Atlantic City Summer 2017: Day 1- Almost a Fantastic Room

August 6, 2017

The glorious lack of effort and planning compared to what we put in to most of our vacations was evidenced right at the start when we woke up at Nine AM.  Anabelle and I chatted for a while in her room. Then I began my exercise for the week by running up and down the stairs for multiple items we’d packed, meant to pack, and remembered we should have packed last minute in order to load the car.

There wasn’t much traffic heading toward the New Jersey shore on a Sunday.  We stopped at the last remaining Roy Rogers rest stop on Earth, and encountered the grand champion of brainless redundant internet acronym use.  "You only  YOLO Once"

Ordering was far smoother than the previous year, as I was waited on by someone who could handle the concept of “hold the cheese” on a chicken sandwich.  Naturally, Rosa wanted the cheese this time. 

The rest of the drive was uneventful.  We left everything but the beach stuff in the car, since it was before check in time.  The crazy long line for the desk insured it was past that point by the time we reached it, however.

Crazy long lines continued on the way to the elevator, as we hit the daily check out time sweet spot.  We split up to get into the room and ferry everything from the car.  Luckily, the lines dissipated near instantly and we got our supplies into our “mini suite.”  It was a corner room with huge windows facing in two directions one floor below the “penthouse” level.  Woo Hoo…did you hear that?

Down at the beach were the largest sand toys I’d ever seen. Giant concrete pipes and bulldozers were all over the place turning the water an impressive shade of brown as they restructured the shore line.

Anabelle played Chopped in the sand while I read the Force Awakens novel.  Rosa was reading a draft of the most recent Disney World story, when a seagull pooped on it.  Everyone’s a critic.

We did a little bit of swimming in the more discolored than usual Atlantic, but didn’t get truly wet until we were cleaning up and a rogue wave snuck in, possibly from the Boardwalk side, and nailed us all.

After an insanely long time of my trying to explain if that since Anabelle’s favorite (and closed) burger place was the Irish themed Blackthorn she probably would like the Ri Ra Irish pub, we tried it for dinner. Points for Daddy, again, they loved it.  The waitress was extremely Irish, which added atmosphere and overshadowed the fact that she was also extremely slow.  We did wonder if she went back to Dublin at one point.

Down in the Marketplace afterwards, Rosa sought out her Atlantic City favorite roasted nuts. We had our first unusual old lady encounter of the evening.  A drunken woman was overly delighted that I was wearing my Deadpool baseball jersey that says, “Tacos” on the back next to Casa Taco Express.

It’s always nice to bring the entertainment wherever I go.

We took advantage of the “nice night for a walk” and wandered down to the mall, pausing briefly to be befuddled by the fish projected on the convention center.

Every vacation wants to be Disney.

Aside from pleasing a small group of Deadpool fans, the mall excursion was a total washout.  The “$10” store (B*Iconic) where Anabelle gets all her oversized, frequently animal themed, excessively shiny rings was already closed.

Itsugar was open, but it may as well have not been.

Anabelle was unable to get her traditional vacation mint purchase, since they were all filthy.  I’m pretty twisted, but it creeps me out that there’s such a big market for “dirty joke” candy.

None of our favorites were in stock either. Since they all returned when we went back down the following April it may have been bad timing.  Either that or everyone followed our example that week and stopped shopping there.

Signs informed us that the screensaver like fish occupying the convention center wall was not the main event of the evening. Luckily, we reached the area in time for the pre-show, which was the most entertaining performance of the entire week.

A semi-incoherent, everything-ist, foul mouthed, crazy person took to the stage across from the Center, and hurled insults and paper plates at the crowd.

The “Time Machine” show with generic uncopyrighted music from various decades was a big letdown after him.

On the way back, Anabelle tried a free sample of “Polish Water Ice.”  It turned out to be Italian ice made by people whose grandmother swore in a different language with an odd aftertaste.

Back at the Tropicana, we decided to take the “secret passage” hallway we almost never use, even though we knew the dance club it passed was closed.

In what can only be described as a situation comedy guest appearance, we met up with Funnybooks Comics and Stuff proprietor, Funny Steve!  Considering his store provides ninety-five percent of my vacation reading material, (sometimes I read about dinosaurs) it was the most appropriate cameo possible.

The second unusual old lady encounter of the evening was far less fun than the first.  This crabby individual pushed her way onto the elevator car elbowing Anabelle without acknowledging her, and then bounced herself off of Anabelle’s arm.  This, “Nasty old ratbag” (I believe is the proper term) started mumbling incoherently at first. My daughter smiled nervously, as to not set off the elderly lunatic, who then increased her volume and kept calling Anabelle an idiot for not apologizing to her.

I do believe someone poured their whole social security check into the slot machines that evening.

Back at the room there was a bit of unpacking, reading and Minecraft, while quite more than a bit of Seven Dwarf mining like thumping pounded into our room through the wall.


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