Horological Meandering

After an intense study of the Craps games in progress, my friend says he’ll throw the dice and he wants me to manage the bets.  We work our way in, get some money out on the pass and work a couple of the numbers.  After just a couple throws of the dice, the person shooting “craps out” to a collective of groans and sighs.  Fifty bucks gone!  Gordo was next in line at the table and in the moment the ‘stickman’ pushed the dice towards these two kids, turning left and right everything seemed to start moving in slow motion. 

“You know what?  That almost never happens.” 

Whipping around, it was the ‘boxman’ (the guy at the table in charge of the money), stacking, counting, and then restacking and recounting hundreds of chips with blind precision, fully engaged and looking me straight in the eyes - just like my grandpa.  With conviction he continued, “You and your friend there don’t go being stupid now and give that money back to the house!”  His familiar sounding voice was stinging and the words left me speechless.

We cashed out our chips and headed up to the room.  All said and done, the two hundred we started with was now fifty-four hundred bucks!  I think my grandfather must’ve been watching - or more likely manipulating - the dice from a place where the security cameras can’t see.  Back at the room, sporting a shit-eating grin when I handed him almost twenty-seven-hundred dollars, my friend’s only words were, “Dang, it’s cold in here!”   

Hearing the boxman’s voice in my head I said, “Hey, Gordo, you know we should do something with this money instead of gambling it away.”  Wise beyond his 22 years, he smiled and sang in an almost opera-esque voice, “Okay, well here’s something - I’m gonna get a “massage”, and I’m gonna give her a really nice tip - if you know what I mean - and then I’m gonna have steak for breeeeaaaaaak-faaaaaaaaast…” 

When he was done "singing" (using term "singing" very loosely), Gordo said in his normal voice, “And then we’ll drive back to L.A.  How’s that?” 

Although I had something different in mind, I must admit having steak for breakfast sounded pretty good.  The next morning, I vacated the room while “The Shootah” was getting himself a “massage”, and crossed “The Strip” (you could actually walk across Las Vegas Blvd. back then) to the “Jewelry & Loan” I had noticed when we first arrived at the hotel the day before.  The display window had a bunch of different watches, but what caught my eye was a brand new, stainless steel Rolex Submariner, shown with the box and tags.  Once I saw it I knew I had to have it.  

The owner of the store had only just arrived to open for the day and looked me up and down.   “Can I help you?” he snorted with the sort of sarcasm that actually begs the question “Why the %$#@ are you here right when I’m opening my %$#@ store?”