A fave getaway for the 'wife' and me is the sumptuous Borgata hotel just 2 hours away in Atlantic City. It is by far the best destination there and puts all AC's other casino/hotels to shame. Soaring ceilings, Dale Chauilily chandeliers, ultra-modern appointments and every amenity you can imagine at your fingertips ... a private world totally removed from all reality or responsibility. It's all about feeding our Id with endless drinking, gambling, sucking, fucking, snorting, spa treatments, buffet gorging, shopping, and more of the same.
I find the crowd at the other AC casinos to be either blue-haired old ladies with bags of coins, burned out drunks and crackheads altercating with bouncers. The Borgata however has a crowd that is very "upscale trash", i.e. guidos and their Carmela Soprano-girlfriends from Philly and Jersey partying with some Manhattanites and New Yorkers thrown in the mix and other high-roller types from L.A. and Florida. The tackiness of it appeals to me on some perverse level, also there are usually good frat boy eye candy treats to peruse, though in terms of quantity it doesn't compare to Vegas.
At some point I always indulge at the hotel's maxi-luxurious spa with a full-body massage, facial, reflexology and mani-pedi. This has become a mandatory part of the trip for me. Afterwards I lounge in the hot tub or steam room, then perhaps a swim in the giant pool located in the atrium. When it's done I feel like a million bucks and a new person.
The main draw of course are the games ... I love blackjack and roulette and usually play for hours. Naturally there are no clocks or windows in the casino so one never knows what time of day it is. Eventually I'd like to try poker as well. The wife enjoys craps but I find it a little too intimidating with the skyrocket pace and the high energy mob mentality of the crowd. Still though I can appreciae the comradery that it builds. Usually we crawl back to our room at 3 a.m. or so, order an extra bottle of wine or champagne from room service before crashing.
In the morning we visit the all-you-can-eat breakfast buffet to indulge in some serious Chastity Bono-style face stuffing. (two weeks of Dextrim pill-popping to follow upon returning home for waistline recovery)
The rest of Atlantic City is a strange place. At one end of town is the Boardwalk overlooking the beach and ocean with most of the major casinos lined up alongside each other. Bally's, Caeser's Palace, the Taj Mahal, the Sands, etc. At the other end of town is the Marina where the Borgata, Trump Marina and Harrah's are located. Everything in between is pretty much blocks and blocks of inner city shantys and decaying 3-story housing projects. The main thoroughfares contain lots of fast food, dive bars and pawn shops. I noticed two or three blocks of beautiful apartment buildings and private houses, an attempt by someone at some kind of new gentrification development. Otherwise it's classic urban blight all the way. This time we availed ourselves of some of the outlet stores and picked up a few gorge items at Calvin Klein. In warmer months the wife enjoys strolling the Boardwalk, but in the winter I love just staying at the Borgata the whole time and never leaving, wallowing and enjoying *oink*oink*oink*