LAS VEGAS — So, not sure if you heard this, but Las Vegas QB Jimmy Garoppolo has only been a Raider for a couple of weeks, and he is already getting offers from some VERY special locals.
Chicken Ranch For Life
The new Raiders quarterback, who signed a three-year, $67.5-million deal to join the Raiders in NFL free agency, was offered “free sex for life” from the famous Vegas-area brothel the Chicken Ranch.
One of the workers, Caitlin Bell said, “I almost fainted when I heard Jimmy signed with the Raiders. He deserves free sex just for joining our team. But he gets free sex for life from us just because he’s such a legit babe!”
How Did The Chicken Ranch Get Its Name?
Gotta scroll back a few years when the New York Daily News asked me to do a story about the Chicken Ranch. Told my editor that if someone has got to do it, it’ll be a struggle, but it might as well be me.
After many hours of very specific, point-by-point negotiations, got permission from Mrs. Ecks-Rated, and it was off to Pahrump. Or as we say in Vegas, OVER the HUMP to Pahrump! There’s a mountain between Vegas and Pahrump, so that’s why “Over the Hump.” Don’t let your imagination wander!
Of course, being the intrepid journalist, my first question was, why do they call it a “Chicken Ranch?” Back in the day, the Ranch actually began life in La Grange, Texas. Miss Jessie Williams was the owner and ruled with an iron hand, actually an iron rod, chasing out any customers who went over the edge.
The Chicken Ranch supposedly got its name when the Great Depression hit. The Ranch had plenty of clients, but as times grew harder, Miss Jessie had to improvise. She initiated the “poultry standard,” charging one chicken for one you know WHAT! Chickens were everywhere, so the joint became known as the Chicken Ranch.
Walter Plankinton opened the Nevada Chicken Ranch in 1976, located about 60 miles west of Vegas. They have 17 beds and a separate building that contains three extensively decorated themed “bungalows” catering to those customers wishing a more luxurious experience.
Of course, they gave me a tour of the bungalows. And you might imagine, it was both GLORIOUS and somewhat DISTURBING. Will not go into the disturbing, but the glorious was a JUNGLE-themed bungalow with some serious safari-type animals and noises you would only hear in the Serengeti National Park in Tanzania.
The next bungalow was a ’60s-themed riot of color and music. The walls were paisley and as you walked in, the Jimi Hendrix song “Purple Haze” was blasting through the speakers. There was a third bungalow, the DISTURBING, but I took a pass.
Gonna Have To Do Better Than That
Naturally, my trip ended without buying anything off the menu as negotiated with Mrs. Ecks-Rated. But I overheard some dude who walked up to the counter and asked if he could use a gift card. It has been a while since I worked on that story, and if I remember correctly, the kid said his friend was interested in a night of fun!
But he only had a $100 Visa gift card that his dad gave him for Christmas. He wanted to know how much he could get for that kind of money. The lady at the desk said, “This place AIN’T for you! Remember the house gets 50 percent so most likely you MIGHT be able to buy two mixed drinks, WITHOUT the umbrellas!” OUCH! They showed him the door!
Benjamin Eckstein is a nationally syndicated sportswriter/oddsmaker. His column, America’s Line, with the Ecks & Bacon appetizer, has run in the New York Daily News and over 100 other papers since 1988. You can follow him online at www.americasline.com. He is beloved by most, when he picks winners, and detested by others, when he picks the occasional loser. If you wanna piece of Eck, hit his Email...ben@americasline.com.
