Live (Barely) from the Derby

ShootingArts

Smorg is giving St Peter the 7!
Gold Member
Silver Member
It just occurred to me: Nashville. It is a party town. It has the facilities. Cowboys gamble and they all shoot pool. Our image should be no problem whatsoever. Could be the home DCC has been looking for.

Thirty years ago Nashville would have been perfect for a big event. It took a big hit since then but I understand has staged a solid comeback. Has been just a little while since I have been to Nashville, about that thirty years. I passed through in the sucky years but was just passing through. I don't know how they are doing now. Hopefully well!

Sidetrack: My neighbor and I decided to take our families to Nashville, we both had vans. Getting family moving and taking the scenic route up the Natchez Trace we were well into dark-thirty time we reached Nashville. Pulled into the first hotel we came to and crashed without paying it much mind.

Woke up the next morning to see one of Hank Jr's buses parked next door. We had landed on Music Row! Nashville, Music Row, the Ryman, Opryland, all great back then. The three children were old enough to tell them stick together and meet up every two hours. There were a bunch of little stages with college student types putting on shows until I stumbled on one just as Brenda Lee came on stage at about two pm of a hot summer day. She put on the same performance she would give at the Opry or Ryman! Some people have class head to toe. A good thing in her case as I don't believe she made five feet, four feet nine I see.

Hu
 

stevelomako

We bust hustlers
Silver Member
I talked to Greg Sullivan recently and he would really like to be in a better location, but he hasn't found one yet. Among other things, he'd like to have a large amateur tournament at the same time. Clearly, there is no room at The Horseshoe -- there's not even enough room for all the 9-foot tables they would like to have. That's part of the reason for all the waiting.
Bob, ask him about the Galt House in downtown Louisville.

He’s looked at the Galt House when the EW was remodeling but the casino gives him too much to leave and start anew with unknowns at his age.

Shit, the EW would have loved to have the DCC back there.

I stopped there one year (EW) and posted pictures and a big write up about it on Onepocket.org
 

SBC

AzB Silver Member
Silver Member
Well.... There are still some "characters".... Robb Saez was being an absolute jerk to me, and accused me of "stealing his cigarettes", after I just poked my head in the action room. I thought someone said something to the side, and said "What, I thought you said something to me?" to another player, and Robb jumped in in and said "Yeah, I said something!!!", in a very belligerent, challenging manner (though I know 100% he did not...)

Wife came up, and said what's going on, and I said '"Nothing, just laughing at the foolishness.....", and then Robb tried to pick a fight with me, butI just walked away and ignored him.

Really not that difficult to see why that dude was banned from northeast tours for a few years. Generally, the other "characters" are a bit better behaved.

I was wondering where Scooter is this year.. He's the sort of dude that you love it when he talks crap to you.. :-D
Just hire his buddy Shane Winters to punch him in the face for you.

Such a nice guy when he's not drunk or high.
 

Tobermory

AzB Silver Member
Silver Member
Ummm... The first year at The Horseshoe, we had the worst ice storm in Kentucky's history (according to the Governor) and the hotel staff couldn't get in to work. Nobody was arriving or leaving. If that repeats you won't need the cooler in your van. (y)☃️🏂
I think I've been at twenty of the twenty-four DCC's, and this includes the one with the ice storm. Egads! I have never seen anything else like it. It started raining at about six-thirty PM. I don't mean a light rain. This was a heavy rain, such as you would get in April. But it's about twenty-eight degrees outside. If the rain had stopped after twenty minutes, it would still have been bad, dangerous under foot and tires. But it didn't stop. It rained hard all night and into the early morning, while the temperature never rose. I, however, was warm and comfortable and went to bed at about eleven in a state of Derby City Oblivion, unaware of anything dreadful happening outside.

In the morning I came down to have breakfast at the wonderful old Paula Dean buffet. I'm from the North, but I'm telling you that food was out of this world. In my insouciant anticipation of getting my gums around some of that country sausage and bacon, the first hint that something was not right came to me as I was walking down the long corridor from the hotel to the tournament room. You'll recall that there is a glass door to an above ground parking lot along that corridor. I looked out that door and thought, "What the.$@@!" There were all these cars parked there, and a LOT of big trucks, but they were hardly recognizable for what they were. They were like ice sculptures that had been roughed out by a sculptor who had gone on a break halfway done. I to this day can't imagine how long it must have taken to get those vehicles accessible after what must have been something like ten hours of a heavy icy rain. Tax Day maybe?

