And the guy at Binions
Horseshoe in Las Vegas on the 25-cent table who
loved the way I rolled and made sure that he told
me after each one. Of the half dozen teeth he had
left in his mouth, only one was white (or whitish),
the rest were black. “Good roll, sonny!”
(Please don’t speak into my nose again, mister.)
“That was another good one, sonny!” (Christ,
what the hell crawled in and died in your mouth?)
“He, he, he, we’re kickin’ their
butts now, sonny.” (Anyone have a jar of Listerine
or Lysol?) “He, he, let her rip, boy!”
(I think you just let one rip,whew!.)
There was the big,
brawny bruiser who kept shoving me to get into the
game as a hot shooter was rolling. “There’s
room for six people and there’s only five here.
Move.” (Yeah, but you’re two people so
that would make seven - get lost!) “Hey, dealer,
I want to get in.” (Cut off your ugly head
and maybe we can squeeze you in!) “Here’s
my money, here, $320 across.” (It will be worth
a seven-out to see you lose!)
Then there was this
young guy, who had read too many gambling books,
and was LOUDLY instructing this sweet, but obviously
dim, little thing on the ins and outs of craps.
He was displaying his knowledge trying to impress
this gentle creature who wouldn’t be impressed
by Einstein. Sitcoms would have been an intellectual
reach for her. But he was also displaying his knowledge
to all of us who were playing and to everyone within
earshot of the casino and, at times, within a 400
mile radius of Las Vegas. “NOW, THIS GUY IS
ON THE PASS LINE!” (So are you.) “CRAPS
IS REALLY A VERY EASY GAME TO PLAY!” (So why
don’t you shut up and play it?) “HIS POINT
IS FOUR AND HE WINS IF HE MAKES IT BUT HE LOSES
IF THE SEVEN IS ROLLED. BUT YOU ARE TO NEVER SAY
THE SEVEN AT A CRAPS TABLE! (So why did you say
it? Hey, young lady, why don’t you tell him
that you know what he’s after and as far as
you’re concerned - he just sevened-out!!!)
SEE HOW HE FIXES THE DICE? IT HAS NO BEARING ON
HOW HE’LL SHOOT! THESE CRAPS PLAYERS ARE ALL
SUPERSTITIOUS! (I’ll give a thousand dollars
to anyone who will shoot this kid in the voicebox!)
Oh, this one really
rankled me. It occurred at Caesars in Vegas. One
of the few times I was recognized by someone who
had read one of my books. “That book was ridiculous!
You take all the fun out of craps playing that way
you suggest!” (Are you having a great deal
of FUN losing on those hardways you keep betting
on every roll?) “Hey, everybody this guy thinks
he’s an expert because he wrote a book!”
(And this guy thinks he’s an expert because
he didn’t!) “I’ll bet you make more
money signing autographs than you make playing craps.”
(And I’ll bet you can’t sign your autograph
because you don’t know how to spell “X”.)
“I should write a book. So how do you get a
book published? You have to know someone right?”
(Well, first, you have to be literate, so that leaves
you out.)
And may all the following
players just be transported to another realm of
existence where angels can minister to their needs
and the rest of us can be spared them:
The drunk at Bally’s
in Vegas, who was always berating the dealers, spilling
drinks, and screwing up the game by taking other
people’s payoffs, or arguing about bets he
never made.
The don’t player
at the Claridge in Atlantic City who had the nerve
to cheer when the seven came up. “Ha! Ha! You
all lost and I won!”
The “lady” at the casino in Mississippi
who threw the dice and then threw up on the table.
The “cowboy”
at the Frontier in Vegas who kept slapping my back
when he won. “He haw! Yup! Yup!” When
I got back to my room I looked like Kunta Kinte
after he’d been whipped.
To the “Vet”
who kept telling all of us at the table what a rotten
country America was and that he’d never fight
for it again and then telling us what happened to
him and his buddies in Nam. We were all so depressed
that it ruined the experience of a 20 minute roll.
I could go on and on
but thankfully a column has a word length. I feel
a little better now. Thank you for listening.
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