Remington Park, 3 a.m.
It was a chilly April night, only a few weeks before a cerebral hemorrhage tried to take my life, and, more importantly, miss the deadline for this story. The casino side of the parking lot is full of cars, but there’s not a single soul hanging around outside. But inside…inside a large enough contingency is hanging out in the air conditioning, wired all night on free soda pop and costly ciggs while robotically pushing buttons on the slot machines as the city sleeps around them.