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Luck is a Whore

The night was already set up to be awesome.

There were bacon-wrapped scallops and homemade pizzas and a coconut cream pie.  There was liquor in all its various forms.  And best of all there were our best friends Christine and Ryan over to our apartment for the first time.  Without a single addition to the evening, it was going to be a damn good one.

But then another thing happened, a seemingly innocent one.  One of us, I don’t remember who, brought up the Saratoga Casino and Raceway, known to Saratogians as “the Racino.”  We suddenly realized that despite our seventeen and two years of living in Saratoga, none of us had ever been to the Racino.  And maybe it was the spirit of excitement or maybe it was the couple of drinks, I don’t know, but 11:00pm on a Friday night suddenly seemed like the perfect time to go to the Racino.  (Note: it’s also the perfect time to go to London, Dublin, and Vegas.  We like to make ridiculous travel plans when we drink that we haven’t the time or means to fulfill.   But unlike those destinations, we have the time and means to go to the 2 1/2 miles to the Racino.)  So we got in our cars and bopped up to the Racino.  (And no, no one driving was intoxicated.  That’s why I keep Kyle around.)

The Racino, as the name would indicate, is one part harness raceway and one part casino.  And as we found last Friday, it does neither of these things well.  The casino part of it is all video, and mostly slots.  There were a few video “table” games, looked over by a video dealer.  (If no one was playing the game, the “dealer” would stand there and look bored.  I suppose they should be commended for accuracy.  Though can you imagine putting that on your resume?  “Video Roulette Dealer.”  Awesome.)  There was even a “high rollers” room, where you could play the expensive version of the same slots.  ($25 Kitty Glitter, anyone?)  But it was mostly a slot floor.  And just like every slots floor I’ve ever been on, it had that familiar pallor of depression and desperation.    The people who looked like they hadn’t moved from that nickle slot machine in hours.  The people who had a refillable casino card on their key chain.  The glazed eyes, the clenched jaw, the shallow breathing.  For all the noise of the machines most everyone was silent, and our animated talking and excited movement seemed out of place.

But when in Rome…

So we sat down behind some penny machines and inserted our dollars.  Approximately 45 seconds later our dollars were gone.  Eh, c’est la vie.  Christine and Kyle moved on to some video poker machines.  I don’t know how to play poker, so I was content to watch.  Well, I was content until I realized that he was playing $1 video poker.  Considering we’d only brought $20 for betting, I was kinda pissed.  I mean, you can zip through $20 when you’re at a $1 machine pretty fucking quick.  But seeing as this was a night of little adventures, I contented myself with busting his balls and giving him shit when he lost.

He lost a few.  Then he won $5.  Lost a few more.  Won $2.  He was loosing, but he somehow managed to stay just above his original investment.  About 10 minutes into his game, he told me that he’d play until he got back down to his original $20 and then he’d cash out.  A little fun was had, no harm no foul.

And then this happened:

We couldn’t fucking believe it.

The impressive thing is not that $181 was won.  The impressive thing is that $181 was won by us.  (Yes, I’m inserting myself into this win.  I’m pretty sure a couple of his hands were played out of spite, so I’m taking some of the credit.)  We don’t play aggressively or with any kind of strategy.  We play strictly for fun, with the intention of loosing every penny we put into those machines.  So when we didn’t loose…it was kinda more than we could handle.

We may or may not have lost our shit.

Calmed and dignity restored, we turned our attention towards the racetrack.  The racetrack was equally depressing and disappointing.  I mean, as far as harness racetracks go it’s probably pretty nice.  But when you stand it up next to our world famous Saratoga Race Track less than a mile away, with it’s immaculate landscaping and towering luxury boxes…well, florescent stadium lighting and some benches just doesn’t measure up.  The buzz of tens of thousands of patrons and the roar of joy and defeat when the horses thunder across the line at the Race Track is unmatched by the Racino’s half-dozen observers silently watching the race while they clutched their tickets and smoked.  And still off the high of our big win, voices giddy and full of laughter, we stood out like meth-addicts in a Catholic church.

Now, as seasoned veterans of the race track, we know that watching horse racing without betting on it is boring.  Without the gambling, it’s just a bunch of ponies running in circles.  So our natural instinct was to place a bet.  But at the same time, we hesitated.  We were pretty sure that Kyle’s big poker win had used up all our gambling luck for the next ever, and highly doubted it would hold out for a horse race.  But horse racing without betting is like french fries without salt, so we crossed our fingers and threw our dollars into the wind.

Per tradition, I got to pick our horse using my tried and true method: whichever horse’s name amused me the most.  I chose Petticoat Junction because it sounded like a funny way of saying “vagina.”  We put a $1 across the board on him, Christine and Ryan placed their own bets on their horses, and we made our way to the benches outside.

So the race started and immediately our horse found himself at the back of the pack.  Aaand then behind the pack.  Aaand then really far behind the pack.  Aaand then he was a half a lap behind the rest of the tightly grouped pack.  It was comical.  There he was, trotting along happy as a clam, a full half lap behind everyone else.  We laughed hysterically at the fact that after our amazing luck at poker, we’d somehow managed to pick the one retarded horse.  That’s our luck.

But then, as the pack of horses and harnesses rounded the near corner, one of the horses bumped into another horse.  Suddenly one of the harnesses had flipped and there was a tangle of horses and jockeys and harnesses.  Some of them managed to pull from the heap and finish the race, but both the horses that Christine and Ryan had bet on were down for the count.  And somehow, despite the fact that Petticoat Junction was a half lap behind the rest and wasn’t even there for the accident, he still managed to get knocked down.  I don’t even know how it happened.  It’s like he took one look at the mess and decided to go ahead and hurt himself before someone else did.  But when the dust settled, all three of the horses we’d bet on had been disqualified and led off the track.  Our money wasn’t just gone; it had gone up in flames.

And that’s when we realized what had happened.  Our luck wasn’t just gone.  She’d swept in, fucked us good, and left just as violently.  She’d give us a wild night, oh yes, a one night stand we wouldn’t forget.  But we’d woken up to vomit on our pillow and a wart that oozes.  Luck was a whore.  If she had her way our car would catch fire in the parking lot, just to make sure we remembered her.

So we did the only thing we could do.  We chalked it up to an amazing night with friends and got the fuck out of there.

{ 3 comments… add one }
  • Camels & Chocolate October 6, 2011, 11:17 am

    I’m sorry but I’m still fixated on this phrase: “COCONUT CREAM PIE” and reminded that it’s still two+ months before I can have such delicacies on demand. (Have I mentioned I am withering away at sea with this crap they call “food?” Or possibly gaining weight on the contrary by stocking my cabinet with little more than chocolate and bourbon for sustenance?)

  • Fred Flintrock October 6, 2011, 12:20 pm

    When playing video poker, ALWAYS PLAY MAX COINS. To not do this significantly raises the house advantage.

  • Christine October 23, 2011, 10:30 am

    I feel famous now.

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