I have no idea how people can gamble all day and not die of boredom.
With that in mind, here are a few suggestions regarding fun times in Atlantic City:
Freeze your ass off running down the boardwalk in monsoon conditions.
Borrow a hair dryer from the hotel so you can dry your pants while watching Antiques Roadshow.
Visit the Ripley’s Believe It Or Not Museum, argue over whether or not to believe it.
Stay at the Chelsea Pub and Inn, a former synagogue and Jewish rooming house that underwent a stunning transformation into…an adorably quirky B&B and 24-hour bar. It’s like a Denny’s for drinkers! Your room reservation includes two free drink tickets! And your room key has a bottle opener keychain, and it’s run by your friendly neighborhood crazy people, and you can solve the age-old mystery of, “Exactly who sits in a bar at noon on a Sunday?” Answer: Pensioners who ran through all their money playing video poker at the Tropicana.
Eat dinner at midnight.
Lose a dollar at the nickel slots, get bored, go elsewhere.
Lose a dollar at Skee-Ball, decide it’s a better deal than the slots.
Watch the intricate mating dance of Guidos vs. Women in Glorified Tank Tops. Recall the Law of Dressing Pretty Without Looking Like a Hooker: The higher the hemline, the lower the heel…unless you’re in Atlantic City and it’s butt-ass freezing. In which case, wear even less than what you’d put on in July. (And, yes, I’ve become the grumpy old lady who thinks girls ought to cover up a little.)
Walk past a bar, wonder if it's karaoke night, then realize that's the house band...and they're really that terrible.
Spend the drive grousing about tolls, and telling each other New Jersey should be paying YOU to visit, and not vice versa.
Wonder why, in the glorious state of New Jersey, it’s illegal to pump your own gas. Is it just to add that extra dash of suck?
Wonder why, with the lousy weather and the Jersey-ness of it all, you're really having the most wonderful time.