flash, flash. everything with the flash

Davey Cleinfeld isn't one to mince words. That's what I love about him the most.

"I really feel like last night was super junkie," he tells me over the phone. "It's like I had quit smoking for a year and someone handed me a cigarette. And I took it for no good reason."

I can hear him pacing upstairs as he's talking to me. He's right. Him and Vito went way too far on the slots yesterday. Which apparently makes me the big winner of last night's random midnight casino escapade. I was literally out the hospital door when I got the offer. I agreed more for the outing than anything else. My luck usually stinks. I am an avid believer in the reversion to the mean.

My parents might secretly suspect I'm some kind of closet gambler, but I'm really not. I just like the momentum of it all. I only play when I win. So I stop dead in my tracks when I lose. Dave plays until his pockets are empty. And he knows it. Which is why he rarely goes anymore. Fair enough.

But there we were. What makes Montreal's casino so rotten is that there is no attempt to even glam up the fact that most people are there to lose money they don't even have. The decor is stale. The dealers lack personality. It's like the city's biggest back-door gambling operation with the collective charisma of an indoor parking garage. Nobody looks like they're having all that much fun.

At least we were having a good time - a Wednesday night and all. Another three Campari Grapefruits on the way would have made it even better.

I abstained from the slot machines but the two of them fed every Monte Carlo, Wheel of Fortune, Grand Prix, High Roller and Vibrant Seven machine they could find, zipping from floor to floor and constantly splitting cash and winning tickets fifty fifty. Cash in, cash out. Cash in, cash out. They were doing alright pre-Roulette (an impossible table that kept our collective $60 in chips entertained with endless black for a good 45 minutes) but it was all downhill after that.

And the more they lost, the more they bet. We ended up staying way longer than any of us were comfortable with. And in the end, I was the declared winner because I left with five bucks in my pocket.

We negotiated the "walk of shame" and promised a better outing idea next time.

But then again, it's just money. And in the grand scheme of things, not all that much of it. I'm much more interested in lazying around all day and might just take Davey up on that offer to go play in that nice, light snow that's been falling steadily since last night. And clean up nice.