Casinos. The layouts are purposely confusing. They are dark, which, OK, I don't mind so much, but there are no windows to the outside. The ones in Minnesota allow smoking indoors. Jim and I remember an age where smoking was allowed indoors everywhere, but we are so used to the "new" laws that smoking indoors, with all its attendant consequences (smoky greasy air that burns the eyes, piercing smell that latches onto any surface and won't let go, ashtrays--both empty and disgustingly full--knobs of people standing around doing nothing BUT smoking) (screed over), is a perplexing novelty. Worst of all are the slot machines. Used to be they rang and jingled and spit money occasionally, but the patrons were still, to me, zombies. They sat there and stared at the machine, feeding it coins, and not talking to anyone. It just does not look fun to me. Now of course there are no coins involved, just plastic or account numbers. There is no arm to pull, just buttons to push or screens to touch. There is very little noise anymore, but still the gambling zombies sit and stare at the machine. The slots don't spit money, they simply add to or subtract from the plastic or accounts. I can understand the fun of poker or blackjack; there are physical cards, actual interactive people, and some thought involved. But slots? I don't get it. And casinos are FULL of slot machines. So I don't get them either. Also there are no clocks on the walls at casinos, and it bugs me because I know that the absence of wall clocks is done on purpose. And now, my casino complaint is finished.
Jim and I visited a casino because of a concert. Dennis DeYoung and Eddie Money were scheduled to perform and Jim got tickets from a friend at work. Third row seats!! We stayed overnight after the concert so we had plenty of time to be all judgy at the casino.
The concert was fun and I would have got up and danced to all the Styx songs, but the chairs were really close together and the room was not inclined so if I stood, the people behind me would have suffered with me as a visual obstruction. So I danced in my chair as best I could.
Picture time:
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| 29 years, in blue |
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| the beginning of Mr Roboto |
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| I love Mr Roboto! |
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| Eddie Money |
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| Eddie Money's butt |
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| Eddie Money's sax playing |
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