Feb 03 2010
Two Dollars
“I want my two dollars,” I said mockingly in reference to the paper boy in the movie Better Off Dead as Andy and I stood up from the blackjack table. I had been winning for the better part of the afternoon and as I walked through the casino, I was excited about having won ninety-eight dollars. But I wanted more. I wanted triple digits. There was something magical about winning a hundred dollars that I knew would make for a better story.
We walked around the casino for a while and monitored some of the games that were being played. When Andy sat down at another table to play a few more hands, I couldn’t resist the temptation to add to my winnings. I sat down across from him and was pretty confident as I placed my first bet. Within minutes, I lost forty-eight dollars in successive hands. My luck had run out. So I stood up from the table and walked out of the casino with fifty dollars.
Logic dictates that I am supposed to want those two dollars when I gamble. It is part of the allure. It is scintillating. It’s electric! String a couple of good hands together and walk away with a fistful of dollars. Guess wrong and walk away empty handed.