Of all the slot machines in the casino, she walks to the one next to mine.
What was a nice guy like me doing in a casino? My inquiring readers might want to know.
Well, it so happened that every Desi in California seemed to have chosen the week before Christmas to rush to India. Consequently, I had four days to kill before I could board my plane. A colleague suggested to me that I spend those four days in Las Vegas.
I did not think much of the idea. I did not relish the prospect of gambling. (Especially as I had no money to gamble away in the first place.) Said colleague pointed out that one does not go to Las Vegas only for the gambling. One could also just see the glitz and glamour of the place. I demurred, saying that glitz put me off. I expressed the opinion that though I had no particular quarrel with materialism, I truly felt at home in the lap of Nature. I further stated a desire to see snow and try my hands at skiing, as I had never seen Nature in that particular garb before. The colleague sighed and recommended that I make a trip to Reno-Tahoe, where I could see Nature clad in snow and ski down her lap to my heart’s content. However, he was most insistent that I spend atleast one night in Reno, which, being in the state of Nevada, allowed gambling. I found that there were limits to my power to resist peer pressure.
So it came to pass that I was sitting at a slot machine in Harrah’s gambling away one cent at a time, wondering why it was taking so long for me to run through the five dollar limit I had set for myself, watching waitresses in low-cut blouses (to display 30% of their breasts seems to be the industry norm) and mini skirts serve free booze to compulsive gamblers, taking grim satisfaction in the fact that I was right in my prediction that the glitz would fail to lure me, when, as I have already mentioned, she walked in and sat at the slot machine next to mine.
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