A stroll through a local casino this weekend was like a jog through hell -- smoky, hot, noisy and teeming with unsavory characters.
While I would never expect to see Mother Theresa playing the slots, I thought people of a certain age tethered to oxygen tanks might find a healthier venue to pass their time. As usual, I underestimated peoples' will to spin and win at all costs.
The cocophony of dropping quarters, screaming winners and frustrated losers created more of an atmosphere of a kindergarten convention than an adult enertainment center.
And then, of course, there was the entertainment lounge. A sultry singer swung into a medley of cover hits, screeching to a half-inebriated audience that had all the enthusiasm of cruise ship passengers too late for the midnight buffet. Her backup band blared bigger than a fleet of high-powered diesel trucks, drowning out what little voice she could muster.
It might have been more relaxing to sit on the back patio at home, pull out a CD and bet with myself whether the wind would be blowing east or west in the next five minutes.
I'm glad the casino is generating tax revenue for my city and state. If it could only generate something healthier and educational for its patrons...