ONLINE GAMBLING AND CASINO GUIDE

Although I typically refuse to do so, Friday was a rare occasion in which I acquiesced to the dreaded “Will you drive me to the airport?” request.

While this is a task that I will never perform for an able-bodied person, it just so happened that I had two friends staying in NYNY last week, and one of them was on crutches.

Apparently, there is nothing like disability to give one a bit of perspective, because on the way to McCarran, both of these Strip-snobs declared that their next visit to Vegas would be spent on Fremont Street.  According to these two, they had an epiphany on this trip.  They had come to the conclusion that “everything on The Strip is too far away”, and they no longer wanted to feel like a “captive audience in a group of hotels owned by the same people”.

See … they all come around.  Eventually.

After dropping these folks off and assuring them that they had not inconvenienced me (I believe my exact words were “next time you need something, feel free to ask someone else”), I began driving back toward “Sin City” when I decided to stop off at the MGM Grand.

I really don’t know why I chose the MGM.  I was in an irritated, shitty mood, and it was just the first place that came to mind.  Probably because it did not involve crossing Las Vegas Boulevard again.  Also, since it was a Friday afternoon, I assumed that there was some fresh “Vegas Baby!” calidouche money waiting for me, and I figured that I would take a crack at it.

After checking in with the podium and getting into a game, I realized that playing poker was the last thing I wanted to do.  The table wasn’t bad, and it looked like a couple of guys were good for a payoff if decent cards materialized, but sometimes I just can’t coax myself into giving a damn.

For instance, twice I won a fair amount of money by betting opponents out of hands post-flop, and on one hand I lost a sizable amount on the turn against a loose player who pushed in pre-flop.  I really didn’t feel anything in either situation.  I experienced no pleasure on the wins, and no frustration on the losses.

For some reason, on Friday, I was completely bored with both scenarios.  One was the same as the other on this night, and I just felt that I was killing time for no reason in particular.  When you don’t care if you win or lose a hand, it’s time to walk.

Or maybe not.

I can see how indifference to emotion could be profitable since it enables you to play the odds with neither fear nor excitement, thus giving your opponent nothing to read, but I need at least a small amount of adrenaline to keep me focused.

At this point, part of me felt compelled to go sit in my car in the dimly-lit MGM self park, blast a Nine Inch Nails CD, and jab myself with sharp objects to see if I could still feel.  I wanted to focus on the pain.  The only thing that’s real.  The needle would tear a hol … you get the idea.

Instead of shooting dope in the neon shadow of the world famous Las Vegas Strip, however, I decided to do the next best thing.

Play Sigma Derby.

Sigma Derby is a game that can bring me out of a funk like no other, and I’m really not sure why this is.  The premise of the game … betting on mechanical horses … is stupid to the point of being intellectually insulting.  If ever there were a game built expressly for retarded people, that game is Sigma Derby.  I suppose the fact that I find the game highly-addictive says all kinds of negative things about me, but it is what it is.

Not only is the Derby bad from an IQ standpoint, but the thing is also a tremendous money pit.  I can’t remember the last time I have actually won money while playing Sigma Derby.  Sure, I win races here and there, but I usually walk away from the game empty-handed.  Come to think of it, I hardly ever see anyone walk away from this machine with money.  Sigma Derby is one of those games where you set your bankroll, and play until you lose it all.  Perhaps this is why the MGM Grand keeps it around.

I once read on a website called “The Wizard of Odds” that the house edge on the MGM Sigma Derby machine is 12%, although I have no idea how they could come to this conclusion.  The same site also carries odds for the Sigma Derby at the New Frontier, so I’m not sure how current the information is, but I guess it’s at least a rough estimate.  Now that the MGM has no competition for its Derby machine, I suppose they could have tweaked the payouts further in their favor.

In any event, despite the disadvantageous nature of the game, I set my Sigma Derby bankroll at $20, and began playing.

In about 10 minutes, it was all over, and I felt very unsatisfied.  Now I know how your girlfriend feels.

Seriously, I lost my bankroll very quickly because I can usually spread bets enough to keep me playing for at least 1/2 hour, but I was trying to get a gambling fix on this night by only betting longshot quinellas and the favorites were hitting damn near every time.  Yes, I know that is why they are called “favorites”, but only members of the proletariat make such uninspired bets.  I mean, I was way more hip and creative than the other people sitting around the table screaming at the pretend horses.  I’m clever.  I’m creative.  I think different.  For Christ’s sake, I use a Mac.  Validate me, oh won’t somebody out there please VALIDATE ME!!!

Forgive me, I got caught up in the hype for a moment.

Anyway, having burned through my Sigma Derby stash, I pathetically yanked another $20 out of my man purse, and proceeded to lose that as well.  Granted, this time I made it last a solid half hour by playing more conservatively, but I lost it nonetheless.

After I played through my final quarter, I felt quite pathetic.  It was kind of odd.  I played the game to cheer myself up, but I actually felt much worse after playing than I had before I started.

If I had to explain it, I would liken it to the feeling you get a minute before you start masturbating, and compare it to the feeling you get immediately after you finish.

Slapping your monkey always seems like a great idea before you start doing it.  The thought usually begins creeping into your head when you get a K-Mart ad magazine in your mailbox, you flip through it, spot a homely swimsuit model on page 8, and think “Hey, hocking a quick weiner loogie would be just the thing to cheer me up!”  You convince yourself that it’s going to be great fun, and you can’t wait to get started.  Hell, you are so determine by this point that nobody could possibly talk you out of it.

You grab a box of tissues, go to work for 45 seconds, and then … everything feels different.  What seemed like a great idea mere minutes before, now seems like the actions of a complete loser.  You look down at the glossy mailer spread out in front of you, and you think … “Ewwww.  I can’t believe I just did that.  What in the hell is wrong with me?”

Well, let me tell you, blowing $40 on Sigma Derby feels very similar.

After wasting forty bucks on the goofy game, I thought about hitting the MGM Grand Buffet to soothe my sorrows, but I really wasn’t in an eating mood either.  This being the case, I took a couple of photos of the MGM’s cool new self service buffet payment system, then headed back for the long, frustrating drive north on Koval.  I thought about taking the Monorail, but since I didn’t have any locals passes with me, and it was after 6pm (when the customer service booths close), it would have cost me five dollars, and only an idiot would spend $5 to ride the monorail.

Overall, it was a rather lackluster night.

Sometimes, when you are in a bad mood, you just have to embrace it instead of trying to chase it away … and when such a mood strikes, the last place in the world you should be is in a casino.  It simply can’t end well.

Even though I did not lose much, that lesson was reinforced upon me last night.

Now if you will excuse me, I have some shopping to do.

My Nintendo Wii controllers ran out of juice a few days ago, and in addition to swimwear, K-Mart currently has a special on AA batteries.

Don’t ask me how I know.

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