Kapiolani Community College
Diamond Journal 2004

Guess How My Cookie Crumbled
Brent Kaneshiro

“Thank you very much, Mr. Kaneshiro,” the pit boss remarked. “Better luck next time.”

“ Luck, what luck?” I remember replying as I stood up from my chair and watched my seat cushion morph back to its original shape after being deflated for two straight hours.

“ My luck’s on vacation,” I muttered walking away from the table. It must be on a separate one because I haven’t seen it all week!
Exhausted, irritable, and demoralized, the waning moments of my getaway neared an end as I wandered aimlessly in search for answers; answers to the same questions I had asked myself on previous vacations. How could I do this to myself? What was I thinking? What was I going to do, and what will my girlfriend do to me when she finds out? It is five thirty in the morning. I am just about flat broke, and I’m in Las Vegas.

They claim that staying in downtown Las Vegas is not unlike vacationing back in Hawaii. An abundance of locals, plate lunches, and service with aloha are supposedly part of the attraction and appeal of the California Hotel and Casino. So, amongst these inviting claims, why did the pit bosses and dealers appear more like wardens and prison guards? Why was I hiding from family and acquaintances, and why had I not eaten in twenty four hours? They did it to me again! They drained my wallet! I felt as deflated as that seat cushion.

At five thirty in the morning, the California Hotel’s casino floor isn’t exactly bustling with droves of energetic gamblers. Three quarters of the table games are shut down, and the ones that are open are manned with dealers smirking with each other as the remaining disheartened gamblers limp by while heading for the elevator doors. The only noise prominent were the sounds of countless coins clattering into metal buckets as workers hauled away and counted the daily take before depositing it in the casino’s bank accounts. The cocktail waitress can be heard from across the casino floor. “Cocktails…..Cigarettes?” If I had a nickel for every time I heard these two words in unison, I would be even for the trip. “Give me a double of anything you got,” I said to the lone waitress as she passed by. I might as well, I thought, the bus leaves for the airport in two hours. I had not begun to pack, and I just crapped out for what seems like the thousandth time. I drowned my sorrows with a few drinks as I crawled toward the elevator doors. While waiting for my drink, hind site reveals a significant choice was about to be made. I could either cash out the hundred and five dollars in chips that I somehow managed to not lose, or search for my elusive luck one last time. Needless to say, I chose the latter.

Finally the waitress arrived. What took her so long, I wondered to myself? I couldn’t imagine she had a bunch of orders at this hour. Well, I certainly wasn’t going to tip her a five dollar chip as I had customarily done in the past, so I fumbled through my pockets in search of a dollar bill. Besides, this sobering trip had just transformed me into a miser. “Just my luck,” I remembered “no buck.” I found my room key, some loose change, and a few chips belonging to another casino. I kept the chips; she got a dollar in change. Lastly, while rummaging through my last pocket (the small one within the front pockets of your jeans) I found a little strip of paper I had long forgotten about.

Flash back a few days ago: my golf buddies and I had arrived in Las Vegas two hours before check in. With a few hours to kill, a handful of us had decided to hit the buffet before tackling the crap tables. Upon finishing our meals one of the wives dropped a handful of fortune cookies, which she had grabbed from the Chinese food station, on to our table. Each of us had eaten a cookie, halfheartedly read our fortune, and began to nonchalantly toss it aside.

I, on the other hand, hesitated while pondering for a second. “Why are there six numbers on the bottom of my fortune?” I asked.

The woman who brought the cookies replied, “Oh, those are lucky numbers that are supposed to entice you to drop a load of cash on their Keno game.” Never the less, her explanation didn’t stop me from tossing it in with the others. We all proceeded to get up and appease our real appetites by hitting the casino tables. As we left the dining area, the fortune-cookie women ran up to me holding my crumpled fortune in her hand and asked, “Aren’t you going to play the numbers on your fortune?” “No one else found numbers in their cookies: your six might be lucky?” I thanked her for her ridiculous notion as I politely accepted it, folded it, and shoved it in my pocket, thinking I’ll probably use it later to discard my old gum.

