WINNING WAYS

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY THE SOMERS RECORD (10-21-21)- Please remember small business in your town during this coronavirus pandemic

     Just to get out of the house we decided to check out the Mohegan Sun casino in Uncasville, Connecticut. The easiest part of going to the casino is finding out roughly where it is. You can drive yourself into the vicinity using a GPS, but then you've got to park your car and get to the actual building, and that's the hard part. I don't like leaving my car with a valet, because what if everyone goes bust at the same time and they besiege the valet? Then it will be like every wedding I've ever gone to, where you appraise the guests and try to game the moment at the end of the night when they've talked to everyone they know and danced as if no one was watching and they're looking around for where they left their tie or shoes, and you try to beat them to the car park, but you can't remember where you left your tie and shoes. Plus, don't you recall a Cheech and Chong movie where they're valets but instead of parking the car they take it to the La Brea Tar Pits and then come back following a truck carrying chickens with loose feathers and end up in a hail storm? I don't either but there are a lot of things from those times that I don't recall.

     So I finally find the self-park garage, and I drive up three levels, and I only see "EXIT" signs that look like they go around in circles, and still nothing that says "ENTER." The garage at Mohegan Sun has a sign that lights up and says "SPACE 12,692 AVAILABLE," and I picture 12,691 cars ahead of me all racing to get to that space. It makes me wish Cheech and Chong were here so we could all drive around in my car looking for the La Brea Tar Pits.

     But there are spaces on the rooftop, and we finally park and take the elevator and walk down a hallway for about 15 minutes. And when we make it to a map that says "You Are Here" we have no idea how we got there. We're already exhausted and hungry, easy marks for the croupier that I imagine is leering at us from the "eye in the sky." "Those two are mine," he gnars, "HA HA HA ha ha!" Villains in the movies find the least thing amusing.

     We're trying to decide where to eat, but there are so many choices. It's like using the remote control on my cable box, where I start at Channel 2 and dial up the menu, and "Casino" is on, but it's not a pay channel so they'll probably cut out all the good parts so I keep dialing.  There's a "Monk" which I've seen four times, but I liked it three of them, yet there might be something better so I keep dialing. Lo and behold, "Mr. Mom" is playing on a movie channel, but it's almost over. This goes on for a half hour until a different "Monk" comes on that I've only seen three times.

     We walk around in a big circle looking at all the menus, and everything sounds appetizing to me. There is a Thai place where I could order a fresh water eel. Maybe me and the eel could take our bests shots and let the waitress decide which of us is fresher. There's a south-of-the-border place that serves a cocktail called a Mexican Standoff, which I like the sound of but I probably wouldn't remain standing for long. There's a sports restaurant with a lot of video screens to take your mind off the fact that there's nothing good on TV at home. There is always Johnny Rockets in case I want to fast forward right to the milk shake. We settle on the Italian place, which is what we always settle on. It's a little like the "Monk" of casino cuisine, but I like it every time.

     Once you make it to the casino floor you feel instantly energized. There are bells and buzzers going off all around you and you feel like you're inside a pinball machine. I read somewhere that they pump oxygen in through the air conditioning ducts, and it makes me wonder what I was breathing before. We pass by the 1/2 penny slots, something that I never saw before. We could double our money and still only have enough for your thoughts. Even in the low rent section it doesn't take us long to lose fifty bucks, and that's my limit, so we go back to the bar and check out the band.

     If you think that all this sounds like I'm having a rotten time, you couldn't be more wrong. The little peeves that most people don't even notice are life-affirming to me, and they give me something to talk about that sounds like a lot of complaining, but it's not. I love it all, even if I pretend not to.