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.
And I’m right there with them...
Casino culture, with all its rules and regulations, is a strange enough lifestyle choice to fall into, but even the lives of the daytime players pales in comparison to those sleepless vampires that come out at 3 a.m. The hardcore gambling addicts, the wicked somnambulists and the eagerly effusive just looking for something to do, head to Remington Park this late into the night, playing until the sun comes up, winning or losing never meaning much to anyone.