I enjoyed driving through beautiful desert landscape and made a mental shopping list of what I was going to buy with the millions I planned to win. (On penny machines?) I texted my friend upon arrival and she was already in full gaming mode. She told me a key was waiting for me at the front desk and to go ahead and drop off my stuff then meet her in the casino. I could feel the pull of my favorite machine, so I rushed in, got the key, threw my suitcase on the bed and headed out.
To get from Point A (Hotel) to Point B (Casino) you have to walk down a long (and I mean long) corridor. It took forever before the exciting sound of jackpots reached my ears. I found my friend and we chatted for a few seconds then went our separate ways due to different tastes in slots. Thirsty from the corridor journey, I ordered a coke before allowing a video poker machine to suck up my first twenty.
Not only would I have to leave a good machine, but also go back through that never ending corridor. I walked at a pretty good clip, making terrific time. I thanked the desk clerk and decided to call my friend and let her know all was well and would be back shortly. (I was exhausted and planned on sitting in the lobby for a few minutes) I reached in my purse but the cell phone wasn't there. Thinking it may have settled on the bottom, I rummaged through the notepads, Kleenex, and who knows what else, but nada. My pants pocket? Nada.
When I left to pick up the IPad left from the front desk, I left my cell phone on the video poker machine. I had to get my phone before someone grabbed it. (It was a brand new Blackberry replacing the one I had previously left on another machine ... at another casino.) I almost cried. Garnering as much strength as possible, I sprinted (okay, walked fast) down the corridor of coronaries. My brow was dripping wet by the time I reached the machine, mascara flowing down my cheeks. No phone. The security office was on the on the opposite end of the casino, but raw fear propelled me to get there before my chubby legs gave out. In a Marilyn Monroe (breathless) voice, I asked the guard if a cell phone had been turned in. Holding up a purple case with a white label, he said, "Patti J. Smith, right?" Jackpot!