Out of Paradise - Ch. 4 - Viva Las Vegas Pt. 2

Out of Paradise - Ch. 4 - Viva Las Vegas Pt. 2

I have this system where, if you plan to spend a rowdy night out (or a romantic night out for that matter) you'll go through the better part of 20 dollars, right? So, that's it, I take 20 dollars, no more, no less, out of my meager stash of a sum total of two thousand dollars - that's 1 percent of my entire net worth - everything to my name and what will, hopefully, get me to the Matterhorn and beyond over the next few months - amassed from the blood, sweat and tears (hey, good name for a rock band) poured into working a swing shift at Diamond National Match Factory while putting myself through Butte Community College by day - and win or lose - double or nothing - walk out the doors (hey, another good name for a rock band) for better or worse.

I make my way through the madness of the casino floor, past the rows of clanking and clanging machinery spewing nickels and dimes and quarters, clatter, clatter, clatter, into little silver trays, past the flashing lights and sirens and heavily busted bar girls in high heels and black fishnet stockings serving drinks and taking orders. Past the Blackjack tables and Hold'em tables and pit bosses with their arms folded authoritatively overlooking their charge. I try to keep a low profile and avoid any security sentries I see. I look around the floor for the 1 dollar minimum craps table, watch the play for a few minutes, order a complimentary Jack and Coke from the next cleavage laden, high heeled, black fishnet stockinged bar girl that comes by, light up a Marlborough and wait for the next 7 to be thrown. I then place two 1 dollar chips on each of the Big 6 and 8 and one on the field. Now, this means for 5 dollars I have nearly every number covered except 7 and 5. I figure, that since 7 has the highest odds of being thrown, followed by 6 and 8, and 7 has already been thrown once, the odds would seem to be more likely that a 6 or 8 would be thrown before another 7, right?  And, in the meantime, I can continue to cash in on every other roll of the dice in the field except 5. Fallible? Probably, but throw after throw I'm picking up my winnings from the field - Whoa, Snake Eyes, 2 to 1. Next roll is a 6 - even though I lose my field bet, I have 2 chips on the 6 so I'm still a winner. After 4 or 5 throws of the dice, collecting money on each throw, I figure the odds of a 7 being thrown are becoming more and more likely. I gather all my chips from the table and sure enough, the next number is a 7. Damn, don't you love it when a plan comes together.

I order another complimentary Jack and Coke from the next cleavage laden, high heeled, black fishnet stockinged bar girl that comes by, light up another Marlborough and start the process all over again. This goes on for the next hour or so, every now and then placing a hard way bet and every now and then winning. My stash is gradually increasing - Nothing monumental - Sure, a set back here and there, but then that's to be taken for granted - But all in all, slowly but surely, my stash is gradually increasing - plus the fact that I'm getting free Jack and Cokes served by all these sexy assed, cleavage laden, bar girls in high heels and black fishnet stockings. What more could a poor boy want? Oh no, a 7 is thrown and I lose my 5 dollars left on the table - never mind, I'm still way up - time for a change anyway.

