Excuse Me Sir, Is That a Back Tattoo?

,,,No, it's a nicotine patch.

When last we left our heroes, they had left the thrill and excitement of Memphis and were heading for Tunica. Upon arrival, we were greeted by a marble lobby, reportedly comparable to the foyer at the Blankmore. Needless to say, it was a little change of pace from the most boring roadways in the Southeast. We dropped the stuff off in the hotel rooms and headed for the casino floor. It was 1:00 in the morning. I see 1 a.m., on average, 3 times a year, and one of those three times is spent on the toilet. That average was about to skyrocket.

Let me take this opportunity to thank Tennessee, or Nashville, or whoever it was that outlawed cigarettes in public buildings. As I’m typing this, I’m getting sized for my trachea hole that I will be breathing through for the remainder of my life due to the amount of nicotine coating my lungs. Fairly confident that for one weekend my lungs were being covered in tar faster than the Gulf of Mexico. Sorry, BP, you got second place. Anyhoo, everyone in that place actually brought their mother so that they could smoke two times the amount of cigarettes they could without the extra puffer.

We entered the haze of the casino, and, admittedly, we were a little shell-shocked. Collectively, we headed for the penny slots. High rollers indeed. After the one-hit-wonder managed to win $50 on two spins of the penny slots, a couple of the less frugal members of the wedding party cracked open the wallets and hit the blackjack tables. Nothing eventful to report from morning one in the casino. Turns out, private school kids are fairly low-key in a Casino environment.

Saturday afternoon three of the eight travelers determined that there was one game in the casino that was impossible to lose at… craps. To be honest, it looked like they were right – no matter what the man voted “most patient” in high school rolled, they kept giving him chips. Maybe they were on to something… Regardless, I’m off to the penny slots again.

We eat, swim, and watch soccer in no particular order for the remainder of the afternoon. As the evening gambling session begins, I leave the true gamblers to their blackjack and craps and head for the comfort of the penny slots. Fairly quickly, groomsmen begin coming up to me… early reports indicate craps is not unloseable. Go figure. Yep, turns out there’s a reason 7 is the number that stops the game – it just so happens to be mathematical. Anyway, after reality came crashing down, and broke the backs of the high horses, the low rollers went and watched a few of our number play some blackjack…

It seems when you are the youngest people in a place that is predominately cranky, smoky, and wrinkly, you have the eye of the pitbosses. If you manage to ride that wave, and travel in packs, cracking jokes, providing applause, and generally raising Cain (I’ve never really typed that out – the capitalization, while accurate per Wikipedia, appears awkward), aforementioned pitbosses determine you are good for business and offer to provide you a complimentary steak and lobster buffet. Count it.

In summary, money was won. Money was lost. Food was eaten. Second hand smoke was inhaled. Poker tournaments were entered. Soccer games ended in ties, and thus could have never been played and would have made the exact same impact on history. Lungs were forever damaged. Groomsmen were cursed by dealers. And fun was had. Count it all as time well wasted (Paisley, 2005).

I know you’re wondering. It’s ok to go ahead and ask… Yeah, I came out on top. Up $18. Take that, gambling.

Next time’s topic – how I used my gambling winnings to buy a house.