adsman
04-08-2005, 11:30 AM
I only ever see trip reports from first world casinos. First world casinos are fun but if you break the rules too heavily, then you're out. Third world casinos on the other end, well, you can do just like you do in the third world. Whateverthefuckyouwant.
I worked in Uganda for two years as a riverguide back in 99/2000. I've still got a lot of mates there and I went back last month for a catch-up and a bashing on the mighty White Nile River. Got picked up at the airport by Mick and Shane, (both riverguides) and Angela, Mick's highly irrational English rose girlfriend who has the habit of taking her clothes off and trying to sleep with anybody when she gets too drunk. They informed me that we were going to have a night at the Kampala Casino. Great, I thought, I'll get to play some poker and show these noobs a thing or two. The first thing we did was drop some tabs. This acid was procured from some rafting customers from Seattle. Turns out that their family has been making this secret recipie since the 60's, they only make a limited batch per year, and only for friends and those in the know. It was liquid acid, and we poured it on some crackers and chomped away. We had a few crackers that we put aside, (coated in acid), for later use. We then start talking and I tell them about an idea that I got from an old 2+2 thread about putting someone tied up in the boot of the car when we arrive at the casino. Everyone thinks thats a great idea and Shane gets nominated as the "victim". We pull over the side of the highway, Shane lies down, we tie him up, and then hoist him into the boot, which we slam down with glee. Numerous cars have passed us in this time. Nobody stops. This is Africa.
We drive up to the casino in our piece of shiit nissan thing, everyone else has mercedes etc, which is crazy when you look at the state of the roads. The dude is there to park our car. Ugandan dressed up to the nines with the park-the-car-dude-uniform. We get out, hand him the keys, and just as he's about to sit down, Shane bangs about three or four times in the boot. He looks at us we eyes the size of dinnerplates and says;
"what is that??"
Me and Mick look at each other. "what?" Mick says.
Shane bangs again.
"That!!" says the ugandan with some fear and urgency in his voice.
"I don't hear anything," I say.
"There is person in the car!!" parker dude says.
"Yeah," says Mick. "You."
"No, no! Other person!"
"Other person?" repeats Mick in a dumb voice, looking at me with raised eyebrows. "What other person?"
Shane launches a tirade of banging. He told us later that he was finding it difficult to breathe. "There! That other person!"
Mick and I walk around to the boot and stand there looking at it. Parker dude follows us. The look on his face is that he would really prefer to just park the car and get rid of these crazy white guys (Muzungu's, to Ugandans.) There is now a small line of cars waiting to be parked. A rich looking Ugandan gets out of his Merc and comes over to us. "What is the trouble?" he says.
"No trouble" we say. Shane bangs loudly again. The rich ugandan looks at us, looks at the boot, turns and gets back into his car without a word. Parkerdude tells us that he can't park our car if there is someone banging in the boot. I show him a tenner. "What about for ten bucks?" Parkerdude with a big smile says that will be fine. We give him the $10 and walk inside, pissing ourselves laughing as the car drives away with a now sustained and desperate banging coming from the rear.
Inside I bump into an old south african guy that I vaguely used to know. Safari guy, blots out the sun he's so big. I make small talk because I'm desperate to see if there's a poker game going. There is, but its poker against the dealer. I'm gutted. Mick says lets just play anyway. At this point the acid is kicking in and I think, what the fcuk, so we sit down. Angela walks in with Shane, who is looking pissed, as the plan was for him to leap out of the car in front of the casino and run off screaming into the night. We buy him a drink. The poker game against the dealer is crap and we quickly get bored. Angela is at the bar where she's quickly getting shiitfaced. I see her take off her jacket and I know we're in trouble. The acid gives us this incredible compulsion to play by using other peoples chips. I start this off by reaching over to the guy next to me and taking four or five of his chips, and placing them on my own betting area. He looks at me, I look back and give him a smile. He nods, gives me a very weak smile, and says nothing. Cool. I do it to him again three hands later, (I'm losing heavily.) Same result. I do it three more times until he gets up and goes to another table. Not a word said. Angela at this point has kicked off her shoes and is waving me over to the bar. I wander over and she starts telling me how much she has missed me and wouldn't it be great if she blew me right here at the bar. I said that I thought Mick might have a problem with that. We look over at Mick to see him slide off his stool, hit his head on the table and collapse in a puddle on the floor. Maybe not. Angela gives me a smile and I chicken out and go and help Mick. I look back to see Angela walk into the bathroom with the barman. (By the way, this casino is really small. It only has one room, long and narrow, but its packed.)
