by Jody Worsham
All rights
reserved for oddities
There is something about being confined
with strangers for a lengthy period of time that makes you lifelong buddies,
even if you never learned their names.
People trapped in elevators for a few hours might end up exchanging
Christmas cards the next year. It happens
to people waiting in line for three hours at Wal-Mart on Gray Thursday. And if you happen to run into those people
several weeks later you might, as I was, be greeted with “I appreciate your
teenager entertaining my two-year-old in the freezer line.” But nothing bonds people together faster than
a few drinks on New Year’s Eve in a casino around a bank of slot machines with
a common “enemy”.
Over the past few months at our
favorite casino donation center, we have repeatedly encountered two people we
have dubbed “The Odd Couple.” The Odd Couple seems to have staked an
imaginary claim to four of everyone’s favorite slot machines and no one else
should ever play them. If you do, they
will stare at you, point at you, and frown if you win any of “their” money. The maximum donation is $1 if you hope to
ever hit the jackpot. However, the Odd
Couple will only play their system which involves keeping a thick notebook, using
several player cards, allowing the machine to periodically rest, having their spouse sit on the opposite machine
so no one else can play it, and change up their bet ranging from 1 cent (yes I
said 1 cent) to 20 cents and rarely $1.00.
Other people have come to recognize
the Odd Couple as well, knowing them by various other names, of course. I am not sure how it happened, but Carol and
Sandra (we learned their names several hours later) and Dr. Hubby and I managed
to occupy their four favorite machines at the same time much to the chagrin of
the Odd Couple.
As we were being entertained by the spinning slot wheels, the
Odd Couple began to circle. They
pointed. They stared. They whispered. We kept playing. Dr. Hubby’s system involves “talking” to the
machines so when Carol would go to the bonus round, Dr. Hubby would begin
calling for more doubles, or bonuses, rather loudly. When Carol got them, we all shouted. People
gravitated to the excitement expecting to see a great win only to be
disappointed at all the excitement over a $1.32 cent Jackpot.
It seems, I am ashamed
to say, the more the Odd Couple frowned, the louder we got. To keep my playing money from running out too
quickly, I would take frequent potty breaks.
The longer we held onto the machines, the odder the Odd Couple
became. Sandra said “I’ll play a penny
at a time before I let them have my machine.”
After a couple of trips to the ATM machine, Carol vowed “I’ll outlast them
even if I have to mortgage the farm.” We
learned later that she didn’t have a farm.
As it got closer to midnight, the champagne began to flow
even as the Odd Couple continued to circle. Sandra wanted to go to her room and put on her
warm pajamas and come back, but she was afraid one of the Odd Couple would grab
her machine. After a few glasses of
champagne, referred to as “this kerosene stuff” by our new friends, one leaned
over to me and said “If I was a drinking woman (I didn’t count the number of
empty glasses) I might go over there and whip her butt.” By this time my butt was numb and Dr. Hubby
was hoarse from talking to the machines.
Somehow this had turned into an endurance battle, us four against the
Odd Couple. There was a sign on the wall
with a 1-800 number to call if you had a gambling problem. I think we had an Odd Couple problem.
At exactly midnight, 2015 arrived and 2014 left as did our
Odd Couple. We won! We were broke, but
we had won. “Thank goodness. I was about
to run out of money,” said Carol. “Now I
can go to bed. I have been wanting to
for the past two hours,” came from a very tired Sandra. Heady with our victory, we all smiled, wished
each other a Happy New Year, exchanged addresses and I think secretly promised
to meet back next year. Strangers in the
night no more.
Odd, isn’t it?
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