Do you like to gamble? Like to take risks? Do you think that one of these days you’ll hit a big jackpot on the slots, on the tables or in a card game?
For the first 50 years of my life, I never gambled. I knew that casinos were for suckers and slots were implacable machines that drained your wallet and led you to perdition. I was a clear-eyed cynic, one who would never succumb to the seductive sirens that lured fools and their money.
But after Colorado voters legalized gambling in three mountain towns, my then-spouse persuaded me to visit Cripple Creek and try our luck.
“We need to support the Creek,” she said. “Remember, your grandfather started mining companies there in the 1890s — we’ve got history, he took big risks and so what if we lose a few bucks? We’ll have fun!”
I’d never been to a casino, and had no idea how to play the slots. Coached by my spouse, I got a roll of quarters, dropped three into the slot, pulled the lever … and the damned machine broke!
It made weird noises, displayed strange symbols and wouldn’t play anymore. After a while, a server came by and asked me if I wanted something to drink and said, “Congratulations!” No, she explained, the machine wasn’t broken — I had just won $2,300.
I was hooked, as are most novice gamblers who hit an early jackpot.
And so it was that Karen and I took a quick trip to Las Vegas last week, hoping to have fun, wander the Strip and at least break even. It’d be sunny, our hotel rooms were bizarrely cheap and we know how to find loose slots.
Southwest’s direct flight was cramped and awful, but mercifully short. We checked in at the Mirage and started our losing streak. After a while, we abandoned the slots and walked the Strip.
The sidewalks were overflowing with a river of human beings of all ages. Some were ancient and decrepit, some were old and reasonably vigorous, many were middle-aged and a few were young.
Remember the gambler’s creed: If you’re at the table, and you don’t know who’s the mark, guess what — you’re the mark!
We were just another pair of marks.
We were just another pair of marks, enjoying the spectacle and paying for it at the slots. We lost a little, but we were happy to be fooled. Yet we were glad to leave after three days.
After takeoff, we saw the real Las Vegas — endless suburbs that replicate those in Colorado Springs, Denver or Phoenix. We have military bases, not casinos — but we’ll always have Cripple Creek. The casinos there are looser, more fun and less crowded, and I know that you can hit it big.
On May 30, 2002, I won $17, 595.65 on a quarter machine at the Double Eagle — and followed up on July 16 with a ferocious hit of $29,891. And where did the money go? Dunno — it somehow disappeared …
And don’t remind me that I should’ve quit gambling and bought stock in Apple and Microsoft, or bought a cottage on the Westside, or a bag of $20 gold coins.
But why worry? I’m overdue for another big one — Cripple Creek, here I come/Right back where I started from!
