Donny Vegas

Well, I made it back from Vegas. How was it? It only seems fitting to summarize the trip in medical lingo: Dr. Powell paid a house visit to Mr. Vegas, and administered 100 cc's of TCB rectally. Yes, outstanding times were had, and I'll provide a lengthy write-up at some point in the near future. Right now though, I'm about as lively as a member of the undead so I am just going to share one anecdote and barricade myself in my bedroom.

Contrary to popular belief, I am not Donny Vegas. Not only am I unfamiliar with the gambling terminology, but I'm also pretty hazy as far as the games themselves go. For all I know, craps could just be Pin the Tail on the Donkey played on a fuzzy table. Due to this stupidity, I tried to stay away from all of the complicated games, and only play the ones I thought I understood. For instance, roulette. You just spin a ball, put some money on a number, and dance around like a fool when they bring out the wheelbarrows of dubloons, right? Ehh, kinda. Me not quite knowing how that game works is relevant fact #1 of this story.

If you're playing at a table and slinging some money around, cocktail waitresses come by frequently and offer free drinks. I could see that being a good strategy for the casinos, where you get the serious gamblers drunk so they start making foolish bets. However, if you have no judgement to begin with (eg, me), then it's kind of hard to impair the decision making process. In fact, I think drunkenness may be an asset in such a situation, because it changes your bets from predictably bad to unpredictably bizarre. Me being drunk is relevant fact #2 of this story.

Our last night there, I found myself separated from the group I had gone to Vegas with. Since I had to entertain myself, I went down to the casino floor and sat down at the roulette table. Sensing a kindrid spirit at the table, I began talking to an older Indian gentleman sitting next to me. We really got going with our jibber jabber during the game, and within a matter of minutes, he and I were going at the free drinks like Kirstie Alley robbing an ice cream factory. Around drink 10,000, I realized that neither of the two zeros on the board had come up on the board for a long time. I shared this insight with my new buddy, and he and I began to bet that a zero would soon come up. Turn after turn went without a zero, and we were getting pretty riled up. Things were shouted, fists were shaken, napkins were ripped in two: it was not a pretty sight.

Finally, it happened: we won. Even though we had only made $30 each due to all of our failed previous bets, we celebrated like trailer park lottery winners, high fiving and hugging and throwing our chips around the joint. On the next spin of the wheel, I decided that, since the 0 just came up, I could go back to playing regular spots on the board. My Indian friend would have none of that, resolved to ride the zero train until bankruptcy hit. I wasn't paying much attention when I heard the Indian fellow start screaming and slapping me on the back.

"AHHHHHH, ANOTHER ZERO," he bellowed, and then tried to lay out some high fives for me.

"Hey, good for you," I said, half-heartedly participating in the celebration, since I didn't win. He would have none of that. He was getting so excited, I was expecting him to strip and jump through a plate glass window. Not only was he really worked up, but he was making it clear that I should be too. I was having none of it.

"Why aren't you excited?" he said.

"Why on earth would I be excited? I just lost!" I said.

"What? Aren't those your chips out on the zero?"

I took a look down at the board. Yeah, those were definitely my chips, but I hadn't put them there. I took a look around the board to make sure I wasn't getting trickarooed.

"Man, I don't know what the hell is going on here; I didn't put those chips there," I slurred to everyone at the table.

"You know that if you win, they don't move your chips from the last bet, right?"

Do what now? After a few seconds of consideration, an "A-ha!" battled its way through the alcohol and the confusion: I had forgot to pick up my last bet. I had just won another $80, thanks due completely to inebriated incoherence.

Immediately after that, the other member of the double zero club and I cashed out and parted ways. I didn't bet again the entire trip, thinking that the second I laid some money on the table, a grand piano would crash through the ceiling and land on me as punishment for my good luck. After tiptoeing through all of the casinos on the way out, karma had the last laugh when it made me spend 12 hours at the airport yesterday. Just like Puff Daddy said, mo' money, mo' problems.

Posted by Cody at June 10, 2004 6:27 PM