Downtown kostenlos spielen - Spielgeld-Casino.com

Do they have HR Cincy branded merch yet? I’m wanting a shot glass or something from them but don’t wanna waste time if it’s not in yet

I was thinking about going to the buffet for dinner, but couldn’t find a website with hours or anything.

Been hearing a lot of talk around the poker tables of a downtown Casino being looked into again. Would you be for it, or against it?
Personally I would be forward it. Why not? Plus driving to Hammond sucks.

I was listening to the radio on my way to work this morning and the discussion was centered around the pros and cons of putting a casino downtown. What does hamilton think about this?

The buy in is $25 with unlimited $15 re-buys for the first hour. There will be a max of 10 players. We already have 5, including a previous main event winner.
Edit: It is on Thursday at 4pm.

Councilor Farr is hosting a Casino Town Hall meeting, details are found at http://www.jasonfarr.com/ If you can't attend you can always let him know your thoughts by taking the online poll

The buy in is $25 with unlimited $15 re-buys for the first hour. There will be a max of 10 players. We already have 5, including a previous main event winner.
Edit: It is on Thursday at 4pm.

I work in a small bar in Reno. We’re away from the casinos downtown that attract the most tourists, but we’re tucked away near a couple of bigger, separate casinos. We’re a hole in the wall but we do get our share of people wandering in, taking a break from the busy, crowded casinos they’re staying in. We’re also on a couple of major bus routes, so we get locals of all classes and descriptions. Mostly, though, we’re pretty quiet.
Especially these days. Shifts can be long and lonely.
So I wasn’t entirely sure how to feel one night last week when, about ten minutes before I could have closed for the night and two hours after the last customer left, a woman walked into the bar. Two hours of doing nothing had made me eager to leave, but these days it’s hard to turn down even a few potential tip dollars.
I bit down my irritation and greeted her with a smile. At least until I walked down the bar closer to her and got a good look at her face.
She was obviously distressed. Not actively, maybe, but she wore the shadows of exhaustion like dark makeup smeared under her eyes. She was rail thin, unkempt. Dark curling hair in a ponytail that didn’t look like it had seen a brush in a while. Clothes that looked well worn and not well washed. I would have thought she was a tweaker - we get those pretty often too, it’s Reno - but her eyes were clear enough and she didn’t seem to have the shakes. She seemed utterly exhausted.
She looked about thirty if you stood back and squinted. If you came close and met her eyes she looked about three hundred.
But hey, I’m a professional. I set a coaster in front of her and asked what she wanted.
“Shot of whiskey,” she said, and her voice rasped out of her like tires over gravel. “Highest proof you have.”
We’re not a high class joint, but we have a decent 100 proof. I poured her a shot and slid it over, and the second it was in her reach it was down her throat, and the empty glass slid back to me.
“Another one. Please.”
Fair enough. But the second shot vanished as fast as the first. She gestured for a third one, but I poured it a little more slowly.
“Bad day?” I asked, since acting like a therapist is, of course, part of the job.
She snorted, threw down the third shot, and seemed to realize I wasn’t going to keep them coming so fast. She sighed. “Can I get the same thing on the rocks? I’m just staying up the road, I’m not driving.”
I made the drink, feeling her eyes on me the whole time. This time I rang up the whole tab before I went back to her, and gave her the total. She slid a few big bills across to me, which confirmed at least that she wasn’t in withdrawal from anything, at least not for financial reasons.
As she sipped her drink, I debated whether I could go back and sit at the end of the bar and stare at my phone some more without threatening my tip.
She answered that for me by peering at me suddenly. “Do you think people have souls?”
Oh boy.
I put on that faux-thoughtful look I was so practiced at, the one that came to me the minute someone started spouting off about religion or politics or anything else I vowed not to have opinions about while I was on the clock.
