Every since I was kid I always had an interest in gambling of some sort. The origins of this probably came from the women in my family. My earliest memories of my grandmother were her teaching me how to play gin and cribbage. Little did I know that this training would soon come into play starting around the time I was ten.
When she would visit along with some of my aunts on the weekends they would all sit down to play Michigan rummy or various kinds of poker. If at some time during the course of the evening, they needed another player at the table I would be recruited. That meant they either pulled me away from the television or sometimes even out of bed to play.
Over the years as I grew older I played more and more and also developed an interest in some sports action. This culminated in the end of my sports gambling career in the 1987 when the Patriots played the Denver Broncos in the AFC championship game. I was betting the Patriots and getting four points. With 26 seconds to go the Patriots were down by three and I was sure that my win was in the bag. That was until Rulon Jones sacked Tony Eason in the end zone and the Patriots lost by 5.
It was a similar experience that ended my poker playing career. I was in California on business and encountered my first legal poker palace. Most of the day was filled with the excitement of winning, but things then went to Hell in a hand basket very quickly. I left with only enough money for cab fare to get me to the airport. As it turned out it was only enough to get me about three miles from the airport and I had to walk the rest of the way.
It was these and other bitter experiences that have kept me out of casinos. I had never been to Las Vegas or Mohegan Sun or Foxwoods, primarily because I thought that if I ever went and won it would rekindle my interest and that I might never come home.
This past week I dispelled any of those fears. Back a few months ago in a weak moment I had agreed to join two friends in going to Las Vegas to meet a friend of ours who was coming in from the West coast. During the weeks leading up to the trip I was filled with the anticipation of seeing the action on the strip and feeling the excitement of the gambling capital of the world.
We landed Thursday night and from the moment I touched down I felt like Gomer Pyle might have felt in Paris. I was completely out of my element. I was home sick the moment the plane touched down. What's even worse is that I was as up tight as a reverend in a strip joint.
I couldn't prevent myself from analyzing almost every aspect of the place. Every step I took and every building I looked at made me think about how many losers it took to sustain a place of that magnitude. When I mentioned this to my friend Rod, he replied that if every body who went to Vegas with 2000 came back with 2100 then the place would be a collection of thatched huts instead of grand hotels. Who wants to visit thatched huts?
The conclusion I arrived at is that everything about the place is designed to separate a fool from his money. The most obvious examples are the casinos. Competitive card playing of any type requires a game plan and concentration. The casino knows this and thwarts this strategy in a couple of obvious ways. The music is obnoxiously loud, lights and colors assault you either with brightness or flashes. Finally if that hasn't jolted your concentration then certainly all the free booze you want finishes the job.
So rather than worrying about staying there I was more concerned about getting the Hell out. I played each day and never exceeded my limit and was pleased to learn that my stinginess earned me no comp credit in the casino.
The trip took a turn for the better with a trip to Hoover dam. I had always wanted to visit the dam and I confirmed that my true calling is not as a gambler but as a nerd. I knew most everything about the dam from books and films and was able to see in person the intake towers and the diversion tunnels and the power plants and all the other things that make the dam such a colossal achievement.
Further confirmation of my lack of gambling interest was exhibited at the last place we visited before we left. Sunday was the AFC conference championship between the Patriots and the Colts. After breakfast Sunday morning we sat in the sports book at Caesar's Palace and watched the tote board as the odds were being posted for all the days games. The Patriots were a very attractive 3 point dog and the money line was $100 to make $160. No thanks. In a weekend I had seen monuments to human ingenuity and human frailties. The dam made a bigger impression on me.
