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MGM Resorts Closes All Las Vegas Properties Effective March 17

This is the best tl;dr I could make, original reduced by 34%. (I'm a bot)
MGM Resorts International just announced that it will temporarily suspend operations at its Las Vegas properties on Tuesday, March 17.
Casino operations will close on Monday, March 16, followed by hotel operations, says Jim Murren, chairman and CEO of MGM Resorts in a press statement.
"As the coronavirus pandemic has intensified in the United States over the past week, the people of MGM Resorts have worked to try to find a way to continue delivering high quality hospitality and entertainment experiences for our guests while keeping our employees doing the jobs they love in a safe environment. Welcoming people from around the world is what we do, and our employees have tremendous pride in their work."Despite our commitment to dedicating additional resources for cleaning and promoting good health, while making difficult decisions to close certain aspects of our operations, it is now apparent that this is a public health crisis that requires major collective action if we are to slow its progression.
"Accordingly, we will close all of our Las Vegas properties as of Tuesday, March 17, for the good of our employees, guests and communities. This is a time of uncertainty across our country and the globe and we must all do our part to curtail the spread of this virus. We will plan to reopen our resorts as soon as it safe to do so and we will continue to support our employees, guests, and communities in every way that we can during this period of closure."
MGM Resorts will not be taking reservations for arrivals before May 1, but that situation may change.
Major chefs affected include Wolfgang Puck with Spago at the Bellagio, Lupo at Mandalay Bay, and Wolfgang Puck Bar & Grill at MGM Grand; Joël Robuchon's two restaurants at the MGM Grand; Roy Choi's Best Friend at the Park MGM; NoMad Restaurant and NoMad Bar at the NoMad Hotel; Tom Colicchio with Heritage Steak at the Mirage and his steakhouse at the MGM Grand; Susan Feniger and Mary Sue Milliken at Border Grill at Mandalay Bay; and Michael Mina's four-restaurants at MGM resorts.
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Going to Vegas in July - I've been doing my research so hope this can help others.

I'm going in July and have done some research.
Plenty of this is from the sidebar, but other notes are from many of other sources.
The Vegas Degenerate Tour ( . ) ( . )
Things to do:
Tips:
Clubs
Food
Sex/Swingers Clubs (Or; no, you filthy pervert - what's wrong with you?)
Drive:
Drive along east CA down US-395 and crossing over to Nevada after Death Valley is one of the greatest drives I have ever done.
Guides:
Edited to include corrections.
submitted by mkgl to vegas [link] [comments]

Phish tips for Vegas Halloweekend!

Hey everyone! I'm PUMPED for Vegas this weekend, and since I've been a bunch of times, I thought I'd draft up a list of tips I've come up with. Please comment with your own! I hope this helps even one of you. Hopefully it doesn't get too lost in the stream of posts.
Transportation to and from the airport
There are shuttle services right outside arrivals that cost $8 or $9 per person to go to your hotel. If you are traveling alone, this will be cheaper than taking a cab or rideshare service, though you might make a stop or two at other hotels along the way.
Las Vegas Monorail
Walking around Vegas with all the lights and weirdos can be fun, but sometimes you need to get somewhere faster, or can't walk that far. One major tip I have is the Las Vegas Monorail
The stops are as follows: MGM Grand, Bally's & Paris, Flamingo & Caesars Palace, Harrah's & the LINQ, Convention Center, Westgate, & SLS.
Train hours:
Monday: 7 am – 12 midnight
Tuesday: 7 am – 2 am
Wednesday: 7 am – 2 am
Thursday: 7 am – 2 am
Friday: 7 am – 3 am
Saturday: 7 am – 3 am
Sunday: 7 am – 3 am
It is $5 per ride, or you can buy multi-day passes to save a little money if you know you are going to be using it several times. The monorail is a great option for going from the MGM to the LINQ station to get to the Brooklyn Bowl LV for afterparty shows.
Ubers and Lyfts are cheaper than taxis if you don't mind waiting a few minutes for one. Some hotels have designated pickup zones.
Medical Marijuana for Out of State Patients
I haven't tried this yet, but I'm told that Nevada recognizes out-of-state medical marijuana cards. source. That would be really handy. Let me know if you've tried this!
Food
Food can be very expensive in Vegas, although there are a lot of great restaurants, and fast food joints as well. If you want to treat yourself to some great meals, some of my favorite restaurants are:
Olives at the Bellagio
Sushi Samba at the Palazzo
Mesa Grill at Caesar's
Secret Pizza is a great option for cheap eats (and who doesn't like pizza??) The Cosmopolitan, third floor. There is no sign; follow your nose down the unmarked hallway.
Venue Tips
I went to Halloween in 2014, as well as Dead & Co last year. From what I remember:
*There are metal detectors at the entrance.
*You are allowed to leave the venue and come back in, which is great if you are staying at MGM and forget something or want to go to your room at setbreak. Many of us just got an email saying there is no re-entry. I guess we'll have to wait and see if that adheres or not.
*They will take your waterbottle caps, so bring some extras. I think they use Dasani bottles.
*You can bring in a drink, they will just make you pour it into a disposable cup on your way in.
After Parties/Other Concerts
Friday 10/28: Disco Biscuits at BBLV, showtime 12:30am
Saturday 10/29: Disco Biscuits at BBLV, showtime 12:30am
Saturday 10/29: Orgone at Topgolf, showtime 11:30, FREE
Saturday 10/29: Boom Box at House of Blues, showtime 1am
Sunday 10/30: Greensky Bluegrass at BBLV, showtime 12:30am
Sunday 10/30: Electric Bethoven at Topgolf Las Vegas, showtime 11:30pm, FREE (Electric Bethoven is a new project with Reed Mathis, kind of bummed I didn't know about this earlier as I already have a Greensky ticket, but either will be great!)
Monday 10/31: Greensky Bluegrass at BBLV, MATINEE showtime 2:00pm
Monday 10/31: Twiddle at BBLV, showtime 12:30am
PhanArt at BBLV, Saturday 10/29
Saturday 10/29 there will be a PhanArt show at Brooklyn Bowl Las Vegas from 1-6pm, and I believe a Phan-friendly lunch menu.
Lunch You In The Eye, Sunday 10/30
Brooklyn Bowl Las Vegas is having an event called Lunch You In The Eye Sunday, 10/30. It is a bowling tournament (pay to enter), and a Phan-friendly lunch menu.
Other things to do in Vegas
If you are looking for other activities during the day, here are a couple suggestions aside from simply walking around and exploring, or sleeping:
The Neon Sign Museum Make a reservation to get a tour of the Neon Boneyard, which has lots of old neon memorabilia from Vegas from the 30s to present. You can't go without a reservation. It's cool if you're interested in old Vegas.
The Mob Museum
It's also supposed to be warm out, bring a swimsuit and wook out by the pool.
I'm going all 4 nights and staying at MGM Signature. Have fun, be safe, hope to see you there! I hope this helps.
submitted by rantelope1 to phish [link] [comments]

Las Vegas trip report (restaurant heavy)

I went on vacation to Las Vegas with my wife from July 2nd-7th. This was my 5th trip and our 3rd together. Here's my (excessively long) trip report:
Hotel
This time we stayed at the Cosmopolitan, and we had a Terrace Studio Fountain View room. It was our first stay at Cosmo (I'd been to Wynn, Luxor, Aria Sky Suites, and Bellagio previously), and the hotel was great. I thought our room was nicer than the one we had at Bellagio last year and for a cheaper price (friend who is a travel agent got us a pretty good deal). Literally the only downside I can think of is not being able to listen to the fountain music on TV. We were in the Chelsea Tower (which is larger than Boulevard), and had a great balcony view.
Cosmo definitely attracts a younger crowd than some of the other casinos on the strip- lots of people in their 20s and 30s staying here. There are two main pools, one in each tower. When we went down to the Chelsea Pool around 11am on the 3rd, literally every seat was already taken. Note: Chelsea Tower is much larger than Boulevard, but its pool is much smaller. We hiked over to the Boulevard Pool and settled in. Great view looking over the strip with a livlier atmosphere than you'll find at the Bellagio's pools. Also worth noting the water is pretty shallow- no more than 4' deep. The most amusing part of our swimming experience was watching an Asian kid, probably 10 years old, swim all around the place, bumping in to every other group there, and saying hi. Seemed odd that he was basically on his own at that age, but he was clearly having a helluva time.
One of the best parts about Cosmo is its location- right in the center of the strip, which makes an easy walk to most of the other casinos. It has a great selection of restaurants (see below) and modern decor as well. One notable omission in my opinion is it doesn't have any shows/productions in house. The casino also doesn't have a poker room, but I didn't end up playing during this trip anyhow. Easy walk to the Bellagio or Aria poker rooms regardless.
Checkin to the hotel was very easy. Our flight got in to Vegas at about 8am on Sunday, so the room wasn't ready yet when we arrived. They took down all my info, and we left our bags with the bellhop. They sent a text message when the room was ready around noon, and they brought the bags up to our room. I used the online checkout on Friday morning. Easy peasy.
Uber
Side note- I'd never used Uber before this trip. Definitely recommend it for others in the same boat. Cheap/easy to use, and I liked riding with the average Uber driver more than the average cabbie. Each hotel has its own pickup/dropoff location for UbeLyft- just ask any employee, and they'll point you in the right direction. I never had to wait more than five minutes to get my ride.
Shows/attractions
The only show we saw on this trip was Ka at the MGM Grand. I'd pretty much recommend any Cirque du Soleil show on the strip- they're all pretty amazing. O at the Bellagio is probably my favorite, but Ka was great in its own right. Supposedly it's unique among Cirque shows in that it has a big storyline, but uh... I'd just say there's not much of one. Amusing moment before the show: I get a text message from my wife, who is sitting right next to me. "Am I sitting next to a drag queen?" I looked over. Yes, yes you are.
We also made a trip to the Shark Reef Aquarium at Mandalay Bay. I felt like the line for tickets was pretty absurdly long. I realized the reason for that when we got in- the whole aquarium was about half as big as I expected, so they needed to keep the flow of people in fairly slow. Having said that, the exhibits they did have were great, and there was no shortage of staff floating around to answer any questions you might have. Definitely a good spot to bring the family to in Vegas.
Food
The biggest reason we love Vegas is the food. Yes, my wife and I are the annoying people who post pictures of thier food on Facebook. The great thing about Vegas is there's multiple restaurant for just about any cuisine you can imagine right on the strip.
Wicked Spoon Buffet at Cosmopolitan (7-2-17 brunch): I like to hit up a buffet once whenever I visit Vegas, and none have disappointed. These places definitely aren't the Golden Corral. Our flight got in pretty early Sunday, so stuffing ourselves at the buffet and having extra time before dinner seemed like a good idea. To start things off, I'm a sucker for an omelette station, so I grabbed a Denver style omelette. Added some cheesy hash brown casserole (one of the best things I had), and a verrine. I have no idea what a verrine is, but it was basically a shot glass filled with mashed avocado, grapefruit, and a bit of crab. Good stuff. Had I stopped here, I would have had a normal sized brunch by most people's standards. Of course the entire point of a Vegas buffet is getting full value by stuffing yourself so full you can't walk, so I made more trips.
Next up I grabbed a jerk chicken thigh, a few pieces of spicy tuna sushi, some house-made italian sausage, and yogurt/fruit. The jerk chicken was perfect in that after the first bite I thought- that's not that spicy. 3 bites in, I'm feeling it a bit. By the end, I'm chugging my coffee/juice.
Finally it was time for dessert. When I first visited Vegas back in 2005, my friend informed me that the #1 rule of Vegas buffets is that you must try the bread pudding. You are not supposed to question the reasoning behind the rule, nor are you supposed to debate whether it's necessary. You simply do it. Wicked Spoon featured a bourbon white chocolate bread pudding. It was good, but I wasn't sure what to make of it since it tasted more like butterscotch than bourbon to me. I also had half a mango danish and some little chocolate tart. I thought I was done at this point until my wife brought back some gelato. I couldn't sit there and watch her eat, so I ended up getting some coconut-lime gelato for myself. The selection is pretty ridiculous- about 18 flavors to choose from. After the gelato, I finally waved the white flag.
Picasso at Bellagio (7-2-17 dinner): We've been wanting to visit Picasso for a while now. I was going to book a reservation here for our honeymoon back in 2014, but as it turns out they typically take a 2 week vacation in July every year. We ran into the same problem last year, but they were open on Sunday the 2nd this time before closing. Finally, we had our chance.
Picasso is basically fancy-pants French fine dining at its best. If you've ever seen the movie Ocean's Eleven, the restaurant scene was filmed there. We were seated at a table next to the window with the Bellagio fountain outside, and my wife had a real Picasso painting above her shoulder. So uh... not bad. I wore a suit and tie, but you really don't need to- wear khakis and a nice shirt, and you'll fit in fine.
We both ordered from the four course prix fixe tasting menu. My goal when eating out at nice places is to get stuff I don't cook myself / haven't tried much before. First course I got the poached oysters. The dish was basically smooth, melt-in-your-mouth like butter. Next up was the foie gras. This was the second time I've foie gras, and I've decided it's just not my thing. I could tell it was prepared properly, but I just don't think it has much flavor. The rhubarb chutney on the side was good, though. For the entree, I had the roasted milk-fed veal chop. After the first bite I literally started laughing, basically thinking, "Where has this been all my life?" Literally one of the best things I've ever eaten. If I had to nitpick, it was cooked a touch rare for my liking. But it was amazing. I wanted a lighter dessert given how much food I'd stuffed myself with that day, so I got a pineapple tart with prickly pear sorbet. Almost too pretty to eat.
Picasso is definitely the type of restaurant you take your date to if you're wanting to impress them. I like Le Cirque a bit more based on my two trips there previously. Le Cirque is a much smaller restaurant, just feels like a more intimate setting, and the service seemed a little more personal. But really you can't go wrong either way. Also, it was a nice touch seeing the chef, Julian Serrano, as we left the restaurant.
China Poblano at Cosmopolitan (7-3-17 lunch): The best way to explain China Poblano is that it seems like one person wanted to start up a Mexican restaurant at Cosmo, one person wanted to start up a Chinese restaurant, and then some executive asked, "Why don't we have both?" There are literally two different kitchens in the same restaurant, and the food is served tapas style- dishes just come out one by one whenever they're ready.
We started off with the queso fundido for an appetizer- pretty standard stuff. I ordered two tacos from the Mexican menu, one taco suadero (brisket), one carnitas. The brisket was good, the carnitas was great. Because if eating a taco with pork rinds on it is wrong, then I don't want to be right. I decided to get Mongolian beef lettuce from the Chinese menu, because I remember reading an IAMA from a Chinese restaurant owner a while back who said that was one of the best things on the menu that people rarely ordered. And he was right. We skipped dessert since our stomachs were still half full from eating the day before.
Estiatorio Milos at Cosmopolitan (7-3-17 dinner): Milos is proof that food doesn't have to be fancy to be fantastic. They just use high-quality ingredients, use a simple preparation, and let the food do the talking. The neat part about this place is that they really don't have specific fish on the menu. Instead you walk up to the fish case, pick out the one you want, and let your server know how you want it prepared. And marvel at the produce while you're at it.
We ordered the tzatziki as an appetizer, and at first I wasn't going to take a picture of it since it's just tzatziki. And then I tasted it. And I decided it deserved a picture- the best I've ever had. Next up was a Greek salad which was ridiculously good. Those definitely aren't the tomatoes you buy at Kroger. We chose lithrini, which seemed like a generic white fish, for our entree. Pan-seared with lemon, capers, and herbs. Some basic potatoes and broccoli for our sides. Milos is one of our top recommendations for people visiting Vegas.
Milk Bar at Cosmopolitan (7-3-17 dessert): We skipped dessert at Milos because we wanted to try out the Milk Bar. I grabbed one of the much-hyped compost cookies, which I actually thought was nothing special, and a spiked chocolate malt milkshake. The shake was awesome. I ended up coming back later in the trip and got a spiked coffee shake as well. Not sure they're worth $12 apiece, but you're in Vegas, so what the hell.
Eiffel Tower Restaurant (7-4-17 lunch): My wife had put this on the list of places to visit a month ahead of time, so we ended up going here for lunch. You enter the restaurant by going up an elevator in the main floor of the casino, and the doors open to give you a nice view of the kitchen. I always like restaurants where you can see people work in an open kitchen, so I thought this was a nice touch. We had reservations for when the restaurant opened, so we managed to snag one of the best tables in the place with a great view of the strip. We started off with the cheese tray as an appetizer, which was most notable for the honeycomb. I think that's the first time I've ever had real honeycomb, and it was delicious. I decided to go brunch-ish for my meal and order the lobster eggs benedict, which was easily the best eggs benedict I've ever had. We shared a frozen strawberry souffle for dessert, and the best compliment I can give about this is that we immediately began looking up recipes to make our own when we got back to our hotel room. Overall a great meal, and I think we'll head back here for dinner during our next trip to Vegas.
Tetsu at Aria (7-4-17 dinner): I'd wanted to visit a Japanese steakhouse while in town (especially since the favorite place in my town was run down by new ownership and closed), and I was a little surprised to find there weren't many options. Tetsu is actually a sectioned off portion of the BarMasa restaurant in Aria, and you can order sushi from BarMasa's menu while there. Which I did. I'm far from a sushi connoisseur, but I thought it tasted like a standard salmon roll- good, but I wasn't blown away by it or anything.
As far as the hibachi grill itself goes, the first thing to note is that the chefs basically just prepare the food in front of you but don't put on any sort of show. So if you're wanting to impress the family with a flaming onion volcano and eggs juggled on a spatula, this isn't your place. It's about the food, and the food was fantastic. I had the whole lobster, which is every bit as good as it looks. The chili shrimp cilantro fried rice was as good as the lobster, and I had some brussels sprouts on the side. My wife got the fingerling potatoes as a more photogenic side dish to her chicken. They also serve prime A5 Japanese Ohmi beef, but I couldn't justify spending $132 on a 4 oz steak. We had chocolate sesame ice cream for dessert, and the sesame was actually a lot stronger than I thought it would be (might actually put some people off).
Of course one of the fun parts of eating at these places is talking to people seated with you at the table. One of the ladies next to us teased a server, trying to get his name badge, Harvey (definitely not his given name), since apparently a guy named Harvey founded the golf club she worked at. Even went so far as to summon the manager to see if she could get the badge, but ultimately she failed in her negotiations. Everyone at the table had a laugh about the situation.
Burger Bar at Mandalay Bay (7-5-17 lunch): We were looking for a lunch spot down on this end of the strip before heading to the aquarium, and the Burger Bar (actually located in a walkway between Mandalay Bay and Luxor) came recommended by several people. To start with, they had a great beer menu. I ordered the classic bacon cheeseburger with onion rings. Great burger, cooked perfectly. I know there are several excellent burger joints on the strip, so it's probably not worth making a special trip far out of your way to come here. It's a great option if you want a burger and are on the south end of the strip, though.
Lemongrass at Aria (7-5-17 dinner): Next up, some Thai food. We had some pot stickers for an appetizer, which I thought were pretty average. Nothing to stand out here from your average takeout in either taste or presentation. My wife decided to order some wonton soup to share, and I'm glad she did. It was freakin' amazing- easily the best part of the meal. I wanted something light for my meal, so I ordered the garlic and lime steamed cod. The surprised reaction of the waitress seemed to imply that nobody ever ordered that. It was good, but you better love lime if you get it.
As luck would have it, the one time we received poor (exceptionally slow) service on the trip was when we had our meal before a show. We had to skip dessert so that we could make it down to MGM Grand in time to see Ka.
Olives at Bellagio (7-6-17 lunch): We thought about hitting up Lago for lunch, but since we were headed to Sinatra for dinner we wanted to avoid back to back Italian. Olives had a nice deal on a 3 course prix fixe lunch menu, so we ordered from that. I had the Caesar salad to start, followed it up with fish and chips, and finished it off with tiramisu. A bit of an odd combo, but a good meal. Nothing exceptional. Great server, though.
Sinatra at Encore (7-6-17 dinner): Another place we'd wanted to visit on previous trips but never had a chance to. There's tons of Frank Sinatra themed memorabilia in the place, including a Grammy, Emmy, and Oscar as you walk in the door. I'd describe the place as lively but classy as hell- which is pretty much what you'd want when going to a Rat Pack themed place.
To start off with, I ordered an Old Fashioned. It's one of my favorite drinks to order because everyone does it differently, and you never know what you're going to get. Well, it was the best Old Fashioned I've had in my left. I meant to ask the waiter what type of boorbon they used, but ultimately forgot. We ended up sharing the estiva for an appetizer, which is basically a watermelon salad. I ordered the gnochetti for my entree, which tasted great, but the portion size kind of left me wondering where the rest of it was. We shared the panna cotta for dessert, which was as good as it looked.
Eggslut at Cosmopolitan (7-7-17 breakfast): Eggslut is a casual stand at Cosmo that pretty much sells egg sandwiches all day long. I had the Fairfax with bacon, which is pretty much what they're known for. I think the reason why it was such a great sandwich was they kept the eggs inside creamy, whereas most breakfast sandwiches have the eggs cooked hard as a rock. When you walk up to the place your first thought is- whoa! Only $8... finally a reasonably priced meal. And then you realize they charge $5 for a cup of coffee or orange juice, and you remember you're still in Vegas. Regardless, this place is a good stop for breakfast or a late night snack.
Overall a great trip. Can't wait to go back again and try some different places.
submitted by MogKupo to vegas [link] [comments]

