Surprise In Reno
“Ding” went my phone 3 weeks ago when I was in my room at the Sands Regency in Reno. It was a text from the Casino downstairs. Apparently their computers had been watching 2 things: my departure date and how much money they had skimmed off of me as I unwillingly poured into their coffers losses they predicted I would make through gambling contributions. They took note that I was leaving in the morning, and as of yet I had not voluntarily donated any additional funds to their bottom line. It looked to them like I was about to do something that seemed inconceivable to them - leave that joint with my money. That prospect prompted the equivalent of a FaceBook poke.
So…to prime the pump, they sent a text giving me $5 for a free play on my Players Card. They must have somehow channeled that my favorite word through the whole of Roget’s Thesaurus was “Free.” So I went down there in the morning to a slot machine and inserted my players card to get the whole thing going. A $5 credit popped up on the screen.
A few years ago I had done this at another casino down in Carson City, Nevada, where they had a sign that could be seen for miles outside the casino blinking these comforting words for the downtrodden, “We are here for you.” Yeah, that was a good one. They were there for me like I was there for them. But this joint had a technique to relieve you of the sneaking suspicion that they were there for themselves instead of you. Before they turned anyone loose on the casino floor, they warmed him up on one of their rigged slot machines to take a couple of practice swings so one would see how easy it was and the euphoric feeling that flushed over you when you won. You would pull the arm on a machine, and the odds were high that you would win a tire inflator, a CD, or some other piece of junk with minimal utilitarian purpose. 0f course, I won a couple of gadgets. But all these dime store prizes were the same thing as making you think you could ride the 1900-pound chambray bull named Bodacious in a Las Vegas rodeo without wearing a jock strap simply because you rode a mechanical bull in slow motion at Coyote Ugly while surrounded by a 2-foot deep lake of foam rubber.
But here in Reno no warm up was allowed. The plan here was to go from “Pull” to “Poor House” from the get-go. I remember walking into casinos years ago and seeing suckers pulling levers like they were trying to brake cable cars coming down Market Street in San Francisco. But as I waltzed around the Sands Regency, those machines no longer existed. All these suckers were now sitting there with their arms on padded rests and pushing buttons as fast as they could go. Somebody figured out that making people pull that lever was enabling them to waste time losing their money. It was much faster if they just held their finger over a button and rapidly tapped it, effectively depositing money into the casino’s bank account with each click. If they could have figured out how to get people to place all ten fingers on the machine at the same time as if typing 60 words a minute on a keyboard, they would have done it. I watched some dude in a cowboy hat who was about 70 years old. He had a leather face like the plates on a rhinoceros and sat there like a stone statue. He did not budge. Nothing moved. His right arm dangled motionlessly at his side. His left hand sat on the armrest with only his index finger extended like a skeleton. He stared at the spinning wheels without flinching. A players card with an elastic telephone cord attached to his shirt stuck in the machine’s slot. All he did was slightly move his index finger and touch the PLAY button. Every time he did that, the wheels rolled to give him some hope, but it had already been determined that his money had disappeared when he touched that button. Once every minute or so, he lifted his right hand and shoved a cigarette into this mouth and blew smoke across the face of the machine. He reminded me of a mechanical man. All I could think about was a potential $100,000 that might come around the longer all these fools pushed those buttons and delayed the fortune for someone else.
In any case, here in Reno I was tapping the button and watching my $5.00 diminish by $.30 with each touch. When I got to exactly $.30 left, I adroitly grazed the button one last time and stood up to walk away.
That is when it happened. 5 of the same symbols lined up one after the other - bam, bam, bam, bam, bam. They matched exactly.
All of a sudden, the machine commenced to convulse and every light within and without lit up. Bells started ringing like a firehouse. A red light sitting on top of the device like a bubble gum machine sitting on a police car came on and started spinning around, flashing red spots on my face. That was accompanied by a piercing siren that was heard throughout the casino. In a little window above the symbols, numbers started turning like the marquees in Times Square that rolled out the national debt.
I didn’t know a lot about this, but some lady who did that was 2 machines down jumped up and yelled out, “Holy ____ ! He hit the Jackpot!!” In the corner of my eye, I turned quickly to see customers running over while the numbers just kept rolling. I heard some Harley-Davidson biker behind me whisper real slowly like he couldn’t believe it, “Sonnava…..” That is when I knew it was real. The first 2 numbers on the total were coming up on 10. That is all I saw. Then it went to 20.
