Imagine, if you will. You get out of bed and arrive at the gym before the sun has poked its head over the horizon. You hit those free weights like they’ve just insulted your mother. Feeling spent, you sit on a stationary bike to really wear yourself out. Just then, someone hops on the stairclimber behind you. Only they’ve been smoking. What a way to stop short a good workout. The reek drove me away.

I hate smokers.

There’s just something about Vegas. Something magical. Something that can only be experienced. I feel this when, after hours of driving, I finally see the Strip hotels in the distance. I can’t wait for the assault on my senses as I set foot into the casino at my hotel.

This time something was missing.

Try as I might, I could not hear that sweet cacophony of coins falling from the slot machines!

I frantically examined every quarter slot I could find. All of them had their coin slot welded shut. My bag of quarters would go unplayed. I was sad.

It’s not that I particularly enjoy the losing experience of slot machines; but, when I’ve been on my feet all day, I find it enjoyable to drop in a few quarters and watch the wheels spin. I’m not about to put real, paper money into those one-armed bandits.