If I told you that Vegas was on the way to my next ballpark, I would be lying. Quite frankly, it isn't even close and probably cost me many hours and a few extra tanks of gas. No normal person would drive 900 miles for 13 hours -crossing through two time zones in the process- in one day by themself UNLESS the destination was Vegas. I get to Vegas about 9:00 after endless Texas, New Mexico and Arizona driving. Early on in the day, I realize that my AC is officially broken. I try to ignore this by pretending I am am auditioning for a play called 'Welcome to Hell' and sweat my way through 4 states. At some point in New Mexico I also realize my windshield is cracked. Being alone and bored, I also see the crack as a sign from God as it is in the shape of the number 7. The message is clear: I MUST play the number 7 in roulette once I get to Vegas. After checking in at the Rio, I head straight to the blackjack table, however, where I lose $300 in about 2 hours. I then take out another $300 - about 8 red bull and vodkas to the wind at this point- and stumble past a roulette table. I remember my vision from God so I put $30 worth of chips on number 7. The dealer spins... It lands on 7. I am stunned. I have just won $1000! God Bless America! I immediately decide that my good fortune must be celebrated with a lengthy visit to the Beautiful Olympic Gardens which has quite the nice foilage this time of year. About 5:00 or 6:00, I return to the Rio for more Blackjack and more winning. I write this post as the sun blasts through my window at 7:30. I have to be up by 10:00 to head to San Diego. Vegas is so underrated.
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