I worked as a casino bartender for over two years. In that time, I kept a journal recording first how much money I made each day, and then ridiculous shit (in this case literally) I would see everyday.
There are many kinds of casino people, with very different character traits. These categories will be explained in a later entry, but for now I want to get right down to one of the most disgusting habits that some casino goers possess: Soiling themselves.
I cannot tell you how many otherwise normal looking people have defiled themselves at the casino during my tenure there. On any given night, there is probably at least a handful of people sitting in some sort of their own human waste, for sometimes half a day, and counting. These are some of the most disgusting people a casino has to offer. They are, for the most part, old people. I chalk this up to three things: A) Old people have less bladder control B) Old people have less a concept of time and space C) Old people fought in WWII D) Old people could give a shit about you (pun VERY intended) and finally, E) Old people are old. OK, so that is more than three things, but I'm getting older, and can't be held accountable for my actions. Are you my grandson?
See what I did there? It happens all the time: Old people forgiveness. They make you wanna change their diaper, wrap them up in a blanket, and put them down for a nap. That said, if you have a grandparent that goes to the casino, then they, or their bridge partner, have almost certainly defacated in their pantalloons while there.
Now, it isn't ALWAYS an old person that does the deed. I can often be a "normal" person. Maybe not you childhood Little League coach, but probably that other dad that called himself a coach, when really he did nothing for the team but eat the snacks that the moms brought. Yep, that guy is a pants pooper.
It takes a lot for a normal person to piss, let alone shit, in their own pants, and then willingly sit in it for hours at a time. The main "reason" for this habit has to do with their addiction to gambling, and their game of choice- Slot machines. Since slot machines are supposed to pay out every once-in-awhile, the idea is that the more time and money you put into a machine, the more likely it is you will hit that jackpot. This is as ridiculous as assuming you will bang a super-model, just because you've always wanted to. Regardless, people are afraid of losing sight of their coveted machine, for fear that another loser will "steal" their jackpot. As a result, neither hunger, sleep deprivation, nor full bladder and bowels can make them leave their seats.
For this particular kind of casino person, soiling themsevles is so much a regular occurance, that they have developed strategies to elude casino officials of their revolting behavor, as that shit doesn't fly around here (Again with the puns, this is too easy).
Some of their tactics include, but are not limited to (as we are learning more everyday):
The "Wasn't Me"- This is when a person that is without a doubt sitting on a warm poo patty, just plays it cool. When a security guard walks by, they won't make eye contact, but if provoked, will blame it on a neighbor, much like they would a fart.
The "Mr. Bucket"- This is when a person will leave their slot machine (never too far though) to either piss in, or collect turds out of their drawers, and deposit them in now otherwise obsolete coin buckets. They will then leave the bucket in the corner, as if it is a treasure to be hidden for a lucky employee to find.
The "Innocent Bystander"- This is when a male, will stand in front of a covered garbage can (again, not too far from his machine) place his penis in the can, while with both hands he plays with his phone, or looks through his wallet, as he empties his bladder.
The "Turd Trot" (My personal favorite)- This is when a person will walk around the casino (Or once, even before entering the casino floor, which I don't understand, as they aren't even on a slot machine yet), and shake turds out of the bottom of their pant legs, every few steps. You never expect to step in poo when walking around in a lavish casino, but it has happened, and will again.
Next time you're at a casino, stay away from the slots, and be wary of old people, because that fart smell isn't going away until they do. I hope I caught you on your lunch break.
12.09.2010
Something Borrowed
Two very good friends of mine (Joe and Cherelle) are tying the knot this upcoming May, and it made me think about the whole being a groomsman thing, and more specifically, renting a tuxedo.
