Donation to Excess

This is how I think of Las Vegas.

People from all over the world come to donate their money to the casinos of Las Vegas. Donate, of course, is not the term used. Gamble is the more popular term. But it might as well be a donation. The house will always win, in the long run. It's a mathematical certainty. People, in effect are giving their money away. Instead of a warm feeling of having helped someone and a tax deduction, the return value of a Las Vegas donation is entertainment. Merriment. Gaeity. A jolly good time.

Of course, there are the lucky few who come to Vegas and who spurn the odds and revel in the mathematics of the short run, leaving the desert with more money than they had arrived with. A beautiful thing.

I was on my way to Las Vegas Thursday from Flagstaff, AZ. Vegas was only 5 hours away, and I thought since I was so close and I had time that I would stop by to see the sights. I'd been there before but there's way too much to do on just one visit.

But on my way, I realized my heart wasn't into it. I don't like to gamble, perhaps exactly because of my statistics background, and I was feeling tired. Walking on the strip with a whole bunch of crazies didn't seem so interesting at the time. But I was already half way there, and it was getting dark. Not much else around in the desert, and I didn't want to go back. What can I do?

It was then that I had an idea. An idea whose origin had two sources. The first was a story in the book Freakonomics. The author, Steven Leavitt, was invited by a close friend to go to a Chicago Bulls game one day. Not being a basketball fan, Leavitt wasn't really interested in going to the game since he had no interest in the outcome. But instead of turning his friend down, he came up with a scheme for altering his attitude. He proceeded to place a large bet on the game (that the Bulls would win I believe). Now he was very interested to see the outcome of the game, to say the least, and happily joined his friend. He didn't change his attitude toward the game itself, but rather his economic tie to it.

The second source was this story I heard about this guy from England who decided to sell everything he owned, including the clothes on his back, and place it all on one roulette bet. His entire life. Just one bet. Now that's balls.

These two stories floating in my head, I made a decision. I was going to place a large bet, just one, on a game of roulette. If I lost, I would continue on, pissed off at myself for doing such a stupid thing. But if I won, oooooo if I won, I would have myself an awesome night and stay in an expensive hotel room somewhere on the strip.

It worked. As soon as I made that decision I was really looking forward to Vegas. My attitude had changed. I wasn't dreading it as just another requisite stop on my tour of the West. I was looking forward to my bet. I put a lot thought into it. What was I going to bet on? Red or black?

In my pondering I looked over to the mountains and saw the sunset. The red sunset. Well, that was easy.

I got to Vegas around 9:30 PM. Lights, people, everywhere. The traffic was slow-going, but it didn't matter. There was plenty of brightly-lit, eye candy to gaze upon. Oooooo purty lights.

For one reason or another I decided to place my bet at the Paris casino. If I happen to lose, c'est la vie, hein? On my way to the casino floor, I realized I hadn't decided on the amount of my bet. $300 came to mind. Perfect. My heart was pumping.

I got my money from the ATM, and searched for my table. I found one that had an older couple laughing away. Seemed like the place to stop. I handed the dealer (?? do you still call the person doing the roulette machine a dealer or is there some other name) my $300 and asked for the chips. He started counting out $5 and $10 chips, but I stopped him, and asked him for the largest value chips I could get.

"Are you sure, sir?"

"Yep."

He handed me 3 $100 chips. Apparently for chips of this amount he had to inform his pit boss. I don't know why. $100 chips aren't really that large, are they? By Vegas standards anyways. Oh well. Protocol must be followed.

"Cashing 3 $100's at table 6!", the dealer-spinner person yelled. The pit boss looked at me for a fraction of a second, and then back to the dealer. He nodded. The older couple didn't say anything, too busy planning their betting scheme for the next play.

I shuffled the chips on red. My heart was racing a bit. I felt the thrill. Thrill is just a hybrid of excitement and stupidity, I remember thinking. What the hell was I doing??

Too late, the ball was already spinning. My heart was drag-racing now. Man, how could that one guy place his whole life on one bet?? I'm only betting $300 and I'm shaking. RED! REEEED!!!

At this point the older couple noticed my bet. They seemed more worried than excited for me. But they joined in with me: "Come on red!! Let's go reeeed here we go now!" Even the dealer joined in. It was cool.

The ball started searching for its resting place. It was very undecisive. It kept on jumping in and out. For those few seconds everything going on around me didn't matter at all. My complete focus was on that little fucking ball. Stop already!!

And then it fell...

Even though I was watching it intently, I didn't where the ball landed. From my vantage point, there was a blind area on the roulette wheel (the area that was closest to my body). It was until the dealer shouted it out that I knew...

"RED 36!!!"

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!

There was shouting. Fist-pumping. High-fiving of older people who didn't quite know how to high five. AT THE SAME TIME.

Heeeeellllllsss YEAAAAHHH!!! I'm sleeping on the strip toooniiiight! I'm sleeping on the strip tooooniiiiight!!!

The dealer dropped another three $100 chips next to mine and gave a soft "Congratulations, sir." I immediately swept them up and headed to the cashier to get my hard-earned money. Haha. Hard-earned my ass.

So I decided to treat myself. I walked the strip a bit and decided on the Bellagio as my resting place for the night. $200 per night. "Do you have anything more fancy?" I asked, hoping to blow my entire $300 in one shot. Turns out, believe it or not, they do. I know, who would have guessed right? And if you're willing to spend $800 a night, you can find out exactly how fancy those rooms are.

"I'll take the $200 room, thanks."

The room still was the best room I've ever stayed in. Marriott corporate rooms eat your heart out. After dropping off my stuff in the room I started walking the strip. What a beeeeeeaaaauuutiful night!!!!! Hi there illegal Mexican workers handing out fliers for prostitutes! No I don't want one but thanks have a great night!

Awesome night. The next day I treated myself to the AMAZING lunch buffet they have at the Bellagio. Seriously, that was some of the best food I've ever had in my life. Mmmmmmmmm.

I've thought a lot about what would have happened if I had lost that bet. It's hard to imagine, really. Since I did win, I look at the bet in a very positive way: yeah, well, even if I had lost the money I would have been ok with it because I took a chance and that took a lot of chutzpah and it's only money. Most likely though, I would have been incredibly mad with myself for doing something so stupid and would have been sleeping in my car the rest of the trip. Fuck Vegas, and everything that glows for that matter, my motto would have been.

Such is the way of things. There are not always diametrically opposed potential outcomes, but choice and consequence are always multi-faceted, under the rule of chance. To quote from one of my favorite books:

"If our method of reasoning is to reflect life, it needs to embrace uncertainty, since that, above all else, is our lot."

Choice is the enactment. Our response is the consummation.

Viva Las Vegas.