WHAT IT MEANS TO BE A RECOVERING GAMBLER  LIVING IN LAS VEGAS
                                        by  JUDY G. (VEGAS JUDY)


This is about two aspects of me - my evolution as a compulsive and then 
recovering gambler - and my growing fascination and compulsion to be in 
Las Vegas.  Intertwined?  Yes.  But also distinct and separate.

What I mean by that is:  If gambling didn't exist in Las Vegas, would I 
still want to live here?  Yes.

However, since gambling does exist here, would I want to live anywhere 
else?  No.


Now, back to the beginnings:

My childhood years certainly didn't include this yearning to be in Las 
Vegas.  But I guess I always had yearnings - and in those days, it was 
to live in the Golden State - California.  I spent the first 8 years of 
my life exclusively in California - mainly Lodi and Woodland.  But when 
I was 9, my father "re-upped" and went back into the Air Force, and 
shortly after that he was sent to Korea.

In Fifth Grade I went to four different schools, including one in Texas 
and one in Virginia.  This was the beginning of my Air Force brat 
experiences, and at the same time I began thinking that "everything would be 
perfect" if I could just be with my friends in California.  So I always 
had that propensity to think the "grass was greener" somewhere else.  I 
started living in a sort of "escape fantasy land" whenever real life 
got too rough.

Since most of our relatives lived in California, no matter where we 
were stationed in the U.S., we usually made a road trip back to the Golden 
State at least once - usually during the summer.  Quite often, these 
trips would take us through Las Vegas, where often we'd stop and spend 
the night.  During those early years, I never thought about gambling, of 
course.  It was  strictly an adult play land then.  

I was mostly aware of the celebrities who might be lounging around the 
pools or perhaps wandering in the casinos.  I remember once being in a 
casino with my parents and hearing "Paging Mr. Belafonte, Mr. Harry 
Belafonte".  This was heady stuff for a movie-star-struck young girl.  If 
my parents went to see a show at night, my sister and I didn't mind.  
We'd stay at our motel, go swimming in the pool that was usually opened 
all night, and have fun on our own.  

I do remember seeing the "fantasyland" aspects of the Strip, such as it 
was, back in those days;   such as the camels in front of the Sahara, 
the Sultan in front of the Dunes.  But that's all Las Vegas was to me 
then - a convenient stop on our way to my "mecca", California.

As far as gambling, I had literally no experience or feeling about it 
one way or the other.  Ironically, we were stationed in Wiesbaden 
Germany when I was 17, and my first "job" was giving out change for the small 
bank of slot machines in the Officer's Club (the General Von Steuben).  
This was a pretty boring job.  Hardly anyone spent much time in that 
little space.  

I do, however, remember one woman who was pretty much a "regular".  She 
started out feeding quarters in one particular machine, and would stand 
there for hours, having drinks and hitting several jackpots, but by the 
end of the evening, there she was, slightly weaving, by now barefoot 
(there were no stools for the gamblers then, and those high heels got too 
tricky to stand in after awhile and after a few drinks) and her 
winnings had long gone back into the machine.  I remember thinking how stupid 
and boring the whole thing was.  (Little did I know that I was to 
become that woman one day).

My next exposure to gambling was back in Las Vegas.  My first husband 
and I had (not surprisingly) gone to Vegas for our honeymoon.  In those 
days, there were no video poker machines, and I didn't know how to play 
any "table games of chance", so I just put  a few quarters in the 
single reel slot machine, and I might get lucky and win the "jackpot" - $25.

My second husband and I also went to Las Vegas on our honeymoon. He has 
the dubious honor of being the one who taught me how to play 21.  After 
winning a small jackpot on a machine, he suggested taking my winnings 
and playing blackjack.  Of course, we had our Beginners' Luck there, and 
that became my new favorite game, and a reason to escape to Vegas 
whenever I could talk him into it..  

By the end of our marriage, we were two full-blown alcoholics, but he 
was happy to do his drinking every night in front of the TV set.  I, on 
the other hand, wanted the action and excitement and fantasy of Las 
Vegas.  

One night I got into an argument with him, and ended up taking off in 
my car.  I was picked up by the police somewhere near Ontario, 
California, heading to L.A., yet I told the police I was driving to Vegas.  The 
fact that I had my housedress on and was drunk might have alerted the 
police to the veracity of my statement, and I spent that night in jail.

