Casino’s have to be among the most depressing places on earth. Souless, pointless, and very abrasive. I suppose once you get up into the really high stakes stuff, there is an electricity that is hard to do without once experienced. But you don’t really need a casino for that kind of fun. It’s those pale-faced, comfortably-numb Zombies plonking slugs into slot machines for hours on end that really do it me. They are such a beast unto themselves that they deserve their own moniker, Zombies are much too active when compared to these creatures. Let us call them Stupors. Night Of The Living Stupors. Dawn Of The Stupors. The Stupors - Endless Day.   I know, I know, someone will say, “but maybe it brings them solace; maybe their having fun; it brings a little excitement into their lives their lives”. Precisely my point….casinos are among the most depressing places on earth.

They are also one of the most surreal. Here at the Nugget, moving swiftly against the current of Stupors, are literally hundreds of young sixteen-ish year old girls, come to Reno for a big volley ball tournament. I kid you not. Bouncing around the corridors in their team Uni’s, talking some strange language amongst themselves. Oblivious to the Stupors, the Stupors oblivious to them. I’m not sure if I’m a character in a Harold Ramis or John Carpenter movie.

But the funny thing about Casinos is that the gigs are often very good. Despite the flotsam that one has to wade through to get to it. Tonight was no exception. A very old-school room, with curved leather booths and twinkling lights. I kept on expecting to see Frankie and his entourage walk in. The first night after a break of a few weeks can be “iffy” at best, but tonight was an excellent show (we lost focus a bit near the end) and more importantly it was an excellent audience.

****  

Holy shit…an earthquake just hit this place. It’s 11:40 pm, Reno time.  I have just finished writing this diary and suddenly my room on the 12th Floor begins to shake. There is a slight, disconcerting crackling of drywall. The shaking continues and my internal gyroscope begins to go a little off kilter. Nothing is stable, no permanence, ones brain attempts to adjust, one’s heart begins its pumping, telling you to start moving. Even after it is all over there remains this vertigo-like feeling, the room feels as if it’s sliding out of the side of the hotel and is about to tumble 12 stories. That was really frightening. I think I’ll take down the huge mirror that is above the bed: death by a thousand shards is not the way I want to go.