Shane has been continuing my trick of gambling with other peoples chips. Maybe its the acid gleam in our eye but noone has said anything yet. Another plus with this acid is that you can drink as much as you like without any noticeable side effects. We drink as much as we can. Ugandan beer, (Nile River Special) comes in 500ml bottles and is 6.8%. I take up where I left off and reach over to the south african guy and lift a whole handfull of chips from his stack. "Welcome back to Africa Adam" he says and takes about half of them back. Cool. I bet every single last one of those chips on my next hand and win. I tip the dealer and keep the rest.
We get kicked out at 5am when it closes and we go outside to get the car. Parking dude brings it to us with a big smile. We tip him $10, open the boot, Shane gets meekly inside, and we drive off. We turn the corner and Mick drives the car straight through the front window of a jewelery store. The glass comes crashing down and we sit there in amazement for a few seconds. Mick says, "oops", reverses the car, and we take off through the early morning streets of central Kampala, Shane yelling out "What the fcuk was that??" from the boot. Micks driving for some reason is highly erratic. We eventually come to a police block, where incredibily Mick manages to stop the car. Mick yells out to Shane that this is cops so don't make any bashing sounds. Mick and I are in the front and Angela is sprawled out half naked in the back. After talking with us for three seconds the cop immediately accuses us of being drunk. Maybe the fact that we were sitting there with half consumed bottles of Nile Special may have had something to do with it.
"This is very bad!" says the cop. "I will have to arrest you!"
"No, no, no," says Mick. "You don't want to do that."
"Why not? You are drunk."
Mick thinks about that for a moment. "Yes, that's right. We are drunk."
"Ah!" screams the cop with glee. "Then I can arrest you!"
"No you can't." says Mick.
"Why not?"
"Because where we come from its legal to drink and drive." I look at Mick as if he's lost his mind. The cop looks at us frowning deeply. "How is this?"
"Well, where we come from, if you drink and then you drive, you have to concentrate really hard to drive, because you've been drinking, and you drive slower, so there's less accidents. In fact, we're encouraged to drink and drive."
Silence. The cop looks at me for confirmation. I take a swig of my beer. "Which country are you coming from?" he slowly asks with great suspicion.
"Australia!" we say together and we give him some great aussie smiles. He stares at us for what feels like an age, and then he says; "Ok. You can go."
"Thanks dude," I say. "You boys must be really hungry and thirsty after working all night. Do you want a beer each?" The cop smiles and waves his partner over. We give them a beer each and then Mick says; "Hey we've still got some crackers left. Do you want some crackers boys?"
My best casino trip ever.
I worked in Uganda for two years as a riverguide back in 99/2000. I've still got a lot of mates there and I went back last month for a catch-up and a bashing on the mighty White Nile River. Got picked up at the airport by Mick and Shane, (both riverguides) and Angela, Mick's highly irrational English rose girlfriend who has the habit of taking her clothes off and trying to sleep with anybody when she gets too drunk. They informed me that we were going to have a night at the Kampala Casino. Great, I thought, I'll get to play some poker and show these noobs a thing or two. The first thing we did was drop some tabs. This acid was procured from some rafting customers from Seattle. Turns out that their family has been making this secret recipie since the 60's, they only make a limited batch per year, and only for friends and those in the know. It was liquid acid, and we poured it on some crackers and chomped away. We had a few crackers that we put aside, (coated in acid), for later use. We then start talking and I tell them about an idea that I got from an old 2+2 thread about putting someone tied up in the boot of the car when we arrive at the casino. Everyone thinks thats a great idea and Shane gets nominated as the "victim". We pull over the side of the highway, Shane lies down, we tie him up, and then hoist him into the boot, which we slam down with glee. Numerous cars have passed us in this time. Nobody stops. This is Africa.
We drive up to the casino in our piece of shiit nissan thing, everyone else has mercedes etc, which is crazy when you look at the state of the roads. The dude is there to park our car. Ugandan dressed up to the nines with the park-the-car-dude-uniform. We get out, hand him the keys, and just as he's about to sit down, Shane bangs about three or four times in the boot. He looks at us we eyes the size of dinnerplates and says;
"what is that??"
Me and Mick look at each other. "what?" Mick says.
Shane bangs again.
"That!!" says the ugandan with some fear and urgency in his voice.
"I don't hear anything," I say.
"There is person in the car!!" parker dude says.
"Yeah," says Mick. "You."
"No, no! Other person!"
"Other person?" repeats Mick in a dumb voice, looking at me with raised eyebrows. "What other person?"
Shane launches a tirade of banging. He told us later that he was finding it difficult to breathe. "There! That other person!"
