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Barney Vinson Gaming Guru - Page 3  The Blues15 July 2005
I had been in Las Vegas for two years, bouncing from job to job like a Mexican jumping bean. Pioneer Club: two weeks. Weekend radio gig: three months. Mint Hotel: year and a half. Landmark: one week. Don't ask me why, but I'd left the comforts and confines of the Mint to go to work at the brand new Landmark. ... (read more)
A Death in the Family3 June 2005
I was in Vegas. My dad was in Texas. I was dealing craps at the Mint. He was in the hospital in San Antonio. I'd written him a letter, and a week later he called me on the phone. He sounded like he always did, like he was as healthy as a horse. We talked for almost half an hour, and now I can't remember hardly any of it. ... (read more)
Recuperating2 May 2005
An appendicitis attack had sent me to the hospital, and now I was home: appendix-free. I recuperated for two weeks. There was nothing to do but watch TV, watch the girls out by the pool, watch the neon marquee at the Sands every night, which I could see from my apartment window. Sinatra was playing there, and for me it was like rubbing shoulders with royalty. ... (read more)
Tragedy Strikes3 April 2005
I was dealing craps at the Mint one afternoon when my stomach started burning. My first thought was that I shouldn't have eaten that third bowl of clam chowder in the help's hall. Then my head started aching. That's it, I knew what it was. I had the flu! It was going around like the plague, anyway, and now I had it, dammit. ... (read more)
Christine11 March 2005
I was dealing craps at the Mint Hotel in Vegas. I was making a lot of mistakes, but the joint was still open for business so I couldn't have been that bad. Well . . . maybe I was. I was dealing one day when this don't player said to me, "Take my bet down behind the six."
It was the first time anything ... (read more)
Dad6 February 2005
Here I was in Vegas, dealing at the Mint Hotel and living in my very own apartment. I'd written my dad to tell him where I was, but he never wrote back, and he'd always been good about staying in touch. One morning I couldn't get him out of my mind, so I called him on the phone. There was no answer. ... (read more)
Visitors From Home1 January 2005
The year was 1977. Jimmy Carter was in the White House and I was in Las Vegas, dealing craps at the Mint Hotel and living in my new apartment at the Outrigger, Apartment 3B. The first thing I did after I got settled was write all my friends back in Texas and give them my new address. Hell, I'd been gone now ... (read more)
The Outrigger20 December 2004
Here I was in Vegas, dealing at the Mint Hotel, doing a disc jockey show on weekends, and having the time of my life. I was living good, eating good, making friends, making money, walking around the casino like I owned the place. "There he is," I'd hear a change girl say to one of her friends. "He's the one on the radio." Things were finally going my way, and just in time. ... (read more)
Hustling28 November 2004
When I was breaking in at the Mint I must've been the hardest-working chump in Vegas. Forty hours a week dealing craps, working double shifts on weekends, and doing a disc jockey show Saturday and Sunday mornings at a radio station.
The show ended at noon, which was when my shift started at the Mint. ... (read more)
Surviving in Vegas28 October 2004
Here I was, almost 30 years old, all my old friends working at great jobs with great benefits and great futures, and me? I was a student dealer at the Mint Hotel in Las Vegas, scratching out a living at $14 a day. If it wasn't for the free food and a 20-minute break every hour, I would've probably fled back to Texas, my tail between my legs.
... (read more)
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