Jimmmmmaaaaayyyyyy!!!!!!

My friends, Scott and Sarah, decided to have a bash in Atlantic City to celebrate their upcoming birthdays. Gambling, alcohol and my friends – what could go wrong?

We arrived at the Econo Lodge in Sommer’s Point, NJ, just outside of Atlantic City on Saturday afternoon. That’s right, we’re high rollers. The hotel was completely empty, but we were asked to give our license plate numbers. Apparently, “we’re the only two cars here is the appropriate answer.”

We settled into the hotel rooms and decided to hit the T.G.I. Friday’s across the street before heading to the big AC. Like I said before, we’re high rollers. A couple of beers later we were ready to gamble.

We asked the bartender to call a cab. Twenty minutes later a van pulled up. And that’s when we met Jimmy (a.k.a. Jimmmmmaaaayyyyyyy). Let’s just say, Jimmy was the man. He was our own personal cab-driver extraordinaire.

On our way to Atlantic City, Jimmy wowed us with stories of big wins and bad driving. We all arrived at the Tropicana in one piece and worked out a deal with Jimmy to pick us up later that night. Those cabbies are sooooo smart - get the money before everyone loses it.

We made a quick lap around the casino, realizing that somehow we missed coming in at the VIP entrance. Anyway, the boys raced off to the Blackjack tables and the girls sought out the slots.

I sat down at the first machine and won $6.55. WoooooooWooooo. I was off to a great start. We played a couple more machine and then ventured off to find our luck else where. Sarah and I stumbled upon the Dick Clark’s Rockin New Year’s Eve slot machine.

This game was crazy. Complete with its own video countdown, we were able to ring in the New Year several times. Sarah and I, never being ones to miss a good time, counted along with the machine each time the video showed the ball dropping in Times Square.

I have to say that Dick treated us pretty well. Sarah and I both came out ahead and decided to meet back up with the group for dinner.

We wined and dinned at P.F. Chang’s, gambled some more and after the boy’s lost a significant amount of money decided to go. We called our good friend, Jimmy, and he was there in a flash. Jimmy suggested that we check out a local bar called Caroline’s. Not ready to call it a night, we agreed.

Now a little more about Jimmy –
Jimmy belongs in the tour guide category of cabbies. You know the type who like to point out local historical places and other interesting things. On the way back from Tropicana, Jimmy gave us the tour. He took us the back way to the bar pointing out houses his father built and telling us who lived where. Then the tour took a weird turn.

Jimmy pointed out to us where the bodies of recently murdered girls had shown up. At this point let’s just say horror movie scenes started running through our heads. Okay, there were eight of us someone could call 911 before he got us all. Maybe the drinking and time of night was going to our heads because we arrived at Caroline’s without incident and police intervention.

Caroline’s was filled with practically every Jersey stereotype imaginable. Thankfully we found a table in an empty section at the back of the bar. We hung out, talked and I helped Annie find a man. Okay, I’m not the best wing-woman in the world. I did get a “What’s up shortie?” so I was pleased.

After an hour and a half, as you could imagine, we were dying to get out of there. Magically, the phone rang and it was Jimmy. “Hey, I’m outside whenever you are ready to leave.” And in the words of my friend, Sarah, “I’ve never seen Bridgman move that fast.” Jimmy was our hero.

Jimmy dropped us off at the hotel and we called it a night. It was a good trip.