That is when my mind started to devise a material construct. It is funny how that works when you start to see casino numbers rolling north. I started to think of a real estate down payment. When I saw 30, I added a bedroom. When I saw 40, I added an RV garage. I was lost in the moment while all around me a football stadium roar arose. When I saw 50, I went from the possibility of downpayment to an outright purchase. The Lord was restoring the years the locusts had eaten. I had heard people speak about their ship coming in. But this was not a canoe or a rowboat or a dory or even a destroyer. This was the Queen Mary and the good ship Lollipop all rolled into one crashing into the dock with presents cascading over the bow.
About 100 people had swarmed in from all over the casino by now. Some were clapping and laughing, vicariously living through my big score and glad the vultures at the Sands Regency were finally being cleaned out. In their minds, another soul was getting even like one of those lucky miners in the Comstock Lode back in 1860. When I saw 70 come up, the vision expanded to a snow white sandy beach lapped by azure blue waters with me lying supine with $5 Walmart Polarized fishing sunglasses mounted to my head in a Speedo bordered north and south by the color of beryllium bronze. Linda gently swayed the hammock with her foot, popped peeled grapes and poured pina coladas down my esophagus with her right hand and floated a feather fan above me with her left.
And then - just as suddenly as it had begun - the machine stopped. The number 75 stood there like an apparition. Silently, blatantly, for everyone to see. Linda and I just stood there barely able to comprehend our good fortune, facing each other with our arms wrapped around each other and jumping up and down yelling, “Holy crap! Holy crap!”
I was suspended in the state of incredulity. Before something went wrong, I slammed down on the “Cash Out” button and snatched the receipt so I could bolt for the Cashier’s window, pay the taxes, take my money and drive immediately to Wells Fargo for a big deposit. The receipt rolled out. I waved it above my head; merriment increased. For one last triumphant, dramatic effect, I decided to read the grand total aloud for all the giddy, jubilant suckers around us who celebrated a final victory for the little guy. The din lowered as they could see that I was going to announce the payoff. I focused on the receipt and shouted out, “I have just won (pause… I now went into Drew Carey mode on “The Price Is Right” as I emphasized and drew out the next 2 words very SLOWLY) SEVENTY-FIVE (pause)…wait a minute....75 cents?”
edit.
So…to prime the pump, they sent a text giving me $5 for a free play on my Players Card. They must have somehow channeled that my favorite word through the whole of Roget’s Thesaurus was “Free.” So I went down there in the morning to a slot machine and inserted my players card to get the whole thing going. A $5 credit popped up on the screen.
A few years ago I had done this at another casino down in Carson City, Nevada, where they had a sign that could be seen for miles outside the casino blinking these comforting words for the downtrodden, “We are here for you.” Yeah, that was a good one. They were there for me like I was there for them. But this joint had a technique to relieve you of the sneaking suspicion that they were there for themselves instead of you. Before they turned anyone loose on the casino floor, they warmed him up on one of their rigged slot machines to take a couple of practice swings so one would see how easy it was and the euphoric feeling that flushed over you when you won. You would pull the arm on a machine, and the odds were high that you would win a tire inflator, a CD, or some other piece of junk with minimal utilitarian purpose. 0f course, I won a couple of gadgets. But all these dime store prizes were the same thing as making you think you could ride the 1900-pound chambray bull named Bodacious in a Las Vegas rodeo without wearing a jock strap simply because you rode a mechanical bull in slow motion at Coyote Ugly while surrounded by a 2-foot deep lake of foam rubber.