Toward the end of my second marriage, I had met my third husband-to-be, 
who was temporarily my "escape companion".  Why not?  He had no job, no 
ties.  Why wouldn't he hook up with this crazy alcoholic who had a car, 
and all she asked of him was to drive her to Vegas.  

When we'd first arrive, I would hit the tables and eventually pass out 
- sometimes in the casino (where I had to be carried to the room) - and 
sometimes waited til I was in the room. Inevitably, the next day I'd be 
suffering a mighty hangover and severe pangs of regret and guilt, and 
we'd morosely head back to the disapproving situation at home.

Sometime in 1986 I stopped drinking (after it quit working for me, and 
I had become suicidal).  Everyone predicted that I would want to leave 
my "companion" who was 14 years younger than I, a drug addict and 
unemployed. But I insisted that we were "in love" and it didn't matter if he 
continued to use and I had stopped; love would conquer all.

We probably WOULD have split up, if it hadn't been that I got pregnant 
(surprise!) at age 45, so now we had to stay together, and do the right 
thing.  So, here I was, a new mother (again), supporting my baby and my 
(by then) husband.  My only escape was the periodic trips to Vegas.  I 
wasn't drinking anymore, so that was good, but that hadn't stopped my 
desire to go to Vegas; in fact, it was stronger than ever.  You see, I 
didn't realize it, but my quitting drinking was possible because I 
simply substituted the one addiction for another - gambling.

A couple of years later, I decided "enough with these 12 trips a year 
to Vegas; let's move there".  Again, my husband had no reason not to.  I 
was able to retire from my county job, after 22 years of service and 
have a small retirement stipend, and made sure I had a new job awaiting 
me in Las Vegas before we moved here.

Some time after we moved here, my husband brought home one of those 
hand-held video poker machines.  I had never played poker before - only 
once, during a neighborhood friendly game, in which I had surprisingly 
won, with beginners' luck, not having any idea what I was doing.

But with this hand-held amazing little thing, I learned to hone my 
skills quite sharply.  Each time I went to a casino, it seemed that there 
were new and varied video poker games - double bonus, triple bonus, 
bonus deluxe, etc., etc.  In the last couple of years they added the three 
reels at a time, and now they even have 50 or 100 games you can play at 
a time.  It's mind-boggling!!

Now I had found the perfect answer to my female gambler's dream.  I 
didn't have to sit and make chit chat with the other players at the 21 
table.  It could be just me and my machine - my lover - for hours at a 
time.  No one to disturb us.  The cocktail waitress would come around and 
occasionally I'd have a grapefruit juice (liquor was out, of course).  
This is a little personal,  but I have to say that but sometimes I'd 
actually feel 
a mini-orgasm when I hit a jackpot.  Meanwhile, at home, my libido was 
practically non-existent.

Sometimes the other players' cigarette smoke would bother me, but 
usually I could even ignore that - especially if I had a "hot" machine.  I 
also loved it if they were playing the "right" music - usually some 
sultry and sensual, Marvin Gaye songs ("Let's Get it On"), etc., or hits 
from further back - at a time when I was young and innocent.  The 
atmosphere in the casino appealed to me too - dark, soft neon lights flashing 
here and there, beckoning "come, play me". No sense of time; no 
windows. The tinkling of ice cubes in glasses, people laughing in the 
background.  It was party time!

There has been a lot said and written about the commonalities of men 
and women gamblers - and their differences.  For many men, it's about 
being the "big shot", showing off, taking a chance and winning big in some 
cases.  For many women, it's more about escape and isolation.

There's one aspect, however, where this invisible dividing line blurs.  
When I say I didn't want to be a "big shot", why then was it so 
important to me to use my "player's card" at various casinos, and earn points, 
so I could have the so-called "freebies" - like free room nights, free 
meals, free shows?  

But more often than not, there's no such thing as a "freebie".  I 
remember about a year ago, when I lost my whole paycheck at a locals casino.  
A couple of days later I had no money, so my son and I went to the same 
casino and used some of my "points" to get a pizza in their Italian 
deli.  As we left, my son shouted out:  "Thanks for the f____ing $1,000 
pizza!"  (Out of the mouths of slightly jaded babes!)

A funny thing about my style of playing is I didn't want anyone to 
know if I hit a jackpot.  I wanted to just keep on playing - no 
congratulations or anything like that.  I was dead serious about this thing, and 
I didn't want anything to interfere with my play.  Many times I sat 
there for 7 or 8 hours straight, without even taking a bathroom break.  
When I did, it was nearly impossible to make it without having an 
accident.

