I like airports. I always have. There is something about all of the flying, and people coming and going that I get a kick out of. I find it fascinating to walk down the concourse and look at all of the places that planes are leaving for and think of the places I would love to go to, and of the places I hope to never be forced to go to again, ever! For those who must know the places I hope to never see again include Fayetteville, North Carolina, Detroit (damn, someone has bribed me into going there next week,) Bismarck, North Dakota (once was enough), and JFK (the worst major airport in North America.) Even in the worst airport, it is fun to watch the people and the planes and the slot machines.
Like there are not enough games of chance in an airport today! Will the plane arrive on time? Will it leave on time? Will it back into another airplane? Will the flight crew expire before takeoff? Will the airline go bankrupt again before we land? And now slot Machines, just what airports need another sucker bet in the world of modern air transport.
Slot machines sing the sirens’ song for me. There is something magical about the bells and clinks and clanks of the wondrous games of chance. Now I know my limits, and I am a cheap little bird so about $20 is my limit. But I do like playing. So two weeks ago when I was passing through Vegas I had my chance. Real live slot machines in the center of a nice 1970’s vintage round terminal end surrounded by gates (JFK needs to go see what can be done with these classic terminals besides letting pigeons fly around in them.) Now the machines have changed over the years. You can no longer saunter up and drop a coin in and pull the handle, you now slide a bill in and push the buttons. I slipped in a fiver and in about 2 minutes it was gone. I slid in a $10 and in about 5 minutes I was about $10 ahead. I stayed long enough to cash out with $18 leaving me $3 ahead. And yes I cashed out while I was ahead. Then my flight was delayed, and delayed, and the bells kept calling me back and I resisted. I left Las Vegas $3 ahead.
TR
Like there are not enough games of chance in an airport today! Will the plane arrive on time? Will it leave on time? Will it back into another airplane? Will the flight crew expire before takeoff? Will the airline go bankrupt again before we land? And now slot Machines, just what airports need another sucker bet in the world of modern air transport.
Slot machines sing the sirens’ song for me. There is something magical about the bells and clinks and clanks of the wondrous games of chance. Now I know my limits, and I am a cheap little bird so about $20 is my limit. But I do like playing. So two weeks ago when I was passing through Vegas I had my chance. Real live slot machines in the center of a nice 1970’s vintage round terminal end surrounded by gates (JFK needs to go see what can be done with these classic terminals besides letting pigeons fly around in them.) Now the machines have changed over the years. You can no longer saunter up and drop a coin in and pull the handle, you now slide a bill in and push the buttons. I slipped in a fiver and in about 2 minutes it was gone. I slid in a $10 and in about 5 minutes I was about $10 ahead. I stayed long enough to cash out with $18 leaving me $3 ahead. And yes I cashed out while I was ahead. Then my flight was delayed, and delayed, and the bells kept calling me back and I resisted. I left Las Vegas $3 ahead.
TR
I applaude thee, your will power is better than mine. I'd either dump it back in, or go and find a craps table.
ReplyDeleteSlot machine playing and wanting to go to North Carolina.
ReplyDeleteYou worry me.
... my favorite line; "I am a cheap little bird."
ReplyDelete:) Still grinning at it.
A-HEM! There are some very lovely things in N Carolina (though Fayetteville is NOT one of them!), inlcuding my beloved alma mater - not to mention a half-way decent little school down the road from it, but their shade of blue is wrong and their basketball team isn't as good. (Also NC has the most gorgeous beaches I've ever been to.)
ReplyDeleteOne must come to the Oregon coast. We have the best cosat line in the states.
ReplyDeleteOh! There you go again, trying to confuse people that don't live in those big square states out west! I thought you lived in Washington.
ReplyDeleteI do, well I think that I do, more to say that I live in a city that is just a large river away from being in another state and that I'm from that state, as well as others as I moved around a lot as a kid, but most of my time was from the square state with the best ales anywhere and now live in a state with great ales second only to the other state. Now, is that clear?
ReplyDeleteobviously WC this is all just a state of [your] mind
ReplyDeleteShhh. I'm talking to the vocies in my head. I'll be right back.
ReplyDeleteI actually undestood that - and that fact is, by the way, not exactly a ringing endorsement of the soundness of your own mental health. Remember, I think I'm a hamster on the verge of conquering Scotland.
ReplyDelete"I think I'm a hamster on the verge of conquering Scotland."
ReplyDeleteYou're not?
I didn't say I wasn't. "I think, therefore I am!" (Thank you, Descartes!)
ReplyDeleteThank the Alder Tree, for a breif moment there I thought that I was going sane.......I feel much better now.
ReplyDeleteNever fear, insanity is always close at hand!
ReplyDelete