SHOT 2017/My tales of adventure in Las Vegas

So, you wanna go to SHOT show? You think it's all fun and games? Get to play with guns? See Jesse James and R. Lee Ermey? SHOT show is the annual pilgrimage of the unwashed masses to Las Vegas to rub elbows with youtube celebrities, bloggers and overseas businessmen copying US made equipment and share infectious disease.
If you love guns, gambling and gonorrhea - SHOT show is for you! It is not my typical idea of a good time. I am not a big fan of Las Vegas.
However: I do attend for a few reasons. First, I do enjoy travel and I'm platinum on AA so I can usually score an upgrade. Second, industry people are in there that I do hundreds of thousands if not millions of dollars with business with so it's nice to put a face with the name and see what deals are out there. SHOT for me has been a bust for the past few years. Being a value guy, I want to buy at $1000 and sell at $3000 and as of recently the gun business is more like buy for $1 and sell for $1.10 if you get what I mean.
We used to do business at SHOT and now it's just checking in on foursquare, instagram and rubbing elbows with bloggers and the like. I want to make money, not spend money so this is very annoying to me.
Anyways, onto the play by play.
Monday, January 16th. One day before SHOT show.
http://imgur.com/a/HoFUm
Every time I've been rejected by a woman, I move $1 from checking into savings and I take the bankroll down to the Wynn for some play. Lets do this.
The TSA line is a shitshow thanks to, well TSA.
I slog my way to the lounge, as shitty as it is to wait for my winged chariot to DFW. I have gone from being in an abusive relationship with Delta to being in an abusive relationship with AA. Although if you really want to experience the battered spouse feeling, UA is a few gates over. This trip's light reading is trying to finish "The Tipping Point" by Malcolm Gladwell. Such a good book as well as "Outliers" if you want a good read.
I walk up to the podium to find out that my upgrades do not clear, even as an AA Plat thanks to the addition of a FOURTH elite tier. Goddamn fucking W. Doug Parker. Asshole. I gate check my bags to make life easier for me and the rest of the folks. The gate agent calls concierge key and executive platinum passengers. I look down and realize I'm wearing a suit and board with the executive platinum folks because I do not care and I look the part. If you walk with a purpose and are dressed reasonably well, you fit the profile. I settle into my window seat and try to finish outliers. I pass out before takeoff and I'm awoken by the dulcet tones of the flight attendants preparing for landing. We land at Dallas a few minutes early and I hightail it to the Centurion for a quick bite to eat. I grab a plate and help myself to some of the excellent brisket, pecan encrusted chicken and some roasted jumbo asparagus. Yes, my pee is going to smell funny. No, I do not care. The lounge is packed. The bar is full and I grab a quick single malt as I have my meal since American's not going to feed me. They begin boarding to Mccarran as I walk out of the lounge. No time for a stop in the spa on this trip. I make it to the gate just as the call group 2 boarding.
I bypass the main line and walk up through the priority line giving no heed to the people that have been waiting there before me as I hold up my paper boarding pass with PLATINUM to the gate agent. I board and take my usual seat - the exit row without the seat in front of it. I'm aghast to see this sight.
http://imgur.com/a/dygil
The savages. Literally. The savages.
I put my loathing away for a moment and look down at the exit row. I have the window. The aisle is a large middle aged man and in the middle is what I believe to be a formecurrent linebacker for the Dallas Cowboys wearing a 52 regular sports jacket. He's not a fat guy in a little coat, he's a big fucking hulk of a man stuffed in an exit row seat that is already an inch narrower due to the tray table. I grimace as I take my seat and give him the manly nod. He does not look happy about the fact that his knees are in the seat in front and I'm stretched out like a Cheshire cat in front of a fireplace on a cold January afternoon.
The boarding door closes for an on time departure and Stephanie the FA takes her seat. He leans over and asks if he can take the empty row across the aisle and she takes one look at the three of us and gives him the nod. I bail out to give him a path of egress and suddenly the trip to Las Vegas has just become way more comfortable. I finish The Tipping Point somewhere over west texas, so I pop a xanax and dr pepper and zone out for the rest of the ride. I awake to feel one of the FA's jostling me awake telling me to put my seat up. I do so and we have a ride so smooth that not even the Delta guy behind me can complain about light chop. We catch the TYSSN4 arrival and the next thing I know it the Messier Dowty landing gear of the A321 touch the paint at Mccarran for a smooth rollout down 25L.
My phone battery is approaching grim death since this seat has no power plugs and I find bartman383 has sent me a message. He has been enjoying LV with his wife and their due to bad weather they are in the city of sin for a few extra nights. He invites me to dinner. I'm still pretty full from DFW and I tell him I'll be over there once I get my bags and the car and I'll see him when I see him. He gives me the info for the hotel as we pull up to the gate.
First stop: Centurion lounge. AA's app tells me bags being unloaded. I grab a quick bite of fried chicken and brussels sprouts since they are good for you and a chocolate pudding. The brisket and pecan encrusted chicken from DFW still has me full but I'm well aware of the speed of a union baggage handlers nowadays and who doesn't like chocolate pudding? Terrorists. That's who. Want to know how to screen for terrorists TSA? Set up a table of free chocolate pudding at the airport. The people who don't take any are members of ISIS. It's just that simple.
I grab my bag and hoof it to Hertz. I'm an idiot and I am an hour late for my pickup. Oops. Will an Audi A3 suffice? I sigh and I accept my Teutonic quattro chariot. I do a burnout in the parking garage and hightail it to the exit. I flash my #1 card and my ID and the gatekeeper gives me the go ahead. I get onto the the strip and traffic is awful. I'm going to be late for dinner. I make a left onto Russell Road and hightail it up the 15. I manage to get the car up to 100 as I pass the Luxor. My phone is dead so I can't message Bart about being late. Fuck. The exit approaches quickly as I put the 4 wheel disk brakes to work and sling the car around and head south on Las Vegas Bl. I accidentally turn into the Bellagio and I'm now running even more late. Fuck. Eventually, I get the car into the garage at the Cosmopolitan and head upstairs. I cannot remember the name of the restaurant but I head up to the third floor where all the restaurants are and I see this sign that's reminiscent of my days in retail.
It says RESTAURANT - LOUNGE - PAWN SHOP.
I laugh. I walk in. It's literally a pawnshop. I look around puzzled.
FC: Is this a restaurant?
Bald Headed Guy: Yes, through that door.
He points towards a door. I walk in to find a bustling restaurant, lounge via the entrance of pawnshop. This is insane. I pass a mirror and check myself out. I adjust my tie, after all it is YSL and the ladies LOVE YSL. Remember that. I find the hostess and inform her I will be joining some friends for dinner. They probably do not have me on the reservation though but I turn on the charm and she smiles and says no problem at all. She asks if my tie is from Hermes. I say no, I'm a YSL guy. She looks impressed as I tell her I'll make a quick lap of the room to see if they're there and surprise them. She gives me a nod and tells me to go right ahead. Still got it.
I spot bart and his wife who I can only remember vaguely from gunnitlive after party video and I pull up a chair. Bart is surprised to see I made it and they are in the middle of dinner. They offer to ply me with food and beverage but I decline as I'm driving so no booze for me and no food since I am stuffed from Dallas. We chat about life and liberty over libations. Bart's wife thinks I am hysterical. She's had a few drinks and they are already into their main courses. The brussels sprouts are way too salty and we have to send it back. No bueno.
Bart invites me up to his suite on the top floor of the hotel where we are to meet Brogelicious later in the evening. I say, when in rome......we head to the top floor of the hotel tower where Bart shows me his view from the balcony and cracks open the mini bar for some more libations. He asks if I want a drink and I say I better not. I'm driving.
Not 30 seconds after arriving, brogel shows up. Bart's wife hugs brogel. She's infatuated with him. We start shooting the shit and bart opens up the minibar and tells us to take anything we want, it's on the hotel. I laugh and I look outside as bart opens his yeti 110 for some silver bullets. Apparently he is so baller the hotel will send up a yeti 110 filled with beer to make him happy. His wife is apparently such a baller. I ball on a budget. They just ball. Hahaha.
We shoot the shit some more about guns, gun stuff and people on the reddit for a while. I get a little thirsty and I crack open bart's cooler. I ask him how long the stuff in the cooler is supposed to last and he says until Wednesday.
I look down and I am agape at what I see.
We had two bags of grass, seventy-five pellets of mescaline, five sheets of high-powered blotter acid, a saltshaker half-full of cocaine, and a whole galaxy of multi-colored uppers, downers, screamers, laughers... Also, a quart of tequila, a quart of rum, a case of beer, a pint of raw ether, and two dozen amyls. Not that we needed all that for the trip, but once you get locked into a serious drug collection, the tendency is to push it as far as you can. The only thing that really worried me was the ether. There is nothing in the world more helpless and irresponsible and depraved than a man in the depths of an ether binge, and I knew we'd get into that rotten stuff pretty soon.
I mentally prepared my butthole and I decided to help myself to a coors light against my wishes but Bart, Bart's wife and Brogel are all drinking so I let peer pressure take hold as I cracked open a beer with them. We head out to the balcony to smoke some cuban cigars together as bart's wife takes a photo of all of us. We all look like hell. Haha.
As bart downs his second beer, he asks me a question.
Bart: ever go hunting?
Me: Ducks a little bit but not much
Bart: ever want to hunt some deadly game?
Me: Like on african safari?
Bart: No, I mean like.........man.
Me: Hahahahhahaaha you're just fucking with me. Hahahahahhaa. That's really funny.
Bart: No really, the concierge here at this hotel will set it up for us. It's amazing. I remember my first hunt......
Brogel starts laughing and I realize they've been doing a bit. I've been had.
We bullshit about SHOT and Barrett's shotguns and other things and next thing I know, it's late but bart hands me a mixed drink. I sip it a bit and I was in the middle of a tirade complaining about my customers. Suddenly, there was a terrible roar all around us, and the sky was full of what looked like huge bats, all swooping and screeching and diving around the city, and a voice was screaming: Holy Jesus. What are these goddamn animals? Nobody seems to understand what I'm talking about. It's cold on the balcony. Our cigars are done. We head indoors. No point in mentioning these bats, I thought. Poor bastards will see them soon enough.
Back indoors I realize Brussels sprouts and coors light is a bad choice. Seriously no bueno. I excuse myself to the bathroom and drain the vein. The asparagus funny smelling pee and the side effects of beer and brussels sprouts is a noxious combination that a defense contractor should weaponize it. It's pretty bad and not even cuban tobbaco can mask the smell.
I sit back down and continue to talk about guns and stuff with bart and the gang and bart asks who ruined the bathroom. I apologize as he sprays a bunch of febreze around and opens the balcony. I apolgize to brogel. He is not accepting my apology. (sorry :( )
Nearly 11, it's about time to pull chocks and mosey on down the dusty trail. I don't want to prompt an evacuation of the hotel due to noxious odors so I decide to leave and bart seems to be kinda mad that I've ripped ass and polluted the sanctuary of his hotel. Half a coors light and brussels sprouts are no bueno in my book now. Bart decides to party hard with his wife and I offer brogel a ride home. He seems skeptical to share a confined space with me after I have just destroyed bart's hotel room. The car has 4 windows and the Uber will cost him a few bucks he can put towards ammo. He relents as we head down to the garage to find my car. Thankfully we find it quickly and I manage to contain the weapons of ass destruction for the 16 minute ride off strip to casa de brogel.
He says I'm not that bad a dude and I agree as I hightail it to my hotel. I cannot find my hotel reservations so I call my travel agent to see.
Apparently the Wynn was not in my travel budget this year. I have come to find out I have been booked at Circus Circus, much to my chagrin. How bad could it be? I've stayed at the Wynn. I've stayed at Encore. I've stayed at the hotel that Elisabeth Shue's character got raped in in Leaving Las Vegas - but Circus Circus? Did I mention that I HATE CLOWNS? I HATE CLOWNS. Fuck.
I pull into the parking garage and the check in line resembles something straight out of the TSA line at Mccarran. 45 minutes to check in. The clerk is friendly and says he's also from Louisiana which is neat. He asks if I've stayed there before and I, being a connoisseur of old vegas history I decide to make a joke and I tell him the last time I was there, Jay Sarno owned the place. He got a laugh. I head up to my room and unpack. The lobby is clean as an old vegas casino can be, the room is clean and there's no way to plug anything in since the hotel predates personal electronic devices. I plug my phone into my external battery and collapse on the bed. I message Bart and chugbleach instead of falling asleep about show tomorrow and I offer to pick bart up early since there is no shuttle from the cosmo.
Tuesday, November 16th SHOT Show Day One
I awoke several hours later in a daze......the clock said 10AM. The show opened at 8:30. Fuck me to tears. I hurry up and get dressed and down to the sands convention center. The parking lot is FULL. The entire complex is a mess. When my man Steve Wynn built his joint he didn't build enough parking. So people would park at the Venetian and now FUCKING NOBODY CAN GET A PARKING SPACE. Holy shit. I eventually say fuck it and park over at the Wynn and walk over to the Sands. I meet up with a few of my regular suppliers and I see nothing interesting at all. Bart went to bed at 6AM after spending all night partying with his wife over at the palazzo. I joke and say that he just should have stayed there. Bart is amazed at the size of the show and we have lunch at the most disgusting place in las vegas - the convention center bistro snack bar. Bart is a wise man as he grabs a powerade and a fruit cup. I decide to try an "italian beef" and a fruit cup instead of fries to stay semi health conscious. The "italian beef" is the most disgusting thing I have ever eaten. It is flat out depressing. They give me fries with it and I demand a fruit cup. The sassy black woman working the stand asks me "DID YOU ASK FOR FRUIT? CAUSE RIGHT HERE SAYS FRIES" and I channel my inner Louis CK from the "this is how I talk" bit from SNL as I shoot back "WHY YOU FRONTIN ON ME I ASKED FOR FRUIT AND YOUR ASS BETTER BACK UP AND GET ME SOME FRUIT" so she goes back and gets me some fruit.
The "italian beef", my fruit cup, bart's fruit cup and powerade comes to $81. My platinum amex comes out and I treat bart to "lunch". We bullshit about guns and stuff in the Springfield booth as we wait at the world's worst concession stand. We eat and Bart is so hungover that he thinks he is in need of physical therapy and a wheelchair. There is no way he is going to party tonight before his trip home. Or so I think. Haha.
I meander around the show a bit more and I find this, the most USELESS PRODUCT OF 2017. It's made by a company called radetec.
http://imgur.com/a/GOiCB
It's a shot counter. For your gun.
A digital odometer, for your gun.
The only person that would buy this is the guy like my dad that kept a spiral bound notebook in his car where he documented how many miles he traveled per tank, gallons dispensed, PRICE, service station and whether they had a different price for cash/charge, oil consumption, tire rotations, alignments, all services - scheduled or otherwise, and a running odometer. Does anyone know the gun owner who asks for a round count when they are looking at a used gun? The question I always shoot back is "do you want to be lied at a little or do you want to be lied at a lot?" because that's what you're asking for when you ask for round count.
UNLESS YOU BUY THIS PRODUCT!
I roll my eyes so far back into my head that I nearly lose my balance. This is idiotic. I cannot fathom anyone willing to buy this. What a waste of perfectly good exhibition space.
Bart heads back to his hotel after visiting SHOT show for a few hours, not getting any swag and to get an IV of fluids since he looked like he was rapidly approaching grim death.
I wrap up visiting prime vendors and checking out the new products, or lack thereof because I have something on the schedule. At 4:30 there's a suicide prevention for retailers seminar hosted by the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention. As many of you know this is an issue that is important to me and perhaps we as retailers should be doing more. The keynote was from their chief medical director talking about the accessibility of firearms and the mindset of the "typical" suicide. Mostly men. If you are a veteran you are at a significantly larger risk. The information was presented very not surprisingly and one of the things discussed was that we only spend around 21M a year on suicide prevention.
A few take away facts from the keynote:
When suicide barriers are put up on a bridge, suicide rates for the entire area drop. The key to preventing suicide is getting people to talk about their problems. Once you can get someone out of that mindset, they are statistically less likely to do it and live productive lives afterwards. There are certain terms that they are trying to get away from - for instance, they are not saying "committed suicide" they are now saying "died by suicide" in order to bring awareness and tell it like it is.
One thing that really was interesting to me was my reading on the flight in from Dallas. In The Tipping Point, Gladwell discusses how things stay the same and suddenly they all change. One of the things that he discusses is in micronesia - where teen suicide was practically unheard of became an outright epidemic. One teenager did it, for reasons passing understanding to me as an outsider and then all the other kids realized that they too could escape their pain by hanging themselves as well and suddenly the suicide rates in micronesia became so high to where it became a public health issue. I wish I could show you all the article I wrote on TTAG about my friend's death but it has been lost in the cloud and I am unable to find the last draft I sent to print, but it echoes some of the problems we have with suicide and mental health in the firearm industry.
