I moved on over to Primm Valley, which is right across the highway from Whiskey Pete's. The tips were better, I got better at dealing craps and the people were great. One of the major problems there was on the weekend the craps table was basically right by the band. What idiot thought of that? I had to yell my fool head off to be heard when doing the stick calls. Conversations with the customers were hard. I went home every weekend with a sore throat.
I had to get a job in town though. The drive was too much.
I guess this is time to bring up the person dying at a craps game story. One day, I wasn't there unfortunately, a man had a heart attack and died at the craps game. They were not allowed to move him so they put a sheet over him and kept the game open. The players didn't seem to mind. Another day, a woman in tears came up to a man playing and told him that their son just died. He played four more hours before going to bed.
Wow, that really makes me wonder at the actual function of the tables in peoples' lives that such things are reacted to in that fashion. Maybe the reality of death feels held at bay because of the feeling of excitement and life that playing cards generates temporarily.
ReplyDeleteI hate jobs where I have to use my voice extensively.