So I arrived at the buffet. The next hint that all was not well was that a "suit" took my money at the buffet register and apologized for the "limited offerings" because some of the employees weren't able to get to work. It didn't strike me that the offerings were limited or below standard. I had a wonderful breakfast and started back toward the tournament room. Along the way, about at the Graeter's ice cream shop, I ran into a friend who asked me if I had been outside, I said, "Why would I go outside. I'm at the Derby." He said, "You've got to go outside. You've got to hear this." I thought, "Hear? What's to hear?" But, on his say-so, I did go outside. From every compass point all you could hear was the roar of chain saws. There was three hundred and sixty degrees surround sound of nothing but the Stihl and Husqvarna Philharmonic, with a falling tree limb providing an occasional light triangle sound for percussion.

I still hadn't really caught on, however, about the situation we were in, "I'm all right, Jack. Push off!" being my life motto. Ronnie Allen was scheduled to play a match upstairs in the small tournament overflow room, the one with maybe the tables in the high twenties, and my mind was on that. Ronnie arrived in a white rage. He had conceived a hatred for the state of Indiana and wished it would become the center of a nuclear attack. This was literally his expressed wish. It reminded me of the first time I had ever heard a person actually blaspheme. I don't mean swear. I mean blaspheme, that is, curse God. {Of course that experience had also come in a pool context.} As I was thinking what in the world would make a person issue such an imprecation, Ronnie provided the reason. The casino had run out of beer. Worse, it was impossible to bring any more in.

Well, nothing will awaken you to the gravity of a situation like finding out there is no beer, but I was about to get a clearer indicator of how deep the hole was we were in. After the Ronnie Allen match, I went back downstairs to the entrance to the tournament room. You will recall that, in those blessed days, they sold coffee and snacks right at the entrance. There was a line of about twelve people waiting to be served by a single employee, an attractive young blond girl who was having a hard time keeping up for usually there were three or four employees manning that station. At the front of the line there were three or four guys with New Jersey accents, and the one who at that moment was being served was chatting this girl up, in other words fulfilling his felt obligation to flirt with a female so young and tender even when it was clear that nothing was going to come of it. A guy's gotta do what a guy's gotta do, even when he's fifty and she's twenty. Mister North Bergen says to this child, "You need some help here." She looks at him right in the face and says, "What I need is to go to the bathroom." North Bergen says, "What do you mean 'go to the bathroom?' If you have to go to the bathroom, just go to the bathroom." Miss Indiana says, " I haven't been to the bathroom for two hours and I can't go to the bathroom because there's nobody to cover the register if I do go." The Garden State resident stands in stunned silence for a second, and then he says to her, "Honey, all the thieves are in this line. Isn't that right, guys?" addressing the queue of pool players. "We're all thieves, and we swear on our honor that if you go to the bathroom we will watch the register and make sure that no other thieves come along and steal anything. Is that right, guys?" Everybody goes along with it. We all nod our heads and swear that we will neither steal anything ourselves nor allow any late arriving thieves to steal anything. Sure enough the young lady takes off and we all stand there for five or ten minutes while she does what even a cute girl's gotta do every couple of hours.

The next day I moved my weather band radio downstairs to that area with the snacks, and people would huddle around it to find out whether it was safe yet to head home. I remember two guys from Wisconsin being told that they would be all right going on Thursday but to make sure that they got all the way home that day because Friday would again be nasty. A couple of guys from Austria took pictures of the ice outside and transmitted them back home. The people who received them wrote back and asked what place in the world had weather like that. That's Austria, not Australia! When I left the hotel at six AM on Saturday I had to negotiate a tree which, during the night, had fallen and blocked one half of the exit road from the hotel to the highway. The hotel was still unaware of it.

So it's NOT the Titanic and a lifeboat. But it was still a DCC to remember. Wouldn't have missed it for anything!
 

ShootingArts

Smorg is giving St Peter the 7!
Gold Member
Silver Member
I think I've been at twenty of the twenty-four DCC's, and this includes the one with the ice storm. Egads! I have never seen anything else like it. It started raining at about six-thirty PM. I don't mean a light rain. This was a heavy rain, such as you would get in April. But it's about twenty-eight degrees outside. If the rain had stopped after twenty minutes, it would still have been bad, dangerous under foot and tires. But it didn't stop. It rained hard all night and into the early morning, while the temperature never rose. I, however, was warm and comfortable and went to bed at about eleven in a state of Derby City Oblivion, unaware of anything dreadful happening outside.

