The eyes of a casino – horror stories galore By JUSTIN GRANZIN I can tell you everything about you by sitting in your car for 20 seconds. That’s right. I could tell if you have children, and I could tell you their approximate ages. They all leave toys tossed about. I’d know what kind of food you like by the wrappers scattered around the inside of your car and the smell that permeates from your interior. I’d know if you had an addiction to Diet Pepsi. I could tell if you were overweight by the feel of the seat on my butt. I knew if you dabbled in marijuana while you drove, and some of you liked to drink and drive. I could smell the cheap beer, and I hated it when you left your empty cans in the car. I knew about how much money you made. I could tell you if you were a hard worker. I could tell you if you had a gambling addiction. Any valet worth their weight in casino chips could do the same. You see, I parked cars at a riverboat casino for about five years, and I know your cars. I haven’t worked there for years, but it’s still part of me, and it always will be. I wish it weren’t sometimes. Some of your cars stunk, and I still can’t get those smells out of my memory. Following is a look back at people whose cars I parked, and an ode to those who gambled too much. Some of you tipped me quite well. I’m forever thankful – you helped me get through college. I’ve told these stories so many times. I don’t think I could have done something else for five years and come away with so many stories. I’m sure police officers and firefighters have me beat, but they’re the only ones that deal with as wide a demographic as I did as a casino grunt. That demographic included everyone. Yes, every walk of life finds its way to a casino. That includes the guy who was found dehydrated and bloodied in his parked car. He apparently was mugged in the parking garage. Someone jumped him from behind and hit him over the head, took his wallet and tossed him in his own trunk. For two days, the poor man clawed his way through the back seat of his car. He finally clawed his way through, and was able to crawl to get some help. Bruised, bloodied and broke, the man told his story. It turns out it was just his story. The parking garage security told a different tale. The truth was that he DID claw his way through the back seat of his car after being locked in his own trunk. He did so after he put himself there. You see, he lost all his money, and it was easier for him to make an elaborate story up instead of telling his wife the truth. I guess that’s a better end than the man that put a bullet in his own head in the parking lot after gambling the farm away. True story. The after-church crowd gave me a laugh. They’d roll in every Sunday around lunch time, every Sunday, like clockwork. They’d ask me to park their car and then tell me to pray for them while they’re inside dropping coins into the moron machines. I think someone missed the message earlier in the day. If you drive a Lexus, you probably do well financially. If you drive a Lexus and don’t do well financially, you’re spending too much money on your car, and you're an idiot. If you drive a Lexus, and five years later you drive something more affordable (like a Chrysler LeBaron) because you need to feed your gambling habit, you’re a bigger idiot. Yes, beautiful woman in mid-1990s. You were beautiful and full of energy. By the end of the decade, after seeing you every weekend, things changed. I’d see you crying because you knew you shouldn’t have been in there as long as you were. I saw you cry when you maxed out a credit card. I also saw you go from a stunningly dressed sophisticated woman to someone who didn’t care about her appearance. You looked like stress after a few years. Your other car was much nicer, too. I hope you got some help. I also knew if you were cheating on your spouse. Mr. Slick, I remember the wedding band you would sport when you’d come to the casino with your wife. I also remember the lack of it when you’d come with someone else. For that extra $5 I’d park your car deep within the bowels of the parking garage so Mrs. Slick wouldn’t know you were here if she happened to drive by. I was just doing my job. The worst cases were the parents I saw every weekend. The parents that had little children broke my heart. Early Saturday morning while the kids were still watching cartoons at home, I’d park your car. As I’d drive the car into the garage, I’d notice the small toys lying everywhere. Junior must have left them in the car. My shift would end, and your car would still be in the place I parked it. I’d come in on Sunday morning to start another day, and your car would still be in the same place I parked it. Sometimes I’d see you leave later on Sunday, and sometimes I’d finish my shift again. Director Martin Scorsese got one thing right in his film, "Casino." The valets are the eyes and the ears of the casino. Remember that next time you pull up to the casino. And speaking from experience, if you have a problem with gambling, seek help. If you know someone who’s got a gambling problem, help him or her. If you don’t, at least think of the valets and clean your car. |
