Age: 20. Destination: Harvard Square.

VI.

Age: 20. Destination: summer housing in Harvard Square. Net worth: 85 cents.

I'd been home for a visit, which meant that I'd been subtly manipulated out of all my pocket money, save 85 cents for T fare from the airport to my apartment. What I was not counting on was one, my flight being delayed at the stopover point in Las Vegas, and two, my flight being delayed again. With three hours plus to kill before I had any hopes of continuing from LAS to BOS, I wandered out of my terminal in search of entertainment.

Which I found in the form of the omnipresent Nevada economy: gambling. I watched people playing slot machines for a long time before I started itching about the quarter in my pocket. Why not, I thought, I could win something, and if I don't, I'm only out a quarter.

Forgetting for the moment that said quarter represented a non-trivial portion of my return travel budget, I inched over to the slot machine closest to the edge. I put in the quarter and pulled the handle. To my disappointment, this machine didn't make those cheerful metallic ringing noises that you always hear in televisory depictions of gambling. I felt let down. It was one of those moments where you are on the cusp of forming a distinct impression of a situation, and I was thinking that gambling wasn't very exciting at all. I started to walk away. And here is where that infant impression falls apart.

Hey!, said the woman who had been steadily plugging quarters into the machine next to me. Hey, I think you won something.

I turn back to the machine; one of the buttons is lit up, and as I depress it I see the red LED display that says 100. Ching-ching-ching -- now the machine is making that noise, and it's the noise of quarters falling into the metal tray -- ching-ching-ching -- and falling, and falling -- ching-ching-ching -- and I realize that 100 means 100 quarters. I am solvent! I am also ... under twenty-one.

Now I remember the other thing about televisory depictions of gambling; namely, that casinos have cameras everywhere, and casino attendants will ask for ID. My ID, which clearly stated that I was UNDER 21. Now I start grabbing quarters and shoving them into the pockets of my jean shorts.

Hey, says the helpful woman again, you can get those changed into bills at the counter, and she looks so helpful that she might just flag down an attendant who would check my ID and take my bounty. I shove faster, mutter some excuse, and slink -- quickly -- away.

Now I have $25 to my name, which is highly comforting. I also have 100 quarters divided between the two pockets of my shorts, which gives me two quivering, clinking and no-doubt hilarious hip bulges. On the plane, my seatmate looks at me quizzically, says nothing, and then I see the lightbulb go off over his head and he tries not to snicker at me.

One quarter, 10000% return. It's never happened since, and sad to say, it's the kind of gambling "big fish story" that I'll be trying to re-create for the rest of my life.

Monday 28 January, 10:52 PM