Overkill

Pre-Game

The trip to Las Vegas is on Thursday, and early in the week I am excited. Forgoing the usual gambling within the "shores of North America," I remember this is not 2008. Sadly, these are tight times, and high rolling has to be replaced by smart moves. I tell Smiley that I hope the lines are close to what they are now, because I spot some deals. But enough of my yackin' - let's boogie!

First Quarter

I don't want to get the thought in my brain that the travel couldn't get any worse...but it won't leave my head. We are at a gas station in Primm, NV. Smiley's car is not in a movable state. Before the state line, I casually look over to see the speed as we're making good time. It's when I do so that I notice that engine temperature is damn warm. As she notices this, it's getting warmer. By the border, the smell is getting thicker (with Leon getting larger) and slowly...smoke coming out.

Once our heads and the engine cool down, we consider the options. Naturally, there's no garage in this gas station but there ARE slot machines. Opening the hood shows coolant on the top, bottom, spilling, and the cap sitting on the edge. Did the heat push the cap off? Was the cap never on? Smiley is lamenting not having her car checked before leaving, but there's nothing we can do about that now. To her (and my) dismay, my coolant knowledge is limited to old Prestone ads, so that's no help. But even if we add coolant, how do we know that solves the problem? It's nothing but desert until Jean (and I wouldn't consider that a positive either). It's getting dark out. AAA is the only answer.

Roughly 10 minutes later (as I attempt to corral a very nervous dog around a gas station) I am confronted by a "mother and son" team of beggars. They need money for the train. I am not sure that a train even stops in Primm, but the dog sends them briskly walking away. Still, we wait for a tow truck...the mother returns, asking what's wrong. Oh, it's not because she needs money; she's had car troubles, so she knows how to fix stuff. Seriously, where is the damned-

The tow truck arrives! We are placed on the bed of the truck as he also drags another car behind us. Here we are, riding up in style...in her car, but not driving...comfortable, and yet it feels as if one giant bump could send us flying. Piece of mind, I know. Well, at least we made it. Tomorrow the casino, and the troubles are washed away! Right?

Second Quarter

What's taking so long? Why are we talking? Can we just get to the casino so I can place these bets? We can do anything else after that. As I wait, I read "Inside Las Vegas" by Mario Puzo. An odd contradiction exists: He is (and labels himself as such) a degenerate gambler, yet is ready to place others and those who play certain games in that file. The photos, nearly all of them swanky and showing a bygone era, label winners and losers. But, when your butterfly collar gets its own suitcase, there are no losers. Little attention is paid to sports gambling, so I can only wonder the difference. Ah, we're ready? Yay! YAYAYAYAYAY!

What? Shit, that line did change. Smiley lets me talk, but is on the hunt for the hot slot machines. I look at my notes (and Potsy's, for his stake) and realize a lot of my bets won't be happening. Those nutty parlays won't go down - not enough moneylines. I am seriously limited, but I do what I can. There...bets placed, I am confident. So much so that I don't even care that I'm playing video poker knowing full well I'm clearly about to lose money. In the past, it was a time wasting lark. As said earlier, and going through my head: I can't be doing this.

The evening, we are treated by Smiley's father to Love at the Mirage. It is a fantastic show. We are entertained. I won't be informed of the cost, but it is worth it. Plus, it was enough to fog my memory that never in my life have I even made a nickel at this fucking casino. This day doesn't change. John might have made two game shows for Slingo, but I'm not touching their machines. I can lose loose change with someone else, thank you. But that doesn't matter. Tomorrow is Saturday, and I am happy.

Third Quarter

Whenever I wake up on a gambling Las Vegas game day, my thoughts will always turn to 2006, when a sleepy Trip is woken by a knock at the door by former Pacific Gold writer Steve Simpson. He's going down to the sportsbook...any other bets? I tell him to go into my wallet, take out $20, and place it on Old Dominion. What a weird, yet fucking glorious world that was. Then again, the sleeping quarters were nearly bare. Now, I'm waking up in a nice residence in a quiet community where all the rocks match, a hearty breakfast is free, and Smiley there to greet me. Yet, get me to the action. Before I even get there, I see that the Purdue/Michigan game is going off. That is odd - a lot of scoring for a Big Ten game. There goes one bet. Oh well. It will change once I get in there and get a seat.

Upon arrival, it is packed. NCAA Football and Breeder's Cup lifers and travelers fill the place. I look at some parlay cards and continue to get minimal help from the staff. At Red Rock, it helps to know you way around, and apparently, I don't. I also don't know to ask for a "drink ticket" when I make my bets. Unless you have one, drinks are full price. That will feel good later.

