Willy Wonka and the Vermicious Casino

Even Uber drivers need a break sometimes. And I am no different.

This weekend we took a couple of cars over the fearsome Donner Summit to Reno. I left Old Bluey at home because he is too precious to risk on this freezing hellride. It actually took two attempts to get there. On Wednesday we were turned back at Nyack—a word you can’t help but spit. Ten hours later we were back home where we started. On Thursday we made it all the way to The Biggest Little City in the World™.

This preamble is necessary only to foreshadow the horror of my enlightenment: the Willy Wonka gambling machine is the devil.

Three years ago, in Las Vegas, I was married. Stepping inside the casino, fresh from McCarran, we were met by the mad, benevolent face of Gene Wilder’s confectionery overlord. I just can’t tell you how excited my best man and I were at that precise moment. Could we possibly be the little boys who were to receive the keys to the chocolate factory? Through the stench of smoke and abuse, Wonka made anything seem possible.

And so it was that I took a seat at the control centre. I have never been much of a gambler. That requires an addictive personality cultivated through severe childhood abuse. So I just banged in a twenty and hoped for the best.

What followed was nothing short of phantasmagorical. Pictures of the main movie players flashed up on wheels before me. Elaborate computer graphics popped and swirled. Pure Imagination faded in and out, waxing and waning in concert with the spinning shapes. And then. And then.. And then...

Very quietly...

oompa loompa doompaty doo…

Something had happened.

I’VE GOT A PERFECT PUZZLE FOR YOU!

The world exploded with colour. Grandpa Joe skipped in his nightshirt. Oompa Loompas marched onto the screen. I was going on a journey. A journey down the chocolate river.

Wilder now. Gene Wilder. I boarded a boat on a sickening, delicious expanse of brown. Fractals danced in the background. I became one with the experience. The paddle-steamer charged into the current, flew around the bends, smashed into numbers. The numbers of the money numbers. So many numbers. The numbers were money. Was I dreaming? No? Or no? Maybe.

Round the world and home again
That's the sailor's way
Faster faster, faster faster
There's no earthly way of knowing
Which direction we are going
There's no knowing where we're rowing
Or which way the river's flowing
Is it raining, is it snowing
Is a hurricane a-blowing
Not a speck of light is showing
So the danger must be growing
Are the fires of Hell a-glowing
Is the grisly reaper mowing
Yes, the danger must be growing
For the rowers keep on rowing
And they're certainly not showing
Any signs that they are slowing

The walls became sugar paper. The carpet pattern, strawberry lace. And suddenly it was over.

Where had I been? What had I seen? Anybody want a jelly bean?

I pressed a button that said CASH OUT. A paper spewed forth with number. Was this living? It felt so. I embraced my best man. He sat down and entered his own chocolate river. 2014 did not get any better, until later that week when I married.

Look.

That was then.

Fast forward to July 2016.

I’m in a casino on an Indian reservation¹. It was my first time in a casino since the time before. I found a Wonka machine. But here began the downfall. I found a Wonka machine. It did not find me. This one had two screens atop one another. A new Wonka. I sat down and thrust a twenty. The buttons were pixels now. They were physical last time, weren’t they? I pawed the screen pathetically. There was no chocolate river². Why? Don’t know. But then…

Very quietly...

oompa loompa doompaty doo…

Something had happened.

I’VE GOT ANOTHER PUZZLE FOR YOU!

The top screen had been playing only Beauregarde and Teevee spouting terror. Maybe some Charlie. It felt humdrum. Then the Oompa Loompas marched. This time they stacked extra chambers on the bottom rows, filling the top screen, making the whole thing taller. Then they poured magic dust down some of the columns. Was I having fun? Maybe. Numbers arrived. But not many numbers.

Soon my numbers ran out. The credit bar said zero. I walked away, won $80 on a House of Cards machine (that had an inexplicable blonde instead of Kate Mara) then lost it all. This casino was bone dry too. No alcohol to ease the melancholy. But is that ever the answer? No. This was the first stage of my enlightenment.

And now Reno.

Wonka was everywhere. Wilder’s immaculate costume and sinister smile beckoned me over. I pumped a twenty. My fingers prodded the convoluted interface. So many pixels this time and a new, esoteric row of spending options.

oompa loompa doompaty doo
I’ve got another puzzle for you

This one had four screens. They flashed and gamboled. I felt nauseous. A security guard came over.

“I love this part,” he mumbled, hypnotised.

If there were ever the right time to mug a pit boss, this were it.

“Right,” I replied.

A lady gave me water.

I had a few more numbers now. But they swiftly dwindled. I triggered another feature: Veruca Salt’s Temper Tantrum.

A gift came through a flap. Numbers.

“MORE!” yelled Veruca.

A gift came through a flap. Numbers.

“MORE!” demanded Veruca.

A gift came through a flap. Numbers.

“MORE!” screamed Veruca.

A gift came through a flap. A bigger number. Then Veruca fell down an egg scale.

Within minutes all my numbers had vanished. I stood up and lurched towards the door, tumbling out into the bright snow.

“You didn’t even get a Bloody Mary³?” said a family member.

“No. Sorry.”

Where was the joy of three years hence? This was the second stage of my enlightenment.

Later that night we watched a man trigger a Charlie Bucket feature. My baby nephew was removed from the floor by security. I stayed to watch the animation play out. Big Charlie heads wild-carding multiple rows and columns. After a time—maybe five minutes—it was all over. The man had won $26. All that for a $26 likely to be lost in minutes.

I saw others sit at basic slots for hours, winning hundreds. But Wonka gave nothing. Only the illusion of numbers, hidden in a fairytale. I vowed that I would never sit down to Wonka again. Maybe casinos were over for me full stop. It felt like the exciting veil of potential riches had been pulled from my eyes. What a waste of time. State-sanctioned heroin for the addicts.

I realise that I already knew this, by the way. I knew it but I ignored it. I knew the truth but I denied it.

How many other truths do we deny? How many obvious lies do we ignore? What do we know that we choose to forget?

We left early Sunday morning to beat the traffic. We drove west through torrential rain, aquaplaning wildly. One whole part of the road was missing, smashing plastic off the bottom of our SUV. A few hours later, that same road was blocked by a seven inch mudslide.

¹ There is some kind of deal with Native Americans that lets them control their own casinos on sacred land. This is curious because there seems nothing sacred about casinos.

² In fact, two of my wedding guests received nothing in their chocolate river.

³ The Bloody Marys in Reno are awful.