In the morning I came down to have breakfast at the wonderful old Paula Dean buffet. I'm from the North, but I'm telling you that food was out of this world. In my insouciant anticipation of getting my gums around some of that country sausage and bacon, the first hint that something was not right came to me as I was walking down the long corridor from the hotel to the tournament room. You'll recall that there is a glass door to an above ground parking lot along that corridor. I looked out that door and thought, "What the.$@@!" There were all these cars parked there, and a LOT of big trucks, but they were hardly recognizable for what they were. They were like ice sculptures that had been roughed out by a sculptor who had gone on a break halfway done. I to this day can't imagine how long it must have taken to get those vehicles accessible after what must have been something like ten hours of a heavy icy rain. Tax Day maybe?

So I arrived at the buffet. The next hint that all was not well was that a "suit" took my money at the buffet register and apologized for the "limited offerings" because some of the employees weren't able to get to work. It didn't strike me that the offerings were limited or below standard. I had a wonderful breakfast and started back toward the tournament room. Along the way, about at the Graeter's ice cream shop, I ran into a friend who asked me if I had been outside, I said, "Why would I go outside. I'm at the Derby." He said, "You've got to go outside. You've got to hear this." I thought, "Hear? What's to hear?" But, on his say-so, I did go outside. From every compass point all you could hear was the roar of chain saws. There was three hundred and sixty degrees surround sound of nothing but the Stihl and Husqvarna Philharmonic, with a falling tree limb providing an occasional light triangle sound for percussion.

I still hadn't really caught on, however, about the situation we were in, "I'm all right, Jack. Push off!" being my life motto. Ronnie Allen was scheduled to play a match upstairs in the small tournament overflow room, the one with maybe the tables in the high twenties, and my mind was on that. Ronnie arrived in a white rage. He had conceived a hatred for the state of Indiana and wished it would become the center of a nuclear attack. This was literally his expressed wish. It reminded me of the first time I had ever heard a person actually blaspheme. I don't mean swear. I mean blaspheme, that is, curse God. {Of course that experience had also come in a pool context.} As I was thinking what in the world would make a person issue such an imprecation, Ronnie provided the reason. The casino had run out of beer. Worse, it was impossible to bring any more in.

Well, nothing will awaken you to the gravity of a situation like finding out there is no beer, but I was about to get a clearer indicator of how deep the hole was we were in. After the Ronnie Allen match, I went back downstairs to the entrance to the tournament room. You will recall that, in those blessed days, they sold coffee and snacks right at the entrance. There was a line of about twelve people waiting to be served by a single employee, an attractive young blond girl who was having a hard time keeping up for usually there were three or four employees manning that station. At the front of the line there were three or four guys with New Jersey accents, and the one who at that moment was being served was chatting this girl up, in other words fulfilling his felt obligation to flirt with a female so young and tender even when it was clear that nothing was going to come of it. A guy's gotta do what a guy's gotta do, even when he's fifty and she's twenty. Mister North Bergen says to this child, "You need some help here." She looks at him right in the face and says, "What I need is to go to the bathroom." North Bergen says, "What do you mean 'go to the bathroom?' If you have to go to the bathroom, just go to the bathroom." Miss Indiana says, " I haven't been to the bathroom for two hours and I can't go to the bathroom because there's nobody to cover the register if I do go." The Garden State resident stands in stunned silence for a second, and then he says to her, "Honey, all the thieves are in this line. Isn't that right, guys?" addressing the queue of pool players. "We're all thieves, and we swear on our honor that if you go to the bathroom we will watch the register and make sure that no other thieves come along and steal anything. Is that right, guys?" Everybody goes along with it. We all nod our heads and swear that we will neither steal anything ourselves nor allow any late arriving thieves to steal anything. Sure enough the young lady takes off and we all stand there for five or ten minutes while she does what even a cute girl's gotta do every couple of hours.

The next day I moved my weather band radio downstairs to that area with the snacks, and people would huddle around it to find out whether it was safe yet to head home. I remember two guys from Wisconsin being told that they would be all right going on Thursday but to make sure that they got all the way home that day because Friday would again be nasty. A couple of guys from Austria took pictures of the ice outside and transmitted them back home. The people who received them wrote back and asked what place in the world had weather like that. That's Austria, not Australia! When I left the hotel at six AM on Saturday I had to negotiate a tree which, during the night, had fallen and blocked one half of the exit road from the hotel to the highway. The hotel was still unaware of it.

