hello darkness, my old friend

Uh-oh. Here we go again. How, after so long, did I end up here? Well...

My wife has always enjoyed visiting Atlantic City, the famous Jersey shore resort. When casino gambling was introduced, Mrs. P found another reason to drive the 90 minutes from Philadelphia. She enjoyed playing slot machines. I don't know if it was the flashing lights or the cute characters that decorated the spinning reels or the cha-CHING! of coins, but something about those so-called "one-armed bandits" held her attention. I wasn't particularly worried about her frequent trips to Atlantic City. We were able to meet our financial obligations, so that wasn't an issue. But soon, the casinos, Harrah's in particular, began offering an assortment of gifts for frequent players. Gifts like small kitchen appliances, costume jewelry, Harrah's branded clothing and accessories — all for just showing up at an appointed time and presenting a voucher. She began receiving two or three pieces of promotional mail from Harrah's every day, including offers for show tickets and discounted — then, eventually free — buffets. On weekends, when I could accompany my wife on a trip to Atlantic City, I'd stand by her side and watch as she'd blow through the "free slot play" that Harrah's used to entice her to the casino, followed by a few hundred of her own money. Sometimes she'd come out ahead and sometimes she wouldn't. We'd cap our visit off with a complementary meal at Harrah's bountiful buffet, then head home.

In 2009, Mrs. P and I celebrated our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary in Las Vegas. This trip had been in the planning stages for a while and we let friends and family know the dates, hoping some would join us in our celebration. Seventeen members of our collective families met us in Sin City for a pre-planned dinner at the lovely Mon Ami Gabi at the Paris Resort, overlooking the always-interesting Vegas Strip. When we first arrived in Vegas, we checked in at the Camelot-themed Excalibur Hotel, our pre-booked accommodations for the week. My wife and son signed up for Excalibur's Slot Player Club and each received personalized cards on the spot. These cards, when inserted into a selected slot machine, track a players activity and reward various levels of comps based on play. After a week of intense tourist-y stuff and a significant amount of slot machine play, we were ready wrap up our vacation and head to the airport, Mrs. P inquired about accumulated comps at the Slot Player Club customer service desk. The helpful woman behind the counter scanned my wife's card and her eyes lit up at the results glowing on the computer monitor before her. She instructed us to go to VIP Services when we were ready to check out. We skirted the line at the hotel front desk, swarming with angry masses of guests, and passed through a set of gold-trimmed glass doors. Once inside, the sound from the lobby and  near-by casino was blotted out by lilting classical piano. The floor was covered with sparkling white carpet and several plush, upholstered chairs invited VIPs to rest until their name was called. We took a seat and soon, a tuxedoed man beckoned my wife to the counter with a graceful wave. The Pincus family approached and Mrs. P handed over her slot club card. The man nodded, smiled and swiped the card across the card reader. His monitor lit up and he examined the results, noting each line with an index finger. A printer spit out a single sheet of paper. The man made a few notations on the paper and drew a large circle at the bottom. He handed it to my wife with a gracious "Thank you." We looked at the bill. He had circled the grand total. And that total was "$0.00." A week's hotel stay, meals, snacks and a couple of drinks at a hotel bar. Zero. Nada. Nothing. My wife and I exchanged glances, then looked at the man in the tux. "Is this correct?," we said, nearly simultaneously. 

"Oh yes," he replied, "based on your play."

I turned to my wife and whispered, "How much did you play?"

"A lot.," she said plainly.

Just for kicks, my son passed his card to the man and asked if he had any comps available. The man scanned his card and laughed. He handed my son a voucher and said, "Here. Take your parents out for breakfast."

Astonished, my son asked, "Is this from the points on my card?" The man just smiled and winked.

And that's pretty much where it started. We returned home and Mrs. P continued her regular visits to the casinos in Atlantic City. The more she played, the more we benefited. Soon, Mrs. P's casino activity warranted her very own "casino hostess." This is sort-of a personal concierge, able to quickly arrange and confirm spur-of the-moment hotel reservations and secure show tickets — even for sold-out events. We received free tickets for Penn & Teller, B.B. King, Don Rickles and Tony Bennett. We had countless buffets for which we were comped. We had numerous multi-night stays at Harrah's, with all of our meals included. We were flown to several other Harrah's properties across the country, including Laughlin, Nevada, New Orleans, Louisiana and Tunica, Mississippi, where we enjoyed the same VIP treatment we received in Atlantic City. We were offered free cruises, which we happily took and enjoyed. We were riding high and reaping the benefits. Until one day, it stopped. 

I asked my wife if she could call her casino hostess and get tickets for an upcoming show. Mrs. P called and left a message. No reply. She left another message. No reply. The hostess was unresponsive for weeks. The concert I wanted to see came and went. We got the hint — loud and clear. Granted, my wife's visits to Harrah's had sort-of tapered off, but we were cut off. Cold turkey, as though we were the black sheep family member in a dying rich uncle's will.

