Your task is simple on voting day - if you're unhappy with the way things are going, vote 'em out of office. At the very least, vote. If you refuse to take that responsibility as a citizen, then what the hell are you doing here?
Ok where were we...
After checking in, I made a bee-line to my room. A woman making her way to her room gave me a sidelong stare with a clear message, "Stay away from me, bitch." I resolved to do just that. I'm accommodating that way.
After opening the door to room 116, it only took me two seconds to determine that a room change was going to be in order. The thermostat on the AC/Heating unit was busted. Back at check-in, the nice young man swtiched me to the room right next to the dud. I grabbed my stuff and unlocked the door to room 117.
It only took me two seconds to determine that this room was karmic payback for a bug I probably stepped on or at least the lousy attitude I've been sporting of late or... whatever... it was definately payback. It smelled of stale sex, ashtrays and half-smoked butts. The walls were a sickly yellow. An odd burn mark high on the wall by the door to the bathroom had my imagination reeling as to what activity could have caused it. I didn't discover the bloodstains on the bedspread until later.
I was too cowardly to march back to the lobby and ask for another room change. I opted instead to beat a hasty retreat out of there and head to the Cherokee Casino. I put my belongings all together on the sad little sofa not daring to unpack. To do so would've given the room the impression I was okay with lodging there. I didn't want to give it the satisfaction.
Fifteen miles down the road, just off Interstate 44 at the exit for the Port of Catoosa, sits the Cherokee Casino and Resort. Etched with modern day remembrances of tribal past the hotel rises to the sky. The 95,000 square foot casino billows out from behind, ringed by parking lots making one think of circling wagons while traversing the road round in search of a spot.
A tree-lined golf course borders the north side lending the property its resort status. 
While my room karma had gone to hell in a handbasket, my parking karma was still intact. I'd remembered from a previous visit that good parking could be had on the hotel side and I was rewarded with a spot near the entrance.
The glass doors parted and I was greeted by a honey of a motor bike on display in the lobby. I didn't have to ask to find out it was built by Orange County Choppers. That was obvious at first glance. I took a cursory look around the lobby for a leather clad gent I could perhaps coax a cruise with on that beauty.... no such luck.
With a backward glance at the chopper, I made my way to the poker room which was about 94,000 square feet away. I arrived to find a poker tournament underway. A few minutes sleuthing revealed it was the Cherokee Poker Classic which concludes this coming Sunday. And the kicker - it was being hosted by Scotty Nguyen and Kathy Liebert.
Just as I discovered that information, I turned and there in front of me was Kathy Liebert chatting away with some players. Where was I again? Tulsa? Vegas? Tulsa? I was having trouble processing the information. While my brain chewed on that, I managed to get on the wait list for a 4.8 game.
Stay tuned... Next up: "Hey, baby" and a can of Glade