I take a wander around the floor, taking in all the excitement, the din, the crowds, the bells and whistles, the fortunes, big and small, changing hands at the roll of a die, the drop of a ball, the turn of a card, the pull of a lever. I watch the action at a 25 cent minimum roulette table, order another complimentary Jack and Coke from the next cleavage laden, high heeled, black fishnet stockinged bar girl that comes by, light up another Marlborough and throw a dollar chip on red. Round and round, click, click, bounce, bounce. Red it is. I place my next chip on even. Round and round, click, click, bounce, bounce. Even it is. Damn, this is alright. I start getting a bit more daring and begin placing column and dozen bets that pay 2:1. I win some, lose some - all in all, winning more than losing. Damn, this is alright. I order another complimentary Jack and Coke from the next cleavage laden, high heeled, black fishnet stockinged bar girl that comes by and light up another Marlborough. I'm watching all the action going on around me - The guy to the right is throwing 5 dollar chips out all over the creation like he's feeding pigeons in the park - doubling up and quadrupling up on selected numbers as fast as he can before the next ball is set in motion, dropping another stack on a corner here and a corner there - Only God (and the croupier) knows how much he's got riding. Round and round, click, click, bounce, bounce - 10 Black. Me, I've got a dollar on black, a dollar on even, a dollar on the first 12, a dollar on the first column and a dollar on 1-18 - 5 dollars all up and get a payout of 7 dollars. Damn, this is alright. The guy to the right of me had a stack of 5 dollar chips on the number 10 plus another stack on the 7-8-10-11 corner - God knows (and the croupier) how much his payout is but then he had chips spread out on nearly every number on the board anyway so his chances of getting something back were pretty good. Work it out - assuming there were at least five 5 dollar chips in the stack on the number 10, paying 35 to 1 that's 875 dollars and at least another five 5 dollar chips in the stack on the 7-8-10-11 corner paying 8 to 1 that's another 200 dollars - All up 1,075 dollars. That's 52 alright - Now, me, I'd take the money and run. But, nah, he just spreads it all back on the table again, back to the pigeons in the park. Next spin of the ball I move my 'Black' dollar to 'Red', my 'Even' dollar to 'Odd', my 'Last 12' dollar I move to the 'Middle 12', the 'First Column' dollar shifts to the 'Middle Column' and the dollar I had riding on '1-18' moves to '19-36' - and just to be hyper daring, I toss a dollar on the '20-21-23-24 Corner', just for the fuck of it - six dollars all together. Round and round, click, click, bounce, bounce - 23 Red. Fuck, my birthday! That's alright! Let's see, I get 8 to 1 on the '20- 21-23-24 Corner', double on the 'Middle 12' and the 'Middle Column' and even odds on '19-36', 'Red' and 'Odd' - Far out! That's 15 fucking dollars. Far out! I've nearly doubled my stake on 1 drop of the ball. My buddy to the right had damn near every other number on the table covered except 23. He did get a relatively meager payout on a bet he had placed on the '22-23-24 Trio' but nowhere near the loss he incurred when the croupier reached out with his stick and scooped in the rest of his 5 dollar chips scattered all over the creation in a single foul swoop. But that doesn't deter him much. He quickly reaches back into his once mountainous stacks of 5 dollar chips now eroded into mere hills and returns them to the pigeons once more. Damn, how much money have I got now? I've more than doubled my initial stake - up about 30 dollars - I'm outta here - I take the money and run (before the security guy catches on).

Back to the Lounge Bar just as Elvis is singing "And when I find myself a-fallin' for some girl, I hop right into that car of mine and drive around the world, 'Cause I'm a wanderer Yeah, I'm a wanderer..." Far out, damn, that's me, that's my new official anthem, that and Ricky Nelson's Traveling Man, of course. Brenda's still there, so is her cleavage and I ask it for a Jack and Coke. The bar has picked up a bit. The three or four drunks huddled over their scotches holding up the bar are gone now and have been replaced by a bit rowdier crew who, by their cheerful demeanor, must have had done something right earlier in the night. Elvis finishes his song, everyone applauds, with a "Hey, hey, hey," tells them he'll be back in about ten and joins me at the bar. Brenda brings him a Jack and Coke. I tell him about the extraordinary fortune I had amassed at the craps and roulette tables and we laugh. We finish our drinks, light up another Marlborough and Elvis heads back onstage for his last set. It's getting late (or early depending on your frame of reference), I'm pretty tired and drunk and have nowhere to stay for the remainder of the morning so I decide to go down to the Casino cafe for a 99 cent breakfast and a coffee (I could afford that) and wait out the sunrise. I go to the stage, thank Elvis profusely for the ride in his red '57 Chevy convertible, his invite to the Silver Slipper Lounge Bar and his music, since he'll be finishing soon and, chances are, I won't be seeing him again. I give Brenda and her cleavage a tip (I could afford that, too) and make my way back through the madness of the casino floor - much tamer now - and down to the Casino cafe for a 99 cent breakfast and a coffee to wait out the sunrise. It's starting to get light outside. Bob, the security guy at the back staff entrance door, had long since gone home and had been replaced by Bruce. I knew his name was Bruce by the name tag pinned to his fancy black tuxedo, walkie-talkie in one hand and a headset over one ear. I explain to Bruce that I had left my knapsack with Bob in 54 the security room and he said that Bob had told him about it. He takes me to the security room, I retrieve my knapsack and I'm out to greet the Las Vegas sunrise. Quieter than it had been the night before, the air was still brisk with the insomniac neon and the last of the midnight punters stumbling out the casino doors. I ask Bruce the best way east out of town and he tells me I15 is just a block or two down. Too easy.