After the keynote, the good doctor opened the floor up for questions. Her keynote posed a lot of statistics but not a lot of answers. I am a detail oriented granular data guy and I did not get a solid grasp of the AFSP solutions posed, if any.
Several firearm dealers discussed the lack of a cohesive solution and the takeaway was they're trying to develop awareness for the suicide problem. Their goal is to lower suicide rates but how they get there is yet to be determined. I didn't like hearing that and the comments from the crowd reflected the lack of a "here's what you can do TODAY to help this problem" part of the initiative.
Going around the room, one dealer who used NICS said that if a customer was just flat out acting funny - he'd lie to the customer and say there was a delay with NICS even though there was an approval just to get them to not be able to have a gun for a few days. The crowd applauded this initiative, however I'm not sure lying to customers is the best way to run a business and treat them with respect. Another dealer brought up an interesting point. When someone comes in looking to buy a gun and they don't know what kind of gun they want, what caliber, and are generally clueless - they're either buying a gun to kill themselves with, OR perhaps they are a very uneducated prospective customer - and there is no clear way of finding out which is which.
The problems presented by the AFSP are real. The solutions aren't there though. Yet. Ideally I'd like to see some change to that. However, there's some problems.
I hung around and asked the good doctor and her staff some questions and I am in no way denigrating her life's work and her dedication to preventing suicide since she has dedicated her life's work to the issue, but the conversation went something like this.
Did you do any research on the accessibility of firearms from a retailer from the legal standpoint?
"No, we haven't"
Do you know how the NICS or state POC background systems work in regard to mental health holds, etc?
"No"
One of the problems that I foresee right off the bat is that you talked about how you are fighting time, and if you can get someone out of that suicide mindset - even for a few hours, you can get them into that higher survival bracket. If we apply a one size fits all solution to it like California and put a 10 day wait on everything with the goal of protecting someone from their own life, how do we balance that with the needs of the woman who has been hiding from her abusive spouse and needs a gun right away?
"That's a good question that I don't have an answer for."
Their initiative, I admire - the lack of solutions is a little off putting however. I tell the doc about how my friend's suicide has impacted me and she seems to be sympathetic to the situation as does her colleagues. I am given her cards and told to call the next time I'm in New York so we can get together and discuss things within the industry. I'll give them a buzz in a few weeks when I'm up there on business. On my way out of the hall, I run into Massad Ayoob. Nice guy. I've admired his work over the years. Bart invites myself and chugbleach to dinner, I can't reach Chug and even though I am beat I decide to hang out with Bart and Mrs Bart
Bart: What do you want to eat?
FC: Let's find a nice seafood restaurant and eat some red salmon, I feel a powerful lust for red salmon.
I begin vomiting.
God damn mescaline. Why the fuck can't they make it a little less pure?
We eventually head downstairs and order too much food. We are tired and not very hungry. Bart is still hungover and barely able to process food. His wife is grazing on all sorts of meat products. I am in awe of how they are both still upright after six nonstop nights of partying. I've only been here one day and I feel like I am about to die.
Dinner concludes with an awkward hug with bart's wife - I don't know how other men feel about wife hugs so I have just avoided the prospect entirely. Like flying through Denver on Frontier. Or flying on Frontier. Ever.
I drive over to the Wynn to set up my markers and the poker room is full. I draw a $2500 marker at the craps table and watch the game a bit. I have never played craps before in my life but the three people there seem to be having fun.
I look down at my phone and I realize a plane has landed. fluffy_butternut has landed in Las Vegas on business. I had lost a bet and offered to pick him up from the airport. I cash back in my chips against my casino credit and head back to my car. I cannot find my car. Fuck. I wander the wynn garage which is covered in construction debris. I eventually find it and haul ass to the airport. Now, I didn't know this but fluffy has the WORST SENSE OF DIRECTION AT ALL. Seriously. I have no idea how he even made it to the correct city. He lands and has to get his bag and stuff and I circle the airport. He lets me know he's at door 77 wherever the fuck that was. I drive into the pickup portion and I see no sign. He then says he's coming up a level, and I tell him that I'll be there shortly. I park the car and Metro PD starts yelling.
Metro: You can't park your car here.
FC: Why not? Is this not a reasonable place to park?
Metro: Reasonable? You're on a sidewalk! This is the sidewalk!
I give the man a $20 and tell him to keep it running as I wander Mccarran screaming FLUFFY! HERE FLUFFY! I message fluffy to let him know I am the car parked on the sidewalk. I instantly figure out who he is having never seen a photo of him and I throw his bags into the car as we head for his hotel. I haul ass out of the airport and get the A3 on the highway.
Now this was a superior machine. Thirty nine grand worth of gimmicks and high-priced special effects. The rear windows lit up with a touch like frogs in a dynamite pond. The dashboard was full of esoteric lights and dials and meters that I would never understand.
We check in at the Rio where the desk clerk is friendly and flirty. I express amazement there is no line. Fluffy checks in and we take his bags upstairs and he offers to buy me food for driving him to the airport. I decline. We head to the bar anyways. He orders two beers and we decide to call chug. He's staying out in Summerlin or something because his company is apparently run by cheapskates. He asks if we want to hang out and shoot the shit. I say sure and ask if he wants us to pick up food or anything from CVS or something since I have the car and I'm able to do anything I want. He asks for some toothpaste. No problem. I may be an asshole on the internet but I have a heart of gold. We get some toothpaste get to the hotel.
Arriving at the lobby, we have no idea where he is. It turns out he gave us the address for the hotel across the street. We laugh and go to that lobby and shoot the shit till 3AM much to the chagrin of the hotel clerk. Fluffy has some beers and we plan on dinner the next day. I drive fluffy back and arrive at the hotel at 4. Fuck me to tears.
Wednesday, January 18th. Day 2 of SHOT show.
Alarm goes off at 7:30 AM. I wash up, eat and get breakfast. In the garage by 8:15. Nice. I get some dillo dust and check out the new Sig 220 DA/SA and SAO legions. Daddy likey. I go to a competing firm and I piss of my state sales manager by telling him his newer designed triggers suck ass. He says the company tested them and they're the same in every way. I ask him why the triggers have two different part numbers in the catalog and how come they're not interchangeable and if that's really the case, how come there's X changes in the supposedly identical pistol parts that he's holding side by side. He gets mad at me and says I'm not an expert on their product and perhaps I should take his job since I'm so smart. I agree that I'm smart and I hold firm that if he didn't want me to complain about the shitty trigger, they should stop selling guns with shitty triggers. I am nearly kicked out of the booth.
I meet up with some of my wholesale reps and I'm mid convo when I see Itsgoodsoup and his friend walking around the show. I yell SOUP but he does not hear me. So I grab his friend and find him and I tell him we should get together at dinner with fluffy and chug. He agrees.
The show winds down, I get some business done and nothing much else. We break for a shitty gunnit live lite and I take a few questions from the crowd in fluffy's suite at the Rio. Dinner is at 8 and we arrive at the restaurant late to find soup and his friend sitting at one table and chug and his girlfriend sitting at another. Perhaps we should have gotten here a little earlier. Hahaha. So, fluffy said the place is really good and I order a few of the specialties of the house. Apparently according to yelp they do a kickass peking duck. Soon to be mrs chug is a vegan. But we can eat meat in front of her. I wonder how it's served and Soup's vancouver raised asian friend tells me that they normally carve it tableside. Our vegan says as long as there's no head she's cool. We're not sure if they can fulfill that request. So we order and food starts coming out and we tell tall tales of shot show BS and other stuff. Sure enough, the duck comes out with the head. No bueno. Haha. But I decide to treat us to vegan donuts at the vegan bakery across the street later. Seven courses later we are full. Vegan bakery closed. I am committed to getting her some vegan donuts though. We head to Fremont street to gamble. Fluffy wanders about and we try craps and we're not impressed. We hit some slots and eventually I hit the craps table where chug explains the game to me. We start betting on dice. And somehow we start winning. I find that the house allows you to take 10X behind the line. No idea what this means so I plop $5 on the pass line and the point hits 6. I drop $50 behind it and it hits. We go a few rounds and leave ahead. It's 2:30 AM. Fuck. I drive everyone back to their hotel. I get to sleep around 4.
Thursday, January 19th. Day 3 of SHOT show.
Wake up at 10AM feeling like crap. Debate whether to head straight to show and wander about. Fuck it. Went to halal guys for some halal. Delicious. Got vegan donuts. Dead drop them at the Palazzo lobby for chug and his girl. Show is a bust. Literally nothing exciting. Fluffy offers to buy me dinner. One of my customers who lives in Summerlin offers to take me to dinner. I pass on fluffy and he destroys the seafood buffet at the rio. I head to Sinatra at the Wynn for dinner with my customer. All good in the hood. Chug has been invited to the Glock dinneafter party and I'm not so we all go our separate ways. I call foghorn5950 and due to some weather, he's flying home early and our plans to hangout are fucked up unless I go tonight. I grab fluffy and we head to Whiskey Down. He orders a makers and I give him a funny look. I tell the waitress make it a bulleit. Everyone laughs. I talk shop with Jeremy also from TTAG and we shoot the shit over cigars and talk about useless products. Next thing we know, chug is out of the dinner and wandering the strip. We decide to meet up at the Linq. It takes us nearly 30 minutes to get out of Whiskey Down at MGM because the waitress was awful and messed up everyone's tab. It was a fucking disaster. To boot, MGM is now charging for parking.
FC: What a bunch of fucking jews
Fluff: You should just tailgate that lady in front of you out and screw them out of the $7
FC: I should
We pull behind her and watch as she gets flustered at the awful parking machine. Her nevada license plate says VETERAN. As the gate goes up we haul ass and screw MGM out of $7. I shout "THANK YOU FOR YOUR SERVICE" out the window as we blow right by her up to the Linq. Through fluffy's awful navigation, we wind up at the loading dock for the Linq. Eventually we find chug and gf hanging at the penny slots. They are holding vegan donuts, which she is very appreciative of. Least I could do after showing her the head. Fluffy plays the House of Cards slot machine.
He stuck $100 in, played for 6 minutes and then got really mad and hit the cash out button and $80 was left after 5 minutes.
ITS EXACTLY LIKE THE FEDERAL GOVERNMENT!
Chug's gf asks to play a special slot machine called kitty glitter. We ask and the linq does not offer it but Harrahs next door does. So we head over there and the slot tech finds the kitty glitter machine. Fluffy sticks a C note in there and tells her to play and have a blast. So she's banging away at the one armed bandit WHEN SUDDENLY I HEAR THE SOUND.
It's PUTTIN ON THE RITZ in shitty .wav file internal speaker format. Hahah. She's just hit the progressive jackpot on the penny KITTY GLITTER machine. THIS PLACE IS AWESOME! We cash out after some play and a good time was had by all. I dump off fluffy at the rio since it was very close and drive everyone else back. It's late, I'm tired and the Palace Station oyster bar is open 24 hours......I head over there and there's a 45 minute wait.
So, I pull out my backup bankroll and using everything chug and fluffy have taught me about craps I belly up to the $3 min table where they let you take 10x behind the line. I'm still learning and the table is slow so one of the boxmen start explaining the game to me.
Box: So if you place the 6 or the 9 or individual numbers you can bet those but you gotta pay a little juice on it like a commission
Me: Like when you buy the hook?
short pause
Box: Yeah! Exactly like that! You got this!
So I played a little and went up a bit and down a bit. As you do. Plunked $5 down on the pass line and took full odds and the point hit. This game is pretty cool! So I hung around and watched for about an hour and finally decided to eat my winnings. I take $5 off my stack and, drop it on the pass line and announce dealer bet - $5 to pass. It hits. The dealers love me.
Maybe Vegas isn't so bad after all.
http://imgur.com/a/LGhDj
I have the pan roast at the oyster bar. No line. It is DELICIOUS. I get back to the hotel at 5AM. I don't care when I wake up.
Friday, January 20th. Day 4 of SHOT show.
Wake up around noon feeling like crap. Go to show. Debate destroying milk cart with wheels with an ax borrowed from fire station. Decide against it. Gas up car and find myself out by palace station again. Played some craps, hit the buffet and went for an early sleep.
It's midnight. The neighbors in my the hotel are having sex. A LOT OF SEX. I can hear everything. I gently knock on the door. No answer. I knock slightly harder. No answer. I head back to my room and close the door just as I hear their door open. I zoom back out to find a puzzled middle aged stocky and perhaps sticky Latino man looking both ways.
I get in his line of sight.
Me: Hey. I'm next door. It sounds like you're having a lot of fun. I get it. I really do. In fact I haven't had sex since the bush administration so I'm gunning for you man I really am. But it's midnight and I have a 6am flight and a rental car to return. So trust me when I say I'm really happy for you but if you don't mind I really need to get some sleep tonight okay?
The awkward silence is deafening. He nods without saying a word and mouths okay. I give him a manly nod and thumbs up.
Me: thanks. I'd shake your hand or fist bump but well you know.....
I give him a peace sign as he goes back into his little pleasure palace and I turn to realize that I have just locked myself out of my room. I am wearing boxers, a tshirt and barefoot. I head downstairs to the lobby. The check in at the front desk resembles the TSA line at Mccarran. Normally I would not be this rude but desperate times call for desperate measures.
The line is 50 people deep. I walk past every person. Fuck your queue. I approach the desk where someone is helping a guest and I raise my right hand as if I were in a deposition to get them to stop. The staff and guest looks puzzled as the angry barefoot man clad in nothing but boxers and a "uzi does it" tshirt approaches the desk.
Me: excuse me. I don't mean to interrupt. I have an emergency. I'm up on 8 and my neighbors are having a lot of sex. I mean a LOT of sex.
(This is the same front desk clerk who actually checked me in Monday night by coincidence looks back at me very awkwardly and puzzled.)
Me: this isn't your regular sex. I'm talking this is your (I begin air humping the front desk and slapping the granite counter with my palm and grunting loudly) sex. You could hear the plan B packaging open.
At this point - the ENTIRE FRONT DESK STAFF HAS STOPPED CHECKING IN GUESTS. The people in line and are watching the show. The clerk is stunned. Speechless. Shock and awed. Crapped out and busted. The women are covering their children's eyes and ears. The men are wondering if this show requires a 2 drink minimum.
Me: now I get this is Vegas. Everyone wants a good time. It's midnight. My flight leaves at 6 which means I have to be up by 4. And this just isn't working. So I asked them to keep it down and I locked myself out of my room. So if you can make me another key or move me I'd appreciate it.
The clerk nods.
Clerk: of course. may I see your ID?
Years of ballet have prepared me for this day. I step back to make sure my genitals are still ensconced in my boxers as I pirouette and gesticulate wildly.
Me: DO I LOOK LIKE I HAVE ID?
The floor manager steps over and asks me to head down to the end of the desk where she will make me a key. I give her the room number and thank her after she offers to have security sent up to shutdown the best little whorehouse in Vegas. I tell her it may not be necessary. As I take my keys and walk away the people in line break out in raucous applause.
I take a bow and miraculously my boxer shorts don't rip. These people are my subjects and I have been crowned the the king of the three ring circus that is the circus circus lobby. Im offered a $1 tip from a kind soul but I decline.
My walk back to the hotel elevator bank is uneventful. So much so that I realize it is going too well. The other shoe, if I were wearing one felt as if it was about to drop. Suddenly a dumbass in a rascal scooter is heading toward me at flank speed as his head is turned to look at everyone BEHIND HIM. There's no way this will end well.
For you gentle readers joining us mid conversation - it's midnight and I need to be at the airport in 4.5 hours. I can just see it now. (Cue the harp noises)
Scene: Emergency room
Nurse: Allergic to anything? Me: NKDA Nurse: cause of injury? Me: what's the IC10 code for "run down by drunken buffoon on motorized wheelchair?"
I saw my life and confirmed upgraded first class seats home being given away by the Mccarran gate agent flash before my eyes and my catlike reflexes kicked in and I jumped to my left into the wall, mid 1960's Las Vegas union construction being the path of least resistance. Think "The Bodyguard" with Kevin Costner.
The buffoon barely realizes what happens. Children are amazed. "HEY MOM! Look! That guy just ran into a wall!"
Me: it was that OR GET RUN DOWN BY SOME JACKASS ON A GODDAMN SCOOTER GOING FULL SPEED DRIVING LIKE A....
I look down and a midwestern nuclear family with two children of formative age are waiting for the elevator. I change my last word.
Me: LUNATIC!
I look over to the parents.
Me: I'm really sorry. This is a family joint and I shouldn't have cursed the drunken scooter driver like that. Sorry kids.
Parent: no big deal. They've heard fucking worse.
I crack a smile at her word choice. Fucking worse. Yeah. That sounds like my evening.
After jumping into a wall, I'm now wide awake and unable to go back to sleep. I make the plane and push on time. The 737 comes to a stop short of the runway and holds. Something is wrong. The pilots come on and say that they loaded more cargo and passengers than planned so they have to redo their numbers. We're waiting on the taxiway with both engines running as they do this and the waiting music comes on. What's the first song?
Whitney Houston - "I Will Always Love You"
submitted by FirearmConcierge to guns [link] [comments]

