by David Lee
After handing over my ID, I was ushered through two sets of metal doors. Here, I was greeted by chaos. Blinding lights, shouting voices, and a palpable sense of excitement. The clicks and whirs of never-ending slot machines. The poker room was on the third floor, and that’s where I was going. There was a 40 minute wait for the 1-2 game, so I walked back down to the main floor. I badly wanted to see some hands, but I couldn’t help noticing the empty row of electronic roulette machines. As I sat down, I muttered to myself, “This is how they get you”.
Unfortunately, my time at the roulette machine was short-lived. It was one of the quicker rides I’ve taken at a casino, and when your ride gets cut short, it always leaves a sour taste in your mouth. But, I can’t complain. I knew better. The house always wins don’t they?
It’s a well known fact that you shouldn’t play games at the casino. And it’s true. There’s no edge in games like slots, craps, and roulette. Since you can’t do anything to improve your chances at winning, it’s what they call a losers game. And that night, I was indeed a loser. But as I was just starting to reflect on this tragedy at the roulette machine, my name was called. It was time for the main event.
One foot after another, I slowly elevated up pattern-laced velvet steps. My return to the poker room was less exciting than before, as I was now 20 pounds poorer. This sudden change in net worth had left me in a pensive mood, prompting me to take a closer look at what London’s most central and popular casino, The Hippodrome, had to offer. I was now on the second floor, and decided to take a minute to just observe.
Starting from the top, were decadent chandeliers that draped over the entirety of the gaming floor. Circular in shape, each crystal shimmered and radiated outwards, obnoxiously beaming light into the depths of my eye sockets. Below, was the center of the gaming hall, which was home to a cluster of strategically placed roulette, blackjack, and baccarat tables. The bright green felt countertops contrasted perfectly with the dark velvet floor, where London’s affluent gathered around, clamoring with excitement. With each roll of the dice, the crowd would roar, erupting with glee or immense disappointment.
You see, the tables at the center of The Hippodrome are reserved for the VIPS. The highrollers. The minimum bet is a thousand pounds, but typically ranges a tick or two higher than that. It’s the epitome of high-risk, high reward, which attracts London and Europe’s wealthiest to come try their luck.
As a student who was just starting back-to-back terms abroad, needless to say, I was not a part of this crowd. Sure, I had some savings, but my budget failed to account for expenditures of the ‘gambling type’. With no job, and no jacket worthy of depositing at the coat check, I began to reconsider my options. For the next seven months, the quality of my life would depend on how responsibly I used my funds. I could just never walk into the poker room, and have an extra few hundred dollars at my disposal. But then again, I could win money. I could run fabulously, go on a heroic run, and ride off high into the night with who knows how much. While it was unlikely, it wasn’t impossible…
Looking out at the Gatsby-esque scene below, my mind began to race. Although I considered myself to be a decent player, who regularly rinsed my less poker-enthusiastic friends for their hard earned cash, I wasn’t of big city, big casino level skill. London is a huge city. It also was the financial capital of Europe, which meant a strong pool of risk-seeking, mathematically-inclined individuals looking for a lower-stakes game to apply their skills to.
Even worse, The Hippodrome was home to main event poker tournaments, which attracted the best players from all over Europe. They would likely not be playing 1-2, but still, it wasn’t pleasant to think of an encounter with a professional, as I would be sure to leave with zero.
The issue was I had little time to make a decision. Once you’re notified of an available seat, you have 5 minutes to show up at the poker room. If you don’t, the seat is passed down to the next person in line. Like most casinos, the staff at The Hippodrome don’t really have patience. And why would they? They could care less about my financial decision-making dilemma or the fact that the last thing my mom said to me was to “be safe and responsible”.
While I feared leaving the casino empty handed, and the catastrophic consequences that could lead months down the road, I also feared the regret of not playing, giving myself a chance, and succumbing to what ifs.
Luckily for me, the UK has this budget grocery store called Tesco. They offer a ‘meal deal’ for 3 pound 50, which consists of a main item, a drink, and a snack. Despite only having three items to choose from, there’s surprisingly quite a bit of combinations you can make. For the main item, you can select a sandwich, wrap, salad, or pasta, which come in different varieties. While the drink component is pretty self explanatory, the snack options are also more robust than you’d imagine. From different brands of ‘crisps’, granola bars, trail mixes, and pastries, there’s flexibility, which is all an irresponsible, financially-constrained student needs. While the meal deal wasn’t great, it wasn’t horrible either. The silver lining was that if I ran terribly, I could extend the lifeline of my budget through strategic meal combinations. If I got tired of the chicken salad sandwich I could go with ham and cheese. If I wasn’t feeling a blueberry granola bar, I could go with a chocolate one. And for the drink, well, I always went with the Blue Vita Coco Coconut Water, so that was an easy one.
Ultimately, the meal deal gave me freedom. Yes, freedom to choose from a ton of pre-packed, preservative filled, shelved food items, but more importantly, freedom to take risks. I walked onto the third floor, exchanged my cash for chips, and took a seat.
