Yesterday, Mike, Michael Michael, and I decided to make a return trip. For some reason, finals' week always seems like the most appropriate time for these travels. To our credit, we studied heavily during the car ride. To our discredit, we were studying The Experts' Guide to 21 and The Little Big Book of Gambling to learn all of the statistically advantageous moves to make in Blackjack. In all honesty, I probably haven't crammed so hard since my sixth grade test on rock classifications.
Hitting the blackjack tables upon our arrival, I had confidence that I could succeed with my newfound knowledge. Except that I can never memorize anything, meaning I completely froze. Split what? Double when? Stand why? Suddenly, I was down $44. That was it. That was the lesson I needed to learn in order to never want to gamble again. Though it hurt, it was certainly beneficial.
Of course, we drove a long way there, so we weren't leaving anytime soon. Michael Michael encouraged me to start drinking and playing craps since that was the secret to my success last time. Why the hell not, I figured, I might as well have some fun.
One drink turned to eleven, maybe twelve. Apparently, alcohol tastes better when it's free. I babbled about nothing and flirted with strangers, especially old people, whom I chose to play beside at every opportunity.
Senior: (after watching me get carded) How old do you have to be?
Me: Twenty-one. (Get ready for the clumsy pass) Are you old enough?
Senior: Oh ha ha ha. I'm four times that, actually.
For the record, and to indicate what kind of catch I was reeling in, I would have guessed only three times that. Hot!
And just when I stopped paying attention, my luck rebounded. My chips were multiplying faster than the old folks and me; soon, I had earned enough to actually be $97 ahead for the night. So much for learning a lesson. Who wants to go gambling? You can't lose, I'm telling you. You can't lose!
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