At some point in time, a discussion arose in the office about "that South Park episode wherein which Cartman goes to Casa Bonita". For some reason, someone (perhaps Smath, perhaps not) decided to investigate Casa Bonita on "The Google", and so found out that it exists.

Everyone was shocked. Or completely disinterested. But immediately Vin and Scott decided that it would be imperative to go to Casa Bonita instantly. Jordan quickly volunteered to go with us.

And so it was that plane tickets were purchased, a car was rented, and a hotel booked. We were to fly to Denver on a Friday, returning on Sunday evening, full of Mexican goodness.

We set off early on JetBlue Airways from JFK to Denver. With great confidence, Scott drove Vinny to the wrong terminal where Jordan (and the flight) were not. The Air Train rectified that, Jordan was found, some crap was confiscated by security (Jordan bought coffee right before the checkpoint in a stroke of genius [at this time, you still cannot bring fluids on a plane -- except humans are made mostly of fluid.. but I digress]. Then he found out there was free coffee on the plane).

An uneventful flight followed with the aid of either Xanax or Ambien.

Some shitty bus took us to the Hertz where a lady was too stupid to understand that they had the car in stock which we reserved. She kept insisting that other cars were available, but then at the last minute pulled the Cadillac out of her computer's ass.

We drove to the Hyatt where some fuck-toad car-valet told us that Casa Bonita was a shitty place to eat, rendering our long journey useless in his mind. The hotel was very nice, although someone wanted to stay at some crap like Motel 6, although I won't mention Jordan's name. This hotel was far swankier, and some pictures are right here:

Ze lobby	Climbing men	Fancy elevators	Indoor pool	Outdoor hot tub

Vin's bed	The Mouse	TV (obviously)	Jordan & Scott

We decided to lunch at Sonic because there are none near where we live. Jordan decided to remain in the hotel to make use of their fantastic gym.

It was quite good, especially since we hadn't eaten all day.

"DENVER"	Scott eats	Vin eats

There are casinos about 45 minutes away from downtown Denver. We decided to go there.

The casinos are all in or near Black Hawk, a weird, weird place. It's quite a drive through the mountains to get there, and upon arriving it appears to be a shitty, bumblefuck town. To our surprise, however, all the bumblefuck houses are actually hotels and/or casinos. "Hmmm", we thought.

Perhaps the most surprising part of the whole deal is that, unlike Atlantic City or Vegas, they discourage drinking, and all bets are capped at $5. (The few drinks they'll let you have are free, though).

We played some blackjack and some other poker-type game, then hit the slots. Vin was set on playing Jackpot Party, so we waited for some retarded lady to finish pushing buttons well after her money ran out. Finally she was done, and we spent some money on that shit-eater game. (For the record, the lady was not literally afflicted with Down Syndrome or somesuch, but rather she was retarded in the sense of being dumb as all hell).

Mountains	More mountains	A casino	Another casino

...	Inside a casino	Again

Finally we'd had enough of gambling and decided to head back to the hotel. We did.

Sadly, there are no pictures of our fantastic dinner at Oscar's Steakhouse. They also do not have a website. You'd think, "hmmm, maybe they're amish", but no, they had electricity, LCD TVs and hot girls at the restaurant. So that picture there is not of the steak we ate, but rather some picture of steak from Google images.

Regardless, it's a good fuckin' place to eat. They did a black and blue steak properly. Jordan ate a 24 oz. porterhouse by himself. We got lobster mac & cheese as a side, and there were chunks of lobster the size of my fist in that fucker. (Well, maybe not my fist, but some shittier fist anyways). Damn it was good. The twice-baked potatoes were also huge. And fuckin' good.

We then went out drinking, and visited a "fine" strip club in Denver's stripping district. It was terrible, and apparently the lap dances in Denver are quite the bee's anus.