The Monte Carlo Master Scam

“How the hell are we going to get all these beers into the Hotel?”

Mr. A, road warrior and poker dealer mate of The Hux, had a valid point. The two of us were standing in a basement supermarket in Monte Carlo, Monaco, with almost 100 beers, 24 cans of Red Bull and a huge assortment of munchies.

“Who cares how we get it in? If we sell these beers for even a fraction of what the players pay those room service donkeys, we’re gonna make a bucket load of cash, brother!”

I try to tell my logical buddy that I’m used to dealing with problems one at a time. What we had here was an opportunity to set up shop in the basement of the Hotel Hermitage and sell beer and goodies to poker players as they were playing live action after the tournament.

“Ok, but I’m only gonna carry two bags; the rest is on you, Hux” “OK mate, then I’ll collect dividends on whatever I carry and you collect on what you carry, deal?”

“Ok, deal."

Mr. A should know by now that I didn’t go to a fancy university, but when it comes to problem solving involving beer, I have a master’s degree. I find the manager of the supermarket and converse with him in my very best French/ Australian.

“G’day, um Bonjour Monsour, I was wondering if you could help me, mate. Big party tonight… need to borrow your, um une loan shopping cart for 30 minutes.”

”Sure, not a problem sir, so long as you bring it back,” he replied in perfect English. Problem solved, and Mr. A is going to make about 10 bucks while I am cashing the big checks, baby.

“So, you think we can just roll this shopping cart full of beer right up the street to the hotel then?”

Mr. A was once again doubting my resolve and I assured him that, even though we were in one of the most exclusive places on earth, I had no trouble pushing a shopping cart full of beers up a street lined with Ferrari’s and Lamborghinis. In my head, I had come up with the best moneymaking scheme ever to hit Monte Carlo and Mr. A’s persistent doubts were lost on me. I was counting the Euros as I pushed the shopping cart up the hill to the Hotel Hermitage.

“Ok then, Aussie Einstein. How do you propose we get this load into the basement where the game is?

Once again, Mr. A has a valid point. Logic and I sometimes come into work on different shifts.

“How about we just roll it straight through the door? Get that door for me will ya, I’ve gotta see where we can get ice for a hundred beers.”

As I stride purposely through the lobby, the rather short nosed receptionist looks like he’s about to suffer heart failure.

“Er, my! Er… er…Monsieur, Monsieur where are you going with that?”

I’m too close to give in now, so I show him what my back looks like and roll straight past.

“Sorry mate, I’ve got a party to get started and I need to get these puppies on ice!”

As I entered the elevator, the receptionist hurdles the desk and comes running toward me.

“Are you a guest at this Hotel Sir?”

His question was simple and my answer would get me over the last hurdle with ease.

“Why, yes, of course Monsour, it’s room 642.”

“Ding!”

Well, that door closing in his face should take care of him for now.

“Who the hell is in 642?”

Once again Mr. A had posed an interesting question, but I was too busy counting money in my head to give it much thought. “Don’t know and don’t care mate, we need to get some ice for all these beers before the players roll in.”

It seemed that a sheer and persistent lack of good sense had allowed me to take a shopping cart full of beer and snacks through the streets of Monte Carlo and into one of the most prestigious hotels in the world.

However, it was at the height of my triumph that my old nemesis, logic, decided to come in early for his shift. The phone rang. It was the head of the online poker site that organised the tournament, and she wasn’t
happy.

“What the hell is going on? I just got a call from the hotel manager telling me that Scotty Nguyen just brought in 100 beers and they are going to charge me 800 Euros in corkage!” she screamed.

Well I’m not sure if you have ever had a master plan fail, but this was certainly one of these moments. The random room number I had given the guy at the desk happened to belong to former World Series Of Poker Champion Scotty Nguyen.

Ok, now the master plan was going down faster than the Titanic and I was at the helm.

“Ok, look don’t worry, tell the hotel manager I am very sorry, and that I will remove the beers from his hotel immediately.”

So much for making a huge earn on that venture. The only way I was going to keep my job was to remove all the beer and somehow dispose of it.

“Ok guys, plan B. Steve, go get your suitcase and empty it and then meet me at the back of your hotel and I’ll fill your suitcase with the grog and then we can smuggle it into your room.”

Steve had just witnessed the failure of my previous plan and his level of enthusiasm was a little lower than I would have liked. Nevertheless, we smuggled the beer into his room with S.W.A.T. like precision and that night one of the biggest beer drinking competitions in the history of Monte Carlo took place.

THE HUX SIGNING OUT
May The Flop Be With You… Always