So it's NOT the Titanic and a lifeboat. But it was still a DCC to remember. Wouldn't have missed it for anything!

An outstanding story. Thank you for taking the time to write it. I suspect you have a few more from twenty trips! (hint, HINT)

Had to laugh about the line reassuring the young lady. I have been party to such goings on myself. "No worries, ma'am, the outlaws all know us!"

Hu
 

BasementDweller

AzB Silver Member
Silver Member
I think I've been at twenty of the twenty-four DCC's, and this includes the one with the ice storm. Egads! I have never seen anything else like it. It started raining at about six-thirty PM. I don't mean a light rain. This was a heavy rain, such as you would get in April. But it's about twenty-eight degrees outside. If the rain had stopped after twenty minutes, it would still have been bad, dangerous under foot and tires. But it didn't stop. It rained hard all night and into the early morning, while the temperature never rose. I, however, was warm and comfortable and went to bed at about eleven in a state of Derby City Oblivion, unaware of anything dreadful happening outside.

In the morning I came down to have breakfast at the wonderful old Paula Dean buffet. I'm from the North, but I'm telling you that food was out of this world. In my insouciant anticipation of getting my gums around some of that country sausage and bacon, the first hint that something was not right came to me as I was walking down the long corridor from the hotel to the tournament room. You'll recall that there is a glass door to an above ground parking lot along that corridor. I looked out that door and thought, "What the.$@@!" There were all these cars parked there, and a LOT of big trucks, but they were hardly recognizable for what they were. They were like ice sculptures that had been roughed out by a sculptor who had gone on a break halfway done. I to this day can't imagine how long it must have taken to get those vehicles accessible after what must have been something like ten hours of a heavy icy rain. Tax Day maybe?

So I arrived at the buffet. The next hint that all was not well was that a "suit" took my money at the buffet register and apologized for the "limited offerings" because some of the employees weren't able to get to work. It didn't strike me that the offerings were limited or below standard. I had a wonderful breakfast and started back toward the tournament room. Along the way, about at the Graeter's ice cream shop, I ran into a friend who asked me if I had been outside, I said, "Why would I go outside. I'm at the Derby." He said, "You've got to go outside. You've got to hear this." I thought, "Hear? What's to hear?" But, on his say-so, I did go outside. From every compass point all you could hear was the roar of chain saws. There was three hundred and sixty degrees surround sound of nothing but the Stihl and Husqvarna Philharmonic, with a falling tree limb providing an occasional light triangle sound for percussion.

I still hadn't really caught on, however, about the situation we were in, "I'm all right, Jack. Push off!" being my life motto. Ronnie Allen was scheduled to play a match upstairs in the small tournament overflow room, the one with maybe the tables in the high twenties, and my mind was on that. Ronnie arrived in a white rage. He had conceived a hatred for the state of Indiana and wished it would become the center of a nuclear attack. This was literally his expressed wish. It reminded me of the first time I had ever heard a person actually blaspheme. I don't mean swear. I mean blaspheme, that is, curse God. {Of course that experience had also come in a pool context.} As I was thinking what in the world would make a person issue such an imprecation, Ronnie provided the reason. The casino had run out of beer. Worse, it was impossible to bring any more in.

Well, nothing will awaken you to the gravity of a situation like finding out there is no beer, but I was about to get a clearer indicator of how deep the hole was we were in. After the Ronnie Allen match, I went back downstairs to the entrance to the tournament room. You will recall that, in those blessed days, they sold coffee and snacks right at the entrance. There was a line of about twelve people waiting to be served by a single employee, an attractive young blond girl who was having a hard time keeping up for usually there were three or four employees manning that station. At the front of the line there were three or four guys with New Jersey accents, and the one who at that moment was being served was chatting this girl up, in other words fulfilling his felt obligation to flirt with a female so young and tender even when it was clear that nothing was going to come of it. A guy's gotta do what a guy's gotta do, even when he's fifty and she's twenty. Mister North Bergen says to this child, "You need some help here." She looks at him right in the face and says, "What I need is to go to the bathroom." North Bergen says, "What do you mean 'go to the bathroom?' If you have to go to the bathroom, just go to the bathroom." Miss Indiana says, " I haven't been to the bathroom for two hours and I can't go to the bathroom because there's nobody to cover the register if I do go." The Garden State resident stands in stunned silence for a second, and then he says to her, "Honey, all the thieves are in this line. Isn't that right, guys?" addressing the queue of pool players. "We're all thieves, and we swear on our honor that if you go to the bathroom we will watch the register and make sure that no other thieves come along and steal anything. Is that right, guys?" Everybody goes along with it. We all nod our heads and swear that we will neither steal anything ourselves nor allow any late arriving thieves to steal anything. Sure enough the young lady takes off and we all stand there for five or ten minutes while she does what even a cute girl's gotta do every couple of hours.

