Mr. Lucky

Life is not unlike a football game -- sometimes you're up, sometimes you're down and eventually you're out of quarters. Speaking of slot machines . . .

I have a number of friends who go to Las Vegas, Atlantic City and Wilkes-Barre a lot. You know, all of the meccas for gambling. (That was a little ballot referendum humor there, folks.) But I rarely go to those places. This is because I have no luck at all. Zero, zip, nada, zilch, none.

When we go to Atlantic City I give myself a budget for how much I am willing to lose per day. It is usually $50 a day. I never even consider the possibility of winning. I go to the cashier's booth and get $50 in quarters and I play the slot machines until it is all gone. This sometimes takes several hours during which time some asshole in my little party will have won $20,000 picking their nose or something.

I, on the other hand have an intimate knowledge of the full mid-range of experiences that gambling has to offer. Sometimes I am up. Sometimes I am way up (maybe $120). Sometimes I am down to my last few quarters and my luck turns and I'm suddenly back up to $30 or so. But eventually and inevitably the last quarter is played and I shuffle back to my little group with my hands in my empty pockets. But at least I never lose big-time.

I have played other games like roulette and craps and blackjack. But the money goes faster and I end up having to spend more time watching someone else win. So I try to stick to gambling devices that bleed me slowly. It gives me time to think about how long I had to actually work for that money in the first place.

Besides, I'm not allowed to play blackjack in most of the casinos on The Strip. They tell me I hold up the game. Apparently, it is supposed to be a fast moving, visceral experience, but I have a little trouble doing all that math in my head. I do not instantly know how many more I need to stay at or under twenty-one when I have seventeen. Hell, it takes me a while to even realize I have seventeen, unless I have a ten and a seven. So, I tend to slow things down a little.

So much so, that I am the only person I know of who has been kicked out of Las Vegas for counting fingers.

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