“I don’t know,” I said, my standard response. “I’m not really a philosopher.”
She stared at me. “What do you think?”
For the record, I hate that kind of thing so much. I work in customer service. If you’re not one of the regulars I’ve waited on for the two years I’ve worked here, then I have no beliefs or opinions or anything else. I am an empty vessel meant to provide thoughtful nods and lots of alcohol. That’s it.
Still, she looked intense, and it was close enough to quitting time that I could be magnanimous. So I answered her for real.
“I think...there’s something about humanity that makes us different. Millions of species of animals on the planet, and none of them come anywhere near us in terms of society and art and culture. There’s something special inside of us. You could call that a soul, I guess.”
She nodded, looking satisfied. “You’re right. There is something inside of us. I don’t think it makes us special, though. I think it makes us damned.”
Oookay. I drew back a little, grabbing a rag to polish an already clean spot on the back bar. “Yeah, I’m not very religious or whatever, so.”
“I’m not talking about religion. I’m talking about what happens to us after we die.”
My eyebrows rose. “Is that not religion?”
“No. They’re wrong. Every one of them. Anyone who thinks we go to some shiny white afterlife, or a fiery hell, or we come back as a cow or whatever the fuck. Even the people who think we just dissolve into the air like pure energy. Even the people who think we die and that’s that, nothing but blackness and rest afterwards.”
“All of them are wrong, huh? Doesn’t leave many options.”
I don’t think she appreciated the lightness in my tone. But for fuck’s sake, I’m not paid to be a sounding board for people. Most of the time I just don’t care what my customers talk about. When they go right for the Big Issues I tend to blank out entirely.
“I died almost a year ago,” she said, her voice sharp. Before I could gently peel her drink from her clenched hand, she went on. “I got revived, but I was clinically dead for almost ten minutes.”
“Ah.” I smiled faintly. “I don’t know whether to say I’m sorry or congratulations on coming back.”
“Don’t say anything. It’s the worst thing that ever happened to me. I saw it, lady. I know what happens when we die. And it’s worse than any hell you could imagine.”
Admittedly, I was curious. Fifty-fifty on whether she was just a crackpot, but the tension in her voice and those shadows under her eyes...those were hard to deny.
So I went ahead and asked. “So...you saw...what? The real hell?”
“No. Hell is a fucking fairy tale. It’s bullshit. You know what happens to us when we die? Absolutely fucking nothing.”
“And that’s…bad?”
“I don’t mean nothing like everything goes black and that’s that. I mean nothing. It’s not like falling asleep, it’s not like a coma. Your body fucking dies, and your soul stays right where the fuck it is.” She took a deep draw of her whiskey. “I was dead for ten minutes. I died in the ambulance. Overdose,” she said, staring at me intently, waiting for me to judge it.
I didn’t. I wasn’t thinking much except that I wished I’d closed ten minutes earlier that night.
“I died with my eyes open. My body was gone, okay? Nothing, no feeling. No breath, no heartbeat. But I was stuck inside of it. I could see what was happening around me but not really understand it. I could hear things, but like I was underwater. And my...my soul or my energy or whatever the hell you want to call it...it knew. It understood. This was the beginning, not the end. I was going to be put in some cold storage, autopsied, dressed up fancy for some viewing, and put into the ground to rot. And I was going to be stuck inside of this prison for the whole thing. Our souls...we don’t leave. We don’t stop. We are going to last forever, stuck inside of rotting bodies buried in dark holes. No sights, no sounds, no chance to escape. It’s like…”
She looked up at me suddenly, snapping her fingers impatiently. “What is it? That thing where the doctors think someone’s a vegetable but they’re awake and aware the whole time?”
I shrugged. “I know what you’re talking about, though.”
“It’s that. But it’s forever.” She downed her drink and slid the glass across the counter. “Think I’m crazy if you want to, but I know. I lived it. I remember everything.”
