Sitting here, with about 30 minutes before I have to board. The flight out from San Francisco almost got badly screwed– there were two flights from SFO to Vegas, smartly placed at adjoining gates both of which were numbered 77, differing only in a letter suffix. And of course, I was at the wrong one. I found out in the nick of time, and was one of the last 2 or 3 to board. Luckily for me, the flight was running late, or I might have missed it completely, and if the other flight was as completely booked as mine was there would have been no way to get a connection here in time to catch my second leg to Denver.

But I did make it, and since the layover here in Vegas was supposed to be pretty long to begin with, the lateness of the SFO leg didn't hurt me. And lo and behold, there was a Quizno's near my arriving gate, just as I was hungry for lunch.

Of course, I'm in Vegas, and that means two words: slot machines. In fact, I had expected them to be just everywhere, but I hadn't seen a single one even as I finished eating my lunch. But that was quickly fixed, as I walked towards my connecting gate. Sure enough, there was a little island with what was probably 36 or so slots. I'm prone to addictive behavior; I've known this for a long, long time. I had my first taste of slots in 1998 when I was bringing the rest of my possessions to my new apartment in Campbell, from the storage facility in Denver. I stopped at a place on I-80 just before you get to the California border. I learned quickly how easy it is to get caught up and instinctively go back for more tokens/change when you run out.

So I just walked on past, tempted though I was. And wrote this instead of feeding my quarters into the gaping maw of the beast.