Sodom and Gomorrah
Sodom and Gomorrah – that’s what my friend and I call the local casino. A place of sin and temptation. Sure, there are many worse places (if you could rate sin) in Cape Town: brothels, crack houses and others. But there the casino stands: large and deviant, welcoming all.
Yeah, I blew my R100 pretty quickly last night, most due to an extremely bad run of numbers below 25 in Roulette. It doesn’t bother me too much; the money was written off as a night’s entertainment anyway. Despite initial minor successes, I never expect to walk out with more than I had when I walked in. For me it is an opportunity to tempt fate, to dance with chance and try to find meaning and purpose for six month’s worth of Probability Theory. I don’t go there to condone or condemn, but merely to find ways of beating a cheating system: the power of finding the ultimate approach. Thankfully I don’t have the funds to indulge in this pass time.
But every time I go there, I think anew of how it isn’t worth it. When you walk in through the huge revolving door, you sense the heaviness the place has. It is heavy with depression and desperation. The place is a cancer that eats away at pensions, welfare and disability. You see the elderly and the poor rooted at the slots machines, ankles wrapped around the prop lever as they feed the machine from another card full of credits. The 25c machines couldn’t possibly take all my money. Besides, it does pay out a little every now and then... You see the desperate people chancing their luck at the tables – they sit with their faces buried in their hands. Meanwhile across them is a cordoned off area where they have to look at the platinum members enjoying complementary drinks, cursing their luck and talking about their lives. Outside the gambling area you see the children – patiently waiting for another night to pass. The might as well be content: this is their second home. When you finally head for the huge revolving door to go home you see the next wave come in with faces gleaming at the thought of a night of opportunity.
When you hear what the net gains of the casino is, you can’t help but think that luck’s play is nothing more than trivial in that place.
At least, even when you lost your money, you can still ride the little train back to your parking spot.
No, no, a million times no: a casino will not uplift a community. The work it creates, the charities it donates to – it isn’t worth it. You cannot substitute one problem for another. Simple as that. And when it’s built, you can’t get rid of it.
Yeah, I blew my R100 pretty quickly last night, most due to an extremely bad run of numbers below 25 in Roulette. It doesn’t bother me too much; the money was written off as a night’s entertainment anyway. Despite initial minor successes, I never expect to walk out with more than I had when I walked in. For me it is an opportunity to tempt fate, to dance with chance and try to find meaning and purpose for six month’s worth of Probability Theory. I don’t go there to condone or condemn, but merely to find ways of beating a cheating system: the power of finding the ultimate approach. Thankfully I don’t have the funds to indulge in this pass time.
But every time I go there, I think anew of how it isn’t worth it. When you walk in through the huge revolving door, you sense the heaviness the place has. It is heavy with depression and desperation. The place is a cancer that eats away at pensions, welfare and disability. You see the elderly and the poor rooted at the slots machines, ankles wrapped around the prop lever as they feed the machine from another card full of credits. The 25c machines couldn’t possibly take all my money. Besides, it does pay out a little every now and then... You see the desperate people chancing their luck at the tables – they sit with their faces buried in their hands. Meanwhile across them is a cordoned off area where they have to look at the platinum members enjoying complementary drinks, cursing their luck and talking about their lives. Outside the gambling area you see the children – patiently waiting for another night to pass. The might as well be content: this is their second home. When you finally head for the huge revolving door to go home you see the next wave come in with faces gleaming at the thought of a night of opportunity.
When you hear what the net gains of the casino is, you can’t help but think that luck’s play is nothing more than trivial in that place.
At least, even when you lost your money, you can still ride the little train back to your parking spot.
No, no, a million times no: a casino will not uplift a community. The work it creates, the charities it donates to – it isn’t worth it. You cannot substitute one problem for another. Simple as that. And when it’s built, you can’t get rid of it.
posted by phantom-99w at 09:35
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