Summer Splash Las Vegas 2017 Review (x-post from r/EDM)

I've seen a few posts (1,2,3) mentioning or asking about an event called Summer Splash Las Vegas. I attended this year and thought I would provide a full review and AMA since I couldn't find any reviews elsewhere online. It's a multi-week event in (you guessed it) Las Vegas, Nevada in the US featuring a variety of different EDM artists performing at various pool and club venues.
I attended Week 2 this year (2017 for those reading in the future) and had a great time. The lineup can be found here for now but I'm sure it won't be around long so here it is:
The schedule consisted of 2 performances per day, one in the morning and one in the evening. The morning events usually opened their doors around 10 AM and the evening events did so around 10 PM. However, as you might expect, the headliner did not perform until several hours after the doors opened. Typically, the morning events had the headliner start anywhere from 2 PM to 4 PM with the venue closing around 6 PM and the evening events had the headliner start around 2 AM with the venue closing around 4 AM.
Summer Splash lists recommended arrival times for each event and I found them to be both helpful and accurate. It's not necessary to arrive when the doors open because Summer Splash has a separate entrance for every event allowing you to skip the normal entrance lines which were sometimes dozens of people long. However, the venues reach capacity quickly as Summer Splash states and arriving about 2 hours after the doors open is usually as far as you can go before risking the doors to close as the venue gets full.
The cost of the package for myself was about $600 including taxes and fees for 5 nights (Wednesday - Sunday). I was staying with 1 other person and they paid about $100 less because the rates for women are discounted. The price goes down for each person with more people in your group and the longer you stay. You can choose anywhere from 2 to 5 nights and up to 10 people (in which case you get a much larger room of course). My room had 2 queen beds and was perfectly adequate. The stay was at the MGM Grand which I could easily write a separate review about but suffice it to say it's an impressively large hotel with some great restaurants contained within. You can easily get everything you need in the hotel including drinks, snacks and meals.
The package includes the stay at the hotel as well as admission into all of the events on the schedule. The events are open to the public but this is where you really get a lot for your money. I asked several people at different events how much they paid to get in and depending on the event, I heard anywhere from $50 to $100+ just to get into one event. The nightclub events are particularly expensive. The ticket price for Zedd was about $115 according to the Omnia nightclub website on the day of the performance.
Finally, everything in Vegas is obnoxiously expensive. A Bud Light (pretty much the cheapest beer most places) was $11 - $13 depending on the venue. Bring cash and expect to pay $50 or more for a large mixed drink, often sold in a souvenir cup. Buy some drinks in the hotel or along the strip to pregame before the events. The performances were a blast and it was probably the closest I've ever been to these artists performing so it really is worth it.
Some tips:
Here are some pictures to get an idea of the crowds and venues: https://imgur.com/gallery/VRLMn
Feel free to ask me any questions and I’ll do my best to answer them.
submitted by tandthezombies to vegas [link] [comments]

