It’s time. Tomorrow is the day. I have that antsy, excited feeling that can only mean one thing…Vegas Baby!!! How can anything compare with Vegas?? Where the possibilities are endless but the money isn’t. My goal for the trip: break even at the tables and make money in the sports books. I haven’t achieved either in my previous visits, thanks mainly to my lack of blackjack skill and some late inning runs in a meaningless Sunday night baseball game. Not really sure why this trip will be different, in fact, it wont be, I can almost guarantee it. I already know what’s going to happen:

Arrive Thursday evening: Flush with the energy that you only get from seeing slots in the airport and the marvelous strip, I step up to the tables and proceed to lose $100 in a half hour. I only get one free scotch before my Vegas high wears off and my friends are paying for g&t’s and blaming their losses on the evil dealer or the rookie player sitting next door who kept taking all the cards they wanted (me? I just didn’t get into a groove since I was flying solo at my table without any support. BTW, what’s better than you and 5 of your friends taking over a table in Vegas and running it for an hour? It could only be topped if Jack Bauer joined the group and started telling old CTU stories).

Wonderful thing those g&t’s – they put my balls back squarely in place and me back at the tables. Where I proceed to last longer but lose another $100. And that’s it, down 2 bills for the night so I watch a bit, knowing my luck will turn tomorrow.

Friday: kick back at the Mandalay wave pool til 1 or 2 then experience one of the true vegas treasures – the all you can eat buffet. But all you can eat can take a while so the casinos have found a way so you can keep gambling while eating – keno !! So I lose 15 games of keno while downing more than I thought possible in only three trips to the buffet. Next come the tables, except I’m looking for some laid back betting so I head over to Treasure Island. Vegas can’t wipe you out all at once, they need to drag it out so eventually you wind up losing more money than you would normally conceive of in a weekend. So I walk out of Treasure Island up for the day, still down overall.

I’m not sure what to compare the feeling of walking out of a dark casino without clocks after downing 5 g&t’s in a winning effort into the bright Nevada sun in the middle of the day and walking down the strip, but surreal seems like the appropriate word. It’s one of those moments you cant experience anywhere else, not even the mix of voodoo hexes, beads, hurricanes and passing out as the sun rises in New Orleans compares.

At dinner Saturday, I’ll blow lots of perfectly good cash on food that could have been spent building on my winning streak and amassing my small fortune. And even more after dinner…

Wait, I forgot about Friday night and Saturday? See what Vegas does to you? Just go back to Friday and repeat.

Sunday: The longest day. There should be a limit to how long you can stay in Vegas and this is about it. I’m on the red eye so I have all day to blow any winnings I may have. At some point today, I’ll finally realize that I’m not going to win at the tables and will find myself a comfy chair in the sports book. Bellagio is the best I’ve seen so far, but I have many more to see. What beats the sports book? If I go to heaven, please let the chairs be comfy, the screens big and the drinks free and cold. The only problem with Vegas is that it’s out West, meaning that by 4pm Sunday; all games will be over, except one or two hockey games. And that’s the problem because I still have 7 hours to kill before my flight. Hmmm, how to kill the time?? How about a parlay taking the over for Edmonton/Calgary and the Coyotes to win? Next thing you know, Jerome Iginla is a bum because he missed a breakaway and I’m ready to throw something at the Phoenix goalie for letting in a cheapie. Is it any wonder I lose and leave Vegas down big?

They really do have a great racket going with the airlines. You can’t get a decent flight back east from there. Every flight is a red eye, giving the casinos plenty of time to milk your tired, hungover, suddenly obese body and ever thinning wallet out of every last nickel you have. I can’t be expected to think clearly at this point, I’m a beaten man and they know that because they beat me. And they sit there and planned it all this way. Believe me, they know what they’re doing. And the crazy thing is, I’ll blame it on my lack of focus from playing cards too much, not on their scheming and I’ll be damn happy about coming back again, if only I can stop myself from letting them get me that last day, I’ll come out on top. And they’ll have me and it beats everything else. Vegas baby!