Addictions

ADDICTIONS
Sheri Smith
April 22, 2016

One day, many moons ago, I found myself in Nevada while road tripping through western USA. We had gone as far as Eureka California when inspiration struck, directing us East to check out Reno. To a small town girl whose gambling experience amounted to Lotto 649, the glitz and glamour of a full-on casino town was dazzling. We pulled up to a shiny hotel in our beat up Cutlass and after a string of nights camping rough, that hotel was the most beautiful sight to
behold. A long shower, an air conditioned room and a hot delicious meal was alluring enough, but the first moment I heard the ‘ching – ching – ching’ from the casino below, the Pied Piper may as well have been playing me a private performance. Nine hours later and a shuddering sum of money poorer, I fell exhausted into the comfy bed and stared at the ceiling, wrestling the crushing urge to run back downstairs to feed the machines some more.

After two anxious, sleepless hours I packed my stuff and hollered, “Get me the hell out of here!” That was the first time my addictive personality introduced herself. We drove as fast as we could across the border back into California, where we stopped for gas…and a Lotto ticket.

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