Have you ever awakened to feel that maybe, just maybe, something inside you is on ready to break out of its prison and run wild? We get so caught up in the daily grind of work that we forget to take time to play. Or can't afford to play. Or our obligations prevent us for the glorious indulgence of something as trivial as walking the local shopping mall. We see commercials that ask us if we wanna get away. Our inner child screams hell yeah, but the drill sergeant that keeps us in line, so we go about our mundane lives, working, sleeping, take care of our kids, rinse, repeat.
Brothers in Arms
I have two lifelong friends who are very close to me. More like brothers than friends. I've known them for over 40 years, which is to say, almost my entire life. I don't call them friends. Even though we are in no way related, they are my family, and they will always be my brothers. I'd do anything for them.
Not long ago, one of them had a neck operation. I was there that weekend to help him and his wife and do whatever needed to be done, like grocery shopping, mowing, cleaning, and cooking. By being with David, I gave his wife a much-needed break so that she could run errands. I am closer to them than to members of my own flesh-and-blood family tree.
Wanna Get Away
My oldest brother turned fifty this past week. The three of us gave our big brother a dream birthday in Las Vegas—after, of course, we got our wives' OK. We pooled our money, and off we went for four days.
Sin City, Here We Come
In 2003, an advertising agency developed a slogan: What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas. That expression has withstood the test of time and is probably spoken more often than any biblical proverb. You can't have a conversation about Las Vegas without verbalizing the slogan. Its synonymity is second only to blessing someone after they sneeze. While the phrase was meant to channel energy and exude an exhilarating sense of freedom, it has also spread other innuendos and asides. Cameron Diaz and Ashton Kutcher filmed What Happens in Vegas in 2008. R&B singer Usher added the phrase "except herpes." Debt, movies, and diseases aside, Las Vegas has harnessed an appeal to the masses that has drawn attention from visitors worldwide. In 2017, Las Vegas saw 39 million visitors. Last year, that number rose to 42.1 million. At McCarran International Airport, I helped a pair of elderly Asian ladies order a croissant from Starbucks—they're everywhere in Vegas—and helped them find creamer for their coffee.
During the first two days, we did what everyone else pretty much does when they visit Las Vegas. We ate, walked, and gambled away our money. We all stayed pretty disciplined, spent our daily allowances, and had a great time doing it.
The $12,500 Win
My brothers and I came across an exciting poker game. Like most gamblers, we spectated at tables of interest for a few varying reasons. If the table was winning, why jump in and disrupt its feng shui? We watched, drawn in by a fascinating new game with so many payouts, with odds reaching as high as 1000-to-1. Surely, we would win one of those, right? So we sat and played. And we lost. But it was fun. We tried other casinos along the strip and found we could lose there, too. The glitz and glamour of lights and bells pulled us tighter into the gambling kennels like a pack of rabid dogs.
On the third night, we arrived at one such table. I lost my ass off early and called it quits, so I stood and spectated. A man with long, red hair noticed the vacated seat and sat down. He sported one of those mountain men beards. His face was pale, yet cherubic. The red-haired man plunked down three crisp one-hundred-dollar bills on the table and asked for greens ($25 chips). He settled in and played. I decided not to jump in, a decision that helped everyone at the table. From his arrival, no one lost. Chips built up at an astounding rate for all table-goers. Win after inexplicable win. This many wins for four people at a table, I can only assume, is extremely rare. Pile after pile, chips built up at an astounding rate in front of the players. We were all talking, laughing, and having a great time. Enjoying it for as long as it would last.
Cards were dealt. Bets were made. Our bearded friend had placed his usual $25 ante. With a ten and ace of diamonds, he placed a 4x bet ($100) into play. The talk began, and the dealer turned over the flop (first 3 of five community cards). It revealed a King of diamonds. The man chuckled, saying he only needed a Jack and Queen of diamonds. The dealer flipped over the last two cards, revealing a Jack and Queen of diamonds.
Everyone held their collective breath at what we were seeing. The table fell silent as we stared at the cards in disbelief. He pulled off the best hand in poker—a royal flush—with a $25 blind bet at 500-to-1 odds. We erupted in cheers. He damn near fell off his stool, having just $12,500. The dealer called the casino manager over. We all shared in our friend's exuberance.
A big win had just been announced, and casino protocol needed to be followed. We watched in awe for the next twenty to thirty minutes as men in suits walked to and from the table. Security cameras and biometrics needed to be checked, rechecked, and thrice verified. Once those had been approved, then another suit, one much nicer than the ones donned by the casino managers, handed over a policy packet for them to follow. The casino manager soon returned to our table and instructed the dealer to count out $12,500 in chips, most of them pink in color ($500). They recounted, then triple-counted them to ensure they counted it correctly. They removed about $2,900 of the winning chips for taxes. A clipboard with a tax form was brought to the table, and our bearded friend could barely sign his name, his hand shaking with excitement. Then, with a flourish of congratulations, they moved a stack of chips worth $9,600 in front of him. It sat alongside the piles of green chips he had already won before the big one. He asked the casino manager for permission to pose for a picture holding his two winning cards over the table where the other cards completed the royal flush. After the manager took a few pictures, we gave him an ovation. In his joy, he handed each one of us a black chip—$100—before generously tipping the dealer. We all thanked him for his generosity before play continued. Winning continued, too. Eventually our bearded friend was overwhelmed by the adrenaline as one might imagine. He thanked each one of us, shook our hands, stuffed his chips into his pockets, and headed to the cashier.
Pay It Forward
I returned with the $100 prize from our bearded friend. I haven't stopped thinking about it. With all the excitement surrounding the winning table that veritable night, I asked our friend a bunch of questions. So did the others. None of us asked him for his name.
I cannot in good conscience spend it. I kept the $100 because something inside of me said it needed to be in the hands of someone else who was down on their luck. When the time comes, when I find that person, I will be their bearded man. I hope and pray it will do for them what it did for each of us. Bring joy.
