Chapter 24: Fremont Street Frenzy
The neon-soaked spectacle of Fremont Street greeted the trio with open arms as they stepped out of their Uber onto the bustling pedestrian thoroughfare. Unlike the polished grandeur of the Strip,
downtown Las Vegas had a raw, electric energy that buzzed through the air like an overcharged slot machine.
“Now
this is the real Vegas,” Juan said, taking in the flashing lights, street performers, and the chaotic hum of voices blending with the sounds of slot machines spilling out of old-school casinos.
Brenda wrinkled her nose. “It smells like deep-fried regret.”
Price smirked. “That’s just old Vegas charm.”
The Madness Begins
As they wandered under the massive LED canopy of the
Fremont Street Experience, a pulsating light show erupted overhead, bathing the entire street in a dizzying display of colors and animations. Tourists and locals alike stood in awe, necks craned upward.
Brenda nudged Juan. “You should do the SlotZilla zipline.”
Juan scoffed. “No chance. I don’t trust anything in this city that’s held together with more neon than structural integrity.”
Instead, they strolled past costumed street performers—one dressed as a disturbingly off-brand Spider-Man, another as a shirtless cowboy with an acoustic guitar—before being lured into
Binion’s Gambling Hall by a flashing sign that promised
$3 Blackjack.
“Alright,” Price said, cracking his knuckles. “Now
this is my kind of blackjack.”
The Low-Stakes Table
Unlike the ritzy high-roller rooms on the Strip, this table had a mix of tourists in cargo shorts and old-timers who looked like they hadn’t left since the 1980s. The dealer, a middle-aged woman with a raspy voice that suggested she’d seen it all, barely glanced at them as they sat down.
“You kids ready to lose some money?” she asked, shuffling the deck with practiced ease.
Juan grinned. “We’ll see about that.”
Twenty minutes later, they were
absolutely losing money.
Brenda groaned, throwing another chip onto the felt. “Why do I feel like this casino is actively against me?”
Price, who had wisely kept his bets small, shrugged. “Because it is.”
As they finished the round, the dealer gave them a wry smile. “Y’all ain’t too bad. I’ve seen worse.”
Juan sighed. “I think that was supposed to be a compliment.”
The Golden Nugget and a Wild Bet
After cashing out—Price barely breaking even, Brenda and Juan licking their wounds—they made their way to
The Golden Nugget, another downtown staple.
Brenda’s eyes lit up at the sight of a
gigantic golden nugget encased in glass. “That’s an
actual gold nugget?”
Juan leaned in. “What if we staged a heist?”
Price shook his head. “One, we’d fail. Two, it’s probably worth less than what we lost at blackjack.”
Instead of planning a grand theft, they settled at the casino’s
Shark Tank Bar, which had an
actual shark tank behind it. Sipping on oversized cocktails, Juan made a bold proclamation.
“One last bet before we leave,” he said, spinning his drink in his hand. “Something
stupid.”
Brenda raised an eyebrow. “Define ‘stupid.’”
Juan grinned. “I put a hundred bucks on
red at the roulette table.”
Price exhaled. “This is exactly how people end up selling their kidneys in Vegas.”
But Brenda was already on board. “Let’s do it.”
The Roulette Gamble
They found an open roulette table, the dealer giving them an indifferent nod. Juan slid a crisp hundred-dollar bill onto the felt.
“Red,” he declared confidently.
The dealer spun the wheel, and the trio watched with bated breath as the ball clattered around the numbers.
It bounced. Skipped. Landed.
Red.
Juan threw his hands in the air. “YES! Finally, Vegas pays me back!”
Brenda cheered while Price smirked, shaking his head. “You’ll just lose it again tomorrow.”
Juan grabbed his winnings. “That’s
future Juan’s problem.”
The Walk Back
As they strolled back down Fremont Street, buzzing from their victory, a man in an Elvis costume nodded at them.
“Y’all got that Vegas luck tonight, huh?”
Brenda grinned. “Something like that.”
Juan twirled a chip between his fingers. “Maybe Fremont isn’t so bad after all.”
Price, ever the realist, gestured at a stumbling tourist trying to ride a mechanical bull in the middle of the street. “Let’s just get out of here before we end up like
that guy.”
Laughing, they made their way toward the taxi line, another Vegas memory in the books.
To be continued...
