumpy Grand Sierra".

"Oh God no! Really? That's a shame" and the Italian guy busts out laughing. He can hardly contain himself. "That place is a dump!!"

 

"Hey journal writer" the blonde guy says. "How about if I set you up at the Eldorado instead. Check out of that shithole Sierra and stay over by us."

"No thanks I'm......."

"What IS with this "no thanks"?? I'm not offering you a room. I'm not offering you a "junior suite" like at that dump you're staying at. I'm going to set you up in a suite!" the blonde guy says.

"Really, man. I appreciate the offer but all I do is ski, eat and then flop. That's been my trip so far. I don't even gamble"

"You don't gamble? That must be an exciting journal you're writing there"

"But, I've met some colorful people (including tonight)"

"Just check out tomorrow and then I'll have our limo pick you up."

"No, I've got a car. I have all my gear and I've pretty much settled in now after 4 days. Plus it's convenient" I lied

"Ok. Don't check out. Just stay with us. Leave your stuff there and come downtown. I'll put you in a suite like you wouldn't believe!"

I really didn't want to say "No Thanks" to this guy again and now the couple next to me was leaving. The owner was now sitting in his sweats reading a book at the other end of the bar. I noticed that I, along with these 4 gentlemen were the only other patrons in the bar. Now, the Italian guy walks back over and sits down next to me.

"Seriously," he says "You should take him up on his offer. He's not kidding. He's serious about it. You're depressing him by refusing. I can't hang around the rest of the night with a depressed guy, you know what I mean?

"I can see that, but I really mean it when I tell you that I'm happy where I'm at and that it would be an inconvenience for me to move" I tried to explain.

 

"HEY! You want a meatball?" the blonde guy interrupts.

 

"You see, I know what I'm talking about" the Italian guy confides.. "When I tell you this is the best fucking ravioli I've ever had, you can trust me on it. You know why?

 

"Because you grew up on this" I said.

 

"I grew up on this stuff" he beamed. "The sauce here is in the Northern Italian tradition, and I grew up in that tradition. I grew up on that sauce. But that's not the only reason I know what I'm talking about! Do you know who I am?

"No sir, I'm sorry I don't"

"Stop with the sir, I'm Geno"

"All right, Geno. I'm sorry I don't know who you are"

"See that bottle of wine over there?"

He pointed to the two dozen or so bottles lined up on the middle of the bar.

"I see quite a few bottles" I said.

"That's my wine. I'm the Carano in Ferrari-Carano. That Fume Blanc over there? We made and shipped 250,000 cases of that shit. It's everywhere."

I told him I was familiar with the wine and its distinctive label.

"We did over 500 million in business just from the winery last year. We're big. So big the family owns the Eldorado Hotel and Casino here in Reno as well."

He said "family" in a way that made me believe his "family" was the beginning and the end.

"We also own part of the Silver Legacy right next door. Ever been there? It's a nice place. And Shreveport? We bought out Hollywood Casino there for 5 million. We fuckin stole that place.

See that guy over there?" as he pointed to the casual guy.

"He designs golf apparel. The guy's stuff is everywhere. He's almost as rich as me, but you wouldn't know it by looking at him. And, then there's Chase over there. He's our golf pro and Director of Player Development at the casino. See that suit he's got on? That's a 2500 dollar suit! The guy has about 50 of them. Me and my brothers we run the winery, the casinos and a little inn near the winery. I keep a sharp eye out for the food end. Our chef at La Strada got our restaurant an award." he boasted.

 

"Grand Sierra got Charlie Palmer and they brag!. We're the ones that got the awards!! AND we've got the best fuckin mushroom ravioli around." he proclaimed suddenly.

Then, he raised his hand and continued: "I know! I know! I just told you about these guys and their ravioli. That was the Bolognese I was talking about and theirs is better than ours. I hate to admit that. We're going to have to figure out how to make ours better than theirs. That's what I do. That's what we do. We want to be the best at everything."

