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Casino Blues
Jun. 2nd, 2006 03:51 pmLast night, we paid a visit to our local Casino. I'm not much of a gambling man, but nothing beats the Casino for people watching. From the croupiers to the security guards, from the slotmachine cowboys to the black jack tappers, everyone has a different story in their faces.
The slotters are just sad though. I try not to watch them too much because you can taste their desperation as the yank the levers and mash the buttons. Always waiting for that siren to ring, just one more looney and it'll all be mine. It's not pretty.
I approached one of the slot machines, trying to read its gimmicks when I noticed a woman sitting two seats away. I gave her a smile, but she just glared at me. There was that familiar wild-eyed look laced with fear that I was here to steal her money.
I took another step toward the slot machine when the woman translated her glare into a roar of rage. "That is MY machine! Are you too stupid to see it's got money in it? Back off asshole!"
I put my hands up and backed away saying "Lady... Calm down! I'm just looking!"
"Go look somewhere else you jerk, before I-I..." she balled up her fist and mashed one of the pads. The machine spun and then sat silent as ever. The woman turned her back on me fuming, so I left her to her thoughts.
I joined my friends at the blackjack table, bought my chips, and started to play. Four hands later, I was broke. Obviously, blackjack ain't my bag, baby.
The last time I played blackjack at the Casino, I played for an hour and I walked away with the original money I laid down. It cost me nothing and I had a good time, so I considered it to be a success. But an odd sensation came over me: I spent the next two weeks yearning to go back, wanting to win more money. I didn't give in to it, but it was strong temptation and it surprised me.
I think I'll just stick to playing poker with friends, enjoying the trash talk, not caring if I walk away with my $5 or not.
The slotters are just sad though. I try not to watch them too much because you can taste their desperation as the yank the levers and mash the buttons. Always waiting for that siren to ring, just one more looney and it'll all be mine. It's not pretty.
I approached one of the slot machines, trying to read its gimmicks when I noticed a woman sitting two seats away. I gave her a smile, but she just glared at me. There was that familiar wild-eyed look laced with fear that I was here to steal her money.
I took another step toward the slot machine when the woman translated her glare into a roar of rage. "That is MY machine! Are you too stupid to see it's got money in it? Back off asshole!"
I put my hands up and backed away saying "Lady... Calm down! I'm just looking!"
"Go look somewhere else you jerk, before I-I..." she balled up her fist and mashed one of the pads. The machine spun and then sat silent as ever. The woman turned her back on me fuming, so I left her to her thoughts.
I joined my friends at the blackjack table, bought my chips, and started to play. Four hands later, I was broke. Obviously, blackjack ain't my bag, baby.
The last time I played blackjack at the Casino, I played for an hour and I walked away with the original money I laid down. It cost me nothing and I had a good time, so I considered it to be a success. But an odd sensation came over me: I spent the next two weeks yearning to go back, wanting to win more money. I didn't give in to it, but it was strong temptation and it surprised me.
I think I'll just stick to playing poker with friends, enjoying the trash talk, not caring if I walk away with my $5 or not.
