My Ireland Vacation

This happened technically in Amsterdam but it was part of the Ireland trip so I'm counting it.

When Dan and I had a layover in Amsterdam from 4:30-6 a.m., we were wandering zombie-like through the airport when we noticed signs saying that a casino had recently been constructed inside the airport. Really? Because that's what travelers need, an airport to throw more money away?

Naturally, Dan and I rushed right over.

Let's be clear, this was not the largest casino ever. In fact, it was the size of something I imagine a basement casino would be only with fancier carpeting and sophisticated security besides a 400-lb dude named Rolly. It had a few slots, two roulette tables and four blackjack tables. Bummer, no craps. So Dan took up a chair at the blackjack table and I stood nearby and watched him begin hemorrhaging money, mainly because in Amsterdam the house wins on any push of 17 or higher, which is probably the worst fucking rule I've ever heard of.

But it led to an amazing 20 minutes of gambling by this guy pictured at right.

He busted out a few hands and was out of chips. Sometimes you're still feeling it, so apparently he was so he dipped into his pocket and pulled out a 50 Euro note.

Lost the hand. Pulled out another 50.

Lost. Reach in, pulled out another 50.

Lost again. The hand went into his pocket, out came another 50.

Which he lost.

At this point, Dan is giving me looks like, "Why the fuck is this guy still playing?" while my mind was saying, "How much fucking money does this guy have in his pockets?" because he kept dipping in.

And losing. At this point, in less than 15 minutes, he's lost at least 300 Euro in starting chips since we had sat down and another 400-500 in cash from his pockets.

I took the picture thinking this was going to be a classic Idiot of the Day post, until this older Japanese guy sits down. You see, in Amsterdam, blackjack has a rule that doesn't exist in America. Besides just betting on your own hand, you can bet on another player's hand. It's a sly way of keeping you at the table and giving you a chance to win off someone else's luck if you're having a bad run of cards. The key is, the payoff is not as high ... unless you hit blackjack.

Sure enough, dude reaches in for his 78th 50 Euro note, and bets on the Japanese guy.

Bang, blackjack.

Guy collects his money, doubles up his next bet on Mr. Roboto.

Blackjack. Guy gets his money, doubles up again.

Boom goes the dynamite, blackjack again.

Now we're getting scared. The dealer looks at the pit boss. Mr. Roboto doesn't say a word. Dan looks at me like a killing might go down. It's rare enough to see a guy blow through 1,000 Euro in 15 minutes on straight losing hands, another to see a guy starting doubling his money back up by winning three straight blackjacks off a complete stranger.

Next hand, dealer busts out, guy wins more money.

Next hand is dealt, and as if karma is out smoking in the parking lot, guy pulls another blackjack.

Dan needs oxygen at this point, because he's only hanging around the table quietly winning some hands here and there just because we don't want to leave the casino and miss out on the conclusion of this guy's run. Sadly, though, we pressed our luck as long as we could before we had to leave for our flight to Dublin. Who knows what happened to that guy, if the House eventually fought back and took money back from him or he walked away a winner.

So you know, when we left, the dude won another blackjack. Five out of six hands he hit blackjack.

I love gambling.