It's the weekend, and there is a casino in my future, which I am looking forward to, and that has caused me to ruminate on some of my more memorable casino adventures. One of them was a number of years ago at the Blue Chip in Michigan City. It was a Saturday evening, and the place was crowded, and I couldn't find a seat at an affordable blackjack table. I walked around and around looking for a spot.
Then suddenly I saw a table where only one woman was playing. I glanced at the bet-limit sign and was astounded (but delighted!) that there was a $5 table with empty seats. Maybe they had just opened that one up, I thought. In any case, I immediately climbed up on a stool and gave the dealer $100. He gave me four green chips, worth $25 each. I said I would like some $5 chips, and he gave me a kind of odd look, then directed my attention to the sign at the end of the table that I had obviously misread. This was not a $5 table -- the minimum bet was $50.
"Cripes," said I (or words to that effect), "that's too rich for me." As I grabbed the green chips and slid off the stool, the woman gave me a look of complete disdain, revealing in one quick up-and-down survey of my person that I wasn't even worth her attention since I couldn't afford to make $50 bets.
I let her go ahead and feel superior because I knew that really high-class people play blackjack in Monte Carlo, not in Indiana.
No comments:
Post a Comment