Tracking Graft, From the Bootlegger to the Mayor

The Small-Time Bootlegging Run That Started It All
A few days after Valentine’s Day in 2011, a State Police cruiser pulled over a van from New York City on a quiet highway outside Lowell, Mass. While it seemed at first like a routine stop — the light above its license plate was out — the troopers made a curious find.
When they searched the van, they found nearly 2,000 bottles of top-shelf cognac and a pack of razor blades, which they surmised had been used to remove the bottles’ tax stamps. The driver claimed ignorance. He said that a friend from New York, a man named Hamlet Peralta, had asked him as a favor to drive the brandy from New Hampshire to a church party an hour south of Lowell. But the law was the law, and the driver was arrested for transporting untaxed liquor. His case was soon disposed of with six months of probation and a $1,000 fine.
What no one knew at the time was that this two-bit bootlegging run was the tip of a criminal scheme that within three years would be used as evidence in an unimaginably larger case, a federal corruption investigation that would ultimately reach deep into New York City’s highest offices of power. While the inquiry began with Mr. Peralta, it eventually engulfed a Dickensian cast of characters: two Orthodox Jewish businessmen, an influential union leader, a hedge fund mogul, a coterie of top police officials — even the city’s mayor.
Because the case has involved so many people and has moved through the courts in separate pieces, its story, at least so far, has been told in serial increments. Some of the nearly 20 figures it has touched have pleaded guilty. Some have gone to trial. Others have escaped public censure — except, perhaps, in the headlines. But the sprawling paper trail the case has left behind — legal filings, trial transcripts and wiretap records — reveals a larger saga of favor-trading and back-room deals that connects its various players in an intersecting web of venality and vice.
In May, the last two targets of the probe — Jeremy Reichberg, an Orthodox Jewish community leader from Brooklyn, and James Grant, a former Police Department deputy inspector — will appear in Federal District Court in Manhattan at a bribery trial that will also feature a dozen other uncharged co-conspirators. As it nudges the case toward its conclusion, the trial will reprise the investigation’s central theme: that a culture of graft — sometimes petty, sometimes serious — has existed in New York since the days of Tammany Hall.
The authorities have never said what tipped them off to Mr. Peralta, but in an affidavit that the Federal Bureau of Investigation used to tap his cellphone, investigators said that in February 2013 an anonymous letter was sent to the Police Department’s anti-corruption nerve center, the Internal Affairs Bureau. The letter, which appears to be the first public mention of the inquiry, contained an explosive allegation: The man in charge of Harlem’s 30th Precinct, Deputy Inspector Ruel Stephenson, was crooked. Specifically, it claimed that the deputy inspector was close with someone named Hamlet and often warned him when the police were planning to inspect his businesses.
At that point, Hamlet Peralta owned two businesses in Harlem, a liquor store on West 125th Street and the Hudson River Cafe, a restaurant several blocks to the north. Perched near the water, Hudson River Cafe was known both for its views and its lively “club nights” that featured bands and D.J.’s. It was also known as a police hangout.
A gregarious man born in the Dominican Republic, Mr. Peralta, 39, was friends with several officers from nearby precincts, men who called him “bro” and regularly texted him with gossip. In April 2013, two months after getting the tipster’s letter, Internal Affairs sent undercover detectives to speak with him at his restaurant. According to court papers, the detectives pretended that they wanted Mr. Peralta’s help with “an outstanding ticket.” Mr. Peralta told them that he had “a very good relationship with Inspector Stephenson” and trying to be helpful, passed along his number.
Within a matter of months, investigators were digging deeper into Mr. Peralta’s business deals. They found two confidential sources who told them that for years Mr. Peralta had purchased spirits out of state — or sometimes stolen off trucks — and sold them wholesale to restaurants and nightclubs in violation of his liquor license. They also learned about the role he played in the brandy shipment discovered in the traffic stop in Massachusetts. EDITORS’ PICKS How One Interview Question Fuels the Gender Pay Gap They Survived a Massacre. Then the Lawyers Started Calling. A Very German Love Story: When Old Left and Far Right Share a Bedroom
Mr. Peralta’s bank accounts were particularly suspect. Court filings say that money flowed into them from one person and then out to another in a manner suggesting a Ponzi scheme. The filings also said that hundreds of thousands of dollars had been transferred in recent years to two convicted drug dealers. The records further indicated that Mr. Peralta owed large sums to the state tax authority and was substantially in debt to a capo in the Genovese crime family.
But what pushed the case forward — and finally undid Mr. Peralta — was a series of seemingly innocuous transactions. In his accounts, court papers said, the authorities found numerous deposits from a company called JSR Capital — among them, a $250,000 check with “liquor loan” written on its memo line.
Following the money, investigators learned that JSR was a real-estate firm with offices on Fifth Avenue, a few blocks south of St. Patrick’s Cathedral. It took its name from the initials of its owner: Jona S. Rechnitz.
“It Made Him Look Good, Made Me Look Good”
Mr. Rechnitz was an up-and-comer from California. He had arrived in New York in his late teens from Los Angeles, where he grew up as the scion of a wealthy family that was staunchly pro-Israel and active in Republican Party politics. His father, Robert Rechnitz, a successful real-estate developer, had served as a finance chairman on Senator Lindsey Graham’s 2016 presidential campaign and was a prominent donor to Benjamin Netanyahu, the prime minister of Israel. But the family’s real money belonged to Mr. Rechnitz’s cousin who owned a chain of California nursing homes that ultimately fell afoul of state and federal regulators.
After attending Yeshiva University in Upper Manhattan, Mr. Rechnitz followed in his father’s footsteps and tried to make a go of it in New York City real estate. For his first few years, those who knew him said, he worked in minor jobs at middling firms like Marcus & Millichap. But in 2007, he edged closer to success, taking a post at Africa Israel USA, the American subsidiary of the international development firm Africa Israel, which was owned by the billionaire diamond dealer Lev Leviev.
By his own account, Mr. Rechnitz started slowly at Africa Israel, fetching coffee and picking up dry cleaning for its New York chief executive. But as he later testified, he enjoyed the company’s ambience of “trophy properties” and “luxury developers.” Within a few years, as he progressed at the firm and eventually became its director of acquisitions, Mr. Rechnitz began to make connections to the machers and scoundrels who populated the world of New York real estate — something else he seemed to enjoy.
“I have never seen a young man so schooled in networking,” said someone who had dealings with him at the time and requested anonymity to avoid the investigation. “He made his life all about connective tissues. He doesn’t know how to do financial analysis. He doesn’t know how to put together a proposal. He doesn’t have normal business skills. But he knew everyone.” Comments
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Forever on the hunt for people who could help him advance his prestige or career, Mr. Rechnitz noticed one day that one of his Africa Israel clients had custom license plates marked “Sheriff” that gave him special parking privileges. “When he came to meet me, he would park wherever he wanted,” Mr. Rechnitz later said in court, “and that is something I thought was pretty cool.”
Mr. Rechnitz wanted his own set of the plates, and the client offered to introduce him to the man who had provided them. His name was Jeremy Reichberg, and he would soon be hosting a charity dinner for the N.Y.P.D.’s football team, the client said. When Mr. Rechnitz learned that “a lot of the higher-ups in the Police Department” would be at the event, he was even more convinced he had to go.
So, hustling as always, he bought a $5,000 ticket. Mr. Reichberg, he recalled, was “very happy with the donation” and arranged for the football team to give him a memorial plaque. “It made him look good, made me look good,” Mr. Rechnitz said, “and we started to become friends.”
Aside from dabbling in real estate and diamonds, Mr. Reichberg, now 44, also worked as an official liaison between the Police Department and Borough Park’s Orthodox Jewish community. The department uses liaisons throughout the city to keep abreast of the concerns of local residents, but prosecutors say that Mr. Reichberg considered the post as both a public-service job and a personal profit center. In their early meetings, Mr. Rechnitz said, Mr. Reichberg described himself as “a fix-it guy” who used his police connections to help his friends in Borough Park take care of things like parking tickets and moving violations. For rendering these courtesies, he charged a small fee.
As the men grew closer, Mr. Reichberg supposedly acknowledged performing other favors. Once, Mr. Rechnitz said, he confessed that he had sent the police to a colleague’s diamond business to chase away a rival who was handing out fliers in front of his store. The police were later “rewarded with jewelry,” Mr. Rechnitz said.
To fulfill these requests, the government says, Mr. Reichberg relied on a stable of pliant police officials. Among them, prosecutors claim, was Mr. Grant, who at that point ran the 72nd Precinct nearby in Sunset Park, and Michael Harrington, an inspector assigned to a larger unit, Patrol Borough Brooklyn South. Mr. Reichberg also had connections, the government says, to a former commander of Borough Park’s 66th Precinct who had left the department to become the police commissioner in Floral Park, N.Y. Court papers say that he had similar relationships in the Westchester County Police Department and the New York courts.
“He had all these connections to police,” Mr. Rechnitz testified. “I didn’t know many people that had connections with police, growing up in Los Angeles, and I thought this would be an awesome tool for me personally and for my business.”
Not long after the football dinner, Lev Leviev, the head of Africa Israel, came to New York on a business trip. Wanting to impress him, Mr. Rechnitz called Mr. Reichberg, who, he said, offered to have the police escort Mr. Leviev from his private plane at Teterboro Airport in New Jersey through the Lincoln Tunnel into the city. Prosecutors say that at Mr. Reichberg’s behest, the police shut down one of the tunnel’s lanes so that Mr. Leviev could sail through on his own. “This is good,” Mr. Rechnitz remembered thinking at the time. “This will earn me a lot of points.”
In the months that followed, Mr. Rechnitz said, he started joining Mr. Reichberg for expensive dinners at which they entertained police officials and were rewarded with little perks like getting invited behind security lines at the New York City Marathon and the New Year’s Eve celebration in Times Square. The two men developed a dynamic based on their money and connections. “Jeremy would deal with more of the details, if something needed to be done,” Mr. Rechnitz later said, “and I would be the guy to basically pay for it.”
In 2011, at age 29, Mr. Rechnitz left Africa Israel and opened JSR Capital. In his later testimony, he claimed to have owned as much as $100 million in holdings at one point. He bought the old Mount Hope Medical Center in the Bronx and, not long after, a building at 238 Madison Avenue in Manhattan. He also owned two townhouses in the East Village and a sprawling complex called Solomon’s Plaza in Borough Park, Brooklyn.
But even if his properties were something less than glamorous, JSR gave Mr. Rechnitz a pool of capital to spend on his new friends, and his expenditures were eventually legion. On the witness stand, he testified that during this period he regularly racked up credit card bills of $1 million a year. As one lawyer involved in the case later claimed in court, Mr. Rechnitz often spent more on New York Knicks tickets — one of his favorite gifts — than he did on his taxes.
By early 2013, the government says, the two men’s ties to the police had widened. They struck up friendships with four deputy chiefs in top commands across the city, including David Colon, who ran the department’s Housing Bureau. In a bit of coincidence, Deputy Chief Colon was friends with Mr. Peralta and an occassional patron of the Hudson River Cafe. (Though none of these officials were ultimately charged, most of them either retired or were transferred from their posts.)
As they expanded their network, Mr. Rechnitz and Mr. Reichberg also became more brazen. In February 2013, the government said, they chartered a private jet — for nearly $60,000 — and flew Mr. Grant and David Milici, a detective from the 72nd Precinct, to Las Vegas for an all-expense-paid weekend at the Super Bowl. There were tickets to the game, prosecutors said, and luxury suites at the MGM Grand.
There was something else, too: a high-priced escort — “a professional in her industry,” as Mr. Grant’s lawyer later called her — joined the men on the flight in a special costume that Mr. Reichberg bought: a sexy stewardess’s outfit.
Moving Up in the Ranks
Philip Banks III was a legend in the Police Department. Capping a career of nearly 30 years, he was promoted in March 2013 to chief of the department, the highest uniformed position on the force. Rumor had it that there was even more was in store for Chief Banks, the top black official in the N.Y.P.D. As prosecutors noted in a legal filing, he was on a shortlist for deputy commissioner.
In one of his early moves, Chief Banks plucked his protégé, Michael Harrington, from Brooklyn South to work as his executive officer. While this was a coup for Mr. Harrington, it was also one for Mr. Rechnitz and Mr. Reichberg. After moving into 1 Police Plaza, Mr. Harrington introduced the men to Chief Banks. As Mr. Rechnitz later claimed in court, the fortuitous staffing change gave him “access to the highest levels at the N.Y.P.D.” — or what he called a “one-stop shop for assistance.”
Within weeks of Mr. Harrington taking his new job, Mr. Rechnitz and Mr. Reichberg lavished him with gifts, the government said. Mr. Rechnitz sent him Knicks and New York Rangers tickets, court papers say, while Mr. Reichberg helped arrange a contract for a security company his brother owned.
Mr. Grant was also still receiving the men’s largess. When he and his family went to Rome in August 2013, Mr. Rechnitz paid a portion of their hotel bill, prosecutors say. A few months later, according to court papers, they bought Mr. Grant a $3,000 watch and spent another $6,000 to install new railings on his house in Staten Island.
Then on Christmas Day, prosecutors say, the two religious Jews, who typically wore sober black and white, showed up at the Grant family home dressed as Santa’s elves. They were bearing gifts: a Nintendo set for Mr. Grant’s children and jewelry for his wife. After leaving the presents, the government claimed, they went on to do the same at Mr. Harrington’s house.
Within a few months, court papers say, Mr. Harrington had returned the favor by dispatching officers to help Mr. Reichberg with problems at his diamond business. Prosecutors claim that he also sent police cars to protect a synagogue that Mr. Reichberg attended — and a police boat and helicopter to some of Mr. Reichberg’s private gatherings. Mr. Grant, the government said, also ordered officers on missions to help the men. According to court papers, he later helped the men illegally get gun permits with the assistance of another fixer from Borough Park, a vodka-swilling businessman who, the papers say, was bribing him.
But the two men clearly saw Chief Banks as their most important contact. Court papers say that in late 2013, they started spending time with him at least twice a month, dining at what Mr. Rechnitz called “the finest kosher establishments in New York.” They bought Chief Banks a ring, Mr. Rechnitz testified, that had once belonged to Muhammad Ali. (Chief Banks was a fan.) The chief, in turn, met with the men in his office, prosecutors said, letting them park in his reserved spot in the department’s private garage. They went to cigar bars and started taking trips together — a fact that “carried weight,” Mr. Rechnitz said, when they sought help from other officers.
