I’m Feeling Lucky (Not Really)

My boyfriend and I are off to Las Vegas early tomorrow morning, so you won’t be hearing from me for a little while.  Yes, I will blog while I’m there, but probably not tomorrow.  Just didn’t want y’all worrying that I am “on strike” again, or “out of business” or whatever I was for less than 24 hours earlier this week.

We’re going to see my Dad. 

We’re going to get some sun.

We’re going to relax.

We’re going to have fun (hey… an unintentional rhyme).

Maybe I will win some money this time.  It has been over sixteen years since I won anything of any significance, and, truth be told, if you count the sixteen plus years of losing I am seriously behind the eightball.  This is why I keep on trying.  At some point my chances of winning have to turn, don’t they? I mean, I’m not a statistician or anything, but surely sixteen years of losing is unusual.

The problem may be that if I win a little — let’s say $100 — I feel lucky and go for even bigger winnings.  This is the issue with the slot machines.  They are so pretty and colorful and musical.  They entice me.  I like to play them from five in the morning until eleven at night. 

I win some.  I lose some.

Don’t believe it when you hear about penny slots, or nickel slots.  You have to put in about three dollars in those machines in order to win anything of significance.  I am certainly not going to sit there and play for a penny.  Imagine if I hit the jackpot and only had a penny in.  A million dollars would pay about a hundred or something and then I would never forgive myself for playing for a penny instead of three dollars.  This is how I lose so much.  It doesn’t take long to lose a hundred dollars at three dollars a pull.

Do the math.

One hundred dollars.  Lost in thirty minutes at five a.m.  My Pilates class doesn’t start until eight.  So what am I going to do? I can’t sleep, because the slot machines are so beautiful.  It’s too early to go to the pool.  The coffee shop doesn’t open until seven.  Okay, I guess I’ll just put in another hundred to kill some time until I can get that much needed cup of caffeine.  After all, I am jetlagged.  By seven a.m. I could easily be down $300.  Good thing I only came down with $200.  I guess I’ll have to charge the coffee to my room because I don’t have any money left.

Oy.  I’m getting discouraged just writing about it.

Maybe I should play blackjack instead.  Usually I don’t lose so much there.  But at 5 a.m. the tables consist of some very stinky drunk twenty-something guys and some also stinky very disappointed prostitutes who are still waiting to get picked up.  I don’t really want to play with them.  And if I play alone, me against the dealer, if I lose I could lose very fast.

I’m going to think about it.  I’ll think about it on the plane.  Maybe I can find a book that explains slot machine odds.  Actually, I’m going to look for one now.

I’ll talk to you from Vegas.

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About mallorylayne

midlife mom seeking meaning for the rest of her life.
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