I poured her a double, and poured a shot for myself. “Okay, but...there’s a lot of stories of people who died and came back, and I haven’t ever heard anything like that.”
“I know. I’ve looked everywhere.” She scowled. “You know what I think? I think that knowing you’re going to spend eternity trapped in your own body is fucking traumatizing, so people who experience even a minute of it block it out when they come back. But unlike them, my brain fucking hates me.”
Which, okay: mood. But jesus. “What about...I mean eventually your body’s not going to be there anymore.”
“Something will. Dust. Ashes if you’re cremated. In a million years, little specks of fucking carbon atoms.” She sighed. “I was there for ten minutes, months ago. And I can’t forget it. I can’t....function, just about. I can’t stop thinking that there have been billions of people on this planet, that every inch of ground we walk on is probably holding some poor souls prisoner. I pass a cemetery and can practically hear them screaming to be let go. There’s no end. I can’t sleep, because I lay there in the dark and know that I’ll spend eternity just that way. Blind and deaf and incapable of moving. Forever. Do you even….ten minutes of it felt like a year. A month will be enough to drive someone crazy. And we’ll be there for an eternity.”
She lofted her glass. “This, the drinking, is all I can do to make myself feel better for even an hour at a time. I swear, I’d be back on heroin in a second to try and forget it if I didn’t realize that I might overdose again, and end up in hell for good.” She shuddered. “I might have a few decades left in me, but it’s not like I can enjoy it. How could anyone?”
I had no answers, of course.
I didn’t believe her, not at the time. But she seemed utterly convinced, and it was a scary future to think about. She looked legit, like she hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in a year. Like she couldn’t eat, like she never smiled.
She didn’t stay long. She had one more drink, which we sat through in silence. Then she pushed away from the bar, stumbled a little as she slid off the stool.
“Want my advice?” she asked as she dropped more bills on the bar. “When it’s your time, do your best to die with your eyes open. Because it’s something, that blurry vision. It won’t last long before they shut your eyes for a viewing or tomb you in somewhere so black that it won’t matter. But it’s some kind of transition. The smallest kind of mercy. Considering everything, it’s the most you could hope for.”
She seemed unsteady on her feet as she headed for the door. Not wasted, but not sober. I expect drinking so much since her overdose had driven her tolerance up through the roof.
I want to say that I did the responsible thing and told her to wait, called her a cab, made extra sure she wasn’t driving. But that would have meant spending even a few minutes more with her, and I didn’t think I could handle that. So I let her leave.
I closed the place up fast and left there. Figured I’d go home, watch some dumb youtube videos until she seemed distant and laughable, and then go to bed and forget it ever happened.
Instead I lay there that night, still, in the darkness and the silence, and couldn’t stop thinking about being trapped that way for eternity.
She was probably a nutcase. She had overdosed on heroin, she’d implied, so whatever she thinks she experienced had to be skewed. There were too many other stories out there, light at the end of the tunnel, that kind of thing. I had - I have - no reason to believe that this one woman alone in humanity has accessed some kind of truth about life and death.
But I can’t stop thinking about it. I can’t let things get silent around me. I have to turn on a lamp to get any sleep at all. I’m scared of the dark now, scared of not being able to move. Terrified of death.
There was an article on google news the day after she came in, about a pedestrian who had been hit by a car crossing against the light two blocks from my bar. I remember hearing the sirens going by, but that wasn't particularly notable on our street, and I'd been in a hurry to leave.
I haven't looked into it. I don't know what I'm more scared of, the thought that it might be her, that me letting walk out meant it was my fault, that she had confessed her fears and then walked right into them again. Or that maybe, because it was quick, maybe she hadn't seen it coming.
Maybe her eyes weren't open in the end.