The next day I moved my weather band radio downstairs to that area with the snacks, and people would huddle around it to find out whether it was safe yet to head home. I remember two guys from Wisconsin being told that they would be all right going on Thursday but to make sure that they got all the way home that day because Friday would again be nasty. A couple of guys from Austria took pictures of the ice outside and transmitted them back home. The people who received them wrote back and asked what place in the world had weather like that. That's Austria, not Australia! When I left the hotel at six AM on Saturday I had to negotiate a tree which, during the night, had fallen and blocked one half of the exit road from the hotel to the highway. The hotel was still unaware of it.

So it's NOT the Titanic and a lifeboat. But it was still a DCC to remember. Wouldn't have missed it for anything!
Holy moly! insouciant??? Good heavens, this is a pool forum. Hide the women and children! You don't have pt109 chained to a wall, shouting obscure words at you by chance, do you? If so I demand his protracted release!!!
 

JoeyInCali

AzB Silver Member
Silver Member

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lfigueroa

AzB Silver Member
Silver Member
Watched you or someone who looked like you walk out this morning Lou

Relax. You aren’t that important.

Hope you had a nice trip

Fatboy

I'm fine -- you were the one who brought up seeing me, saying, "I watched him eat and leave this morning while we were at breakfast. Didn’t say a word."

In any case, I guess even the guy who wasn't me didn't think you were important enough to talk to, lol.

Lou Figueroa
 

Fatboy

AzB Silver Member
Silver Member
I'm fine -- you were the one who brought up seeing me, saying, "I watched him eat and leave this morning while we were at breakfast. Didn’t say a word."

In any case, I guess even the guy who wasn't me didn't think you were important enough to talk to, lol.

Lou Figueroa
I was talking with other people it was a quick moment. As I said “relax” it’s over.

Have a great weekend,

Take care
Fatboy😃😃
 

lfigueroa

AzB Silver Member
Silver Member
That would be epic

They have that giant event center and plenty of rooms

Greg always said he liked that a casino could provide space for the tournament, rooms, food, and security.

So those would be the basic criteria for any new venue. I'm sure there are places out there.

Lou Figueroa
 

jason

Unprofessional everything
Silver Member
I think I've been at twenty of the twenty-four DCC's, and this includes the one with the ice storm. Egads! I have never seen anything else like it. It started raining at about six-thirty PM. I don't mean a light rain. This was a heavy rain, such as you would get in April. But it's about twenty-eight degrees outside. If the rain had stopped after twenty minutes, it would still have been bad, dangerous under foot and tires. But it didn't stop. It rained hard all night and into the early morning, while the temperature never rose. I, however, was warm and comfortable and went to bed at about eleven in a state of Derby City Oblivion, unaware of anything dreadful happening outside.

In the morning I came down to have breakfast at the wonderful old Paula Dean buffet. I'm from the North, but I'm telling you that food was out of this world. In my insouciant anticipation of getting my gums around some of that country sausage and bacon, the first hint that something was not right came to me as I was walking down the long corridor from the hotel to the tournament room. You'll recall that there is a glass door to an above ground parking lot along that corridor. I looked out that door and thought, "What the.$@@!" There were all these cars parked there, and a LOT of big trucks, but they were hardly recognizable for what they were. They were like ice sculptures that had been roughed out by a sculptor who had gone on a break halfway done. I to this day can't imagine how long it must have taken to get those vehicles accessible after what must have been something like ten hours of a heavy icy rain. Tax Day maybe?