It was fine. We moved on. Mrs. P satisfied her slot machine cravings with a few apps that she downloaded to her cellphone. Otherwise, casinos were no longer a part of our lives, save for the week-long cruises were were still awarded based on casino activity on previous cruises. But, we were done with casinos. Or, rather, they were done with us.

In the time that passed since we last visited Harrah's in Atlantic City, five — count 'em five — casinos have shut their doors permanently. The casino business in Atlantic City was obviously suffering from outside competition. New casinos have opened in Pennsylvania, Delaware, Connecticut, Maryland and New York — all of the places from which Atlantic City drew its client base, So, someone somewhere in the Marketing Analytics Department at Harrah's decided to re-assess their strategies, because, suddenly, Mrs. P was back in Harrah's good graces. She received a multi-page schedule in the mail, highlighting numerous offers tailored specifically for her. It was just like the good old days. Commencing on July 1, there were free gifts and free slot play and free hotel stays and free buffets. And, there we were on July 1, front and center. We are determined to milk this thing for as long as we can. Mrs. P will accept the free gifts and play the slots only on their promotional money, She won't put a dime of her own funds into a slot machine. We booked a weekend in July and will use our free buffets then. Also, that weekend, we will receive a voucher for another free cruise. Of course, all of Mrs. P's casino activity will be tracked and documented. And they must know that Mrs. P has not given them a dime of her own money.

So, we fully expected to be cut off by August, but Harrah's sent a calendar full of offers for September. Who knows how long we can keep this going?

www.joshpincusiscrying.com

it's important to me

Mrs. P and I just returned from our third cruise in as many years. While we did have a good time — a great time, as a matter of fact — each cruise was nearly identical. Yeah, they each had the same itinerary (two days at sea, stop at Port Canaveral, Florida, stop at Norwegian Cruise Lines' private island, stop at Nassau, Bahamas, then two more days at sea), but I mean the overall experience was the same. There were scheduled activities, 24 hour-a-day food, high energy, yet campy, shows and... did I mention there was food 24 hours-a-day?

The early part of the cruise is sort of a self-orientation period. After boarding the ship, the first activity is, of course, a visit to the buffet. Here, one can get a preview of the obscene amounts of food that will be abundantly available for the next seven days. During your third or fourth helping of spicy citrus cole slaw and pomegranate cheesecake brûlée, the PA crackles to life with the announcement that the staterooms are ready. Then after unpacking your belongings into the tiny drawers and skinny closets of your cabin, all guests are instructed to gather at a designated area for a mandatory life boat drill. Federal maritime law and the International Brotherhood of Seafarers (I think) require all cruise lines to have a life boat drill prior to launch. (That's launch, not lunch. For Chrissakes, you just ate lunch!) 

All cruise lines treat the life boat drill differently. Some are rigid and deadly serious, requiring passengers to don life jackets and stand silently by their appointed lifeboats. Others, like Norwegian, are more relaxed, merely having guests gather, sans life jackets, in an on-board restaurant, bar or other common area and sit through a five minute run-through of some loud air-horn blasts. At 2:30 sharp, Mrs. P and I joined our fellow "Section G1"s and waited until we were given the "all clear." We sat at a table in one of the ship's formal dining rooms as other guests filed in at staggered intervals. Slowly. Very slowly. A crew member in an official-looking vest checked names off on an official-looking clipboard. Several other crew members in equally official-looking vests, circled through the assembled crowd counting and recounting. The first crew member announced that we would begin once everyone from our section was accounted for. People were trickling in at 2:45. Others stumbled in as the clock approached 3 o'clock. At thirty minutes after the designated time, people were still entering the "G1" area, kicking punctuality to the proverbial curb. Finally, with everyone in attendance, the alarms sounded and the drill was completed. Everyone filed out and, most likely, headed back to the buffet.

Once the ship crossed the 12 nautical mile mark, the on-board casino sprang to life with the ringing of slot machines and the shrieking of winners. The casino remained open for the next consecutive 48 hours, as the ship cut its way down the eastern seaboard in international waters toward Florida and all points south. When the vessel entered Port Canaveral, slot machines were silenced, chips were stacked and locked up and the casino emptied as passengers took the gangway out to the various available shore excursions.

Mrs. P and I returned from our shore excursion, a full day at Downtown Disney, the shopping district at Walt Disney World. We made our way back on to the ship and walked through the closed casino. We nearly screeched to a stop. Every single seat at every single blackjack table was occupied, as were the seats at every slot machine and all available space at the craps tables. The casino would not open for at least ninety minutes, as buses arrived from various shore excursion destinations. Yet guests had already staked their territory, not wanting to miss a single second of gambling activity. I recognized some as the same people who sauntered in late for the life boat drill. 