 

"But we now know our mushroom ravioli is better than theirs. Our sauce is so rich and condensed. There's no way this little joint can even touch our mushroom ravioli. Everything we do is fresh. We get the best ingredients from wherever we can find them.  But my brother? He loves this place and that Bolognese ravioli of theirs. That's why we're here tonight. To find out why my brother comes here and doesn't stay home with us."

Wow, I was impressed. These guys took a limo and their golf apparel buddy to check up on some competitor's ravioli!

"So, when I tell you ought to take Chase up on his offer, I know what I'm talking about. I'm not some Moe off the street. He'll treat you right. I know! I know because I'm the owner. I make sure of everything. Trust me, he knows how to treat our customers."

 

Then he said, almost mournfully, "So please. Stop saying "no thanks". Okay?"

I really didn't know what to say to all of this, except not say "no thanks".

"Hey! What's your name?" Chase asks me.

"Cyberhog" I told him

"I'm calling the hotel now and getting you hooked up. You like good food? What do you like to eat?"

"Sushi"

"Sushi? COME ON MAN, forget that crap! I'm going to set up at the Roxy. That place is unbelievable."

"Why are you doing this? I don't even gamble"

"Yeah I know, you ski." Chase replies. "I'm doing this, because I can. What are you worried about? I'm serious."

With that he whips out his cell phone.

"Hey Crystal. It's Chase. Yeah, I've got a buddy of mine that's going to need a Y-1 suite. Yeah, that's right, a Y-1. Get him a full comp at the Roxy too. This guy loves good food. None of that sushi crap."

 

"Hey, how do you spell your last name?" he finally asks me.

I wasn't about to verbally spell out my 12 letter, 3 word non capitalized last name, so write I it out for him. He sort of does a double take.

"What the? Hold on Crystal."

"COME ON! What is that supposed to be?" he asks me

"My last name"

"Are you serious?"

"Want to see my driver's license?"

"What kind of name is that?"

"It's German"

"Aw shit! Hey Crystal, I'm half in the bag here, I'll let you talk to him and he can spell it out for you."

He hands me the phone.

"Hello Crystal" I meekly bleat out.

"Hi! How's it going? You a good friend of Chase's?"

"Yeah, so good he's just now learning to spell my name"

"He's such a great guy and he's put you in a really nice suite, you're going to love it" she says.

I spell my name for her and before I can ask her anything else, Chase takes the phone from me.

"Have you ever seen anything like that last name Crystal? What? You say it's German? Yeah I know it's German. Hey, Pal, Crystal says your name is German".

"Tell Crystal "thanks" for telling me".

"Hey hon! Read the spelling back to me, I want to make sure you got it right." So he follows along with the spelling in my notebook, reading off each letter.

Meanwhile, I looked at the Golf Apparel maven and he tells me

"Boy, you are one lucky son of a bitch!

"I don't know why he's doing this" I said, "I don't even gamble!"

 

"Hey, don't ask why. It's not everyday some loser like you, no offense, gets an opportunity like this, so grab it! Sorry about that, you know what I mean?"

I told him I understood. Dr. Bob and Skip would be beating me over the head for making this guy work so hard at giving me a comp and a big one at that! I guess this is what old time Las Vegas was like. You got a chance to eat dinner right next to an owner of a casino and if he takes a fancy to you then good things will happen.

After Chase got off the phone he tells me

"Just come to the hotel. Go to the Gold Room in the VIP area. Don't stand in line. Give your name to the host there. You're all set up. My office is right there. Stop in and say hello and for God's sake don't stand in line!. Tell them I set you up".

Then he took my pen and wrote his name, Chase Stigall,  in my notebook.

Apparently, I was all set up in a Y-1 suite whatever that is. I didn't have the heart to tell him I actually needed the room for 2 nights, but I'll just keep my room at GSR for Sunday night.

The boys were wrapping things up.

"You sure you don't want a meatball?" he sort of half jokingly asks me.

The bartender came back with the bill and Chase's credit card and told him he was denied. That got a big laugh out of Geno.