So I arrived at the buffet. The next hint that all was not well was that a "suit" took my money at the buffet register and apologized for the "limited offerings" because some of the employees weren't able to get to work. It didn't strike me that the offerings were limited or below standard. I had a wonderful breakfast and started back toward the tournament room. Along the way, about at the Graeter's ice cream shop, I ran into a friend who asked me if I had been outside, I said, "Why would I go outside. I'm at the Derby." He said, "You've got to go outside. You've got to hear this." I thought, "Hear? What's to hear?" But, on his say-so, I did go outside. From every compass point all you could hear was the roar of chain saws. There was three hundred and sixty degrees surround sound of nothing but the Stihl and Husqvarna Philharmonic, with a falling tree limb providing an occasional light triangle sound for percussion.

I still hadn't really caught on, however, about the situation we were in, "I'm all right, Jack. Push off!" being my life motto. Ronnie Allen was scheduled to play a match upstairs in the small tournament overflow room, the one with maybe the tables in the high twenties, and my mind was on that. Ronnie arrived in a white rage. He had conceived a hatred for the state of Indiana and wished it would become the center of a nuclear attack. This was literally his expressed wish. It reminded me of the first time I had ever heard a person actually blaspheme. I don't mean swear. I mean blaspheme, that is, curse God. {Of course that experience had also come in a pool context.} As I was thinking what in the world would make a person issue such an imprecation, Ronnie provided the reason. The casino had run out of beer. Worse, it was impossible to bring any more in.

Well, nothing will awaken you to the gravity of a situation like finding out there is no beer, but I was about to get a clearer indicator of how deep the hole was we were in. After the Ronnie Allen match, I went back downstairs to the entrance to the tournament room. You will recall that, in those blessed days, they sold coffee and snacks right at the entrance. There was a line of about twelve people waiting to be served by a single employee, an attractive young blond girl who was having a hard time keeping up for usually there were three or four employees manning that station. At the front of the line there were three or four guys with New Jersey accents, and the one who at that moment was being served was chatting this girl up, in other words fulfilling his felt obligation to flirt with a female so young and tender even when it was clear that nothing was going to come of it. A guy's gotta do what a guy's gotta do, even when he's fifty and she's twenty. Mister North Bergen says to this child, "You need some help here." She looks at him right in the face and says, "What I need is to go to the bathroom." North Bergen says, "What do you mean 'go to the bathroom?' If you have to go to the bathroom, just go to the bathroom." Miss Indiana says, " I haven't been to the bathroom for two hours and I can't go to the bathroom because there's nobody to cover the register if I do go." The Garden State resident stands in stunned silence for a second, and then he says to her, "Honey, all the thieves are in this line. Isn't that right, guys?" addressing the queue of pool players. "We're all thieves, and we swear on our honor that if you go to the bathroom we will watch the register and make sure that no other thieves come along and steal anything. Is that right, guys?" Everybody goes along with it. We all nod our heads and swear that we will neither steal anything ourselves nor allow any late arriving thieves to steal anything. Sure enough the young lady takes off and we all stand there for five or ten minutes while she does what even a cute girl's gotta do every couple of hours.

The next day I moved my weather band radio downstairs to that area with the snacks, and people would huddle around it to find out whether it was safe yet to head home. I remember two guys from Wisconsin being told that they would be all right going on Thursday but to make sure that they got all the way home that day because Friday would again be nasty. A couple of guys from Austria took pictures of the ice outside and transmitted them back home. The people who received them wrote back and asked what place in the world had weather like that. That's Austria, not Australia! When I left the hotel at six AM on Saturday I had to negotiate a tree which, during the night, had fallen and blocked one half of the exit road from the hotel to the highway. The hotel was still unaware of it.

So it's NOT the Titanic and a lifeboat. But it was still a DCC to remember. Wouldn't have missed it for anything!
What year was that? Maybe about 15 years ago? Also, how long has Ronnie been gone now? Time flies. Everything in my mind is either pre-covid or post-covid or maybe I should say pre-Armageddon or post-Armageddon.
 

Biloxi Boy

Man With A Golden Arm
From the time DCC left EW, there have been complaints. And as I recall, Sullivan's reply has always been something along the lines of "I am over a barrel and I want to find a better deal". If I am wrong, please straighten me out.

Forget about moving to a place with adequate space, etc., what I fundamentally do not understand is the total lack of improvement in the area of food -- seems to be worse now than ever. Food is a detail which Sullivan could address contractually -- basic form: "casino must provide X, Y, Z, during the hours of 1, 2, 3". Does he just not care or is he that powerless? This situation has passed the point of absurdity. If someone has an explanation for this quandary, please speak up.
 
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