I hung out with Tim today. It was your typical: "wanna head out" sorta deal. And since the topic of my current housing situation did not pop into the conversation, I did not bother to to offer up the subject. Out of sight, or of mind, well at least his.
He was in a good mood and was rapidly telling me about his promotion. I just didn't have it in me to lay this on him. I know had I, he would have tried to help. And at the very least offered a couch, but his place is maxed as it is. As a friend in return I know better. My mess, not his.
On a lighter note, since we had no plans, we went to The Meadows. Yeah, I wasn't keen on the idea. I'm not exactly in a fiscal position to burn cash for the fun of it. But I have nothing but time, and a mere five bucks won't break the bank just yet.
Part of me wishes I had been firmer about going in his car. Although I had just tanked up, I really wasn't thrilled to see my gas being chewed through. But if the past is any indicator, when possible, alternate transport is preferred if Tim and I head out on a random adventure. Even if this time we didn't cross any state lines.
Ah, The Meadow, so classy... Strike that. It looks almost like a Phipps Conservatory made out of opaque beige canvas and fiberglass The place is being housed in a glorified tent. It looks part circus, part Ali Babah, part soft-serve ice cream - minus the curl at the top. And all the gimpy spots were parked-up. So, like I said, I got a good look at the place on the approach.
It looks decent on the inside. By that I mean, "Off the Strip" Vegas style. Where the locals, not the tourists, burn their pay. You are there to spend not mouth-breathe and look at all the things that sparkle; there are none. The carpet is busy, the ceiling is bare black, the air is hazy and the machines are loud and bright. Oh the fun of it all.
Old people. So many old people...took all the damn cripple parking! It was a sea of blue rinses and turkey necks. Standing at the end of a row, I had this really creepy sensation. Seeing every stool taken by those 70-some and above, each with their player's club cards pined to the shirt and stretching into the machine in front of them. It was like a flashback to the Matrix. As if the machines kept them alive, tethered to the through those springy white chords. They live only as long as they continue to play and pay. Or is it the other way around? Where they really Borg!
Then I plopped down next to Tim at a mid evil-themed video slots machine, plugged in my own player's club card, and feed it my money. Ah, I was now part of the Collective. Oddly enough it sorta felt good. Mindlessly pushing "bet" over and over.
Ironic, given the circumstances, that luck was actually with me. I cashed out with around $100 from that first machine, after only playing the five I had limited myself to. Feeling much better for the time being, I took $25 of that as my new limit, and pocketed the rest. And while I lost the whole of that new spending cap, I still came out ahead.
It is always good to have a little more "cash on hand". As long as I kept my self control, I can make my funds last. While I wont starve, we had Chinese food after the the slots parlor, I may just loose some weight. What can I say, I still have a nagging habit of looking for the bright side. So maybe I am nuts.
I never seem to sink into the red with Tim, I was up $70 last time too!