The main allure of the strip consists of the ability to hop from one mega resort to another, as well as endless array of shows, pool clubs and nightclubs with celebrity performers and DJs.
While the strip will have reopened in June, many of the resorts will remain closed, which means that instead of seamlessly hopping from one resort to the next, you will have to walk quite a bit to get from one hotel to another one that is open. This can be quite a pain given the size of the resorts and it is no fun doing all that walk in 110 degrees weather. Not to mention all the pool parties and nightclubs will remain closed throughout June. As will other live music and entertainment venues, all of which really limit what you can do there, besides getting drunk at the casinos/bars all day.
Instead of dealing with all that aggravation and inconvenience of the strip, you should look into staying downtown, where the hotels are much closer together and you have ready access to all the quirky shopsat the container park and Fremont East. The Arts district is also a short walk/bus/uber ride away with more quirky local shops bars and breweries, all of which will have been fully reopened by June, unlike the strip. So take advantage of this opportunity to explore the non/less touristy side of Vegas and save some money on hotel rooms and gambling(the minimum are lower and odds are better at both table games and slot machines at the casinos downtown).

New casino downtown Vegas. Heard they had multiple floors of blackjack tables, some with "dancing dealers". Curious as I plan a trip for February.

Are people still doing the celebrations today? Trump casino? downtown? Where are the parties at?

https://buffalonews.com/news/local/senecas-plan-one-stop-gas-station-convenience-store-in-downtown-buffalo/article_5b8b3e6c-2435-11eb-81cd-d752ba49eb38.html#tracking-source=home-top-story-1
Across the street from the Casino Downtown. Corner of Perry/Michigan.
If you ask me, the Senecas can fuck right off with the stunt they've been trying to pull against the City of Niagara Falls and NY State the last few years. Selling their gas and tobacco tax free, to non-Indians, is about as unfair and anti-local/small business as it gets.

Tifu Obligatiory this was last year I was 20yo at the time, my dad rents out some rooms at my childhood home, one of which was vacant and the other room has two girls, one was my age and the other one was around 25 we will call her "B". I was hanging out with them one afternoon chatting about all the fun things B had done (she was very adventurous, curious and experienced) We got onto the topic of drinking and it really hyped us up.
I don’t know why but the girl my age didn’t want to party other than insisting that It was going to be boring because it was a Sunday.
No problem, I had been drinking before, I would get Drunk almost every week since I was 16! ( the law of drinking age being 18 Is kind of Lenient where I live and It was made even easier to get because of my incredible Height. (I’m 6’4 this will be important later)
I was keen for it because its not everyday I get invited to go drinking with actual people. We get fetched by B’s Friends, we will call them Tom (who was driving) and Mary, and head off in search of some hard liquor. After finding 5 bars open and 3 closed having had a beer or a shot at each one (we must have used a tank of fuel) We were a bit strapped for choice, all the bars we had visited had either kicked us out (because they were about to close) or were too empty to really have fun. They insisted it was important to go where the people are!
I casually mention that Casinos often sell alcohol and are open all the time (Oh the good ol’ days).
We then very promptly left the empty bar we were mulling in and headed off to the well known Casino downtown.
When we got there we felt welcomed by the noise and made a B-line for the bar; Yes the pun was intentional, B was leading.
We order Our drinks and squint my eyes and look around to get into the groove of the smokey Brightly lit Palace. We were all a bit drunk and B and I were getting kind of close and touchy We were holding hands and flirting. Tom and Mary are making out Which just made it worse because when Love is in the air…
Its getting kind of heated between us and things were reaching that awkward silence (the perfect window for a kiss) when the bartender gave us our drinks.
He had apparently misunderstood B when she ordered the shots because Instead of bringing 4 shots for the pairs of us, he brought pairs of 4 shots (8 shots total)
We laughed it off as a sign and immediately grabbed one:
1, 2, 3, GO!
Its terrible. Sickly sousweet with a horrible aftertaste that burns my already alcohol abused throat.
I Contort my Face in disgust and B thought this was funny, Laughing at me and calling for the last 4 Shots
I grab Mine with a bit of a Delay. 1,2,3GO! They quickly finish theirs, already putting the shot glasses down by the time I put the Unicorn Piss to my lips.
I throw it into the back of my mouth and as I start my swallowing process B grabs my ass and It surprised me so much, combined with the Horrible taste In my mouth, and my already drunk self, I couldn’t keep it down. Luckily It was just the one shot in my throat but there was so much force behind it and my height and my positioning caused me to spray a thick mist of Pink droplets all over the Bar, B, Tom and Mary and the Clean; Just washed drinking glasses that were packed neatly on the other side of the bar and some when down my shirt as my head followed that arc of motion. Any hopes for romance were quickly Lost. The Bar tenders looked at me with Pain in their eyes and Other Drinkers nearby giggled and whispered to each other. My height (yet again a nuance) Meant that I was a beacon of embarrassment for All to see. I cant be much more dramatic as everyone at the slots probably didn’t even notice my existence.
I had to wait outside the bathroom while the girls and Tom cleaned up. It was a very awkward and sticky Drive home after that and I never saw Tom and Mary again.
B moved out soon after (unrelated reasons) but that night haunts me to this day.
Tldr: Went drinking with two girls and ended up getting very drunk and spewed a very sticky pink shot of alcohol all over the bar and over some girls and a guy I was drinking with.