"He's overextended!!! You know what you're problem is? You spend too much money!" Geno taunted.

Chase just threw some cash on the bar and started laughing.

"That Palm Springs golf trip last weekend cost me 30 grand" he snickered. "What a weekend!! I only remember bits and pieces of it" he giggled.

 

"You know, he loves to eat", Geno tells me.

I told Geno he didn't look like he was overweight or anything.

"You know what?" Geno asks "That's a 2500 dollar suit. He's got about 50 of them. You know what he weighs? About 250! He goes between 200 to 250 depending on how much he eats. That's what 2500 dollar suits are for!  To make you look like you're 200 when you're really 250".

The bartender fills my glass up with wine. I thought I finished the wine earlier.

"He just bought you another glass" as the bartender motioned to Chase.

The boys were getting ready to leave. Geno said goodbye and said to come to Shreveport some time and look over the Eldorado down there.

"We stole that place" he tells me.

Chase stopped by with instructions.

"VIP. Gold Room. You don't wait. You give them your name and if you have to, give them mine. You won't have to wait and you'll be all set."

"What time you stopping by tomorrow noon, 1, 2?" he asked.

I told him I was skiing at Sugar Bowl in the morning.

"Take up a real sport, like Golf will ya? I'm the Golf pro at the Eldorado. Stop by and see me and I'll set you up with a golf package this spring. What time are you coming by?" he asked.

"About 5 or 6" I replied.

"Five or six? he says. "Okay, I probably won't be there that late. But if I am stop by and see me if I'm still there."

"I will Chase. It was a real pleasure meeting you, I don't know how to thank you" and I shook his hand.

"Hey! You want my limo driver to pick you up?"

"I have a car Chase, thanks anyway"

"Yeah! But I got a limo driver! Okay, okay. Have it your way. At least you didn't say "no thanks". Just make sure you show up! This is legit. I'm not kidding around."

"Okay, Chase I know and I will be there tomorrow"

"Good. And make sure you stop by and see me. My office is right in the Gold Room just to the left of where you'll be checking in. We'll talk about that golf package I'm going to set you up with. How many friends you think'll be interested?"

 

"Hey! Come on! Let's go blabbermouth" Geno roared from the restaurant." We got places to go, things to do" as he walked back to us in the bar.

Chase walks out and Geno turns and he says to me

"You know what? This place has the best fuckin ravioli. Trust me! I should know."

With that they were gone.

By now, some of the other employees were standing at the bar. I sat down, sort of exhausted by the whole evening. The hostess, bus boys and waiters, even the owner and his mother along with the bartender joined me in stunned silence for about 30 seconds.

"You better get some Platinum in here" the bartender tells the owner.

"People that eat here don't drink that stuff" the owner replied. "I've never seen anyone order it."

"That's because we don't stock it. You'll see orders for it.Trust me." the bartender relayed to him.

I didn't finish my wine. I felt strange sitting in the bar with the entire staff and the front of the restaurant empty.

It was a little after midnight at this point. I asked the bartender what I owed.

"Nothing, you're square" he tells me.

"Oh, I know about the wine, I'm talking about dinner." I clarified.

"I AM talking about dinner. Mr. Carano paid for it"

"Why?" I asked

"I don't know man. I've never seen anything quite like it or them, it was positively surreal".

"His brother eats here a couple of times a month" the hostess intervenes. "He comes here with his wife. He always orders the Bolognese and his wife eats a salad if that, she so skinny! He says it's the best ravioli he's ever had and he was going to tell his brother about it"

 

"Apparently he did" I said.

With that I said good-bye to the staff of La Famiglia as the hostess walked me to the now locked door of the restaurant.

"Have a good time tomorrow, okay?" she said.

"Thanks, I'm pretty sure I will, but I doubt it could top this." I replied.

As I walked out to First Street I heard the click of the lock behind me.

I wondered if Geno would come up with a harebrained scheme like the "WinZone".

Something tells me he'd think it'd make his place look like a dump.

Trust me, I should know.

TO BE CONTINUED

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