My First Visit to a Casino

The Summer of 1990, I was 21 years old, and had just graduated from college, I was starting Law School in August. I was living with my parents in New City, NY, just a short drive to nearby Manhattan (I could be in Manhattan in 30 minutes but rush hour traffic can make it 2 hours.) A friend had hooked me up with a summer job in the medicare-billing department of a national laboratory service in Rockleigh, NJ just over the New York border.

This was the first summer that most of my friends were now of drinking age and I spent much of that summer hanging out and drinking. Most weekends would probably include a visit to my friend Eric’s basement. Eric Lehrfeld and I had been friends and teammates since Freshmen Year of High School. He always claimed that he beat me up in junior high school but I honestly don’t recall meeting him before high school. Though I never would have referred to Eric as my closest friend, he undoubtedly had more influence on my taste in books, movies, and music than any other friend. Once I turned sixteen and was able to drive, Eric’s basement became the place were we would hang out. This was largely because Eric’s parents never seemed to come down there. And Eric’s basement became the site of frequent poker games throughout high school and then during vacations and summers after we went off to college. As soon as we would get back from college the first thing we would do is set up a game. (although we started out at the same college we rarely saw each other there and after two years he transferred to NYU).

These poker games were for small stakes, but we often ended up playing ridiculous games in which the pot grew exponentially and it was not uncommon to see $100 in the pot. It was a friendly game and it hardly seemed like gambling. The point was to hang out with friends; poker was just the background music. The only other gambling we did was an occasional trip to the Meadowlands for harness racing. I will never forget the day when Eric called in sick to work (we all worked at the local Shop Rite back then) so that he could come with us to the track. O f course we ran into our manager at the track and the whole thing was like a rerun of a Flintstones episode (Imagine Mr. Slate hollering "FLINTSTONE ! ! !").

So back to the story. . . Eric’s aunt had a condo down in Cape May, which she was letting him use for the weekend. He invited me to come down with him (and we would later be met by his friend Alone Yarone – that was actually his name). I never was one for the beach, but I figured we’d hang out, drink, smoke and just relax and I didn’t know when I would next get that opportunity. So Friday came I cashed my paycheck and a soon as work was done Eric and I took off for the shore. I’d never been to Cape May or nearby Wildwood Crest before so I didn’t know what to expect. We got down to the condo, lit up and headed out out to find a bar. We found a bar that looked interesting and I don’t remember much of that evening except that I saw some guy in a Scottish Kilt and the whole getup dancing to a Latin Swing band (OK I’m not sure if I really saw this or if I smoked to much).

The next day Alone met up with us and we hung out around the Condo during the day. As evening came, we headed out to Wildwood Crest and the Boardwalk. I don’t remember much from the boardwalk except that it was about 1:00 A.M. when either Eric or Alone said “Let’s go to A.C.” I didn’t even know what they were talking about. I didn’t even want to go, but I didn’t have much choice since they were going.

It seemed like only a half hour later we were walking into Resort’s (which still had pictures of Merv all over the place). Even though I was pretty tired, walking into the casino instantly revived me. I’d never been in a casino before and it seemed like it was day time with all the lights and the bells going off and people. We walked around and eventually I worked up the courage to buy a roll of quarters. Slowly and carefully I dropped my quarters into a machine, and in no time I had lost it all. Out comes anther ten dollars and another roll of quarters. Halfway through I hit a jackpot, OK it wasn’t really a jackpot, but it would have been had I actually put in all three quarters, but still I hit for something like $50. Ok now I got some money so its time to check out the tables. I watched some guys playing craps, but couldn’t figure out what the heck was going on. Eventually I found Eric at a blackjack table. I watched him for a while, it wasn’t like the version of blackjack we played in his basement and I was scared to sit down and embarrass myself. Eventually I sat down at a $10 table with twenty dollars in chips. I had no idea what I was doing but I had worked my $20 to $140 and was hovering around that number. Alone (who by the way was only 18) came up behind me and started telling me how to play the hands, this really annoyed me and I suggested that he go play his own games. He told me he was broke, so I lent him $70 to get him to leave me alone (If you see him please remind him he still owes me this money.) When I finally left the casino I was up $70 (plus the $70 I gave Alone). I wasn’t collecting chips back then or I probably would have left without any cash.

Although it was many years before I stepped into a casino again, I never again was scared to sit down at a table.

Throughout Law School, vacations always lead to a poker game in Eric’s basement, and after I graduated, whenever I was in New City I was hanging out with Eric, but by 1997 I had moved up to Albany for good. After a little while I lost touch with Eric. From time to time I would think of Eric and say “I should give him a call” but I always put it off till "tomorrow". Mom mentioned that she ran into Eric’s Mom and he was getting married. “I should give him a call” I thought . . . “tomorrow”.

Okay so at this point you are probably asking . . . Why is he blathering on about this? . . . One year ago today my old friend was killed at the World Trade Center.

I post this not to mourn my friend, but to remember him, and as a reminder that you might not be able to call “tomorrow”.

Photo Eric
http://www.cnn.com/SPECIALS/2001/memorial/people/4108.html

Photo of Eric's wife and daughter
http://www.newyorkreview.com/TheWireDec10.html