blackjack: Mel's perspective

So a couple of nights ago, Walter and I tested out the blackjack waters of the Hard Rock Hotel Casino.

I have never been in a casino before in my life, much less had any interest in playing blackjack in real life so this accounted for a very interesting--an intimidating--evening. Walter had never been in a casino before either. Jeanne headed for the blackjack tables fairly early on. She's a seasoned blackjack player and hit the tables early so we left her alone to her own devices.

Walt and I really had no idea how to play blackjack. I mean, I know the point is that you get to 21 but that's about it. We were both nervous about looking stupid or uninformed or amateurish, so we casually strolled through the Hard Rock lobby a good two or three times--"casing the joint"-- before chickening out and grabbing a bite to eat at the 24/7 restaurant. Over a 14'' barbecue chicken pizza, we discussed our possible ways to infiltrated this Vegas casino lifestyle with our pathetic, paltry blackjack knowledge.

Walter suggested we google how to play blackjack. I'm pretty sure I rolled my eyes at him. If I were an ENTJ, I would have given him an intimidating eyebrow lift. But INFP that I am, I just shrug skeptically.

But yes, despite my initial protestations, we sunk to those depths.

After polishing off that pizza, we headed upstairs to our hotel room and swiped some free internet from the hotel across the street to look up basic blackjack strategy. We spent a good 45 minutes absorbing information--when to hit, when to stand, how to double down, when to split--always double down on aces and 8's, but NEVER split on 4, you're generally playing for the dealer to bust, not to necessarily beat him/her--and other basic tips that are forever inscribed in this legendary and sacred Blackjack Book of Secrets.

After 45 minutes of perusing websites and quizzing each other in rapid-fire motion, I finally turn to Walter and say "I think it's time we play at a real table." (Or something along those lines)

We descend into the glittery, pulsating room full of slot machines and card tables, and after strolling through and eyeing the tables once more, I felt ourselves cower again before the intimidation, and Walt suggested we grab a drink at the lounge. I quickly agree and exhale a sigh of relief.

We sit at the bar and order a couple of drinks. We decide to have an unofficial practice run on the little electronic blackjack machines at the bar. After a several good runs of playing and not completely being clueless, we finally decide enough is enough.

Well, until we saw the slot machines and once again chickened out on playing an actual table. I actually find luck at one machine, and after putting in a couple of dollar bills, Lady Fortune smiles upon me and I'm suddenly up $88. I taper off at around $70 total.

Feeling lucky, Walt and I decide that enough is enough. It's time for real blackjack.

We stroll over to a $10 minimum table and try to act like we know what we're doing. Walt promptly loses the first $10 he puts down. We soon realize it's probably better start much higher than the minimum bet. I feel better just watching Walter, alternately reminding him of what Google taught us about blackjack, berating him when he stands on a 9, and hits on a 17, cheering him on when he actually gets a blackjack. Some rambunctious guys come up behind us and join in on the cheering, making us feel like a million bucks.

Although we lose all our money, we have a blast doing it. I only wish Jeanne had been part of our initial teaching process.

But that's okay, because the next evening, we hit up the New York, New York casino, the three of us finally united under a beautiful, heady evening of cranberry vodkas, vodka tonics, dwindling stacks of chips, laughter, inside jokes, sung and spoken song lyrics, a cool-headed guy named D, a Chinese sage dealer Jenny, a nice man from Colorado, a blur of other faces, more laughter, a string of bad luck, cheers and smiles and time tossed about so carefree and casually.

As we stroll down the street, shortly after seeing the Bellagio water fountains splash and sparkle and soar and finally retreat into stillness, I think to myself: I like this Vegas.