ONLINE GAMBLING AND CASINO GUIDE

I spent much of this afternoon on Fremont Street, and I chose to do my gambling inside the namesake casino for the entire area.  The Fremont Hotel and Casino.

The Fremont is an interesting place in that it is an almost equal balance of old and new.  It’s sort of two casinos in one.

The north side of the casino is dominated by old school coin hopper slot and video poker machines while the south side (nearest the Fremont Canopy) has a large selection of very modern machines.

Separating the two sections is a table gaming pit which still retains some of the best odds and limits one can find in Las Vegas.  $3 Craps and $3 “real” Blackjack are prevalent, as is fifty cent Roulette ($3 minimum per spin).  $5 Let-It-Ride and Pai Gow tables also see a decent amount of action.

Personally, I try to play hopper machines whenever I get the opportunity.  I am aware that it is just a matter of time before TITO, and Marlon, and Jackie (I never get tired of that one) take over the gaming world, so I cherish every moment I get to spend holding a nasty cup of even nastier, disease-riddled quarters.  It’s a true Vegas tradition.

After turning a few bucks into a few more bucks (I’ve been on a VP roll lately), I walked to the uppity “clean” part of the casino and my pants immediately shrunk a full size when what before my wondrous eyes did appear … not one, but count’em, two semi-new Hex Breaker machines.

Much like standing in a brothel hallway and being forced to choose between two solid 9’s, I was torn as to which of the machines to make sweet money-love to.

After some contemplation, I decided to play the machine nearest the pit, but the entire time I was hitting “spin”, I felt the other machine looking at me, wondering why it was not chosen.

“Am I not pretty enough?”, it asked.

“I have three young slot machines to feed back home.  There is a recession going on,  and this is the only skill I have.  I’m staying off welfare and trying to do honest work.”,  the unchosen machine said in a dejected voice.

Feeling like a real jerk, I decided to spend an equal amount of time with each machine.  I didn’t want any hurt feelings.

I desperately need medication of some sort.

Unfortunately, my loyalty was unrequited.  After about 15 minutes on the second machine, I realized that it was just using me for my money, and I decided to end the relationship.  Sure, we had some laughs, but I’m as free as a bird.  And a bird you cannot chayayayayayayayange.

After cashing out, I walked over to a $3 Blackjack table and then “it” happened.

Just when you think there is no hope left for humanity, something small will occur that restores your faith that there just might be a miniscule amount of good in the world.

“Excuse me”, someone said as they tapped on my back.

It was a real person speaking to me this time, and not a made up slot machine voice in my head.

I turned around to find a very small, graying Asian man extending a $20 bill to me.

“You drop over there”, he said in broken English while motioning to the bank of slots I had just left.

I grabbed my wallet, peered inside, and sure enough, I was a bit light.  In my zeal to break my hex, I must have pulled out two bills instead of one and not noticed the second twenty hitting the floor.

As I took the bill from his hand, I was at a loss for words.  I think I muttered “thanks”, but the guy turned and left before I could say anything else.  I honestly did not know what to say.  I have never been in this position before.  I don’t think I have ever had anything returned to me in Las Vegas.  People will disembowel you to retrieve a swallowed quarter in this city.  I stopped riding a bicycle to casinos because I was sick of coming back to find it stripped clean.  The light, the seat, the reflectors, etc.  Anything that is not locked down in this town is gone in thirty seconds.

Yet, here was some guy who literally chased me down to return a bill that he could have easily walked off with and nobody would ever have known.

When I turned to face the dealer, she informed me that I was lucky.  When I asked her why, she said the guy could have gotten in trouble for returning the bill.

“Huh?”, I said to convey the fact that I did not understand what she was talking about.  I’m extraordinarily articulate like that.

She explained to me that all money dropped on the floor belongs to the casino, and she told me that the man would have been stopped if security saw him picking up my bill.

Ahhhh, now that’s the Las Vegas I know and love/hate.

“So, if I drop my bill on the floor, the house owns it?”, I asked.

“You can pick up your own money, but not someone else’s”, she said.

I got into a discussion with her about this, and she insisted that there is some kind of law that says the casino owns any and all money that is left behind.

I told her that I thought it was lame, and she agreed, but she informed me that she didn’t make the rules … a point which I readily conceded.

I played a few hands of three dollar, played craps briefly enough to shoot once, and then headed out to the Fremont promenade.

As I walked under the canopy, past the Binion’s dealers who are now in tie dye instead of their usual cowgirl costumes … I replayed the scenario in my head and wished I had shown the man more courtesy.  I was so dumbfounded and tongue-tied that I worried that he thought I was unappreciative.

I also reflected on my conversation with the dealer.  Was it true that a casino owns any and all cash that a customer misplaces?

If you bend down to pick up someone else’s bill, can’t you just claim that you dropped it yourself if questioned?

Since “finders keepers” and “possession is 9/10ths of the law” are such oft-quoted doctrines, her claims seemed to be of questionable legal veracity, but I certainly don’t intend to test them.  Still, if this is true, what happens to slot play left on a machine? I will admit that I have taken a seat at machines with a few credits left in them … and I have played them out.  I certainly don’t seek out such games, but neither do I run away if they still have a few plays left.

Does this violate some kind of statute?

Since I rarely lose or find money in casinos, this is a tenant of law which I admit that I am not familiar.  It just doesn’t present itself to me very often.  That being said, I’ll probably dig into the matter a little more and come up with answers just to satisfy my own curiosity.

It seems patently unenforceable, but in Vegas, all strange things are possible.

Last but not least, if you are a small Asian man, about 60 years old and graying, I owe you the beverage of your choice … and FYI, if you happen to find any more 20’s lying around … those are mine too.

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