DAY 13: CROCODILE TEARS

DAY 13
Destination: Houston, TX to Lake Charles, LA
Date: 7.20.97 (Sunday)
Mileage: 21,512 to 21,660 (148 miles)
Bar(s): Harrah's Casino bar
Imbibed: 3 Screwdrivers

IT WAS ALL TOO FITTING THAT ON DAY 13 I GOT lucky in Louisiana. No, not the horny barfly throwing herself at me variety of lucky. I was seduced by a casino I spotted next to I-10 and ended up getting lucky to the tune of about $400, thanks to a sweet run at a few crowded blackjack tables. Plus I may have given away another couple hundred bucks in chips to a drunk Vietnam vet who got choked up when he began talking about his wife.

I’m a sucker for a good love story.

I left Houston that morning with no plan, no destination. Just keep driving east on I-10 until something catches our eye.

It was close to 8 when I rolled into the parking lot at the Harrah’s casino, which seemed like a good idea since I’d already won a cool $400 bucks on Day 1 in Vegas. If I was the church-going type, strolling into a casino on a Sunday night may have been sacrilegious. But my new religion was my clarity. And I very clearly was intent on winning some money.

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…

“Who dat? Crocodile Dundee?”

The old codger at the opposite end of the blackjack table — 3^rd base to my 1^st base — was laughing his ass like he’d just told the funniest joke in the world. Of course, physically I looked nothing like Paul Hogan. It was all about the hat — the Billabong Australian outback lid that was great for combating morning hair, bed head and most any other scalp related challenge. I’d purchased the thing one day last month when I was shopping for road trip necessities on Melrose with Ernie and Shaun.

A few weeks later, some redneck used car salesman from Houston was giving me shit for it.

Jimmy Cano was his name and I’m still not sure if he was a con man or a sensitive soul madly in love with his wife. We crossed paths and forged a bond in the middle of a great run at 21. Anyone who’s ever played blackjack knows how easy it is to suddenly feel like the strangers at your table are your best friends if the cards are being friendly. Throw in free drinks and the mood can be electric when the dealer keeps busting and the gamblers watch their stacks of chips keep growing.

“C’mon, Crocodile! Double them 9s! DOUBLE THEM 9s!”

We were playing from a 6-deck shoe, so there was a little time to chat when the dealer had to shuffle. That’s when I found out Jimmy had his own used car lot in Houston. He had raspy buzzsaw voice like my maternal grandfather, Jack, the closest thing my family’s ever had to a barfly and a notorious brawler — most likely the result of having that freakishly raspy voice. Jimmy Cano didn’t seem like much a brawler. The one brawl he did tell me about was with his wife, a long-haired Cherokee Indian. And it wasn’t much of a brawl.

“She flattened me with one punch,” Jimmy C. told me as the dealer straightened the 6 decks against the plastic shoe. “Knocked me out cold. And I deserved it, too.”

Jimmy got drunk and cheated on his wife. When his guilt — and a few cocktails — got him to confess, the only woman he’s ever loved decked him.

“And I ain’t gon’ a tomcattin’ since,” Jimmy said before breaking into a big, Cajun cackle.

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...

I was on fire for a while there, hitting every double-down and split pairs. At first, Jimmy was killing it too. But when his fortunes turned and he confessed to being out of cash, I tossed him a $25 chip to get his mojo flowing again.

The problem was, he'd walk away and try his luck at another table, only to return 10 or 15 minutes later with a fistful of nothing. My mojo was still flowing and I was feeling good about my life, so I'd toss him another $25 chip. No reason to disrupt the flow by being greedy. I was happy with my life, happy to be on the road, happy to be winning at a casino again.

So when Jimmy came around with his big, sad eyes after another blackjack asskicking, I was only too happy to toss him another chip.

This happened several times over the course of a few hours. But I didn't care. I was winning. And Jimmy was sharing his hard-earned wisdom.

"You want my take on love, Crocodile?" Jimmy asked, wiping the free casino beer from his salt-and-pepper moustache. "Here it is: Find you a good woman, then treat her with respect."

"But you went out and..."

"I know, I know!" he interrupted, that buzzsaw voice adding to the gravitas of the moment. "I'm tellin' ya this so's you can learn from my mistakes. Treat your woman as good as you'd treat your mama."

Jimmy studied the dealer's 7 of hearts and stared down the 2 cards in his hand. As if they'd somehow changed since he last eyeballed them 5 seconds ago.

"And when you get the urge to start thinkin' with the little head 'stead 'a the big head," Jimmy continued, "find you a cold shower — maybe even give it a good tug. And just remember, your wife is the queen of your world. And your marriage will only be as good as you treat the queen."

Jimmy Cano diddled his middle finger twice across the green felt, indicating he wanted another card. The dealer slid him an 8. Jimmy snorted and flipped over his cards — a 9 and a 5.

Jimmy had busted again.

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