So far I've concentrated on what I liked about being in the casinos.  
What didn't I like?  Well, I didn't like losing, and "chasing" my losses 
- or winning and yet not being able to quit until I'd put it all back.  
I didn't like trying to get money out of a bank machine, and being told 
"Unable to complete transaction".  

I didn't like looking at myself in the bathroom mirror and seeing this 
stranger, wild eyed, with mussed up hair, confused and scared looking.  
Can you believe that even looking like this, some men actually "hit on 
me"?  I guess it was a matter of recognizing what they thought was 
"easy prey".  But I never resorted to that.  That was one of those "not 
yets".  Not saying that it couldn't have happened - just that it didn't.

Worst of all, I hated coming home to anger and sadness, disappointment 
- my husband and my child looking forlorn and lost. What happened, 
Mommy?  Where was the pizza you said you'd bring home?  

Even when I had won, they usually weren't that happy - unless I gave my 
husband some money so he could do what he wanted (gamble - or buy 
drugs), and get my son a new Play Station game or something like that, or 
say, "It's OK, you don't need to go to school today."  He learned 
manipulation from the best teachers - me and his father.

I've managed to hit two milestones here while living in Las Vegas - of 
over a year "bet free", but I never got much further than that.  
Looking back, I think it was because I thought I didn't deserve any kind of 
success.  I was worthless.  

For the most part, I hadn't really applied the 12 steps to my life  - I 
just went on with it, usually as the martyr, until the pressure got so 
great and life looked so hopeless, that I had to go out and release my 
escape valve.  All the pain and remorse of the past temporarily 
disappeared, in my pursuit of the fantasyland escape - the immediate fix, not 
thinking about the long term effects.

The worst thing about living in Las Vegas and being a compulsive 
gambler is that the gambling is so accessible - you don't even have to think 
twice about it - just hop in your car and go.  Even the 7-11 around the 
corner has a few machines (although I liked to  stick to the casino 
atmosphere, as I mentioned above) 

The best thing about living in Las Vegas and being a compulsive gambler 
is that there's all kinds of help - if you want it.  There are 24 hour 
GA meetings and people who know exactly what  you're going through.

I choose right now to stay in Las Vegas, because I happen to love so 
many things about life here.  I especially am drawn to its history (yes, 
Las Vegas does have a history!) and I write about it at every 
opportunity.  I'm excitedly looking forward to 2005 when this city will 
celebrate its 100th anniversary.  I'd very much like to be a part of that.

Is it stupid for me to remain here?  Maybe so. Maybe not.  One of my 
arguments is that gambling is available in just about any state now, and 
certainly in Europe.  But the facts are, it isn't as attractive to me 
anywhere else - not even Reno or Laughlin - certainly not Atlantic City. 
Something about being here in this jewel in the middle of the desert 
has me totally mesmerized and hypnotized.
  
I look at the new games the casinos are offering - anything from Betty 
Boop to Austin Powers to the Addams Family, and now Popeye - and I 
wonder where it's all leading.  It's definitely luring kids, and I 
understand teenagers are being swept up by gambling - as much as drugs or 
alcohol.  What's the answer?  Blow up the casinos?  Make a new kind of 
prohibition?  Probably not.  People will always seek their pleasures - in 
one form or another.  They will be errant children. And some can get 
their pleasures in "safe" measures - not gambling more than they can 
afford, not becoming suicidal.

I don't have anything really against gambling or drinking per se - I 
just can't do it.  Can I stay here in Las Vegas and fight my demons?  
Only time will tell, but I'm willing to give it another try.



Postscript, for the members of "Safe Harbor."

I wrote the above around 2003 or so.  Since then, I've published a book 
on the history of Las Vegas - so one of my dreams did come true.  I 
worked on it mostly when I was "bet-free" - for a period of about a year 
and a half.  

I had a relapse after that year and a half and it took almost six 
months to realize that I was in "deeper than ever."  As other people have 
said - when you return to gambling after a period of abstinence - you 
don't pick up where you left off - you gamble as if you'd been doing it 
all along - and the stakes become higher.  I fed those twenty dollar 
bills into the machines as if they were Monopoly money.

Ironically, when I'm not gambling, I'm one of the world's worst 
penny-pinchers - cutting out coupons, looking for bargains, etc., ordering 
water instead of a drink at restaurants, etc.  But in the casino, all that 
changed!!

So, I'm probably starting to bore you now.  Thanks for 
listening/reading!!!

Judy