When in Doubt, Go Slumming

Every now and then just for fun, I enter a casino and go slumming.

Now you know what the word slumming means: the lowest of the low. In other words, you go out of your way to find the lowest game on the totem pole.

There are many casinos where you can go slumming, especially in Las Vegas. These are the small, often hard to find casinos that are packed like sardines usually between the mega casinos that cover the atmosphere of The Strip.

Their entire poker room might be one table. Usually it's an unusually low stakes game, say $1 to $3 with a $20 buy-in. The players look as old as the rafters. Some take so long to act, you want to hold a mirror in front of their face to see if they are still breathing.

These are the old-timers. Long ago, they gave up on any ideas of winning the World Series of Poker or the World Poker Open. They are content to simply push their way out of bed and do what they have been doing all their lives -- play poker.

When they see you come up to their table. it's no big deal. To them, you're just another tourist from Phoenix or Los Angeles who lost you way and who wants to gather up a bit of local color. So gather, they say to themselves.

If you decide to go slumming, do it for fun. Don't expect to hit that big slot machine that reeks of old age. If you see an antiquated person manning the big wheel, put down a bet and take a fling, fully expecting to lose. You might get lucky.

You'll discover the employees appreciate your action. They know the sands of time are running out on their jobs as well as the casino. The enemy is time. The enemy is progress.

I wandered into such a game a few months back. It was a $1-3 game with a $20 buy-in at Binion's Horseshoe. The game was the only one being spread. I had actually found the game because I wanted to have a late lunch at Binion's, which still spreads a pretty good meal despite the fact that Benny Binion isn't around to give the orders.

I got lucky right from the start and won more money than you're supposed to win at $1-3 limit poker. It became a game for me, a test of wills, as I raised and re-raised the unbelieving old-timers who hung in there doggedly with me.

Finally one of the players, a big man wearing a wide tie, threw his hand into the discards with a snarl of discontent.

'Do you know who I am?,' he said in an intimidating manner.

I gave him a long look and said, 'Nope, I can't say that I do. But if you remember where you live, I'll be glad to drive you home.'

There was a stunned silence at the table. And finally the big man grinned. Then he laughed out loud. 'I like that,' he said approvingly. 'I like that.' He wandered away from the table to the rest room.

'Do you know who that is?,' the dealer said as he collected the cards from the muck. 'That is Big Tony. He was a hit man for the Purple Gang in Detroit for years. You're lucky he likes you.'

I saw Tony a few times after that. Every time our eyes would meet, he'd give me a wink and burst out laughing. That's what can happen when you go slumming.

Author: Geno Lawrenzi Jr.

(Geno Lawrenzi Jr. is an international journalist, magazine author and ghostwriter and poker player who lives in Phoenx, AZ. He has published 2,000 articles in 50 magazines and 125 newspapers. If you want to share a gambling story or book idea with him, send an email to glawrenzi@gmail.com ).