—Once upon a time, I worked as a black jack dealer for Carnival Cruise Lines. It was during the insanely wild, craaaaazy, big- haired, aqua-netted, charcoal eyed, Purple Rain, Like a Virgin days, and I had the time of my life.
(this won best essay about “Luck” on Skirt)
~~~~His rings glittered gold against the green of the black jack table. The pit boss informed me he was from Saudi Arabia, that he had flown into Nassau on his private jet, and that he had a harem with him.
They called me into work early because I happened to be the quickest dealer and they wanted his money fast and furious. This sort of guy made the casino management a bit jittery.
They placed Mr. Saudi in the back room with his harem. This room was built exclusively for the high rollers, the big kahunas, the rich son-of-a-guns. This was a room where your meals were served to you while the dealer dealt your cards and the pit bosses breathed their nicotine -coffee breath down the back of your neck like a bad furnace. This was a room where, if you desired, you could be fed grapes off the vine like Tiberius.
He played all seven hands while his harem, all resembling Play Boy Bunnies, intensely watched on. He played ten thousand dollars a hand. You heard that right, ten thousand dollars. Continue Reading