It’s another weekend with a great bag of Miss Vickies, a bottle of sauvignon blanc, and a pack of cigars that I would be better off without. Always it ends up this way, though my intentions are to be sociable. Even earlier tonight I was eager to have a few drinks and then a few more good times with old friends. Yet with one sip of that light, liberty-hour domestic brew, I became jaded and impatient to leave that place of endless reverberation. Then I drove. An unsettling feeling kept me from going home; I knew my night could not end so quickly, yet no other locale caught my interest.
I surprised myself by ending up at the casino. I have never before been to the casino on my own, so is of no astonishment that my first time would be just before midnight on an eventful Saturday night. Ten minutes later I found myself sitting at the most forlorn blackjack table to ever make attempt of swindling hundred-dollar bills off of drunk fathers and sober business men. After absorbing into my disposition the doomed and dismal atmosphere of that table for only a few minutes, I could not resist but throwing all down on one bet and hoping to god that they took my money: any excuse to leave. Well they did what they do best. As I ran hurriedly through the piercing cold, I noticed that my car’s lights had not been turned off. They continued to shine brightly as I turned the ignition, turned my thoughts, and turned out onto the highway.
