I’m going to make some money.
By the time I walk out of Casino New Brunswick, I’ll buy the Blue Jays, and just for fun buy them again.
It’s my first time in a casino, and I hope the firsts continue throughout the night with me becoming a first time millionaire. I don’t have the money to gamble, but I’m trading in my $40.00 for the chance to be rich.
It’s dark and mysterious inside and the security guard at the front entrance only looks at my ID a couple of times before letting me in. I stand on my tippy toes in an effort to look older. It probably doesn’t help that I grab Donny’s arm and tug it like a small child as I see the flashing lights of the slot machines. “First timers,” I can see the security guard thinking as he narrows his eyes and checks my ID again. When I walk out I’m certain he will be bowing down at me as I tug my bag full of riches to the car. The narrowing eyes will be a thing of the past. I’m embarrassing Donny but I don’t care. It’s Disney world for adults.
There’s even free root beer! These people have thought of everything. It’s awfully nice of them to let their guests enjoy a complimentary beverage well winning money. The generosity doesn’t seem to stop.
Only the machine seem to be greedy as it swallows my $20.00 bill in way less time than it took me to make it at work. It’s one of those “777” machines. I don’t understand the way it works but I occasionally win 50 cents on a spin that costs me a dollar. Each time I win 50 cents my heart beats a little faster. It’s tricking me into thinking that I can win. It’s making me think about vacations, of camping in the mountains and swimming in hot springs. It’s not fair, it lets me win a little- just enough so I keep playing-but still lose the whole thing.
I use the bathroom to take a breather. There is a phone number on the back of the stall door if you think you might have a gambling problem. I don’t have a gambling problem, I have a problem with gambling. As in, I’m not winning enough.
The majority of the casino is filled with old people who have gone grey awhile back. I guess this is how people spend retirement in New Brunswick. It seems an awfully depressing way to spend your last days, in this dark place with its false hopes. It doesn’t take long for me to adopt a negative outlook as I sit in front of the machine $20.00 down with one green bill left to play.
This place is going to make me bipolar I know it. I have gone from hysterical “this is Disney world,” excitement to absolute sorrow. And a little bit angry. Does the machine not understand that I worked almost two hours to make that? I wish it would at least stop flashing these bright happy colours and tone it down a little bit to match my mood. You’d think I was constantly winning thousands of dollars the way it kept making these exciting noises and flashing away. It should have a setting where you can choose your own music. I would play “I am a loser, attention, I am a loser,” over and over again. It might be bad for business, but hey.
I don’t know how these older people with the weaker hearts deal with all this up and down. Maybe the machines have caused them to go grey at an early age due to all the stress of constantly losing, and they aren’t actually old at all.
I walked in there with every hope that I could win enough money to at least buy the Blue Jays and maybe take a nice vacation somewhere with Donny. We would be rich enough to do whatever we wanted. We could build our own castle and he could be the King and I could be the Queen.
But instead we’re still poor peasants. He drove the hour and a half back home and I sat in the passenger seat fuming and contemplating life.
It’s funny the way people form opinions on things based on their own experiences with them. If I had walked out of there rich, I would have been a great advocate for the casino. I’d have been forever in debt to the kind people who sat on the machines day after day and spent their retirement savings. Maybe as a thanks I would just donate the money back to the casino and go back tomorrow and win it again. Anything was possible at Casino New Brunswick!
But, because I’d lost suddenly I viewed it all in a bitter way. I was a loser. Even the delicious free cups of root beer couldn’t win my heart forever. Did they think I would keep coming back for that? HA. I could buy my own at the dollar store. They could have at least thrown in a hamburger or something to make it a meal. And maybe, thanks to the addition of my $40.00, now they could start offering customers a combo when they walked in. It was absolutely disgusting.
They certainly were done stealing my money. Yes, stealing. It was as bad as taking it right out of my purse, the way they played on your hopes and dreams that you could win big, and then left you with nothing. I wouldn’t be going back there again. Ever.
