A few months ago, after an eye exam that left me seeing everything in a blur due to having my pupils dilated, my friend Dot, who’d driven me to the exam, said, “Let’s go check out that new casino while we’re here in Manchester. I keep seeing the ads on TV and I’m curious to find out what it’s like.”
Even though I was seeing double, maybe even triple, at that point, I agreed.
Perhaps my compromised vision was to blame, but compared to the casinos with their crystal chandeliers and glitzy décor I’d previously visited in Las Vegas and Connecticut, this one kind of resembled a drab warehouse with rows of slot machines lined up along the walls. And it was so dark inside, I practically had to feel my way to one of the stools in front of a machine.
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| TALK ABOUT UNPRETENTIOUS! |
“I can’t see much of anything,” I said to Dot. Then I joked, “But I suppose I’ll know when I win something if I hear coins pouring out into my tray.”
Dot laughed. “When was the last time you went to a casino anyway? They don’t have coins any more, or even tokens. You get a receipt or a ticket to cash in.”
I’d forgotten about that. No more filling up cups and buckets with coins or tokens and then taking them up to the payout booth. No more noisy clanking sounds of coins hitting metal that usually made other players nearby turn to stare with envy…or contempt.
Not that I’d ever heard much coin-clanking going on at any of the slot machines I’d played in the past anyway. No, with me, it always had been more like that old song, “The Sound of Silence.”
I certainly didn’t take after my mother (a.k.a. “Lucky Fingers Della”) who never seemed to lose. Friends who’d been to Foxwoods Casino with her always returned with stories about how she'd been able to stare at a line of machines, point at one of them and say, “That one is about to pay off,” and it would.
So when my mother invited me to go to Foxwoods with her back in the late 1990s, I figured I had it made – that I’d come home with enough cash to pay off my mortgage. After all, I was going to learn the ropes from one of the best, so I couldn’t lose.
As usual, I’d figured wrong.
First of all, I was a little apprehensive about going to a casino. For years, I’d heard so much about New Hampshire not approving casino gambling because it would attract the “criminal element,” I’d envisioned a place overrun with men wearing black shirts, white ties, pin-striped suits and black fedoras, with gun holsters strapped across their chests beneath their jackets.
So I was surprised when we walked into what looked like the recreation hall at a nursing home. Sweet-looking, gray-haired grandmotherly types were everywhere. I didn’t spot even one Al Capone look-alike.
My mother led me to a room filled with slot machines. It was a slow day, so we pretty much had our pick of them.
“Have fun!” Mom said, immediately rushing over to sit down and start playing.
I did the same. Within 15 minutes, I’d lost $50. I got up and walked over to see how my mother was doing. She’d already won 200 quarters and obviously was having a wonderful time.
I, on the other hand, couldn’t stop thinking about everything I could have done with the $50 I’d just blown…like buy groceries.
“This machine won’t pay again for a while,” my mother said, finally rising from her seat. “Time to switch!”
She moved to a different row of machines and inserted a $20 bill. Her smile quickly faded.
“This machine just gave me only half the credits it’s supposed to!” she said.
I moved closer so I could check it out. “That’s because it’s a 50-cent machine, Mom, not a 25-cent one.”
“Oh! Well, I’m not about to play a 50-cent machine. The money goes too fast that way. I’m going to cash out my $20 and put it into a quarter machine.” But instead of hitting the “cash-out” button, she accidentally hit the “spin” button…and won 100 half-dollars.
I rolled my eyes and groaned.
My mother’s good fortune inspired me to use my credit card to get more money so I could continue to play.
Alas, even Houdini couldn’t have made my cash vanish any faster.
Frustrated, I sat on the stool at one of the slot machines and waited for my mother. As I was sitting there, I remembered seeing a TV documentary about casinos and how all of them were set up with so many hidden cameras, if you dared to even pick your nose or adjust your underwear, it would be seen by the entire security staff. They even said the cameras could zoom in on something as small as a freckle. The thought of my every move being watched made me feel uneasy. I wondered if I could spot any of those so-called hidden cameras in this particular casino.
I looked up at the ceiling, then left and right, and back up at the ceiling. I didn’t see anything that stood out. But obviously the security people saw me scrutinizing the place and must have thought I was planning to do something sneaky (like feed a slug into a machine), because two men who looked very “security-ish” approached and sat down at the slot machines on either side of me.
“Having any luck?” one of them asked me.
“Nope,” I said. “I’ve already lost my shirt…and other assorted articles of clothing.” I laughed at my own statement.
They didn’t.
“My mother, Della, who’s over there, however,” I paused to point at her, “is really cleaning up.”
In retrospect, my choice of words probably could have been better. One of the security guys immediately went over to visit my mother.
They finally concluded that my mom and I weren’t Bonnie and Clydella, and went on their way.
An hour later, my mother, carrying two nearly overflowing buckets of coins, decided she was ready to leave. “I just have to cash these in,” she said.
I won’t say I was jealous, but I was hoping she’d drop one of the buckets so maybe I could scoop up a couple of the coins, quickly stuff them into a slot machine and win a jackpot, so I wouldn’t have to go home empty-handed to face my husband... who was going to be forced to eat canned spaghetti for the next two weeks.
My mother read my thoughts and reached into one of the buckets and handed me a fistful of coins.
“Here,” she said. “While I’m cashing out, have fun.”
I rushed over to the nearest slot machine and shoved the coins into it. The money disappeared so fast, it left skid marks.
Back to the present...even though I’d like to say I had better luck at the casino with Dot and won a big jackpot, I ended up just breaking even…which, in my case, I suppose could be considered a major victory.
But if nothing else, experience has taught me a foolproof way to play the slots and return home with a small fortune.
Go there with a large fortune.
# # #
Sally Breslin is
a native New Englander and an award-winning syndicated humor columnist who has
written regularly for newspapers and magazines all of her adult life. She is
the author of several novels in a variety of genres, from humor and romance to
science-fiction. Contact her at: sillysally@att.net
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