When it comes to personal safety and gambling, it was clear which was a priority. The early bird gets to double down.

www.joshpincusiscrying.com

the party's over

Atlantic City's history is not unlike the roller coasters that once rose up along its sandy shore. Once renowned as "The World's Playground," the seaside town experienced a construction boom in the early 20th century, with the small rooming houses being replaced by more regal accommodations and anxious visitors eager to take in shows, amusements and the other curiosities of the world-famous Boardwalk. Men were required to wear suit jackets when taking an evening stroll. The majestic hotels offered beach-goers special, hidden access, as decorum prohibited bathing suits on the Boardwalk.

After World War II, the area slumped into poverty. Hotels were vacant, as cheap airfare made places like Miami Beach more appealing. Crime rose and political corruption increased and came to an ugly head when the press showed the city in a negative (albeit truthful) light during the 1964 Democratic Convention.

Cha-ching!

In 1976, in an effort to reinvent itself, New Jersey passed a referendum allowing casino gambling in Atlantic City. In May 1978, the former Chalfont-Haddon Hall Hotel emerged as Resorts International, the first legal casino on the East coast. It was the "shot in the arm" that Atlantic City's economy needed. Queue lines were steady as patrons waited for hours to gamble. Trying to maintain an aura of class and sophistication, the casinos enforced a dress code. No shorts, no t-shirts, no sneakers, and especially no bathing suits. Men were required to wear a jacket. Atlantic City was once again on the rise.

A little over a year later, Resorts International faced its first bit of competition. In June 1979, Las Vegas heavyweight Caesars opened a casino on the Boardwalk. In addition to cutting into Resorts' monopoly, Caesars offered a relaxed dress code. Jackets were only required after 6 PM. At the risk of losing potential customers (and revenue), Resorts adopted the policy as well. Then, as more casinos opened, regulations regarding attire took a back seat. Dress on the casino floor became "come as you are." At one point, Atlantic City boasted over a dozen casinos. My wife and I played (sometimes winning, sometimes losing) in almost all of them. And we wore whatever we wanted.

The casinos were supposed to reinvigorate the area. They were supposed to create jobs and benefit the surrounding community. They were supposed to. Most casinos were offered tax breaks and special incentives as reward for building in Atlantic City. In reality, the casinos lined their own pockets and regarded the residents with a tall middle finger. Sometimes they even gave that same finger to their own customers. The prevailing attitude was: "We are the only game in town. You wanna gamble somewhere else? The next closest place is Las Vegas and that's 2500 miles away!" Prices were high, service was adequate at best, but attitude was plentiful.

My family visited Las Vegas for the first time in 2003. I was expecting Atlantic City in the desert. Boy, was I wrong! It was more like Disneyland for adults. Each massive hotel was embellished with over-the-top, impeccable theming. There was the Luxor with its frighteningly realistic Egyptian motif. The medieval charm of Excalibur, looking like it popped out of a fairy tale. The incredible authentic detail of New York New York. We were totally captivated and didn't know where to look first. In addition to casinos, there were ridiculously inexpensive all-you-can-eat buffets, nightly outdoor light shows, endless unique shopping areas and extreme thrill rides. While waiting in line at a restaurant, a couple asked where we were from. "Philadelphia," we replied. Puzzled, they asked why would we come to Vegas if we live so close to Atlantic City? My wife and I exchanged knowing glances and answered, "That's a question coming from someone who has never been to Atlantic City." There was no comparison. Atlantic City is no Las Vegas. Not by a long shot. Although it thinks it is.

Closed.  Closed. Closed. Closed. Closed. 

Soon, the states surrounding New Jersey — Pennsylvania, New York, Connecticut, Delaware and Maryland — all passed casino gambling laws and wasted no time in jumping into the gambling pool. Suddenly, Atlantic City had some serious competition. Although the Atlantic City casinos were obviously feeling the drop in attendance and revenue, they did virtually nothing to help their cause. They still kept their elitist attitude, despite there being less people to wield it upon. 

At nine months into 2014, four Atlantic City casinos have permanently shut their doors, including the 2.4 billion dollar Revel that lasted a mere 29 months. Just this afternoon, it was announced that a fifth would close in November. Yet, Atlantic City turns a blind eye to its own situation and that blind eye refuses to acknowledge the handwriting on the wall.

Atlantic City is like that one pretty girl in sixth grade. All the boys follow her around, giving her their full attention and she is well aware of all of the attention she's getting. But a few years into high school, there are other pretty girls wearing cool clothes and current hair styles. The pretty sixth-grader has now faded into the background. She's still wearing those silly jumpers and that wide white headband to keep her hair in place. She's not as popular as she used to be, but she still has the snobby attitude.

She's all alone on Prom Night and no one feels sorry for her.

www.joshpincusiscrying.com