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Jackpots Never Last Long...
I am not much of a gambler. I have watched as friends and loved ones lost a lot of hard earned money in a matter of a few hands of cards, and I vowed never to have that problem. I grew up poor, and understood the value of having cash on hand. I found it odd how people enjoyed wasting money like that, with such a little chance to break ahead. Of course, I did get to experience a little bit of that enjoyment during my one trip to Foxwoods Casino.
Foxwoods is a beautiful casino, as it should be with the amount of money they rake in from gamblers every year. My trip was the result of my mom and stepdad needing a third person for their annual bus trip to the Mecca for the Northeastern gambling addicts. I hated the idea of losing money, but went with the attitude that I only brought $100, and that is all I was prepared to lose. When the bus was a few minutes from the casino, an elderly gentleman in what appeared to be a conductor’s hat walked down the length of the bus, passing out meal tickets for the buffet along with a $10 match play for any table game there. At least I wouldn’t lose so much I couldn’t afford lunch, I joked. My mother was laughing at the fact I have never been to one of these places. Here I was, twenty three and a virgin to casinos. I guess she was one of those people I could never understand.
As I walked through the entrance, I couldn’t help but notice that casinos are not much different from shopping malls. Each storefront was filled with slot machines, table games, and more. I walked passed row after row of glittery electronic machines, screaming at me to put money in and give it a spin, trying to lure me in with fancy music and the clanking of coins. I didn’t know where to go, but figured I was too much a novice to sit at a table game, so I stuck with the slot machines. Never having been there, I thought it was different how you could hit a button rather than pull the arm like I used to see in movies. However, they left it as an option. After pouring forty bucks into the machine, which I believe was the simple triple 7’s kind, I was not much of a winner. Sure, 20 credits here, 15 there, but it added up to nothing.
After feeling tired of this waste of money, I got up from the machine and walked into another maze of one armed bandits across the way. This time, I was playing a Double Diamonds slot, and another thirty bucks later the same result occurred. Since I had only passed about two hours away and had another five to go, I figured I would take a break from losing money and eat my free lunch. And to be honest, it wasn’t that bad. The food was a little overdone, but I understand health regulations differ from state to state. After letting my food digest, I found my mother and filled her in on my downer of a day so far. With thirty dollars left I needed to pace myself. She was ecstatic over winning 300 credits at the nickel machine, which added up to a few dollars at that. I wandered back off on my own, and found a little spot in the corner with only a few rows of machines. Sticking my head inside, I noticed the room was filled with high roller slots. These bad boys cost anywhere from $5 to $100 per spin. Completely avoiding that room, I walked back to the Double Diamonds section, and took a seat. Letting out a sigh, I figured I might as well go out swinging, slipped in my last twenty and ten, and let it ride.
I was down to about two dollars when it happened. I hit the spin button for the three hundredth time like a zombie. I didn’t even here the sirens going off; I had to rely on the woman sitting next to me with the cigarette hanging from her lip to tell me that I hit the jackpot. I looked down and thought she was losing it because no quarters were pouring out. I went to tell her off, when I saw an attendant standing there next to me. He offered fake congratulations, and then advised me to wait there until he returned. As I stood there I tried calculating how much I had won. Apparently it was too much to give me in quarters, and said it out loud as the guy returned: $400 dollars. I was shocked. He may as well have told me I won a hundred grand. I was ecstatic, never thinking in my wildest dreams that this could happen. I tried to find my mom to tell her the good news, passing by the table games I had skipped by on the way in. I thought for a second, and then decided that since I have all this money, I could turn it into so much more at the tables. I walked over to see what it was all about.
All of the blackjack tables were full, so I took an interest in the nearby roulette table. After studying the other patrons for a few minutes, I sort of had an idea on how to play, and had no problem laying down $200 on red. I mean, it was a fifty-fifty bet, how could I lose, right? Well, the spin landed on black, and I had just lost half my jackpot in a matter of seconds. Regretting my decision, I went back to the slot machines. But this time, since I was now a “high roller”, I was going straight to the big ones. I exchanged my last $200 in for $10 coins. The roll was so small, I almost laughed. But I was going to win my losses back at the $50 per spin slots. After all, I heard they pay out more than the quarter ones, and I pulled back the arm with great anticipation.
Five seconds later, I was literally broke. I wanted to reach my hand into the slot machine and pull my money back out. Short of throwing a fit, I walked out of the room, dazed and confused at losing so much money in such a short time. I sat at a bench in the entrance area, waiting another two hours for the bus to leave. My mother and stepdad caught up with me while boarding the bus, telling me about their great winnings. I told them my horrible story, to which they laughed. I guess they have been there so many times, they could relate, but I didn’t want to hear it. The ride home was miserable and full of regret. Why didn’t I stop when I was up to $400? Was I crazy? I vowed that I would never gamble again. But it was then that I finally understood the high a gambler gets; the thrill of possibility that keeps them going. And to be honest, I don’t envy that at all. I think I like my money too much.
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