In one of our many trips, there was an interesting incident.
We were on our way to the casino at Niagara Falls. For some reason, we stopped at Turing Stone, an Indian casino. I remember it was out of our way. We hadn’t like it when we had been there before. But she wanted to go there for some reason and despite my lack of enthusiasm.
We were there, played for a while, lost, and eventually I asked if she was ready to go. (I’d lost my stake.) She said “no”. So we set a time, and I went to food court (or whatever you’d call it). Got a cup of coffee and read my book.
At the appointed time, we met up. She was ready to leave.
(I assume she had lost the amount she was prepared to lose. She hated to lose. At anything.)
As we’re walking to the exit, a granmotherly type is sobbing — you know “my dog died” type tears — sitting at a slot machine. Our Girl zoomed right over, put her arm around the woman, and said: “What’s wrong? Are you OK?” The lady sobbed out: “I’ve lost my wallet with my money for the week in it.”
(OK, my fraud alert radar went off. “Danger, Will Robinson”. Scam?)
Our Girl says: “It’ll be OK. We’ll help you.” (We will? Huh!)
Our Girl magically summons a Casino Worker. I hadn’t seen one most of the day. I knew they existed, but like Bigfoot, a legend. After conversation, an alert went out. A Casino Guard showed up. An executive. Another executive.
(At this point, I thought we were done. Not so, Our Girl. She kept her arm on the lady. Reassuring her.)
Shortly, 15 minutes or so, a Casino worker came with a wallet. The woman looked at it and found her Drivers License and credit cards in it. But no cash.
(My fraud alert is going to double alert status. What thief leaves the credit cards?)
The casino folks quietly exited stage left. The woman wasn’t their problem.
The woman started crying again. Our Girl asked why. “I had my money for the month. 200 dollars. I came and cashed my check. Then I played the odd money. But I always kept my money to live on for the rest of the month safely aside.”
Our Girl, without hesitation, whips out her “roll” — anyone, who knows her, knows how she liked cash — and gives the woman three one hundred dollar bills. The lady is profusely grateful and wants her address to pay her back. Our Girl replies: “No need. You help someone else out. I’ll get my reward in heaven.”
So they part company.
(I bite my tongue cause I think we have just been hustled.)
On the way out, at the last row, she says: “I want to play that machine over there.”
(Yeah, again, anyone who knows her, can guess the punchline.)
I whine that we’ve lost enough, getting late, yada yada. She says: “No, I want to play that one.”
“OK”, I reply, “do you want me to get lost?” (She always thought I brought her bad luck when I shadowed her.) “No, you can stay. We won’t be long.”
50¢ machine, 9 lines, 2 per line max.
She summons the “card seller / reloader”, gives a CNote, and gets 100 loaded on the card. Sticks it in. Presses max bet.
And, we wait ½ hour to get the tax forms for her $1900 win.
(The taxes were always MY problem. Argh!)
All the time, she just smiled at me smugly. She loved to win.
In the car, she said: “See, I always get back more than I give away.”
And, she did.
(I still think she was scammed.)
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