While these arrangements were cozy, they were not necessarily illegal. But one thing troubled the federal agents on the case. As they continued scrutinizing Hamlet Peralta’s bank accounts, they found curious transactions involving Chief Banks.
At some point in 2013 — the record is unclear — prosecutors say that David Colon, the Police Department’s housing bureau chief, introduced Mr. Peralta to Mr. Rechnitz. Mr. Peralta was, as always, strapped for cash — “in way over his head,” his own lawyer said — and at a meeting, he pitched Mr. Rechnitz on investing in his liquor deals. Charging a “cash fee” of 18 percent, Mr. Rechnitz started gathering money from a group of friends and relatives and ultimately invested more than $3 million with Mr. Peralta. Some of that money, the authorities said, came from Chief Banks.
The chief was not the only official doing business with Mr. Rechnitz. As he and Mr. Reichberg grew closer to Chief Banks, they were introduced to one of the chief’s old friends, Norman Seabrook, the longtime leader of the Correction Officers’ Benevolent Association, the union for New York City’s jail guards. Though he was a dandy with a taste for cigars and tailored suits, Mr. Seabrook was also a power broker who wielded control over Rikers Island and had numerous connections to local politicians. Immediately, Mr. Rechnitz saw him as a usable commodity.
“This was yet another chapter in my life,” he later said of meeting Mr. Seabrook, “and another thing that I felt no one else had access to.”
In December 2013, a few weeks before their elfin Christmas visits, Mr. Rechnitz and Mr. Reichberg chartered another private jet and took Chief Banks and Mr. Seabrook on a trip to Punta Cana in the Dominican Republic. Mr. Peralta also went along. As Mr. Rechnitz later said: “We played golf. We relaxed. We smoked cigars. We ate nice.”
One night, after a long bout of drinking, Mr. Rechnitz found himself in Mr. Seabrook’s room at their luxury villa. Amid the palm trees — and under the influence of local booze — Mr. Seabrook became emotional. According to Mr. Rechnitz, he launched into a story about his troubles: how he had grown up with a single mother and reached the pinnacle of power in New York, but had little to show for it financially. Mr. Seabrook said his mortgage was crippling him and his beloved dog had just died. Drunk, he opened his shirt, Mr. Rechnitz said, and showed off a tattoo of the dog he had gotten on his chest.
Then he broke down.
“He makes, everybody makes, but Norman Seabrook doesn’t make,” Mr. Seabrook told him.
“Yeah,” Mr. Rechnitz answered, “you should be making money.”
Mr. Seabrook agreed. “It’s time,” he said, “Norman Seabrook got paid.”
The Scheme to Pay the Union Boss
Mr. Rechnitz knew someone who might pay Mr. Seabrook.
Murray Huberfeld, a founder of the hedge fund Platinum Partners, was an old family friend. Mr. Huberfeld’s father and Mr. Rechnitz’s grandfather were from the same part of Poland and had both survived the Holocaust. The two men had vacationed together when Mr. Rechnitz was a child, and when he came to New York City, Mr. Rechnitz reconnected with Mr. Huberfeld and occasionally did business with him. While working in real estate, Mr. Rechnitz had sold Mr. Huberfeld a few apartments in the pricey Apthorp building on the Upper West Side.
Beyond his experience as a financier, Mr. Huberfeld was also a major donor to Chabad-Lubavitch synagogues and to various yeshivas in Borough Park. But despite his philanthropic tendencies, he had a checkered past. In 1993, Mr. Huberfeld had been convicted in a fraud case, accused of having someone else take his broker’s license test in his name.
Shortly after returning from Punta Cana, Mr. Rechnitz met with Mr. Huberfeld in his office near Carnegie Hall. He wanted to see if Platinum Partners might be interested in investing money from Mr. Seabrook’s union. Platinum Partners was, in fact, looking for institutional investors. It was potentially lucrative for the firm, a small fund that stood out for its double-digit returns, but Mr. Rechnitz told Mr. Huberfeld that there would be a catch if the deal went through: Mr. Seabrook would have to get a kickback.
Mr. Huberfeld, prosecutors said, was amenable. Like many hedge funds, Platinum Partners worked on what was known as the “2 and 20” structure: The fund charged 2 percent of the total investment as a management fee and then kept 20 percent of the profits. From that 20 percent, court papers say, Mr. Huberfeld agreed to give a cut to Mr. Seabrook.
In March 2014, before the deal was sealed, Mr. Rechnitz and Mr. Reichberg took Mr. Seabrook and Chief Banks on another trip, this time to Israel. They prayed together at the Western Wall, ate at fancy restaurants in Jerusalem and went to the Arab marketplace, where Mr. Rechnitz bought Chief Banks a backgammon set, a game they liked to play together.
Within a month of their return, Mr. Seabrook had persuaded his union to invest $10 million from its pension fund into Platinum Partners, the government said. Over the summer, he invested another $10 million from the operating fund. According to court papers, the $20 million play was the largest single-client deal that Platinum Partners had gotten that year. But the last two tranches of $5 million, investigators say, were never approved by the union’s board of directors. Even its treasurer didn’t know.
By the end of 2014, prosecutors say, Mr. Seabrook was getting antsy. Although he had invested heavily in Platinum, he had not yet been paid, and he started pressing Mr. Rechnitz for his money. Mr. Rechnitz said he went to Mr. Huberfeld, who complained his fund was having a bad year. In their initial conversations, Mr. Rechnitz had promised Mr. Seabrook that he would make at least $100,000 in the deal. But feeling pinched, the government said, Mr. Huberfeld was now offering only $60,000 — and even that was a stretch.
So Mr. Rechnitz devised a solution. Court papers say that he proposed paying Mr. Seabrook the $60,000 from his own reserves and getting the money back from Mr. Huberfeld by invoicing Platinum Partners an equivalent amount in phony Knicks tickets. To carry off the scam, Mr. Rechnitz suggested routing the transaction through a Ponzi-scheming ticket broker he had been involved with — yet another of the shady businesses he dealt in.
The payoff was scheduled for Dec. 11, 2014, the government said. Aware that he was chintzing Mr. Seabrook, Mr. Rechnitz said he tried to sweeten deal by tossing in a gift: an $800 Salvatore Ferragamo handbag. He knew that Mr. Seabrook loved the brand. The union leader had once proudly showed Mr. Rechnitz the burgundy suede Ferragamo loafers he was wearing. After Mr. Rechnitz bought the bag, he stuffed it full of cash from his office safe. Then, he said, he met Mr. Seabrook on West 57th Street in Manhattan, climbing into his Chevrolet Suburban, which had pulled up to the curb.
Mr. Seabrook was hardly thrilled, Mr. Rechnitz said, to be getting less than he was promised, but their friendship managed to survive. Later that night, the two men met Chief Banks and Mr. Reichberg for dinner on Lexington Avenue and then strolled over to a Torah dedication ceremony at a Chabad-Lubavitch office on Fifth Avenue, where all they danced with the scroll.
After that, Mr. Rechnitz said, they retired to the Grand Havana Club for cigars.
The Investigation Expands — and Immediately Falls Apart
As entertaining as the night had been, there was something the men didn’t know at the time: All of them were under investigation.
The authorities had been on to them for weeks, secretly collecting their conversations through a court-ordered wiretap. The inquiry, which had started with Mr. Peralta, was by now an expansive operation jointly run by Internal Affairs and the New York office of the F.B.I. The initial working theory that tied these threads together was almost inconceivable: that Mr. Peralta was funneling money from Mr. Rechnitz, Mr. Reichberg and Chief Banks through his liquor business into the coffers of a drug dealer.
Though that theory proved untrue, there was already fallout from the probe. The agents had filed their application for the wiretap on Oct. 30, 2014. The next day — just before he was due to be promoted to first deputy commissioner — Chief Banks suddenly retired, citing a mix of personal and professional concerns.
The news set off a flurry of anxious calls and texts. Mr. Peralta immediately sent a message to one of his police friends, exclaiming, “Banks quit!” Not long after, court papers say, Mr. Banks reached out to Mr. Reichberg, saying he had recently seen Mr. Rechnitz, whom he described as “freaking nervous.” Mr. Banks tried to downplay the tension, telling Mr. Reichberg, “Everything is fine.” But the papers say he also told Mr. Reichberg to get his partner under control. “Just calm him down,” Mr. Banks said.
Then, just as it seemed as if the inquiry was finally was taking shape, a bombshell exploded on the wire.
Despite their alarm at Mr. Banks retiring, Mr. Rechnitz and Mr. Reichberg never stopped hustling. Within three months, in fact, Mr. Reichberg was caught on the wiretap telling a deputy chief that with Mr. Banks out of the way, he was angling to get Michael Harrington, now a deputy chief himself, promoted to chief of the department.
To accomplish the task, Mr. Reichberg told his friend that he would reach out “to the mayor.”
“Nobody will turn down the mayor,” he said.
The men had known Bill de Blasio since before he entered office. Though Mr. Rechnitz had at first supported one of his rivals, William C. Thompson Jr., in an early stage of the 2013 mayor’s race, after Mr. de Blasio won the Democratic primary, Mr. Rechnitz and Mr. Reichberg switched their allegiance and became major donors to the de Blasio campaign.
In deciding to back Mr. de Blasio, the men had followed the advice of Fernando Mateo, a local politico who was also an owner of La Marina restaurant in Inwood and worked for a city taxi union. Mr. Rechnitz said that he was introduced to Mr. Mateo by Deputy Chief Colon, Mr. Peralta’s friend. Once Mr. de Blasio secured the nomination, Mr. Mateo boasted that he had “an in with Bill de Blasio,” Mr. Rechnitz said. And when Mr. Mateo promised to arrange a meeting with the campaign, Mr. Rechnitz sensed an opportunity.
“We had the police going for us,” he later said in court. “Now it was time to get into politics.”
Indeed, within days, prosecutors say, Mr. Rechnitz and Mr. Reichberg had an audience with Ross Offinger, Mr. de Blasio’s campaign fund-raiser. As Mr. Rechnitz later testified, they told Mr. Offinger: “We’re going to become significant contributors, but we want access. And when we call, we want answers. When we reach out for things, we want them to get done.”
True to his word, in early 2014, Mr. Rechnitz donated $50,000 to the Campaign for One New York, Mr. de Blasio’s nonprofit fund-raising and advocacy group. Months later, Mr. Reichberg held a party for Mr. de Blasio at his home in Borough Park at which another $35,000 was raised. That same year, one of Mr. Rechnitz’s companies, JSTD Madison LLC, gave more than $100,000 to the mayor’s pet effort to flip the State Senate back to the control of the Democratic Party.
Mr. Rechnitz says that Mr. de Blasio gave him his personal cellphone number and email address and “told me to call if there’s anything I need — always be in touch.” Shortly after the election, both men were placed on the mayor’s inaugural committee with celebrities like Russell Simmons, Sarah Jessica Parker and Steve Buscemi.
But that was just the beginning, Mr. Rechnitz said, of their attempts to wrangle favors out of City Hall. As Mr. de Blasio got settled into office, Mr. Offinger was met with a barrage of calls from the two men. In one of those calls, Mr. Rechnitz said, he asked for help on behalf of a friend who owned a building on Ocean Parkway in Brooklyn and was worried that the local police precinct might buy it out from under him for use as a stationhouse. In another, Mr. Rechnitz requested assistance for a cousin of his wife who ran a school on Manhattan’s east side and was having trouble meeting the city’s building code.
One of Mr. Reichberg’s friends had problems with his water bill, and Mr. Rechnitz himself had legal issues with Airbnb at his Madison Avenue property. In a particularly brazen move, Mr. Rechnitz tried at one point to get himself appointed to Mr. de Blasio’s new committee on fighting police corruption.
While city officials called and emailed to follow up on some of these pleas, many were rebuffed. Mr. de Blasio has adamantly denied that he did anything wrong. “Jona Rechnitz is a liar and a felon,” he said this fall, after Mr. Rechnitz pleaded guilty to honest services fraud and turned state’s evidence. “It’s as simple as that.”
But at the time, Mr. Rechnitz dreamed of the good turns he hoped to get in exchange for his donations.
“My mind was limitless,” he testified in November. “Jeremy had told me in the days of Giuliani, people made a fortune. I was focused on making money, getting my name out there, becoming a big player in town.”
The End Game
It all came crashing down within a few months in the spring of 2016.
On April 8 that year, Mr. Peralta was arrested in Georgia and charged with running what the government described as a $12 million Ponzi scheme. A few weeks later, in a stunning move, Mr. Rechnitz decided to cooperate with the authorities, betraying everyone he worked with. He was facing 20 years in prison and said he signed the cooperation papers “in the hopes of leniency” at sentencing.
Once he started talking, the dominoes kept falling.
On May 20, federal agents served subpoenas on Mr. Huberfeld’s hedge fund and Mr. Seabrook’s union. Three weeks later, both men were arrested and charged with fraud.
On June 20, Mr. Grant and Mr. Harrington, both of whom had since retired, were also arrested, accused of overlapping bribery and corruption charges. When the authorities showed up on the same day to arrest Mr. Reichberg, they caught his brother trying to make off with what they called potential evidence: several smartphones, a flip phone, eight compact discs, six thumb drives and a windshield placard saying that Mr. Reichberg’s wife was a friend of Mr. Banks.
Amid the arrests, Inspector Michael Ameri, another police official caught up in the inquiry, was found dead in his car of a self-inflicted gunshot to the head near a golf course in Long Island. Around the same time, Detective Milici, who had flown to Las Vegas with Mr. Grant and the prostitute, filed for retirement.
In spite of the roundup, though, the case so far has produced limited results. Mr. Peralta pleaded guilty in May 2017, and while he was imprisoned as his case moved through the courts, his restaurant was shuttered, his girlfriend left him and his father died of cancer. “I’m really broken,” he said when he was sentenced to five years in prison this September.
After fighting his own case for almost two years, Mr. Harrington pleaded guilty in March to dispatching police resources without permission. The charge was considerably less severe than the initial fraud and bribery counts the government leveled against him. (He is scheduled to be sentenced on June 11.)
Mr. Banks was never charged in the case. And in March 2017, after months of investigation, the United States attorney’s office in Manhattan suddenly announced that it would not seek an indictment of Mr. de Blasio either. But in a rare public statement, the Manhattan district attorney’s office, which had investigated a narrower set of issues, criticized the mayor for violating the “intent and spirit of the law.”
Mr. Seabrook and Mr. Huberfeld went on trial together in October, but the proceeding ended in a hung jury. The courtroom failure was partly blamed on Mr. Rechnitz’s cataclysmic testimony as a prosecution witness. At the trial, the defendants’ lawyers painted Mr. Rechnitz — successfully, it seemed — as “wheeler and dealer,” “a wannabe big shot” and “a straight-up liar.” As Mr. Seabrook’s lawyer, Paul Shechtman, said one day in court, “Jona Rechnitz and the truth have never been in the same room.”
Federal prosecutors have promised to retry the men in July, a few months after Mr. Grant and Mr. Reichberg go on trial. Mr. Rechnitz is scheduled to testify at both trials.
In the meantime, though, he has left New York. He now lives in Beverlywood, a neighborhood on the west side of Los Angeles, where he rents a house, he said, for $17,000 a month.
Diagram of the relationship between parties described
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Tracking Graft from the Bootlegger to the Mayor

