I spent last weekend in Vegas, an eavesdropping mecca. While enjoying one of many craps games, this:
A man walks up to the hook spot on my right. He is maybe 70, gray-haired, clean-shaven and smiling through jaws clenching a big cigar. He wears khaki shorts, a short sleeve button down that says, "Bullhead" on the pocket, athletic socks pulled half way up his calves and bright white tennis shoes. A gold medallion shaped like Texas hangs from his neck, in a tuft of gray chest hair.
There is a girl on his left and a girl on his right. They are both exceptionally well-endowed. Not by mother nature, I'm fairly certain. Each hold a beer. Both are blond with very white teeth and glossed lips. One has bright pink nails and a most obvious nipple ring, the other a french manicure. The man lays down a stack of bills. The dealer counts out $5,000, pushes out a pile of black chips and a handful of purple:
Dealer: How are you doing, Wade?
Wade: Real fine, real fine!
Pink: Ha ha ha!
Wade: These are my new friends! Ain't they a hoot?
Pink: C'mon baby! Get hot! Ha ha ha! You're so cute!
French: Yeah! Get super smoking hot, Wade!
Wade: You bet! What numbers do you girls want?
Pink: I want those hard ones. Ha ha ha!
French: I want ALL the numbers Wade! I can't choose. Ha ha!
Wade: You heard 'em boys! Four hundred hard for her and all across for this one.
Pink: Ooooh and the snake eyes, too! A purple one! We love you, Wade!
The shooter rolls the dice, wild-eyed. Seven out. The stick men stack the chips away. Best I can tell, about $1500 is Wade's. Wade laughs. The gals don't.