there's no hesitation from me. "let's do it," i say, getting up. we've been sitting on the right side of the room, the side that gets at least a few wireless bars, looking up the rules of black jack on google. jeanne, the only experienced gambler in the pack, has already left to go play sky masterson at one of the tables, leaving mel and i to our own devices, which don't amount to much in black jack. so far we've got a few basic pointers down: always double down on 11 (thanks swingers), never split fours, and the signals for "hit me" or "leave my cards the heck alone, thanks" (you tap on the table for the former and wave your hand in front of the cards for the latter. several rum and cokes later this will become my favorite part of playing the game).
we head down into the belly of the beast, that being the casino, a veritable maze of slot machines, tables, weird old ladies, and bars. we walk around for a bit, trying to find a table with a low buy in cause we be poor. and we be completely inept, too. after a few minutes of this, i turn to mel. she seems less than enthused. earlier we'd discussed being slightly intimidated by this place, by the lack of genuine human interaction for its own sake. these people are only after our money and it makes us slightly nervous. pansies.
'you wanna go somewhere else and grab a drink?' i ask, hands in the pockets of my hoody, which i've worn for the second day in a row. score.
mel sighs a 'yeah' and we head over to a lounge to grab a few drinks, despite the fact that the drinks are free on the casino floor. again, pansies. luckily for us, there are computer gambling games on the surface of the bar, so we decide to try our luck at electronic black jack. y'know, just to get our bearings. i order a jameson on the rocks and mel gets a cranberry and vodka. the bartender pours us drinks, talks too much and then walks away. i set the cranberry and vodka in front of mel.
'drink this fast,' i say, and mel laughs. she knows exactly what i mean. we play for a while, and are surprised by how much fun it is. we have some trouble remembering the strategies that google taught us, but for the most part we're doing okay. okay in the sense that we keep losing our money, but not embarrassingly so. mel's less terrible at it than i am. i give credit to the cranberry and vodka.
four dollars later, we head out to the casino floor. we don't really know what to do, and earlier we'd flirted with the idea of playing the slots. so we decide to go hit on the slot machines.
"don't worry, walt: I'VE got this," mel says, waving her hand in front of me. it's a little while later and lady luck is mel's new bff. after several drinks she's also become mel to the 3rd power: easy, breezy, beautiful cover--wait, sorry. that's a make-up commercial. she's already won 20 dollars at the machine, which means to me she's become a gambling goddess. i'm sure no one else on the floor would care, but i'm absolutely riveted. i've spent a ridiculous amount on the machines already, only to become an audience member for the mel show.
a few slots later. she's up to 80 dollars now. i'm up to 7 rum and cokes, which jeanne has since told me are also named cuba libras, and i've resigned myself to winning nothing. mel slots away about 20 dollars and decides to call it quits. at this point we decide we're in perfect condition to go play one of the black jack tables. "i don't wanna play, though," mel says. "i just want to sit and watch."
we go to a 10 dollar table. we put in 10 dollars. we promptly lose it. we put in another ten dollars. it's a push, which is basically a draw between us and the dealer. solid, we're in for another go. nope, nope, just kidding. we're out again. 10 more. we do a little better. my movements become quicker; i don't want them to see how lost i am. mel provides support, occasionally telling me when to hit or stand. "i like playing this way," she says. pansy. the guy next to me leans over. "never ask the girlfriend," he says. we giggle like we're at chuck-e-cheese. we're both so brown; we must look like honeymooners. brown, drunk, inept honeymooners.
for a second i reflect on the night. "would we have made jeanne proud?" i think to myself. i want her to appear to us, glowing and slightly transparent, like obi wan kenobi, and tell us what to do.
the dealer gives us two fours. we shoot each other a look. this one we remember.
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