My history with slots machines is brief, sporadic and, frankly, a bit embarrassing. Among gamblers, I’m little more than a junkie. Forget the pure conviction and subtly of poker, the probability of black jack, the odds and interaction of roulette, I’m strung out on some blinking buttons, spinning reels and the chance for the occasional clank of coins in a tray. (A note to the manufacturers, the beeping and ringing sounds are a bit much.)
Until 1998, I had no idea of the hold such mundane features could have over me. My first wife and I were driving across the country for our honeymoon. When we rolled into Vegas, the thermometer read 110° F. We decided the best course of action was to drink beer and walk the strip. Sometime after a very hazy episode watching a band play outdoors, we ended up back at Bally’s, in the casino dropping coins into the slots before dinner.
Lisa bored of it quickly, but I was hooked when I won a couple of bucks. We went to dinner and, afterwards, I was back at them. I won a little bit more, lost, won again, until, finally, $40 evaporated. And that, I thought, was that – these were nothing more than a quick way to lose money (even if winning did feel pretty good).
The next morning, I got up early to take a walk while Lisa slept in. (After three weeks on the road, we came to prize a few moments alone as a Honda Civic is a small thing to call home.) By design, the main lobby and the elevators are separated by a spur of the casino, a small inlet of beeping slots. Before I drew a breathe of outside air, I was down $20. I hit the street and, across the intersection, a sign alternately blinked 90° F and 8:00. My walk outdoors was short. We wanted to get an early start, after all. So I hurried back in, and was down another $40 before I reached the elevator.
I got back to the room, told Lisa it was getting hot out already so we should get going. Lisa laughed and replied, “How much did you lose?”
We left town for the Hoover Dam and the Grand Canyon few hours later, both of us somewhat amused about losing $100 in twenty-five cent chunks. I didn’t look back. The one-armed bandit, indeed.
Three years later, I ran into the bandits again while on a family cruise and treated my entire family to an accelerated repeat of Vegas. After dinner one night, I won an addictively lucky $80 with a quick pull on a 25-cent slot. To carry 320 quarters, casinos provide you with heavy plastic cups. Mine drained quickly and somehow slurped down another $40 or so. “Man, this cruise is ship is lamer than Vegas,” I thought as I once again walked away and didn’t look back (although winning that $80 did feel sweet).
I went through six years, one divorce procedure, and a second marriage ceremony without so much as a thought about slot machines. Even when a casino initiative came up on the state ballot in 2003, I never thought of actually playing the slots. They just weren’t on my mind. Until last Saturday, when I landed in Las Vegas for a conference….