debauchery. The story begins in L.A. During one of my annual visits
to California I'd arranged to meet two girlfriends at the "Organic
Vegan" restaurant for some dinner. Real Cas. My girlfriend Sari had
arranged to bring a friend of hers who happened to be a psychic.
Nothing to raise eyebrows at, it was LA afterall. Isn't everyone
connected in some form or another?! Dismissing my Canadian
conservative attitude I embraced the possibilities of this alien being
at our table. Naturally, I kept my skepticism in check, secretly
hoping to be wowed by his psychic powers. Let him tell me something
that's going to blow me away, love, money, past, present, future.
Well, did he wow? Not really. He did happen to hit upon a couple of
names which raised an eyebrow or two but nothing necessarily earth
shattering. When he finally got through his predictions on the love
lives of my girlfriends, he looked at me, and matter of factly stated
you're going to meet someone with the intials P.D. Yeah, ok,
whatever.
3 days later, my girlfriend Lisa and I hit the road, take the 15
Freeway and head to Vegas. We arrive, get settled, doll ourselves up
and we're ready to go. First stop, the Wynn Hotel. Lisa has her
heart set on the infamous Buffet and all I wanna do is catch some
Action. I'm what you would call a cautious gambler but I daydream
often about the big wins. The Mega Slot, The Hardway Bets, the
roulette wheel that pays out 35 to 1. In actual fact, I'm a small
timer. I spend a lot of time watching and really am in no financial
position to lose. As we make our way through the hotel, the ever
present ringing and dinging begins, the groans, the yelps, and the
pleadings are heard throughout. As we make our way by the crap tables
the crowds start to thicken. I squeeze my way into a space at the end
of the table. I take the plunge, throw my $100 bill on the table and
discretely take my chips. The table feels like it could be on the
verge of warming up. There's an electricity in the air, lots of
interesting characters milling about and I'm in.
There's a woman rolling the dice, rolling for her man. She's pretty,
all dressed up, quiet, but shy. You can tell she's a novice, which
are often the ones you worry will crap out the fastest, but sometimes
luck shines on them and you're left scratching your head wishing you'd
bet on them. She's rolling, and I can't make a nickel off her. In
fact, i'm down $50 bucks and becoming increasingly unhappy. In all
the confusion and depression, I suddenly realize our shooter is the
girlfriend of P. Diddy one of Hip Hop's largest moguls and he's
standing right beside her, surrounded by his crew of guys, screaming
out numbers, slapping down bills, looking to her to bring him the
money. Then it hits me...the Psychic...P.D. It's destiny. This is
where i'm supposed to be. Right here, right now. But then, the worst
happens, she rolls a 7, craps out and everybody's out. A collective
groan is heard around the table but it's P. Diddy's girlfriend, after
all. You can't make her feel bad. What does he care I think to
myself. Money's no object for him. I'm out $50 bucks and I'm pissed!
This is not a good beginning.
The dealer takes his stick and pushes the dice in front of me. Do we
have a Shooter? I look at the dice, I look at Diddy. I got $50 left
and I don't want to lose. So i say, yeah, i wanna shoot. My heart
starts to beat in my throat. Whatever you do, don't let this table
turn cold. I place my $10 chip on the Pass Line. I'm feeling that Yo
(11). I hit it and everyone gets paid, no sweat. My adrenaline's
kicking in and i'm hoping for a repeat. Not to be. I roll a 9.
That's okay, all is well. The dealers get busy placing bets and
filling the table with chips. The table's full of people and chips,
the gawkers are busy trying to catch a glimpse of Diddy, and I'm busy
trying to stay calm and psyche myself up for a killer roll. I
realize, I gotta make some numbers to earn enough money to play, so i
can savour this table as long as possible. I back up my Pass Line
bet, which of course is the "sensible" thing to do and truthfully, all
i can afford right now. Next roll, an 8. As the saying goes, "So
close, but yet so far". A little encouragement is passed to me. "Come
on Shooter". At the last minute, I throw caution to the wind, and
bet $25 on the "suckers bet", the Field. I don't know what it is
about that Field, i just can't resist it. It calls to me. I roll a
"midnight", double 6's. That pays 3 to 1. I've just pocketed $75
bucks and i'm feeling happy, not to mention, extremely relieved. Now,
i've got a little money to play with, so don't mess up. It's time to
hit some numbers. I hear some encouragement at the end of the table.
It's Diddy. He's wishing me well. You can do it Shooter. I look
right at him and smile. I do my customary pre-roll on the table,
jiggle the dice and give a gentle high air toss to the back wall. I
know i've got it. It's a nine. Halleluyah! I've made the point and
the table's feeling hopeful, getting lively.......One hour, 20 minutes
later, a virtual lifetime in Craps. The table has hit crazy decibals
of excitement. I've rolled so much, i'm dizzy and my cheeks hurt from
grinning. Time has literally stood still. So this is what it's like
to be a celebrity. Sweet. The table loves me, the dealers seem to
love me, and of course Diddy loves me and people are showin me the
love by passing me chips of appreciation. There's a big crazy buzz in
the air. The pit boss is pacing the area with keen attention to the
action on the table. I'm in the zone and I can't lose. This is the
moment you dream of. I know it won't last forever, but for now,
there's literally, nothing like it.
In one hour, 20 minutes, I've made 8 points and whole lot of people
happy. I turned $50 into five grand and crazy money for everyone else
but apart from the windfall, the icing on the cake was the big thank
you from Diddy himself with an invite to join him and his crew to
party poolside at one of his soiree's. That doesn't happen everyday,
or any day for that matter and it was sweet!
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