Casinos are designed to rob their patrons of all sense of time. No windows. No clocks. It’s same noisy, smoke-filled environment 24 hours a day, seven days a week and 365 days a year. In the corner sat a broken older woman hunched over a nickel slot machine.
Ida May Monroe loved gambling as much as she hated sin. Not that she would notice the irony in that last sentence.
She sat in front of her favorite slot machine, pulling the handle while smoking and huffing on her oxygen. The odds of her hitting a jackpot were much less than her blowing up the casino, but she didn’t care. She loved her slots. Explosions be damned.
Hour after hour she pumped nickels into her lucky slot machine. Occasionally it would throw her a bone. But most of the time, she just fed the hungry beast. Some women joined the garden club. Some women joined the Junior League. Not Ida May. She fed her slot machine, waiting for the day it would love her back and reward her with a jackpot.
“Fiddlesticks.” Ida May cursed. Since she did not believe in sin (at least her interpretation of sin) she did not use stronger language. Her language was as watered down as the free drinks the waitress gave her. The wheels stopped spinning and locked into place: “Bar,” “Double Bar” and “Diamond.” Another three nickels in the beast’s belly.
An older gentleman sat down next to her. Ida May looked at him suspiciously to make sure he wasn’t trying to horn in on her machine. Her lucky machine. He smiled at her, stuck his players card in his machine and started feeding his Social Security check to it one nickel at a time.
Ida May put three more nickels in her machine and pulled the lever. Some people were button people but not her. She still liked the old fashioned feel of pulling the lever. The wheels spun and locked in their familiar way. What wasn’t familiar was what the wheels read:
“Change” “Your” “Life”
Ida May looked around and then up at the security camera. This had to be a joke. Candid Camera or one of the prank shows. “Ha ha, you got me you bastages,” she loudly proclaimed to no one. The old man next to her looked at like she had lost her mind. She was wondering if she had. She once more reached into her cup, put in three more nickels and pulled the lever:
“Stop” “Smoking” “Now.”
Fool Ida May once but never twice. She yelled, “AWRIGHT WISE GUY! COME OUT NOW.” She expected Alan Funt’s great grandson to pop out and say “You’re on Candid Camera” or some such nonsense. The old man, sensing she was a loon, started to get up and move.
“Come here, sir.” Ida May yelled at the now freaked-out man. He sheepishly came over to her machine. She commanded, “Pull this lever.” He did as she demanded and three bars came up, winning Ida May $10 in nickels. Ida May handed him the nickels and thanked him.
“Mother Fudge. Someone must have put something in my free drink,” she cursed.
She pumped three more nickels in the machine and pulled the lever again.
“Call” “Your” “Daughter”
Ida May fanned herself rapidly. She felt her pulse rise. Who in this casino would know she and her only daughter were estranged? This was starting to become a cruel joke. She pulled the lever again now, as much out of rage as curiosity.
“Save” “Yourself” “Now”
She pulled it again:
“Love” “Is” “Answer”
Tears flowed down the old woman’s lined face.
She extinguished her last cigarette and put her last three nickels in her lucky slot machine. Her shaking hand pulled the lever and the wheels spun one last time.
“7” “7” “7”
Bells rang and coins rained down. Ida May reached into her purse and pulled out her cellphone. She dialed a number she had not dialed in years. A younger version of her voice answered and said, “Mom?”
It was the biggest jackpot in the casino’s history. All thanks to Ida May’s lucky slot machine.
