Really nice seats, fifth row, I laughed my ass off. I am not a big musical guy but this was perfect.
The performance was one night only at Sycuan Casino. I am not real big on the Indian Casinos, prefer to play in Vegas, but this was one of the worst of the worst. You find it by driving to El Cajon and taking a bunch of side streets.
We arrived an hour early. I watched two twenties get eaten alive by an all too willing slot machine.
It is an absolutely cavernous sea of one armed bandits. Sphinx's, nuclear drums, cherries and spades, as far as the eye can see, cascade around the whirling screens and idiots like me are only too happy to watch their money evaporate in their wake.
The place is enormous but their were not a lot of table games. I watched the pai gow action for a few minutes and finally sat down at second base at a five dollar blackjack table. I am a $25 minimum guy and up, a very good player and I hadn't sat at a table like this in a long time. Samoan kid next to me, making all the right bets. Woman at first hitting black jacks one after another.
You don't want to break up a table's chi by putting big bets up in front of people playing small stakes so I was betting ten dollar stacks. Out of consideration. I lost one or two but made the proper moves and then found my stride. Could not lose and started riding the beam. "Four," I said as the dealer turned over a four. "Eight," I cried out before the she plopped the same down face up on my 13. The table sort of gasped and people were mumbling about the psychic guy. I had to make a move.
"Good evening ladies and gentlemen," I remarked to the young neophytes sitting around the table. "I'm afraid I have a play to attend."
It was bad form to leave when we were all having our way so with this dealer but all good things do come to an end and you don't want to test your psychic powers too often in such a public forum. Better to go out early, looking like Houdini with my record intact. Wouldn't let me cash hundred dollar chips downstairs. Interesting place.
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Speaking of Houdini, I am reading a fascinating book by Ratso Sloman and William Kalush, The Secret Life of Houdini: The Making of America's First Superhero. This book offers the history of the son of an Appleton, Wisconsin Rabbi, Ehrich Weiss and his morphing into the remarkable escape artist. Sloman and Kalush explore a side of the magic trade I was not aware of, it's appropriation by both the American and English intelligence services.
Early in life, Houdini and his wife Bess ply the carney circuit and Houdini picked up a lot of his skills from sword swallowers and the like. Great book.
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Stopped at D.Z. Akins, the only good deli in these parts, 70th st. in La Mesa. We had killer rye bread with smoked whitefish, strong, moist and divine and a good bowl of matzoh ball soup with a really nice and clean chicken broth. Leslie bought macaroons and rugelach for the car ride. Heaven!
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Helen sends over an interesting Hans Josling lecture from TED.
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