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time to a $25 one. Hey, no pain, no gain,
right? Remember that
overconfidence I talked about? There's also this feeling that tells you
one more time. Come on, you can do it.
Well, I couldn't. And if I were to ever have a dollar in my wallet
again, I'd never go near another slot machine. It was my own fault, I
knew that. I chided myself, over and over, looking at the machine with
sadness. Then I sighed and felt for the last $10 in my pocket. Oh
well... as a final farewell to this money-eating establishment, I
walked out to the first lounge I could find, and sat down on a stool at
the bar, off to the side, and ordered a plain soda.
There were three couples sitting at the bar, a few tables were occupied
by older people, and two larger groups had taken over the couches. I
recognized one group from a comment that one of the hotel employees had
made: bankers.
Apparently there was some sort of convention going on, and the entire
hotel was pretty much booked to capacity. The employee had no idea that
I was listening in on the conversation, but she told one of her
colleagues that she had been to three different rooms on three separate
nights so far.
I think I even recognized one of her nightly adventures, because of the
goatee that one of the men sported. He was the only one who had one,
and she was right; he was cute. I guessed around thirty. Most of the
men in the group were pretty young, from the looks of it; I didn't
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