Last night we went to a casino. I’m a very occasional gambler. This means that every five years or so I go to a casino and spend $20 playing 25-pence slot machines. I never hope to win anything. It’s the process that I enjoy.
N had never been to a casino so he was eager to go. He was completely disappointed, though. As a huge fan of Dostoyevski, he expected a mysterious environment where long-haired gamblers lurk in the penumbra and ladies in moth-eaten boas hold lorgnettes in shaking fingers as they bet their last gold rouble.
Since there was nothing of the kind at this brightly-lit resort casino, N became instantly disillusioned with the entire concept of gambling
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The one casino I ever visited was populated exclusively by elderly gambling addicts in adult diapers. Of course, I did go on a mid-afternoon weekday.
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Like sharpshooters? 🙂 This is too funny. 🙂
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They’re so completely addicted that they consider getting-up to go to the bathroom to be an unreasonable distraction from gambling. I lost a lot of romantic notions.
Maybe it’s different in more ‘aristocratic’ casino establishments?
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