Only for the free root beer.
By the time I walk out of Casino New Brunswick, I’ll buy the Blue Jays, and just for fun buy them again.
It’s my first time in a casino, and I hope the firsts continue throughout the night with me becoming a first time millionaire. I don’t have the money to gamble, but I’m trading in my $40.00 for the chance to be rich.
It’s dark and mysterious inside and the security guard at the front entrance only looks at my ID a couple of times before letting me in. I stand on my tippy toes in an effort to look older. It probably doesn’t help that I grab Donny’s arm and tug it like a small child as I see the flashing lights of the slot machines. “First timers,” I can see the security guard thinking as he narrows his eyes and checks my ID again. When I walk out I’m certain he will be bowing down at me as I tug my bag full of riches to the car. The narrowing eyes will be a thing of the past. I’m embarrassing Donny but I don’t care. It’s Disney world for adults.
There’s even free root beer! These people have thought of everything. It’s awfully nice of them to let their guests enjoy a complimentary beverage well winning money. The generosity doesn’t seem to stop.
Only the machine seem to be greedy as it swallows my $20.00 bill in way less time than it took me to make it at work. It’s one of those “777” machines. I don’t understand the way it works but I occasionally win 50 cents on a spin that costs me a dollar. Each time I win 50 cents my heart beats a little faster. It’s tricking me into thinking that I can win. It’s making me think about vacations, of camping in the mountains and swimming in hot springs. It’s not fair, it lets me win a little- just enough so I keep playing-but still lose the whole thing.
I use the bathroom to take a breather. There is a phone number on the back of the stall door if you think you might have a gambling problem. I don’t have a gambling problem, I have a problem with gambling. As in, I’m not winning enough.
The majority of the casino is filled with old people who have gone grey awhile back. I guess this is how people spend retirement in New Brunswick. It seems an awfully depressing way to spend your last days, in this dark place with its false hopes. It doesn’t take long for me to adopt a negative outlook as I sit in front of the machine $20.00 down with one green bill left to play.
This place is going to make me bipolar I know it. I have gone from hysterical “this is Disney world,” excitement to absolute sorrow. And a little bit angry. Does the machine not understand that I worked almost two hours to make that? I wish it would at least stop flashing these bright happy colours and tone it down a little bit to match my mood. You’d think I was constantly winning thousands of dollars the way it kept making these exciting noises and flashing away. It should have a setting where you can choose your own music. I would play “I am a loser, attention, I am a loser,” over and over again. It might be bad for business, but hey.
I don’t know how these older people with the weaker hearts deal with all this up and down. Maybe the machines have caused them to go grey at an early age due to all the stress of constantly losing, and they aren’t actually old at all.
I walked in there with every hope that I could win enough money to at least buy the Blue Jays and maybe take a nice vacation somewhere with Donny. We would be rich enough to do whatever we wanted. We could build our own castle and he could be the King and I could be the Queen.
But instead we’re still poor peasants. He drove the hour and a half back home and I sat in the passenger seat fuming and contemplating life.
It’s funny the way people form opinions on things based on their own experiences with them. If I had walked out of there rich, I would have been a great advocate for the casino. I’d have been forever in debt to the kind people who sat on the machines day after day and spent their retirement savings. Maybe as a thanks I would just donate the money back to the casino and go back tomorrow and win it again. Anything was possible at Casino New Brunswick!
But, because I’d lost suddenly I viewed it all in a bitter way. I was a loser. Even the delicious free cups of root beer couldn’t win my heart forever. Did they think I would keep coming back for that? HA. I could buy my own at the dollar store. They could have at least thrown in a hamburger or something to make it a meal. And maybe, thanks to the addition of my $40.00, now they could start offering customers a combo when they walked in. It was absolutely disgusting.
They certainly were done stealing my money. Yes, stealing. It was as bad as taking it right out of my purse, the way they played on your hopes and dreams that you could win big, and then left you with nothing. I wouldn’t be going back there again. Ever.
Only for the free root beer.