I'm not much for gambling. It's not that I disapprove or think it's sinful. It’s that I find it dead boring.
For one thing, it's a sucker's game. You're not going to win because the house — the casinos — have ensured that it will win many, many more times than the punters. It doesn't matter if you have a system or you're carrying your lucky charm. For one thing, you bought that rabbit’s foot at a gas station, so how much luck can it actually have? It wasn’t lucky for the rabbit, so it certainly won’t do you any better.
There’s no such thing as a foolproof system guaranteed to win. Seriously, your cousin Chet from Loogootee did not figure out a system to beat the casinos. They’re professionals who spent millions of dollars to ensure those systems don’t work. The guy who charged you $19.95 for his Amazon ebook doesn’t know a secret loophole that Vegas lifers failed to find.
I never had much luck gambling. Even in high school, when I played Penny-Nickel-Dime poker with my friends, I rarely won. If I was lucky, I’d walk away with the same amount of money I came in with — about two bucks.
Gambling is boring because it doesn’t require any skill, except for poker. Everything else is based on the luck of the draw, the roll of the dice, or the spin of the roulette wheel. Betting is just a matter of arguing with the casino, "I’m luckier than you." "Oh, yeah? Five bucks says you’re not." over and over until you both run out of money.
Even in roulette, if you spent all night betting on a single color, red or black, over and over, you won’t even break even. You're eventually going to lose because there are also two green numbers, 0 and 00. You don't even have a 50/50 chance of winning every time; you only have a 49/51 chance, which means, over time, you’ll run out of money.
Sports gambling is in the news a lot these days, thanks to the NBA gambling scandal that snared several current and former players, and even a coach, plus allegations of fixed poker games with the mafia. And, as you would hope, the Internet was ready with the jokes.
"Why is gambling so rampant in the NBA? We'll investigate the problem on the Draft Kings Sports Analysis Show, sponsored by FanDuel."
But I tried it once and hated it. Once, when I was traveling to Reno, Nevada, for a conference, my mom gave me $10 and told me to play the nickel slots on her behalf; if I won anything, we’d split it.
I promised I would, but we both knew I wasn’t coming home with anything.
My first night in the casino, I thought. "Let’s just get this over with." I found one of the nickel slot games, slotted the $10 into the machine, and sat down. A small display lit up and showed, "$10.00."
I pressed the button (there are no more levers) that would spin the digital cylinders on the screen. They spun around, and I lost over and over, as I had hoped. I was ten spins into the game, and I was already bored. But my mom had asked me for this, so I figured I should play the slots at least once in my life.
People around me were rubbing lucky rabbits’ feet and rosary beads, whisper-chanting, "Next one’s a winner. Next one’s a winner. Next one’s a winner," slapping the button and praying to the patron saint of slot machines to make them rich.
Meanwhile, I was fighting to stay awake on my stool, chanting, "How much longer? How much longer?" praying to the patron saint of slot machines for a city-wide blackout. I wanted to find something more interesting to spend my money on, like a pizza buffet or commemorative "What Happens in Reno" salt and pepper shakers.
And then the unthinkable happened: I won! I won two dollars! I was down to 75 cents when the little lights spun, the bells chimed, and two dollars rolled back onto the display of how much money I had left.
I said a few bad words, cursed my "good fortune," and shouted to the gambling gods, "Can’t I just give you ten bucks so you’ll leave me alone?" They had nothing to say. So I had to keep slapping the button before I achieved my life’s greatest desire: to spend the entire $10, five cents at a time, at a game that I was (almost) never going to win.
"Finally," I huffed, staggering off my stool, butt and legs numb from lack of blood flow.
If I never gamble again, it’ll be too soon, I said. Nothing will ever bring me back here.
"Wanna bet?" said the gambling gods. Two years later, I found myself in Vegas for another conference, but I managed to avoid gambling temptations altogether.
I spent all my time in the bar instead.
Photo credit: LoggaWiggler (Pixabay, Creative Commons 0)
My new novel, Whither Utopia, is now available for sale. (Actually, it comes out on December 3, but there's a glitch in the system! If you "pre-order" it now, the printer has been shipping them already!! Shhh, don't tell them!)Order my second novel at the 4 Horsemen website.