But here in Reno no warm up was allowed. The plan here was to go from “Pull” to “Poor House” from the get-go. I remember walking into casinos years ago and seeing suckers pulling levers like they were trying to brake cable cars coming down Market Street in San Francisco. But as I waltzed around the Sands Regency, those machines no longer existed. All these suckers were now sitting there with their arms on padded rests and pushing buttons as fast as they could go. Somebody figured out that making people pull that lever was enabling them to waste time losing their money. It was much faster if they just held their finger over a button and rapidly tapped it, effectively depositing money into the casino’s bank account with each click. If they could have figured out how to get people to place all ten fingers on the machine at the same time as if typing 60 words a minute on a keyboard, they would have done it. I watched some dude in a cowboy hat who was about 70 years old. He had a leather face like the plates on a rhinoceros and sat there like a stone statue. He did not budge. Nothing moved. His right arm dangled motionlessly at his side. His left hand sat on the armrest with only his index finger extended like a skeleton. He stared at the spinning wheels without flinching. A players card with an elastic telephone cord attached to his shirt stuck in the machine’s slot. All he did was slightly move his index finger and touch the PLAY button. Every time he did that, the wheels rolled to give him some hope, but it had already been determined that his money had disappeared when he touched that button. Once every minute or so, he lifted his right hand and shoved a cigarette into this mouth and blew smoke across the face of the machine. He reminded me of a mechanical man. All I could think about was a potential $100,000 that might come around the longer all these fools pushed those buttons and delayed the fortune for someone else.
In any case, here in Reno I was tapping the button and watching my $5.00 diminish by $.30 with each touch. When I got to exactly $.30 left, I adroitly grazed the button one last time and stood up to walk away.
That is when it happened. 5 of the same symbols lined up one after the other - bam, bam, bam, bam, bam. They matched exactly.
All of a sudden, the machine commenced to convulse and every light within and without lit up. Bells started ringing like a firehouse. A red light sitting on top of the device like a bubble gum machine sitting on a police car came on and started spinning around, flashing red spots on my face. That was accompanied by a piercing siren that was heard throughout the casino. In a little window above the symbols, numbers started turning like the marquees in Times Square that rolled out the national debt.
I didn’t know a lot about this, but some lady who did that was 2 machines down jumped up and yelled out, “Holy ____ ! He hit the Jackpot!!” In the corner of my eye, I turned quickly to see customers running over while the numbers just kept rolling. I heard some Harley-Davidson biker behind me whisper real slowly like he couldn’t believe it, “Sonnava…..” That is when I knew it was real. The first 2 numbers on the total were coming up on 10. That is all I saw. Then it went to 20.
That is when my mind started to devise a material construct. It is funny how that works when you start to see casino numbers rolling north. I started to think of a real estate down payment. When I saw 30, I added a bedroom. When I saw 40, I added an RV garage. I was lost in the moment while all around me a football stadium roar arose. When I saw 50, I went from the possibility of downpayment to an outright purchase. The Lord was restoring the years the locusts had eaten. I had heard people speak about their ship coming in. But this was not a canoe or a rowboat or a dory or even a destroyer. This was the Queen Mary and the good ship Lollipop all rolled into one crashing into the dock with presents cascading over the bow.
About 100 people had swarmed in from all over the casino by now. Some were clapping and laughing, vicariously living through my big score and glad the vultures at the Sands Regency were finally being cleaned out. In their minds, another soul was getting even like one of those lucky miners in the Comstock Lode back in 1860. When I saw 70 come up, the vision expanded to a snow white sandy beach lapped by azure blue waters with me lying supine with $5 Walmart Polarized fishing sunglasses mounted to my head in a Speedo bordered north and south by the color of beryllium bronze. Linda gently swayed the hammock with her foot, popped peeled grapes and poured pina coladas down my esophagus with her right hand and floated a feather fan above me with her left.
And then - just as suddenly as it had begun - the machine stopped. The number 75 stood there like an apparition. Silently, blatantly, for everyone to see. Linda and I just stood there barely able to comprehend our good fortune, facing each other with our arms wrapped around each other and jumping up and down yelling, “Holy crap! Holy crap!”
I was suspended in the state of incredulity. Before something went wrong, I slammed down on the “Cash Out” button and snatched the receipt so I could bolt for the Cashier’s window, pay the taxes, take my money and drive immediately to Wells Fargo for a big deposit. The receipt rolled out. I waved it above my head; merriment increased. For one last triumphant, dramatic effect, I decided to read the grand total aloud for all the giddy, jubilant suckers around us who celebrated a final victory for the little guy. The din lowered as they could see that I was going to announce the payoff. I focused on the receipt and shouted out, “I have just won (pause… I now went into Drew Carey mode on “The Price Is Right” as I emphasized and drew out the next 2 words very SLOWLY) SEVENTY-FIVE (pause)…wait a minute....75 cents?”
edit.