Vegas, baby!

I, just like most people, am an avid fantasy football player. I, just like some people, attend a live draft every year. I, unlike a lot of people, attend that live draft in Las Vegas. It is always a great time. Catch up with old college buddies, spend time in poker rooms and at blackjack tables, and act like a teenager for a weekend. The problem is, I'll act like a teenager and then by Monday, I DEFINTELY realize that I am no longer anywhere close to a teenager.

I am an average 30something male with a job. I'm unlike an average job having man because my job does not require me to be there on Fridays. It's kind of like my freshmen year in college where I scheduled all my classes Monday thru Thursday so I can have Fridays off to sleep in, relax and listen to Guns n' Roses "Appetite for Destruction" on repeat. The cool thing about the Fridays off is I can plan trips around then. For instance, if I'm going to Vegas for a fantasy draft, I can leave early Friday morning and have time to hit the poker rooms and relax by the pool before others get into town. A nice relaxing way to start a debaucherous weekend.

Of course, my life doesn't really work like that. If I have something planned that I'm looking forward to, it'll inevitably be messed with. I bought my cheap ass Southwest Airlines ticket from LAX to Vegas for a Friday that I'm not working, only to find out that I would be working that day. I have worked exactly one Friday since before Thanksgiving and it happened to be the one day I had a plane ticket that cost me a whopping forty nine dollars.

Because I'm a team player, or because I really don't want to be fired, I changed my flight. No big deal, I'm on Southwest so there won't be any change fee, I'll only have to pay for the difference on the new flight. Now, spending two hundred dollars on a flight is pretty good, but not after you've already spent the forty nine bucks. Oh well, I'll just win it back says optimistic me. I change my flight so instead of leaving at 9 AM and enjoying my day in Vegas. I'll be leaving at 10 PM and slaving away in Los Angeles. The good news is, I'll save all that money I was planning on spending in Vegas.

I finish my grueling day at work and head on out to the airport so I can start acting like a teenager. I get to LAX, go through baggage, check the monitors to see if any changes and and sit down at the nearest bar to start my weekend with a twelve dollar pint of beer. No worries, I'll just win it back in Vegas. Finish the most expensive beer I'll have until the next time I'm at the airport and go wait in line for my plane. As it turns out, it is now delayed so I guess I'll be having another expensive mug of suds sooner rather than later. No big deal though, I'll just win it back.

After about an hour delay (and twenty four dollars worth of slightly cold Blue Moon), I'm ready to take off to Sin City. I'll now be in at around midnight but not to worry, I'll be a teenager this weekend so I can stay up all night and be fine. I eventually get to Vegas to meet up with all my "acting like teenager" friends but I guess their teenage act is to go to bed by 11:00. I guess I'm playing blackjack the same way I listen to Alanis Morissette - alone.

After the thirteen losing hands of blackjack in a row, I decide it's time to go to bed. I mainly decide this because I ran out of all the money I was planning on spending for Friday night. Actually, I ran out of that waiting for my flight at LAX, so I've dipped into my Saturday fund. Nothing to worry about though, I'll win it back. I get up to the room to sleep my unlucky blackjacks hands away and get ready to act like a teenager starting early Saturday morning. I wake up just like a teenager the next day. That is after I stretch my aching back out, pee seven times and take a blood pressure medication. That's exactly what a teenager would do.

I made my way down to the tables with the rest of my allotted "Saturday" money and was gearing up to win all my money back. I sat down, ordered a "free" beer and got ready to become a thousand-aire. Now, if I thought thirteen losing hands in a row was traumatic, imagine how I must've felt when I lost twenty two. That "free" beer I ordered wound up costing $500.

Since I was completely out of money, I was able to go to the one machine in Vegas that always pays out - the ATM. I put my card in and, BOOM, I know had another five hundred bucks to turn into five thousand.  I decided this time to switch it up a bit and approached a roulette table. I took my chips and followed the advice of Wesley Snipes from the classic '90 film, Passenger 57, by "betting on black." As a simple rule of life, you should always follow the lead of Mr. Snipes when it comes to handling money.

I put my chips on black and the wheel spun. When it stopped, that little white ball was surrounded by the intense red of a roulette wheel. Chips gone. No worries, I had some more chips. Put it on black! Next spin = red. Well, it can't be three in a row, right? Wrong. What are the odds of it landing on red for a fourth time? I'd say pretty low. Bet on black, landed on red. Fuck you Wesley!

Back to the ATM. Of course this time, the only machine that pays out in Vegas didn't pay out. No more funds in my account. Oh well, I did have a nice necklace I received from my dead Grandfather ten years ago. I'm sure the family wouldn't mind if I pawned the one family heirloom I have so I can get some money and pay myself back for all that I lost. I mean, what are the chances that I would continue losing? That's not how Vegas works. If you don't win, then why do so many people flock there constantly to win money. These billion dollar casinos lining the strip are funded by people spending money in Vegas on food, drinks and hotels, right?

I found out that the casinos might be paid for by schlubs like me spending thousands of dollars trying win back a few hundred. Vegas kicked my ass and me crying for my mama. The problem was my mama wouldn't take my calls. I guess that's what happens when you constantly call her for money... or for more precious family heirlooms you can pawn in Vegas for seventy five bucks.