Mick and I walk around to the boot and stand there looking at it. Parker dude follows us. The look on his face is that he would really prefer to just park the car and get rid of these crazy white guys (Muzungu's, to Ugandans.) There is now a small line of cars waiting to be parked. A rich looking Ugandan gets out of his Merc and comes over to us. "What is the trouble?" he says.
"No trouble" we say. Shane bangs loudly again. The rich ugandan looks at us, looks at the boot, turns and gets back into his car without a word. Parkerdude tells us that he can't park our car if there is someone banging in the boot. I show him a tenner. "What about for ten bucks?" Parkerdude with a big smile says that will be fine. We give him the $10 and walk inside, pissing ourselves laughing as the car drives away with a now sustained and desperate banging coming from the rear.
Inside I bump into an old south african guy that I vaguely used to know. Safari guy, blots out the sun he's so big. I make small talk because I'm desperate to see if there's a poker game going. There is, but its poker against the dealer. I'm gutted. Mick says lets just play anyway. At this point the acid is kicking in and I think, what the fcuk, so we sit down. Angela walks in with Shane, who is looking pissed, as the plan was for him to leap out of the car in front of the casino and run off screaming into the night. We buy him a drink. The poker game against the dealer is crap and we quickly get bored. Angela is at the bar where she's quickly getting shiitfaced. I see her take off her jacket and I know we're in trouble. The acid gives us this incredible compulsion to play by using other peoples chips. I start this off by reaching over to the guy next to me and taking four or five of his chips, and placing them on my own betting area. He looks at me, I look back and give him a smile. He nods, gives me a very weak smile, and says nothing. Cool. I do it to him again three hands later, (I'm losing heavily.) Same result. I do it three more times until he gets up and goes to another table. Not a word said. Angela at this point has kicked off her shoes and is waving me over to the bar. I wander over and she starts telling me how much she has missed me and wouldn't it be great if she blew me right here at the bar. I said that I thought Mick might have a problem with that. We look over at Mick to see him slide off his stool, hit his head on the table and collapse in a puddle on the floor. Maybe not. Angela gives me a smile and I chicken out and go and help Mick. I look back to see Angela walk into the bathroom with the barman. (By the way, this casino is really small. It only has one room, long and narrow, but its packed.)
Shane has been continuing my trick of gambling with other peoples chips. Maybe its the acid gleam in our eye but noone has said anything yet. Another plus with this acid is that you can drink as much as you like without any noticeable side effects. We drink as much as we can. Ugandan beer, (Nile River Special) comes in 500ml bottles and is 6.8%. I take up where I left off and reach over to the south african guy and lift a whole handfull of chips from his stack. "Welcome back to Africa Adam" he says and takes about half of them back. Cool. I bet every single last one of those chips on my next hand and win. I tip the dealer and keep the rest.
We get kicked out at 5am when it closes and we go outside to get the car. Parking dude brings it to us with a big smile. We tip him $10, open the boot, Shane gets meekly inside, and we drive off. We turn the corner and Mick drives the car straight through the front window of a jewelery store. The glass comes crashing down and we sit there in amazement for a few seconds. Mick says, "oops", reverses the car, and we take off through the early morning streets of central Kampala, Shane yelling out "What the fcuk was that??" from the boot. Micks driving for some reason is highly erratic. We eventually come to a police block, where incredibily Mick manages to stop the car. Mick yells out to Shane that this is cops so don't make any bashing sounds. Mick and I are in the front and Angela is sprawled out half naked in the back. After talking with us for three seconds the cop immediately accuses us of being drunk. Maybe the fact that we were sitting there with half consumed bottles of Nile Special may have had something to do with it.
"This is very bad!" says the cop. "I will have to arrest you!"
"No, no, no," says Mick. "You don't want to do that."
"Why not? You are drunk."
Mick thinks about that for a moment. "Yes, that's right. We are drunk."
"Ah!" screams the cop with glee. "Then I can arrest you!"
"No you can't." says Mick.
"Why not?"
"Because where we come from its legal to drink and drive." I look at Mick as if he's lost his mind. The cop looks at us frowning deeply. "How is this?"
"Well, where we come from, if you drink and then you drive, you have to concentrate really hard to drive, because you've been drinking, and you drive slower, so there's less accidents. In fact, we're encouraged to drink and drive."
Silence. The cop looks at me for confirmation. I take a swig of my beer. "Which country are you coming from?" he slowly asks with great suspicion.
"Australia!" we say together and we give him some great aussie smiles. He stares at us for what feels like an age, and then he says; "Ok. You can go."
"Thanks dude," I say. "You boys must be really hungry and thirsty after working all night. Do you want a beer each?" The cop smiles and waves his partner over. We give them a beer each and then Mick says; "Hey we've still got some crackers left. Do you want some crackers boys?"
My best casino trip ever.