Almost every man that gets married, rents a tuxedo to wear during their nuptials. This makes sense, as most men do not own their own tuxedos, and even if they did, you would have to be very optimistic to think that you will still fit in it for enough years to make it worth buying one for your wedding. So, we rent them. The thing I thought was funny about the whole experience, is that on this, the most important day of your life (I hope), you aren't even wearing your own clothes! In fact, you are wearing a tuxedo that belongs to a complete stranger, who has in turn loaned it out to countless other strangers before you.
With that in mind, one can only wonder what things must have happened to the men that have worn that tuxedo before you:
At least one young man has lost his virginity after prom, wearing that tuxedo. At least one man has lost his virginity after his wedding, wearing that tuxedo (sucker). At least one man has sweat his balls off dancing to "Rock me Amadeus" at a wedding he barely got invited to, wearing that tuxedo. At least one man, a BEST man, has embarrassed himself in front of everyone that knows him by drunkenly admitting in his speech that he slept with the bride before the groom did, wearing that tuxedo. It is safe to assume also, that someone has vomited on that tuxedo; urinated in that tuxedo; ejaculated in, or on that tuxedo; bled on that tuxedo (the aforementioned "best" man). At the very least, a couple dozen, to over a hundred men (depending on the age of the garment) have carried around their sweaty balls, in front of their sweaty asses, in that tuxedo.
One could look at this as an awful, awful thing. Or, you can trust in the integrity of modern day dry-cleaning chemicals, and be happy for what IS still in that tuxedo: Good vibes.
The vast majority of men that have worn those threads have had the time of their lives doing so. You don't rent a tuxedo to go to a funeral, and the people that wear tuxedos for every damn occasion usually own their own. No, the men that rented the tuxedo you're wearing, while freely giving up your life of bachelorhood, have been the tail chasing, open bar perching, social smoking, mistake making American men that you have always been one of yourself.
So if you find yourself standing at the alter as your bride-to-be is taking the most life changing steps toward you, and you think to yourself for just a second, "I wish I were in someone else's shoes right now", remember...you are.
Almost every man that gets married, rents a tuxedo to wear during their nuptials. This makes sense, as most men do not own their own tuxedos, and even if they did, you would have to be very optimistic to think that you will still fit in it for enough years to make it worth buying one for your wedding. So, we rent them. The thing I thought was funny about the whole experience, is that on this, the most important day of your life (I hope), you aren't even wearing your own clothes! In fact, you are wearing a tuxedo that belongs to a complete stranger, who has in turn loaned it out to countless other strangers before you.
With that in mind, one can only wonder what things must have happened to the men that have worn that tuxedo before you:
At least one young man has lost his virginity after prom, wearing that tuxedo. At least one man has lost his virginity after his wedding, wearing that tuxedo (sucker). At least one man has sweat his balls off dancing to "Rock me Amadeus" at a wedding he barely got invited to, wearing that tuxedo. At least one man, a BEST man, has embarrassed himself in front of everyone that knows him by drunkenly admitting in his speech that he slept with the bride before the groom did, wearing that tuxedo. It is safe to assume also, that someone has vomited on that tuxedo; urinated in that tuxedo; ejaculated in, or on that tuxedo; bled on that tuxedo (the aforementioned "best" man). At the very least, a couple dozen, to over a hundred men (depending on the age of the garment) have carried around their sweaty balls, in front of their sweaty asses, in that tuxedo.
One could look at this as an awful, awful thing. Or, you can trust in the integrity of modern day dry-cleaning chemicals, and be happy for what IS still in that tuxedo: Good vibes.
The vast majority of men that have worn those threads have had the time of their lives doing so. You don't rent a tuxedo to go to a funeral, and the people that wear tuxedos for every damn occasion usually own their own. No, the men that rented the tuxedo you're wearing, while freely giving up your life of bachelorhood, have been the tail chasing, open bar perching, social smoking, mistake making American men that you have always been one of yourself.
So if you find yourself standing at the alter as your bride-to-be is taking the most life changing steps toward you, and you think to yourself for just a second, "I wish I were in someone else's shoes right now", remember...you are.
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