Victorino Matus, assistant managing editor
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ONE REASON to visit Las Vegas: cheap tables. At dozens of casinos on and off the Strip you can find blackjack with $5 minimums. At Casino Royale (which looks nothing like the casino in the movie), there are even dollar tables. More astounding, there are a few casinos like the Rio that offer $5 craps--something inconceivable in Atlantic City. According to a Rio pit boss, "We try to offer all things to all people, but it all depends on occupancy. If the place is packed, you won't see any of those tables."
This must have been the case last weekend when I was in Vegas for a bachelor party. Admittedly, we were staying at the high end Venetian--Sheldon Adelson's $1.5 billion tribute to Venice, complete with indoor canals and gondolas, a replica of St. Mark's square, painted ceilings, and the Campanile Tower--built right on top of the Sands. (I thought this a terrible insult to Frank Sinatra and his Rat Pack, but, as a cabdriver pointed out, "Sure it was still a happening place in the late '70s and early '80s, but when they started selling hot dogs on the casino floor, it just had to go.") Nevertheless, cruising around with my gambling cohorts, it was a bit unnerving not to find an affordable blackjack table. But as my friend Rushford observed, "You end up betting $10 at the $5 tables anyway." Good point, I guess.
So we hunkered down at a $10 table where a bespectacled Asian gentleman was serving as the
anchor. (In blackjack, the anchor is the last person to be dealt cards before the dealer. His decision whether to hit or stay directly impacts not only the dealer's hand but often the fate of the entire table.) But the man kept fidgeting with his chips. Every time I was dealt the first card, he quickly yanked back a couple of his black chips, each worth $100. The dealer scolded him the first couple of times and he seemed to relax. But soon he was at it again. The dealer then called the pit boss who issued a stern warning.
Defiantly, the man threw down four $100 bills. When the dealer asked him what he did for a living, he mumbled something inaudible. After a few more hands, he went back to his old tricks again. The pit boss was summoned once more, and this time the guy left abruptly. "That man was really pushing it," the dealer said. "He knew what was going on and every camera was watching him." I looked up at those black eyes in the sky and thought they were probably watching me too.
The next day we were back at the same table--but since it was Saturday the minimum was raised to $15. For a while, it was just me and Rushford against a female dealer named Song. After a while, Rushford took too many hits, so he decided to stand down and wait it out, making it a showdown between me and Song. "Keep it going, c'mon, double-down!" she barked. She was whipping out the cards faster than I had time to count them. But amazingly, I was up $200. Then two new players sat down. One was a Mexican named Roque. "You know, like 'Rocky V'?" he said. Sure, "Rocky V," where the champ loses all of his money, his house, and his car, and the whole family moves in with Uncle Paulie. Just great. The other man was a heavy-set Russian. He was the new anchor.
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