The Small-Time Bootlegging Run That Started It All
A few days after Valentine’s Day in 2011, a State Police cruiser pulled over a van from New York City on a quiet highway outside Lowell, Mass. While it seemed at first like a routine stop — the light above its license plate was out — the troopers made a curious find.
When they searched the van, they found nearly 2,000 bottles of top-shelf cognac and a pack of razor blades, which they surmised had been used to remove the bottles’ tax stamps. The driver claimed ignorance. He said that a friend from New York, a man named Hamlet Peralta, had asked him as a favor to drive the brandy from New Hampshire to a church party an hour south of Lowell. But the law was the law, and the driver was arrested for transporting untaxed liquor. His case was soon disposed of with six months of probation and a $1,000 fine.
What no one knew at the time was that this two-bit bootlegging run was the tip of a criminal scheme that within three years would be used as evidence in an unimaginably larger case, a federal corruption investigation that would ultimately reach deep into New York City’s highest offices of power. While the inquiry began with Mr. Peralta, it eventually engulfed a Dickensian cast of characters: two Orthodox Jewish businessmen, an influential union leader, a hedge fund mogul, a coterie of top police officials — even the city’s mayor.
Because the case has involved so many people and has moved through the courts in separate pieces, its story, at least so far, has been told in serial increments. Some of the nearly 20 figures it has touched have pleaded guilty. Some have gone to trial. Others have escaped public censure — except, perhaps, in the headlines. But the sprawling paper trail the case has left behind — legal filings, trial transcripts and wiretap records — reveals a larger saga of favor-trading and back-room deals that connects its various players in an intersecting web of venality and vice.
In May, the last two targets of the probe — Jeremy Reichberg, an Orthodox Jewish community leader from Brooklyn, and James Grant, a former Police Department deputy inspector — will appear in Federal District Court in Manhattan at a bribery trial that will also feature a dozen other uncharged co-conspirators. As it nudges the case toward its conclusion, the trial will reprise the investigation’s central theme: that a culture of graft — sometimes petty, sometimes serious — has existed in New York since the days of Tammany Hall.
The authorities have never said what tipped them off to Mr. Peralta, but in an affidavit that the Federal Bureau of Investigation used to tap his cellphone, investigators said that in February 2013 an anonymous letter was sent to the Police Department’s anti-corruption nerve center, the Internal Affairs Bureau. The letter, which appears to be the first public mention of the inquiry, contained an explosive allegation: The man in charge of Harlem’s 30th Precinct, Deputy Inspector Ruel Stephenson, was crooked. Specifically, it claimed that the deputy inspector was close with someone named Hamlet and often warned him when the police were planning to inspect his businesses.
At that point, Hamlet Peralta owned two businesses in Harlem, a liquor store on West 125th Street and the Hudson River Cafe, a restaurant several blocks to the north. Perched near the water, Hudson River Cafe was known both for its views and its lively “club nights” that featured bands and D.J.’s. It was also known as a police hangout.
A gregarious man born in the Dominican Republic, Mr. Peralta, 39, was friends with several officers from nearby precincts, men who called him “bro” and regularly texted him with gossip. In April 2013, two months after getting the tipster’s letter, Internal Affairs sent undercover detectives to speak with him at his restaurant. According to court papers, the detectives pretended that they wanted Mr. Peralta’s help with “an outstanding ticket.” Mr. Peralta told them that he had “a very good relationship with Inspector Stephenson” and trying to be helpful, passed along his number.
Within a matter of months, investigators were digging deeper into Mr. Peralta’s business deals. They found two confidential sources who told them that for years Mr. Peralta had purchased spirits out of state — or sometimes stolen off trucks — and sold them wholesale to restaurants and nightclubs in violation of his liquor license. They also learned about the role he played in the brandy shipment discovered in the traffic stop in Massachusetts. EDITORS’ PICKS How One Interview Question Fuels the Gender Pay Gap They Survived a Massacre. Then the Lawyers Started Calling. A Very German Love Story: When Old Left and Far Right Share a Bedroom
Mr. Peralta’s bank accounts were particularly suspect. Court filings say that money flowed into them from one person and then out to another in a manner suggesting a Ponzi scheme. The filings also said that hundreds of thousands of dollars had been transferred in recent years to two convicted drug dealers. The records further indicated that Mr. Peralta owed large sums to the state tax authority and was substantially in debt to a capo in the Genovese crime family.
But what pushed the case forward — and finally undid Mr. Peralta — was a series of seemingly innocuous transactions. In his accounts, court papers said, the authorities found numerous deposits from a company called JSR Capital — among them, a $250,000 check with “liquor loan” written on its memo line.
Following the money, investigators learned that JSR was a real-estate firm with offices on Fifth Avenue, a few blocks south of St. Patrick’s Cathedral. It took its name from the initials of its owner: Jona S. Rechnitz.
“It Made Him Look Good, Made Me Look Good”
Mr. Rechnitz was an up-and-comer from California. He had arrived in New York in his late teens from Los Angeles, where he grew up as the scion of a wealthy family that was staunchly pro-Israel and active in Republican Party politics. His father, Robert Rechnitz, a successful real-estate developer, had served as a finance chairman on Senator Lindsey Graham’s 2016 presidential campaign and was a prominent donor to Benjamin Netanyahu, the prime minister of Israel. But the family’s real money belonged to Mr. Rechnitz’s cousin who owned a chain of California nursing homes that ultimately fell afoul of state and federal regulators.
After attending Yeshiva University in Upper Manhattan, Mr. Rechnitz followed in his father’s footsteps and tried to make a go of it in New York City real estate. For his first few years, those who knew him said, he worked in minor jobs at middling firms like Marcus & Millichap. But in 2007, he edged closer to success, taking a post at Africa Israel USA, the American subsidiary of the international development firm Africa Israel, which was owned by the billionaire diamond dealer Lev Leviev.
By his own account, Mr. Rechnitz started slowly at Africa Israel, fetching coffee and picking up dry cleaning for its New York chief executive. But as he later testified, he enjoyed the company’s ambience of “trophy properties” and “luxury developers.” Within a few years, as he progressed at the firm and eventually became its director of acquisitions, Mr. Rechnitz began to make connections to the machers and scoundrels who populated the world of New York real estate — something else he seemed to enjoy.
“I have never seen a young man so schooled in networking,” said someone who had dealings with him at the time and requested anonymity to avoid the investigation. “He made his life all about connective tissues. He doesn’t know how to do financial analysis. He doesn’t know how to put together a proposal. He doesn’t have normal business skills. But he knew everyone.” Comments
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Forever on the hunt for people who could help him advance his prestige or career, Mr. Rechnitz noticed one day that one of his Africa Israel clients had custom license plates marked “Sheriff” that gave him special parking privileges. “When he came to meet me, he would park wherever he wanted,” Mr. Rechnitz later said in court, “and that is something I thought was pretty cool.”
Mr. Rechnitz wanted his own set of the plates, and the client offered to introduce him to the man who had provided them. His name was Jeremy Reichberg, and he would soon be hosting a charity dinner for the N.Y.P.D.’s football team, the client said. When Mr. Rechnitz learned that “a lot of the higher-ups in the Police Department” would be at the event, he was even more convinced he had to go.
So, hustling as always, he bought a $5,000 ticket. Mr. Reichberg, he recalled, was “very happy with the donation” and arranged for the football team to give him a memorial plaque. “It made him look good, made me look good,” Mr. Rechnitz said, “and we started to become friends.”
Aside from dabbling in real estate and diamonds, Mr. Reichberg, now 44, also worked as an official liaison between the Police Department and Borough Park’s Orthodox Jewish community. The department uses liaisons throughout the city to keep abreast of the concerns of local residents, but prosecutors say that Mr. Reichberg considered the post as both a public-service job and a personal profit center. In their early meetings, Mr. Rechnitz said, Mr. Reichberg described himself as “a fix-it guy” who used his police connections to help his friends in Borough Park take care of things like parking tickets and moving violations. For rendering these courtesies, he charged a small fee.
As the men grew closer, Mr. Reichberg supposedly acknowledged performing other favors. Once, Mr. Rechnitz said, he confessed that he had sent the police to a colleague’s diamond business to chase away a rival who was handing out fliers in front of his store. The police were later “rewarded with jewelry,” Mr. Rechnitz said.
To fulfill these requests, the government says, Mr. Reichberg relied on a stable of pliant police officials. Among them, prosecutors claim, was Mr. Grant, who at that point ran the 72nd Precinct nearby in Sunset Park, and Michael Harrington, an inspector assigned to a larger unit, Patrol Borough Brooklyn South. Mr. Reichberg also had connections, the government says, to a former commander of Borough Park’s 66th Precinct who had left the department to become the police commissioner in Floral Park, N.Y. Court papers say that he had similar relationships in the Westchester County Police Department and the New York courts.
“He had all these connections to police,” Mr. Rechnitz testified. “I didn’t know many people that had connections with police, growing up in Los Angeles, and I thought this would be an awesome tool for me personally and for my business.”
Not long after the football dinner, Lev Leviev, the head of Africa Israel, came to New York on a business trip. Wanting to impress him, Mr. Rechnitz called Mr. Reichberg, who, he said, offered to have the police escort Mr. Leviev from his private plane at Teterboro Airport in New Jersey through the Lincoln Tunnel into the city. Prosecutors say that at Mr. Reichberg’s behest, the police shut down one of the tunnel’s lanes so that Mr. Leviev could sail through on his own. “This is good,” Mr. Rechnitz remembered thinking at the time. “This will earn me a lot of points.”
In the months that followed, Mr. Rechnitz said, he started joining Mr. Reichberg for expensive dinners at which they entertained police officials and were rewarded with little perks like getting invited behind security lines at the New York City Marathon and the New Year’s Eve celebration in Times Square. The two men developed a dynamic based on their money and connections. “Jeremy would deal with more of the details, if something needed to be done,” Mr. Rechnitz later said, “and I would be the guy to basically pay for it.”
In 2011, at age 29, Mr. Rechnitz left Africa Israel and opened JSR Capital. In his later testimony, he claimed to have owned as much as $100 million in holdings at one point. He bought the old Mount Hope Medical Center in the Bronx and, not long after, a building at 238 Madison Avenue in Manhattan. He also owned two townhouses in the East Village and a sprawling complex called Solomon’s Plaza in Borough Park, Brooklyn.
But even if his properties were something less than glamorous, JSR gave Mr. Rechnitz a pool of capital to spend on his new friends, and his expenditures were eventually legion. On the witness stand, he testified that during this period he regularly racked up credit card bills of $1 million a year. As one lawyer involved in the case later claimed in court, Mr. Rechnitz often spent more on New York Knicks tickets — one of his favorite gifts — than he did on his taxes.
By early 2013, the government says, the two men’s ties to the police had widened. They struck up friendships with four deputy chiefs in top commands across the city, including David Colon, who ran the department’s Housing Bureau. In a bit of coincidence, Deputy Chief Colon was friends with Mr. Peralta and an occassional patron of the Hudson River Cafe. (Though none of these officials were ultimately charged, most of them either retired or were transferred from their posts.)
As they expanded their network, Mr. Rechnitz and Mr. Reichberg also became more brazen. In February 2013, the government said, they chartered a private jet — for nearly $60,000 — and flew Mr. Grant and David Milici, a detective from the 72nd Precinct, to Las Vegas for an all-expense-paid weekend at the Super Bowl. There were tickets to the game, prosecutors said, and luxury suites at the MGM Grand.
There was something else, too: a high-priced escort — “a professional in her industry,” as Mr. Grant’s lawyer later called her — joined the men on the flight in a special costume that Mr. Reichberg bought: a sexy stewardess’s outfit.
Moving Up in the Ranks
Philip Banks III was a legend in the Police Department. Capping a career of nearly 30 years, he was promoted in March 2013 to chief of the department, the highest uniformed position on the force. Rumor had it that there was even more was in store for Chief Banks, the top black official in the N.Y.P.D. As prosecutors noted in a legal filing, he was on a shortlist for deputy commissioner.
In one of his early moves, Chief Banks plucked his protégé, Michael Harrington, from Brooklyn South to work as his executive officer. While this was a coup for Mr. Harrington, it was also one for Mr. Rechnitz and Mr. Reichberg. After moving into 1 Police Plaza, Mr. Harrington introduced the men to Chief Banks. As Mr. Rechnitz later claimed in court, the fortuitous staffing change gave him “access to the highest levels at the N.Y.P.D.” — or what he called a “one-stop shop for assistance.”
Within weeks of Mr. Harrington taking his new job, Mr. Rechnitz and Mr. Reichberg lavished him with gifts, the government said. Mr. Rechnitz sent him Knicks and New York Rangers tickets, court papers say, while Mr. Reichberg helped arrange a contract for a security company his brother owned.
Mr. Grant was also still receiving the men’s largess. When he and his family went to Rome in August 2013, Mr. Rechnitz paid a portion of their hotel bill, prosecutors say. A few months later, according to court papers, they bought Mr. Grant a $3,000 watch and spent another $6,000 to install new railings on his house in Staten Island.
Then on Christmas Day, prosecutors say, the two religious Jews, who typically wore sober black and white, showed up at the Grant family home dressed as Santa’s elves. They were bearing gifts: a Nintendo set for Mr. Grant’s children and jewelry for his wife. After leaving the presents, the government claimed, they went on to do the same at Mr. Harrington’s house.
Within a few months, court papers say, Mr. Harrington had returned the favor by dispatching officers to help Mr. Reichberg with problems at his diamond business. Prosecutors claim that he also sent police cars to protect a synagogue that Mr. Reichberg attended — and a police boat and helicopter to some of Mr. Reichberg’s private gatherings. Mr. Grant, the government said, also ordered officers on missions to help the men. According to court papers, he later helped the men illegally get gun permits with the assistance of another fixer from Borough Park, a vodka-swilling businessman who, the papers say, was bribing him.
But the two men clearly saw Chief Banks as their most important contact. Court papers say that in late 2013, they started spending time with him at least twice a month, dining at what Mr. Rechnitz called “the finest kosher establishments in New York.” They bought Chief Banks a ring, Mr. Rechnitz testified, that had once belonged to Muhammad Ali. (Chief Banks was a fan.) The chief, in turn, met with the men in his office, prosecutors said, letting them park in his reserved spot in the department’s private garage. They went to cigar bars and started taking trips together — a fact that “carried weight,” Mr. Rechnitz said, when they sought help from other officers.
