I rolled and rolled and finally sevened out. Believe me, I was never so happy to lose. Not to waste a minute, I shoveled the chips into my pockets and raced for the exit. Who had time to cash them in? I barely made the plane—I was the last one to board—and had a double vodka when the hostess came around with the beverage cart. Believe me, I needed it.
There was yet another time I just made the plane by a hair, but there wasn't a pocket full of black chips involved—just a ball-busting suitcase full of nickels. Yes, nickels, and lots of em.

Let me explain. One of my pit stops on the way to the airport was the Dunes. At the time they had a gimmicky slot machine promotion to bring in the locals—a pregnant nickel machine with a twin (or was it triple?) jackpot. The machine was bulging with nickels, with nickels showing everywhere. Man, did it look tempting! Every time I passed the damn machine I put my five nickels in, hoping to hit the jackpot. Always without luck. That is, until my little pit stop on the way to the airport.

You guessed it—I hit the Super-Duper Nickel Jackpot! I didn't believe that there were that many fucking nickels in the whole world. I looked over and saw that the line for the Coin Cashier wound around the corner. Happily, my carry-on luggage was strong, so in the middle of the Dunes casino I opened it up and started tossing out expendables—two Las Vegas newspapers, my subscription copies of Playboy and Penthouse, my big can of shaving cream, plus other trifles that could be replaced in Manhattan. Then I started pouring in the nickels. Pouring is the correct word, as I used one of the heavy cardboard cups placed between the slots by every casino, to scoop and pour the nickels into my suitcase. They all fit, but the goddam thing weighed a ton. It was like carrying an anvil.

Somehow I managed to get it onto the plane and somehow I finally got it home. Then I poured my winnings out in the middle of my living room floor. God, for a mass of nickels it really looked impressive! Needless to say, it was a long, long time before I ever had to ask anybody to change a quarter.

The moral of all this is: Always remember to wear a watch and keep a keen eye on it. Casinos have no windows and no clocks, all carefully planned to keep the player in a time-warp limbo. To quit winners, you always have to stay one step ahead of the casino.
And, always bear in mind that the casinos are open seven-days-a-week, twenty-four-hours-a-day, all at your convenience. They only have an opportunity to get a crack at your bankroll when you choose to put it on the line. You must always remember that! Never lose sight of it. It's your choice when and where you play, and for how long, and for how much.

• Im Not A Gambler Part2 (0)
• Im Not A Gambler (0)
• Blackjack Hit And Run Part4 (0)

These days it seems that anybody who has made more than two trips to a casino has written a book on how to win. I'm willing to bet there is more than one gambling book out there written by an idiot who never even saw the inside of a casino. One pundit with a hardcover book on wagering, bearing the imprint of a major publisher, writes about betting at the Sands in Las Vegas with $50 chips. Maybe this asshole ducked into the Sands to use the Men's Room, but I guarantee he didn't stay long enough to look at the chi ps on the tables. No $50 denomination chips exist or ever existed in any Vegas casino. Not ever.

Mark Twain once quipped, "It isn't what people don't know that'll hurt them, it's what they do know that just ain't so."

Another "expert," writing on how to beat the slot machines, gives the reader a hot tip: Always play the slots on the aisle, as these are the ones the casino have set to be loose so the passersby will be seduced into playing because it looks so easy to win. The only thing wrong with this "inside tip" is that it's false. All the slots in all the casinos are blindly computer-controlled with respect to the winning combinations, so one slot machine is as good or as bad as the next. And I've read in more than one gambling book written by a self-anointed "expert" that the machines at the top, or end, of the aisle are the ones that pay off best. Total applesauce. The machines in between are just as likely to pay off as the ones at either end.

Another so-called expert, this one on blackjack, advises the reader with great authority to always take insurance, and to take advantage of "surrender" when offered. In reality, both are piss-poor moves for a player. Still another self-styled expert on playing the craps table gave in his book the odds on Place and Come bets on the numbers, except he gave incorrect odds!

Always remember that just because something is in a book, that doesn't mean it's correct.
All the information in this book, in regard to things that I personally was connected with, is the Real McCoy. I give you my personal guarantee on that. On stories that I picked up from the media I usually identify my sources, and I've saved all the clippings whenever I could, so I can back up my reports as far as they go. Want proof? You can write me in care of the publisher and I'll send you documentation where available.

Not every author is so careful in checking sources. Years ago I sat down with a friend of mine who was writing a book on literary censorship, and I let him pick my brain. I pride myself on being very knowledgeable on the subject. Knowledgeable yes, but, as it turned out, not infallible. Somewhere along the way I had learned of the existence of a pornographic operetta by Gilbert & Sullivan, commissioned by Queen Victoria entitled The Sod's Opera. The original manuscript was reported to be safeguarded in a locked bookcase in the British Museum's Private Cabinet. This x-rated piece was said to have typically clever Gilbert & Sullivan characters such as Scrotum, An Old Retainer, The Bollox Brothers, "A Pair of Hangers-on at the Court. . . ." You get the picture. Without checking, my friend put it all into his book.

Twenty-five years later, I have seen it reprinted in more than a dozen books, here and abroad. The only problem is that the x-rated operetta by Gilbert & Sullivan doesn't exist! A couple of years after the book was published I met the world's foremost authority on Gilbert & Sullivan, who informed me that the story was pure hoax.
This is why you have to be wary of information that you read in a book, especially in a gambling book.

• Im Not A Gambler (0)
• Blackjack Hit And Run Part4 (0)
• Blackjack Hit And Run Part3 (0)