One Foot In The Coughin'

We went to the casino on Thursday. Two winners and a loser and three stuffed hogs walked out the door. More on the casino on my other blog in a couple days.

 

Anyhoo... The Pony and I were at our favorite slots on the back wall after lunch. He had commandeered the machine where I won my $8,600. There are four of these slots, all the same kind, in a row. The favored one is on the right end. I was going to play on the left end, but The Pony said it was broken. You could play, but only the games it was showing. The touch screen didn't work to put it on Buffalo Gold (my choice) or Brazil (Pony's choice).

 

So... I said I'd sit down at the slot on The Pony's left, and give it a try. I dislike playing machines that are not on the end. It's hard to get into the stall formed by the sheets of clear plastic dividing them. I can bend the plastic for entry and exit, but not if somebody I don't know is playing an adjoining machine. I told The Pony,

 

"Scoot your chair over a little bit. I have to bend this and squeeze in."

 

He did. I got situated in front of the slot, while sitting a little sideways on the stool. They are SO uncomfortable to me. A little too high to be comfortable. My knees don't bend to hook my heels on the bar underneath. So I sit at an angle, kind of on the corner of the chair. My left foot was a little bit under the plastic, encroaching on the space of the slot on MY left. Not a big deal. Nobody was playing there but us.

 

Of course about five minutes in, a man sat down on the left end. It didn't take him long to see that the machine wouldn't let him change games. That's the attraction of these. You can pick four different games, and switch among them, or play one of each at the same time, with the four screens.

 

Here came That Guy. He sat down at the slot beside me. Fair enough. I don't own it. I pulled my foot back into my own "stall," because otherwise would have been impolite. He didn't really affect my play, other than making my back more uncomfortable from my new posture.

 

THEN That Guy lit up a cigarette! NO NO NO! Here's the thing. Those clear plastic dividers don't do a thing to curtail the smoke. Of course a SMOKER doesn't have to wear a mask. Even though I WAS wearing a mask, because that's the casino policy, I could smell that smoke as good (as BAD) as if I was not wearing a mask at all. That's how I know a mask does not stop the VIRUS. A particle of VIRUS is even smaller than a particle of smoke. It comes right through the weave.

 

Anyhoo... I bid goodbye to The Pony, leaned into his space to escape my clear plastic stall, and went up front to my other favorite slot. Also a four-game version, with my precious Buffalo Gold as one of the games. There was no plastic stall at this one, because it's on the end. Like sitting at the head of the table. There are six slot machines. Two side by side, two more side by side, backs to each other, the stools like chairs across from each other at a dining room table. And two on the ends. Like where the mom and dad would sit.

Anyhoo... less than a minute after I sat down there, an old man chose the slot on my left. Less than a minute after that, he started to COUGH! Seriously? WHAT is wrong with people???

It wasn't just a HARUMPH kind of cough, like clearing your throat. I understand that. I have to do it myself. This was a HACKING COUGH. Over and over. Sure, he was wearing a mask. You're kidding yourself if you think that thin piece of bedsheet or t-shirt or whatever fabric his was made of will stop the VIRUS!

Every time he did that, I held my breath, then turned away from him to inhale a few seconds later. I figure if he was spewing VIRUS, it would have dispersed by then, and I wouldn't get the full dose of his lung juices. 

Sweet Gummi Mary! That guy was OLD. If he really had the VIRUS, for long enough to develop that cough, he most likely would not have been able to walk into the casino. It makes you short of breath, you know. And he probably would have had one foot in the coffin already, and not be sitting at a slot beside the one I refused to leave because it pays me.

As Farmer H says, "Everybody's gonna die sometime. If I get it, I get it."

I don't go out in crowds. I wash my hands. I stay six feet away from everyone but Farmer H and The Pony. I spend less than 15 minutes in the vicinity of a cougher in the casino. I'm living life to the fullest!