Vega$, baby!

Ted and I were on our usual Friday sabbatical to Chili's earlier (no, no encounters with INS) and the bartender started talking about her last trip to Las Vegas which got me in a very reminiscent mood of my own adventures in Sin City. :-) Last year, I was treated to a trip to Vegas by my brother, TD3k, when he decided to cash in a butt load of frequent flyer miles for he and his wife, and little 'ol me.

Yes, TD3k and his lovely wife are very generous people and I am very lucky to be related to them!

It was my first time to the desert oasis and its certainly not a trip that I'll forget anytime soon. Both the bartender and I were amused by Ted's question "You mean its better than Bossier City (Louisiana)?"

"Oh yeah dude, this blows Bossier out of the water. You've got to go check it out."
Ted recounted once how he'd won a large sum of money at a blackjack table in Bossier City and that reminded me of the last hand of blackjack that I got to play in Vegas before the trip was over. I'll never forget it and will now share with you the events of that evening.

My brother and I had gone off on our own to visit the Stratosphere Tower, a truly remarkable structure. At the base of the tower is the Stratosphere Hotel & Casino (in Vegas, imagine that!) and that was our stop after taking the guided tour to the top of the tower and taking in the amazing view from 1200 feet above Las Vegas.

Like any casino, it was packed with games, lights, no windows or clocks, and cocktail waitresses by the dozen. I'm not an experienced gambler by any means, and my brother and I decided to ease into things playing the slots. Slot machines, which are of course, bright shiny variants of the old Skinner Box, are a great diversion and actually not a bad way to win a little bit of extra cash. After a few hours and being up about $40 on slot winnings alone, I decided it was time to move on.

My brother went to the craps table and I went and got $100 from an ATM and decided to find a blackjack table. The game of blackjack has always fascinated me, and I was looking specifically for a single-deck table with a low minimum so that I could maximize my chances of winning. It wasn't an easy find at all. Single-deck tables are a bit of a novelty these days in Las Vegas due to the popularity of card counting by players to try and get an advantage over the house. Nevertheless, I did find a table with a free spot and so I decided to stop and watch how the hands were going to see if the dealer was hot or cold... that is, on a winning streak or losing streak.

The dealer was an unassuming little middle-aged woman who, much to my delight, was not having a good run of luck. I watched in giddy anticipation as she dealt herself three successive busted hands, resulting in automatic wins for the other 3 people sitting at the table. After seeing this I decided to sit down and partake in this goodness. With a smile on my face, I took the empty seat at the table (which had a $20 minimum bet) and handed the dealer my crisp $100 bill. She gave me a good break down of chips to bet with and so we began.

I put a $20 chip in the ante and the first hand was dealt. Again, the dealer dealt herself an enormous hand and busted with a 25. I couldn't help but grin. On the next hand, I put another $20 as my bet and I was rewarded with a blackjack! My $20 bet was now $45 and I was well ahead of where I started. Chatter around the table was relatively light, but everyone was obviously quite happy with the situation and then suddenly, without warning, a small man approached the table from the side and tapped the dealer on the shoulder. She turned and handed the deck of cards to the little man, an Indian by his appearance, and said to us "My rotation at this table is up. Good luck to you all!" and she turned and walked away.

The tiny Indian man assumed his post behind the table and griped the cards deftly in his hands and as I scanned down his frame my eyes were caught by the glint of his name tag. I read the name and was stunned for a moment. "That can't be right", I thought, and I looked again at the little man's name.

My friends, I kid you not. The man's name was:

S-U-R-I-N-D-E-R

?!?!??!??!?!

I was blown away. The nicest, most unlucky little blackjack dealer in all of Las Vegas had just left my table and was replaced by a man who's name mocks me to surrender?!?! This can't be happening.

Oh but it was happening.

And so began the rapid demise of everyone at the table, as our new dealer, Surinder, the Ghandi of Grifters, dealt himself hand after winning hand of blackjack. He was dealing himself 5-6 cards that added up to 20. He had a blackjack of his own. Everyone else was busting left and right. It was a massacre

In 10 minutes it was all over. The house had quickly reclaimed all of its losses and added my paltry $100 to its coffers. Perhaps I should've taken the faux advice in the man's name and picked up my chips when he arrived, hindsight is 20-20 after all. I left the table dejected and feeling utterly beaten. Fortunately I wasn't stupid enough to go try and get more money to play somewhere else. I decided to track down my brother and I found him at the craps table. I think maybe I'll let TD3k tell you about what happened at the craps table, but it was certainly interesting as well! :-)

The Bard once wrote "What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet."

But I got $100 that says Will would be singing a different tune after 5 hands of blackjack with Surinder. LOL :-)