BE PREPARED: NEVER WEAR PLATFORM SHOES TO DEAL CRAPS !

Remember Monte Hall and his zany, old TV show, "LET'S MAKE A DEAL?" Some people liked the wacky outfits the potential contestants would wear. Others liked the suspense of the "big deal," three-curtain choice that climaxed each episode...but not me. I loved the last few minutes of nearly every show in which Monte would go to arbitrary audience members and would offer to pay cash for odd-ball items. For this possibility women especially, would stuff their bags with an insane assortment of minutia. That way, they'd be ready when Monte would say to a random person, "I'll give you $50.00 for a fountain pen," or "I'll give you $5.00 for every cancelled check you have." It was a rarity that somebody would actually have what Monte asked for...yet they'd all search even though they knew they didn't have any paper clips, foreign stamps or photos of zoo animals. Think about it, how could anyone EVER prepare for that.

The Boy Scout motto; BE PREPARED is little more that a truism. On its face, it sounds like it covers all the bases but in reality, its just a slogan and quite an ambiguous one at that. When my son Andrew was in the scouts, he was given a check-list of things to bring during to the world re-known sleep-out with dad. Perhaps as camping first-timers we were supposed to think "outside the box" but my pioneer spirit has left me long ago. Therefore, there was no way, I would ever think to bring an actual mattress, our own three square meals or a fire hose with a fifty yard range to put out the stokies, the dads in the cigar club smoked after "lights-out.".

Another time that I was unprepared involved disco-platform shoes. It was back in the 70's and I saw a close-friend walking awkwardly yet with a forced confidence, in those dreadful platform shoes. He of course was being trendy but I only saw the humor of a tough jock walking like he had a cue-stick up his butt. Unfortunately for me, I then realized he was on his way to his girlfriend's house and far worse, I was playing H-O-R-S-E with an eleven year-old.

By the time I broke down and bought two pairs of disco shoes; brown ones and black ones, the style was on its way out. In 1979, when I landed in Las Vegas to start my gaming career, those shoes were both passe AND in my suitcase. Still, regardless of this fashion faux-pas, we were taught that dealers HAD to wear black shoes so, I felt prepared.

PLATFORM, DISCO-ERA SHOES, WERE NEVER INTENDED FOR CRAPS DEALERS.

When I hit town, a gracious friend and current reader of this column, UOMO let me and a few other Vegas newcomers from our dealer school sleep on the floor of his apartment. In the time between arriving and getting a job, I became friendly with another floor-sleeper named John Haverlo. And John said when he gets an apartment, I'd be welcome to stay on the sofa (a big up-grade from the floor) until his wife came out from Poughkeepsie.

THE NEW YORK SCHOOL of GAMBLING'S placement service arranged my job as a craps dealer at the SLOTS-A-FUN Casino. My school had such a reputation for high quality students that I was hired without the traditional audition (try-out). More importantly, the "Fashion -Police" didn't question my platform shoes. Mr. Boyle, the casino's manager even "let" me get my "feet wet" by working me about forty minutes AND he didn't even charge me for the privilege! In that short time, I was inspired by their support.

That night, John Haverlo told me he might be moving into a place on Van Patten Street. Of course I was new to town and had NO IDEA where it was. He said, "If I take the place tomorrow, while you're at work, I'll take your stuff over there, (he didn't call my stuff; stuff...he called his shit; stuff...and my stuff; shit).

You can almost say every day in Las Vegas is bright and sunny. The next day was no exception. Even though it was chilly (January...1-11-79), when I got off the city bus at 9:45AM, at twenty-three years old, I radiated in confidence and enthusiasm as if I had life by the throat, (in the next 30+ years, I doubt I ever felt that way again).

Like any break-in (newbie) craps dealer, I was so nervous, I couldn't do anything right. Before I would realize that this would be the longest day in my life, the storm clouds literally AND figuratively moved in. I wasn't even half way through that first shift when the disco shoes started annihilating my feet. By three that afternoon it started to drizzle. By that time, I was a solid mass of perspiration and blisters began developing on my feet.

It was around that time that John walked into the casino. He witnessed Mr. Boyle combine a rare and intense knowledge of profanity, while loudly providing me with "constructive criticism" in front of the players and staff I NEEDED...I was mortified...John laughed. John was experiencing a similar "impatience" at his job too...but regardless of whether its the "nature of the beast" or not, NOBODY should be treated that way.

On my break, I was too delirious with the shame of inadequacy to ask John the right questions. He just said, "I took the apartment." He told me the address and that its in walking distance, "Across the street, up Riviera, left on Paradise, to Karen Avenue. Its near the "big" Hilton, you can't miss it."

I left work in a misty rain. At first, the near-freezing temperatures felt good on my sweaty body. The cross street after Riviera was two "city" blocks away. Each step I took, aggravated the blisters on my feet more. At Paradise Road, (a funny name for a street), in front of me to the right, was the big Hilton International Casino's property. It was rimmed by a huge vacant lot. Along its left side, I saw the Karen Avenue sign. The monstrous size of the Hilton on my right dwarfed Slots-A-Fun and held my attention so that when I got to the next street (Joe W. Brown Drive that led to the Hilton's back entrance), I walked that way.

Being NEAR the big Hilton and turning down a street John didn't mention, are two different things. First, had I gone straight on Karen, I would have seen several residential streets in a row, with Van Patten being the third. Secondly, across from Hilton was the walled, Las Vegas Country Club. Thirdly, I went past the Hilton without asking for help.

Joe W. Brown snaked on a 45 degree angle which for some reason led me to thing I was getting close. Before reality set-in, I turned to see the Hilton already in the distance behind me. I was screwed. Then I was screwed worse when four bombs fell on me; it started to pour, my foot blisters erupted, I had to pee and the sidewalk had been broken up, (there was no sidewalk on the Hilton side and the constant flow of vehicular traffic prevented me from walking in the street). Luckily, I didn't turn an ankle, but still, tip-toeing through the broken cement and mud made every step agony on my feet.

MY EPIC WALK STARTED ACROSS LAS VEGAS BOULEVARD TO THE LEFT OF THE "R" IN RIVIERA. THREE BLOCKS TO THE RIGHT OF THE STAR (above) ON KAREN AVENUE WAS VAN PATTEN. INSTEAD, I WENT DOWN JOE W. BROWN DRIVE TO DESERT INN ROAD, THEN ACROSS MARYLAND PARKWAY (not seen on map), BACK TO KAREN AND FINALLY TO VAN PATTEN.

I was back on solid pavement at the next cross street; Desert Inn Road. Stupidly, I kept walking around the perimeter of the country club. At the gate to the club I asked a security guard. He said it would be fastest to walk through the club but he couldn't let me cut through and couldn't even let me in to use a toilet. He pointed to Maryland Parkway and said, "Make a left to Karen and there's an Arco station with a clean bathroom right there."

The unnecessary leg of my journey to which I was unprepared, added over an hour to my longest work day. When John saw me, I was a broken, wet, frozen, limping, tired and depressed man...in platform disco shoes.

When I think back. If I had been prepared to pick Monte Hall's metaphoric middle curtain, (murder Mr. Boyle earlier that day), my life would have been so much better. Boyle was so heinous to me that day that any sane jury would have recognized it as justifiable homicide so...if I would have gotten twenty years...I would have already been "out" for ten--PLUS, my feet and emotional well-being would never have suffered the pain and anxiety it knew and still know !