While these arrangements were cozy, they were not necessarily illegal. But one thing troubled the federal agents on the case. As they continued scrutinizing Hamlet Peralta’s bank accounts, they found curious transactions involving Chief Banks.
At some point in 2013 — the record is unclear — prosecutors say that David Colon, the Police Department’s housing bureau chief, introduced Mr. Peralta to Mr. Rechnitz. Mr. Peralta was, as always, strapped for cash — “in way over his head,” his own lawyer said — and at a meeting, he pitched Mr. Rechnitz on investing in his liquor deals. Charging a “cash fee” of 18 percent, Mr. Rechnitz started gathering money from a group of friends and relatives and ultimately invested more than $3 million with Mr. Peralta. Some of that money, the authorities said, came from Chief Banks.
The chief was not the only official doing business with Mr. Rechnitz. As he and Mr. Reichberg grew closer to Chief Banks, they were introduced to one of the chief’s old friends, Norman Seabrook, the longtime leader of the Correction Officers’ Benevolent Association, the union for New York City’s jail guards. Though he was a dandy with a taste for cigars and tailored suits, Mr. Seabrook was also a power broker who wielded control over Rikers Island and had numerous connections to local politicians. Immediately, Mr. Rechnitz saw him as a usable commodity.
“This was yet another chapter in my life,” he later said of meeting Mr. Seabrook, “and another thing that I felt no one else had access to.”
In December 2013, a few weeks before their elfin Christmas visits, Mr. Rechnitz and Mr. Reichberg chartered another private jet and took Chief Banks and Mr. Seabrook on a trip to Punta Cana in the Dominican Republic. Mr. Peralta also went along. As Mr. Rechnitz later said: “We played golf. We relaxed. We smoked cigars. We ate nice.”
One night, after a long bout of drinking, Mr. Rechnitz found himself in Mr. Seabrook’s room at their luxury villa. Amid the palm trees — and under the influence of local booze — Mr. Seabrook became emotional. According to Mr. Rechnitz, he launched into a story about his troubles: how he had grown up with a single mother and reached the pinnacle of power in New York, but had little to show for it financially. Mr. Seabrook said his mortgage was crippling him and his beloved dog had just died. Drunk, he opened his shirt, Mr. Rechnitz said, and showed off a tattoo of the dog he had gotten on his chest.
Then he broke down.
“He makes, everybody makes, but Norman Seabrook doesn’t make,” Mr. Seabrook told him.
“Yeah,” Mr. Rechnitz answered, “you should be making money.”
Mr. Seabrook agreed. “It’s time,” he said, “Norman Seabrook got paid.”
The Scheme to Pay the Union Boss
Mr. Rechnitz knew someone who might pay Mr. Seabrook.
Murray Huberfeld, a founder of the hedge fund Platinum Partners, was an old family friend. Mr. Huberfeld’s father and Mr. Rechnitz’s grandfather were from the same part of Poland and had both survived the Holocaust. The two men had vacationed together when Mr. Rechnitz was a child, and when he came to New York City, Mr. Rechnitz reconnected with Mr. Huberfeld and occasionally did business with him. While working in real estate, Mr. Rechnitz had sold Mr. Huberfeld a few apartments in the pricey Apthorp building on the Upper West Side.
Beyond his experience as a financier, Mr. Huberfeld was also a major donor to Chabad-Lubavitch synagogues and to various yeshivas in Borough Park. But despite his philanthropic tendencies, he had a checkered past. In 1993, Mr. Huberfeld had been convicted in a fraud case, accused of having someone else take his broker’s license test in his name.
Shortly after returning from Punta Cana, Mr. Rechnitz met with Mr. Huberfeld in his office near Carnegie Hall. He wanted to see if Platinum Partners might be interested in investing money from Mr. Seabrook’s union. Platinum Partners was, in fact, looking for institutional investors. It was potentially lucrative for the firm, a small fund that stood out for its double-digit returns, but Mr. Rechnitz told Mr. Huberfeld that there would be a catch if the deal went through: Mr. Seabrook would have to get a kickback.
Mr. Huberfeld, prosecutors said, was amenable. Like many hedge funds, Platinum Partners worked on what was known as the “2 and 20” structure: The fund charged 2 percent of the total investment as a management fee and then kept 20 percent of the profits. From that 20 percent, court papers say, Mr. Huberfeld agreed to give a cut to Mr. Seabrook.
In March 2014, before the deal was sealed, Mr. Rechnitz and Mr. Reichberg took Mr. Seabrook and Chief Banks on another trip, this time to Israel. They prayed together at the Western Wall, ate at fancy restaurants in Jerusalem and went to the Arab marketplace, where Mr. Rechnitz bought Chief Banks a backgammon set, a game they liked to play together.
Within a month of their return, Mr. Seabrook had persuaded his union to invest $10 million from its pension fund into Platinum Partners, the government said. Over the summer, he invested another $10 million from the operating fund. According to court papers, the $20 million play was the largest single-client deal that Platinum Partners had gotten that year. But the last two tranches of $5 million, investigators say, were never approved by the union’s board of directors. Even its treasurer didn’t know.
By the end of 2014, prosecutors say, Mr. Seabrook was getting antsy. Although he had invested heavily in Platinum, he had not yet been paid, and he started pressing Mr. Rechnitz for his money. Mr. Rechnitz said he went to Mr. Huberfeld, who complained his fund was having a bad year. In their initial conversations, Mr. Rechnitz had promised Mr. Seabrook that he would make at least $100,000 in the deal. But feeling pinched, the government said, Mr. Huberfeld was now offering only $60,000 — and even that was a stretch.
So Mr. Rechnitz devised a solution. Court papers say that he proposed paying Mr. Seabrook the $60,000 from his own reserves and getting the money back from Mr. Huberfeld by invoicing Platinum Partners an equivalent amount in phony Knicks tickets. To carry off the scam, Mr. Rechnitz suggested routing the transaction through a Ponzi-scheming ticket broker he had been involved with — yet another of the shady businesses he dealt in.
The payoff was scheduled for Dec. 11, 2014, the government said. Aware that he was chintzing Mr. Seabrook, Mr. Rechnitz said he tried to sweeten deal by tossing in a gift: an $800 Salvatore Ferragamo handbag. He knew that Mr. Seabrook loved the brand. The union leader had once proudly showed Mr. Rechnitz the burgundy suede Ferragamo loafers he was wearing. After Mr. Rechnitz bought the bag, he stuffed it full of cash from his office safe. Then, he said, he met Mr. Seabrook on West 57th Street in Manhattan, climbing into his Chevrolet Suburban, which had pulled up to the curb.
Mr. Seabrook was hardly thrilled, Mr. Rechnitz said, to be getting less than he was promised, but their friendship managed to survive. Later that night, the two men met Chief Banks and Mr. Reichberg for dinner on Lexington Avenue and then strolled over to a Torah dedication ceremony at a Chabad-Lubavitch office on Fifth Avenue, where all they danced with the scroll.
After that, Mr. Rechnitz said, they retired to the Grand Havana Club for cigars.
The Investigation Expands — and Immediately Falls Apart
As entertaining as the night had been, there was something the men didn’t know at the time: All of them were under investigation.
The authorities had been on to them for weeks, secretly collecting their conversations through a court-ordered wiretap. The inquiry, which had started with Mr. Peralta, was by now an expansive operation jointly run by Internal Affairs and the New York office of the F.B.I. The initial working theory that tied these threads together was almost inconceivable: that Mr. Peralta was funneling money from Mr. Rechnitz, Mr. Reichberg and Chief Banks through his liquor business into the coffers of a drug dealer.
Though that theory proved untrue, there was already fallout from the probe. The agents had filed their application for the wiretap on Oct. 30, 2014. The next day — just before he was due to be promoted to first deputy commissioner — Chief Banks suddenly retired, citing a mix of personal and professional concerns.
The news set off a flurry of anxious calls and texts. Mr. Peralta immediately sent a message to one of his police friends, exclaiming, “Banks quit!” Not long after, court papers say, Mr. Banks reached out to Mr. Reichberg, saying he had recently seen Mr. Rechnitz, whom he described as “freaking nervous.” Mr. Banks tried to downplay the tension, telling Mr. Reichberg, “Everything is fine.” But the papers say he also told Mr. Reichberg to get his partner under control. “Just calm him down,” Mr. Banks said.
Then, just as it seemed as if the inquiry was finally was taking shape, a bombshell exploded on the wire.
Despite their alarm at Mr. Banks retiring, Mr. Rechnitz and Mr. Reichberg never stopped hustling. Within three months, in fact, Mr. Reichberg was caught on the wiretap telling a deputy chief that with Mr. Banks out of the way, he was angling to get Michael Harrington, now a deputy chief himself, promoted to chief of the department.
To accomplish the task, Mr. Reichberg told his friend that he would reach out “to the mayor.”
“Nobody will turn down the mayor,” he said.
The men had known Bill de Blasio since before he entered office. Though Mr. Rechnitz had at first supported one of his rivals, William C. Thompson Jr., in an early stage of the 2013 mayor’s race, after Mr. de Blasio won the Democratic primary, Mr. Rechnitz and Mr. Reichberg switched their allegiance and became major donors to the de Blasio campaign.
In deciding to back Mr. de Blasio, the men had followed the advice of Fernando Mateo, a local politico who was also an owner of La Marina restaurant in Inwood and worked for a city taxi union. Mr. Rechnitz said that he was introduced to Mr. Mateo by Deputy Chief Colon, Mr. Peralta’s friend. Once Mr. de Blasio secured the nomination, Mr. Mateo boasted that he had “an in with Bill de Blasio,” Mr. Rechnitz said. And when Mr. Mateo promised to arrange a meeting with the campaign, Mr. Rechnitz sensed an opportunity.
“We had the police going for us,” he later said in court. “Now it was time to get into politics.”
Indeed, within days, prosecutors say, Mr. Rechnitz and Mr. Reichberg had an audience with Ross Offinger, Mr. de Blasio’s campaign fund-raiser. As Mr. Rechnitz later testified, they told Mr. Offinger: “We’re going to become significant contributors, but we want access. And when we call, we want answers. When we reach out for things, we want them to get done.”
True to his word, in early 2014, Mr. Rechnitz donated $50,000 to the Campaign for One New York, Mr. de Blasio’s nonprofit fund-raising and advocacy group. Months later, Mr. Reichberg held a party for Mr. de Blasio at his home in Borough Park at which another $35,000 was raised. That same year, one of Mr. Rechnitz’s companies, JSTD Madison LLC, gave more than $100,000 to the mayor’s pet effort to flip the State Senate back to the control of the Democratic Party.
Mr. Rechnitz says that Mr. de Blasio gave him his personal cellphone number and email address and “told me to call if there’s anything I need — always be in touch.” Shortly after the election, both men were placed on the mayor’s inaugural committee with celebrities like Russell Simmons, Sarah Jessica Parker and Steve Buscemi.
But that was just the beginning, Mr. Rechnitz said, of their attempts to wrangle favors out of City Hall. As Mr. de Blasio got settled into office, Mr. Offinger was met with a barrage of calls from the two men. In one of those calls, Mr. Rechnitz said, he asked for help on behalf of a friend who owned a building on Ocean Parkway in Brooklyn and was worried that the local police precinct might buy it out from under him for use as a stationhouse. In another, Mr. Rechnitz requested assistance for a cousin of his wife who ran a school on Manhattan’s east side and was having trouble meeting the city’s building code.
One of Mr. Reichberg’s friends had problems with his water bill, and Mr. Rechnitz himself had legal issues with Airbnb at his Madison Avenue property. In a particularly brazen move, Mr. Rechnitz tried at one point to get himself appointed to Mr. de Blasio’s new committee on fighting police corruption.
While city officials called and emailed to follow up on some of these pleas, many were rebuffed. Mr. de Blasio has adamantly denied that he did anything wrong. “Jona Rechnitz is a liar and a felon,” he said this fall, after Mr. Rechnitz pleaded guilty to honest services fraud and turned state’s evidence. “It’s as simple as that.”
But at the time, Mr. Rechnitz dreamed of the good turns he hoped to get in exchange for his donations.
“My mind was limitless,” he testified in November. “Jeremy had told me in the days of Giuliani, people made a fortune. I was focused on making money, getting my name out there, becoming a big player in town.”
The End Game
It all came crashing down within a few months in the spring of 2016.
On April 8 that year, Mr. Peralta was arrested in Georgia and charged with running what the government described as a $12 million Ponzi scheme. A few weeks later, in a stunning move, Mr. Rechnitz decided to cooperate with the authorities, betraying everyone he worked with. He was facing 20 years in prison and said he signed the cooperation papers “in the hopes of leniency” at sentencing.
Once he started talking, the dominoes kept falling.
On May 20, federal agents served subpoenas on Mr. Huberfeld’s hedge fund and Mr. Seabrook’s union. Three weeks later, both men were arrested and charged with fraud.
On June 20, Mr. Grant and Mr. Harrington, both of whom had since retired, were also arrested, accused of overlapping bribery and corruption charges. When the authorities showed up on the same day to arrest Mr. Reichberg, they caught his brother trying to make off with what they called potential evidence: several smartphones, a flip phone, eight compact discs, six thumb drives and a windshield placard saying that Mr. Reichberg’s wife was a friend of Mr. Banks.
Amid the arrests, Inspector Michael Ameri, another police official caught up in the inquiry, was found dead in his car of a self-inflicted gunshot to the head near a golf course in Long Island. Around the same time, Detective Milici, who had flown to Las Vegas with Mr. Grant and the prostitute, filed for retirement.
In spite of the roundup, though, the case so far has produced limited results. Mr. Peralta pleaded guilty in May 2017, and while he was imprisoned as his case moved through the courts, his restaurant was shuttered, his girlfriend left him and his father died of cancer. “I’m really broken,” he said when he was sentenced to five years in prison this September.
After fighting his own case for almost two years, Mr. Harrington pleaded guilty in March to dispatching police resources without permission. The charge was considerably less severe than the initial fraud and bribery counts the government leveled against him. (He is scheduled to be sentenced on June 11.)
Mr. Banks was never charged in the case. And in March 2017, after months of investigation, the United States attorney’s office in Manhattan suddenly announced that it would not seek an indictment of Mr. de Blasio either. But in a rare public statement, the Manhattan district attorney’s office, which had investigated a narrower set of issues, criticized the mayor for violating the “intent and spirit of the law.”
Mr. Seabrook and Mr. Huberfeld went on trial together in October, but the proceeding ended in a hung jury. The courtroom failure was partly blamed on Mr. Rechnitz’s cataclysmic testimony as a prosecution witness. At the trial, the defendants’ lawyers painted Mr. Rechnitz — successfully, it seemed — as “wheeler and dealer,” “a wannabe big shot” and “a straight-up liar.” As Mr. Seabrook’s lawyer, Paul Shechtman, said one day in court, “Jona Rechnitz and the truth have never been in the same room.”
Federal prosecutors have promised to retry the men in July, a few months after Mr. Grant and Mr. Reichberg go on trial. Mr. Rechnitz is scheduled to testify at both trials.
In the meantime, though, he has left New York. He now lives in Beverlywood, a neighborhood on the west side of Los Angeles, where he rents a house, he said, for $17,000 a month.
Diagram of the relationship between parties described
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mgm grand las vegas restaurant reservations video

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The Worlds Best Restaurant - Joel Robuchon MGM Grand Las ...

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mgm grand las vegas restaurant reservations

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