I am not a big lottery fan, or at least, I wasn’t a big lottery fan. I grew up in a town outside of Atlantic City New Jersey and saw first hand, the hardships of gambling. My take on the scene was two fold; that of old people getting bussed to the casinos so they could spend their social security checks and people that work in the casinos wasting their life away on cocaine and booze…oh, and gambling.
It wasn’t until I moved to San Diego and took a trip to Las Vegas that I realized gambling and the casinos could be a lot of fun…if you could afford to do it. It gave me an entirely new outlook of playing cards (blackjack) and “going to the casinos.” Going to the casinos meant a little bit of gambling and whole lot of high end night clubs and restaurants filled with beautiful girls. This was a far cry from the Pacific Avenue casinos I grew up going to.
I seem to be getting off track here. Let’s get back to lottery tickets.
I was never a big fan of the lottery because I always perceived it as an extension of the casinos as I knew them. Then Vegas happened. Then Summer happened. I won’t go off on another tangent about Vegas but I will yap a little bit about Summer and her Passion of Scratcher lottery tickets. Yup…we have fun with scratcher lottery tickets a couple times a week.
The other day I went into our local liquor store to buy some scratchers (our pet name for lottery tickets) to bring home so Summer and I can compete, she likes competition, at who is going to win their ticket back or perhaps win $5. It’s not about the money, it’s about the competition and the little grey scrapings we have to wipe off the kitchen table when we are done. I went up to the counter and asked for a couple of the Spicy Hot Cash Scratchers and a few of the Poker Night Scratchers. This isn’t the usual guy working.
He asks me: “how old are you?”
Me: “32 years old”
He tells me: “I need to see your ID.”
Me: “ok, let me grab it” (I reach for my id)
He says: “Kid, if you are going to lie about your age, at least say an age that you might be able to get away with!”
Me: “No really, I am 32” (I am going through the lint and receipts attached to my money clip)
He says: “There is no way you are 3 years younger than me, can’t find your id?”
Me: “Here it is, I thought I was old enough to pass for 21, but this is a real compliment”
He says: “Holy shit, you ARE 32 years old! Here you go…man, you are lucky”
Me: “Thanks for the compliment dude, I just bought lottery tickets, we’ll see if I’m lucky”
I thought it was pretty funny that he didn’t even think I was 18 years old AND that he started to lecture me on how to lie about my age the next time I try to buy scratchers. It was good stuff.
The outcome you ask? Well, Summer won this time…but I’ll be back…and I’ll be sure to bring my California ID because the odds are in my favor…I think.