Confessions of a Losing Poker Player
2:43 am PCT... Las Vegas... Man, do I suck cow eggs these days. I dunno what happened? My bankroll has vanished before my eyes. I have lost more money in the last week... than the average American makes in an entire month of working. Think about that for a moment... some of you get paid every other week. Imagine losing both paychecks for the month of April... and you'll get some semblance of what I have been enduring the last few days. And here's the scary part... I did not play poker or gamble for two entire days, while partying down at Phish concerts and I was mired in a serious festive binge and a narcotic orgy while hanging out with Phishy chicks almost half my age.
What the hell happened? I guess the Vegas Gods purposely booked Phish for three days because they knew it would draw me and my entire wad of cash out into the middle of the desert, where I'd quickly fall ill to the fatal illness of greed and debauchery. I am a weak person, it's a known fact. And yes, the demons of Vegas quietly lulled me into entangling myself into their web of despair and darkness and gluttony. Like a mirage in the distance, I thought I saw sand angels dancing and twirling in the cool Nevada night, their soft voices enticing me with orgasmic whispers and tickling me with smooth feathers. But I was wrong. I was ambushed by gutless thieves, an army of henchmen who shook me until all the change and hundred dollar bills fell off of my body.
I just scrapped together a few dollars to buy breakfast... the crappy buffet where they serve other degenerate gamblers and Grandmas with thinning blue hair, one foot in the grave and the other firmly planted in front of the Wheel of Fortune $1 slot machines.
Have you ever smelled the stench of old people near death, combined with burnt buffet style bacon? It's an awful smell that had etched itself into my memory banks. I could just walk out into the middle of the desert and never return. And would anyone notice?
And here's the scary part... I don't want to leave. I could live here for sure. I was greeted with luke warm thoughts about writing for three hours straight, then wandering down Las Vegas Blvd. every day past the leggy blondes from California and go into my new office... the poker room at the Mirage and attempt to steal away hard earned cash from tourists from Indiana and Northern California. I could watch my eyes glow in the reflection of the three billion lights that illuminate Vegas. Could I just move out to the middle of the desert and never return to NYC... and would anyone ever notice?
A Las Vegas Blog