To pass the time now that I have a chair with a TV, I do a random wacky NHL parlay. I don't know hockey but I don't care at this moment. It's $3 to win $20 or something. As is the case in these settings, I make fast friends with the people next to me. One is a guy who travels from east California to LV every weekend to bet sports. He is not having a good day, but is cheery. To my left is a southern guy...he's got a dozen tickets in front of him. Rooting for Alabama...and his horses. He is younger than me, and it makes me happy the youth of America will continue gambling. I have a bet on Kent State (of course I do) and in a tight game, a Golden Eagle recovers a 4th down fumble for a touchdown! Tie game about to come up, and the tide is turning. I'm seeing a replay; yup, his knee didn't touch the ground. TD! OK, my luck is turning. Wait, what are they reviewing?

If you read the recap of the game, you won't hear any mention of this...but somehow the review made the officials decide to place the ball where it was recovered by KSU. I couldn't figure it out - was there a penalty? No one was tackled. As is my current state, KSU goes 3 and out. They lose by that touchdown they should have received. This isn't a good start at all. Ah, but I have my night games and that nutty parlay.

You can guess how the nutty parlay went. I also had Oklahoma, and you know how that turned out. But I have Houston over Tulsa. I remember that on Tuesday, it was at Pick...which was a shock. I'm certainly taking Houston. When I arrived, it was up to 1 1/2 for Houston, but it didn't matter: they would win. Late in the game, however, they are losing, yet driving. With less than a minute to go, they score a touchdown, now down 2. Ah, this is perfect! We'll go to OT, and no matter HOW they win, I will win. Finally, a way to save face. OH SHIT, QB is sacked. That's that.

Or is it? In ways that only gambling gods create, Houston gets the onside kick. They complete two passes. They attempt a 51 yard field goal. IT IS GOOD.

Houston wins by 1 point.

I feel defeated. I feel empty. I turn to someone and say "This makes those of us who had them by 1 1/2 feel pretty stupid." He laughs out of defense more than anything. I am hurt, and I hurt myself. I lost every bet I made. It's never happened to me in my life. I haven't been gambling that long, but shit...

Smiley finds me and I try to stay upbeat...I know she's not done for the night in any way, so I keep her company and give her moral support. For one final time, I tell her why I like to place bets early in the week. I once again tell her about the Houston line. This time, she is either interested or too bored to not care. "What happened? Did they lose?" I tell her what happened and she is also shocked. "No way! That sucks!" It sure does. Do you want to buy your boyfriend a hamburger?

I have $5 in cash left, and we wander past a trio of slot machines that are exploding with money. Smiley commandeers one and she doesn't receive the same luck. Or, at least, not what she's looking for. Another one opens (maybe these machines are tired of giving out money) and I "monitor" the other one. Well...I guess I'd better play it, even slowly, so if she wants to come back...

That $5 is gone in relatively short order. I am happy I already ate dinner.

Later, we find a game called "Texas Tea" which is filled with plenty of stereotypical Texas symbols, and a character with a giant white mustache and a car with steer horns on the grill. The money doesn't really change in the 10 minutes she plays (she makes $2, placing her as my idol for the trip) but it's entertaining. Maybe I should stick to these machines. Or maybe craps. But it doesn't fucking matter.

Fourth Quarter

I don't know why I was asked if I wanted to go to the casino. Maybe because they thought I wanted to make my money back, or try the NFL. I want no part of it. Smiley's car is fixed and brought back to life with new tires and other elements. We will make it back to Los Angeles, safe and sound. But for today, it will be walks...tennis...reading, eating. Relaxing. Of course, these are things I'd do if I was anywhere else in the world. Yet, because I'm here, I want to go to what I know. Or, at least, what I thought I knew. It was sitting with friends, waiting for an eventful meal and conversations with jugs of beer. We wouldn't know it, but we had good fortune amongst the carcases that littered our surroundings. It might have been Death Valley Nights for some, but not us.

And yet, there I was, only a day ago. Complaining about replay in fucking AKRON, OHIO. Shaking my head at Tulsa's defense. And all the while, losing money. And why are the parlays so confusing here? And what's the deal with that job in Beverly Hills? And why hasn't John given me the information about lit agents? It's been a while...still no word. The sea is rising around me. Am I in the eye of the storm, or standing on the drain?

Post Game

For some reason, hamburgers continue to be my life as we amble in. I return with vigor...warm autumn weather and a brisk walk sends my mind racing...let's get shit done. I continue with this pace until a friend politely asks how I did in "Vegas."

"Don't ask."

He laughed and apologized and was about to give advice of some sort, but I told him not to bother. "The only person to blame is myself." All excited was I, dreaming of payouts in the sky. A bankrolled future and house on the hill, only receiving a cruel fiscal lesson and gambling overkill.