So after Saturday's West Side Market run, belly full of Frank's Bratwurst (soft bun/kraut/brown mustard) and apple fritter (attention Dr. Diabetic), we said, "What's next?
Sleety, sleezy rain nixes beach walk, even though need it. We're downtown, Horseshoe Casino anyone? I've never been to a casino, period. Sugar buzz says, "Why not?"
11 y/o son with us? No problem. We'll vouch for his sobriety, probity and general intelligence--they'll let us in. He hesitates, correctly foreseeing the name of that tune. But dad says adventure time, "Ready to go?"
Street space, car locked, bouncing sidewalk and there it is--a cluster of seven gambling smokers in the drizzle. They're busy defying the odds, betting no lung cancer but enough winnings for smokes. Hold your breath kids, we're in for the thrills!
Or not. Security lady intercepts in the vestibule of hope. No. Not even to restaurant you silly adults. Kid now slightly embarrassed, but another idea. I'll stay out here, wifey go look. She reports it looks like fun, sort of. Anyway, my turn!
Suddenly I'm in a giant pin ball machine, whirl, click, clack, bounce. A shout from a table. All types hanging out: dressy or shlummy, everybody's humming. Slot machines spinning medieval-referenced icons, knights flashing for attention. I sit on the stool, kinda get it. Insert bill here, press a button. But so many buttons, glowing and declaring something about 1 line, 2 lines, 5 lines, 10... I realize it's a 2-cent machine, watching wealth go $1.00 to .98, .96, keep going, different buttons, beseech Lady Luck to show thy face! .86, .72, .66, Abort mission!
I bail when my balance says 64 cents. Push collect, get ticket. Whew. Now I'm brat & fritter sick and losing cash. Gathering myself I insert another dollar, start pushing.
All of a sudden it's bells and whistles, charms and thistles, cartoon king-crowns and Saturday epistles. The dials spin to announce my riches: $8.34. The rush convinces me, yea, gambling addicts shoot a kind of dope too.
After the cash-out machine I race to the street, fanning bills at my beloveds--daddy takes care of business, "Ready to celebrate?" Let's do it again.