I walk into a new antique store in town and make the walk-thru, scanning the shelves for ashtrays or ziplock bags full of vintage chips, making sure all of the coin-holders in the locked cases actually contain coins.

I finally strike paydirt in the rack of postcards. Lots of mundane PC's of places nobody in their right mind would go on vacation, but a few generic, late 50's, early 60's Las Vegas cards. So, I gather anything remotely linked to Las Vegas and make my way to the checkout counter.

The owner is getting a customer to write her name down so he can call her about a piece of furniture, so I take out a business card and scribble "Casino chips....casino ashtrays" on the back. When it's my turn to check out I hand it to him and his eyes light up.

"Casino chips!! You are going to be so glad you came in here!!"

He goes on to tell me that his father and his uncle both worked in Las Vegas as bellhops and they received a lot of chips as tips. I don't know why they wouldn't just cash them in each day, but according to my newfound friend, they would just throw them into a big coffee can. My new best friend, who I would estimate is in his late 30's, now has possession of this potential pot at the end of the antique store rainbow.

I try to maintain my composure and not act too excited, but interested enough that he WILL call me when he finds the can of chips.

So, how do I sleep until he calls me? When I close my eyes I have visions of an overflowing coffee can of obsolete chips dancing in my head as the dealer tells me he'll take no less than $30 for the entire lot.

Oh, I know it won't turn out that way. He'll never call back. Or, he'll call Monday morning and tell me that his wife threw the can out six months ago. Or, he found the can and it contains a dozen slot tokens from the Horseshoe. Or, it will be an actual can full of obsolete chips that he'll have priced at several times TCR values.

But until he calls, I'm holding onto my dream.

Hey, it's cheaper than buying a lottery ticket!