Are you going to pay my rent?

I went to the casino last Friday at 2 a.m. and was shocked to see how packed it was. Every table was open with at least one player. I was surprised the casino was so alive. I had been hoping to get some heads-up (solo) time in, but that was impossible.

The only empty table I saw had a $25 minimum. I walked past it at first, but circled back. I couldn’t pass up the chance at getting quicker rounds in. I bought in for $300, knowing it would go fast if things went south. I was excited to finally play blackjack by myself, but just like last time, a younger player plopped down right next to me. His eyes were sunken, his hair a bit frazzled past the shine of his hair gel. I’m assuming younger players pounce at the opportunity to play alongside someone their age. After all, most casino patrons are 60+.

As I silently anguished his arrival, I heard him mutter to the dealer, “Are you going to pay my rent?” It was so quiet I could barely hear him. It sounded hopeful and anxious at the same time, like he realized the potential of winning while already knowing the likely result. As another AP reminded me later, tonight was payday. Many of the gamblers around me had cashed their checks right there at the casino, only to give nearly everything away again in a vicious, relentless cycle.

He bought in for $500, and the dealer began dealing. For degenerates like this, I’ve noticed dealers hardly wait for hand signals. They just start playing the hands for them. The players hardly seem to mind. They just sit there, watching their money come and go. I lost four hands in a row, dropping $100 in about two minutes. The count had sunk to a true -2, and I was ready to get the hell out of there.

As I was picking up my chips, I noticed the guy next to me martingale a $100 bet. Little did he know the house edge had just increased by 1.5%.

I’ve been thinking a lot about him, and about the other gambler I saw the first time I played. Sometimes I wonder what brings them back to the casino, betting more than they can likely afford. I also wonder if I’ll always remember their faces as they lose another bet. This isn’t gambling for entertainment. There aren’t laughs and smiles like you see in Vegas.

This is a war — against the cards, the casino, and themselves.