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  • There is a story in the slot machines which line the halls and gates of the Las Vegas Airport. A story about final opportunities and a desire to not let go of the dream of lady luck before returning to the reality of life.

    That however is not my story.

    My story of slot machines is well, frankly much more dull.

    I am a terrible gambler. Both in talent and interest. My story involves me making a point of ignoring the smell of the nearest ashtray as I push buttons to make lights flash. After loosing whatever money I put into the machine after five or ten minutes, I decide that I am incredibly bored and leave in search of something more interesting like food; or sleep; or people watching, standing back and observing the ongoing Vegas celebration of random chance and inebriation.
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