"Lord, I'm a ramblin', gamblin' man."
-Bob Seger
Viva Las Vegas. Apparently, a long time ago, before "Viva Viagra," that used to be a real song. Who knew? I'm writing this in class right now at 10:38 a.m. on Monday after getting back to Tufts at 8 this morning from a weekend in Las Vegas. This article is due in an hour and 22 minutes. I have not slept in 36 hours, I'm wearing the same clothes I had on yesterday, and the girl next to me is giving me a look that asks "Why do you smell like Anna's Taqueria, NyQuil and Robert Downey, Jr.?"
So why don't I just call it a day, go to bed and turn my article in late? Well, I may very well roll the dice when it comes to my life savings on a casino craps table, but I'll be damned if I'm about to gamble with journalistic integrity.
With a group of nine childhood friends from Chicago, we hit the Strip for one last hurrah before college graduation turns our lives from "Swingers" (1996) into "The Big Chill" (1983). Now for those of you who don't "habla español," "Las Vegas" is Spanish for "The Vegas." Quite simply, it is the most outrageously ridiculous place I have ever been. Like, Conan the Barbarian ridiculous.
Everything is a show: from the billboards pretending that David Spade is the hottest ticket in town, to David Spade pretending he has a comedy act that can compete with strip clubs, to strip clubs pretending that David Spade is not a regular patron. So, not knowing what else to do, in the spirit of the city - which I can only describe as decadent tomfoolery bordering on ballyhoo - we buttoned our cufflinks, polished our shoes, put on our lucky rocket ship underpants and prayed luck was a lady tonight.
We were like part of the Rat Pack, just none of us could sing, and maybe only one of us could hold his liquor like Dean Martin. (Sure, I could have taken the easy joke and referenced "Ocean's Thirteen" (2007) here for wider appeal. But that Clooney guy gets enough press as it is. And I think Peter Lawford deserves a shout-out now and then, don't you?) Granted, being overdressed had its disadvantages. Let's just say that $10 buffets and black ties are not a natural pair. However, if there's one Vegas activity that wearing a suit enhances, that activity is gambling.
To be fair, despite the attire, playing $5 blackjack and craps tables didn't exactly put us in the high-roller suite, but you can't help but feel like James Bond when you double down in a tie.
But as far as gambling goes, if you're with a group of friends, I recommend one rule to follow to ensure everyone has the greatest chance to actually win as much money as the suit falsely implies that you already have in your wallet. Whoever is the big loser of the night gets $5 from everyone else to place on red or black on roulette. If they lose, they lose. If they win, let it ride. Not only is this a good way to give the Peter Lawford of your friends a chance to climb out of the gutter at no expense to himself, but there is also no greater adrenaline rush to end the night than everyone going nuts waiting for the ball to stop spinning.
Now, this is not a gamble. Gambling implies risk, and there's no risk if you're a winner, right? The lesson? You never lose money gambling.
Ari Goldberg is a senior majoring in history. He can be reached at Ari.Goldberg@tufts.edu.