Four days later, the only thing to survive this heinous trip were the hundred some odd dollars that I had in chips, and a now wrinkled, half faded fortune with six virgin Keno numbers. What the hell I thought, let’s hammer that last nail in the coffin and prove once and for all that I am the most unlucky person in Vegas. Without hesitation, I splashed my remaining chips on the counter, and bought a Keno ticket from the cashier.
Before heading back to my room, I had just one thought. “When was the last time anyone hit a big jackpot?” I asked the cashier.

“ Three weeks ago some lady hit a four thousand dollar Keno card by picking five out of five numbers,” he replied. “We don’t see winners like that very often.”

He quickly reminded me why I had never played this game before. I told him I had a hundred and five dollars in chips and asked what to do. He suggested playing a six number card, twenty games, at five dollars a crack. Doing so would provide me time to pack while the games took place. Upon the twentieth game he instructed me to bring my card back to the window to reveal if I had won anything.

Most casinos will devote a channel on your room television to a Keno screen. Before I began packing, I chose to turn on this dedicated station in order to keep track of my numbers. An hour passed, my packing was done, and I kept nodding off to sleep while remaining fixated on the Keno screen. It wasn’t long before I fell asleep, after all, I had been up over twenty four hours pulling off a marathon money losing session in the casino.

My unlucky streak would continue as the phone rang, prematurely awakening me from a much needed slumber. It was my father reminding me to meet downstairs before heading off to the airport. “I will be right down,” I mumbled as I peered at the Keno station fighting through my blurred vision. Upon focusing on the screen, something began puzzling me. The Keno cashier insisted that all twenty games would be completed in an hour and a half, giving me more than enough time to turn in my card before leaving for the airport. Looking at the television revealed that I had nine more games to go. Just my luck again! The bus was departing for the airport soon, denying me of enough time for the remaining games. That is when the unimaginable happened. I pulled out my Keno receipt and proceeded to match my numbers with the screen.

My first number was a match, no big deal. The second and third numbers also hit. I discovered the fourth one, now I knew I was in the money, fifteen dollars worth to be exact. How about that, I thought, the fifth was on there as well signifying a few hundred bucks. Then it happened. A surge of adrenaline sped through my veins as I matched the sixth and final number revealing a perfect Keno card. This is not happening I said to myself. I must be dreaming! Any minute now the phone is going to ring waking me from this cruel dream. I had often dreamt of winning a jackpot, this was surely no different. I turned on the lights and reached for my watered down Crown and Coke I brought up almost two hours ago. I took a big swig. It tasted like Crown and Coke, and I can’t recall ever tasting anything in a dream before. I pinched my arm as hard as I could, revealing little doubt. “Holy $$$$,” I screamed. I was really awake!

It was later revealed that the delay in the keno games was due to my winning ticket. The pause on the Keno screen signified that someone hit a substantial amount of money and they needed to check the videos to confirm who placed the bet before proceeding to the next game. Imagine me, walking up to the Keno window tugging my suitcase, carry on, and golf bag, redeeming a winning ticket that would pull me out of the red after four straight days of donations. It goes without saying that the feeling was as surreal as picking six correct numbers. What were the odds? What if I my fortune had remained on the lunch table? What if I hadn’t worn those jeans? I kept asking myself “what if.”

“ How would you like your winnings Mr. Kaneshiro?” the cashier asked. “We could wire it to your bank account, cut you a cashier’s check, or give you cash.”

“ I prefer one stack of high society!” I replied. What a feeling, what a wonderful casino full of pleasant and cordial employees.

“ I love this place!” I told the pit boss as he congratulated me on my winnings. “I can’t wait to come back. Damn, I’m hungry, and where’s that cocktail waitress?” I owe her four more bucks!

“YOUR TROUBLES WILL CEASE AND FORTUNE WILL SMILE UPON YOU”
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:SIX OUT OF SIX- $10,000 = “ONE STACK OF HIGH SOCIETY”