Prior to today, I had been in 5 different casinos, the most recent being in 2019 in Las Vegas. I didn’t indulge in any of the games there but spent a fair amount of time in the casino nevertheless, holding my breath every step of the way due to all the cigarette smoke, as walking through the maze of machines was the only way to get to and from my room in the hotel.
I’ve also stayed in a hotel with a casino in Santa Fe, but at least there the bulk of the gambling was done in the lower level, out of harm’s way. There was a small blackjack room on the lobby level that I entered in order to watch some friends participate, but didn’t stay long because the floor manager apparently decided I might be helping them count cards, even though they were all losing faster than I can count, and politely asked me to leave, which resulted in me and my companions instead trying to crash a wedding in the hotel, from which we also were summarily ejected.
My hotel casino trifecta started on Paradise Island in the Bahamas. I actually did play a little blackjack there, as I was young and foolish and it was back in the days when you didn’t have to mortgage your home to sit at the table. If I recall correctly, a bold assumption, I may have walked away slightly ahead.
I walked through a casino in New Orleans as a shortcut to get in out of the unbearable heat and humidity.
I once spent about 10 minutes in a riverboat casino in Dubuque. I have no idea why.
So, it was out of curiosity, and with no expectations, that I decided to enter the spanking new Bally’s Chicago casino, feeling secure by the presence of two police cars parked in front and a policeman at the door.
My stay lasted approximately five seconds. The noise wasn’t too bad, as it was 11:15 am and not crowded, at least on the first floor, but there was enough evidence to support bringing ear plugs for any return visit, though one is not likely.
The neon lights almost made me wish I had cataracts. Fortunately, I still had my sunglasses on.
The line of one person in front of me was enough to dissuade me from proceeding further, along with the thought that providing my identification would undoubtedly result in a barrage of junk mail promoting the venue and other gambling possibilities. I also managed to escape any facial recognition by pulling my baseball cap down, just like thieves do in all the tv crime shows I watch.