Back from Vegas. You know, if it weren't for "Vegas" I could totally live there. The lake, the mountains, the trails, and dammit, some of the best climbing in North America all just minutes from the city. And don’t get me started on the strippers. Makes it really hard to beat. But then of course you would have to live in Las Vegas, in that beige, cookie-cutter suburban hell doubly damned by being located the tackiest city in the world. It would be more than I could handle, the overabundance of large breasted dancers notwithstanding. But wow, that red sandstone is amazing stuff.

Your perspective on Las Vegas is bound to change when you peer at it from the top of a 1000 foot chunk of rock. Your definition of risk is bound to change when you consider it from 35 feet off the ground, one rattling, half-exposed bolt drilled loosely in the soft rock the only protection keeping you from crapping out for good on the rocks below should you pitch from that height.

No matter how much I lose in those casinos, I win when I get out to Red Rocks. And let it be said, I ALWAYS lose in Vegas. My climbing partner walked away with $1000 this weekend. My father who is there right now for an executive boondoggle – I mean meeting came home with $450 last night.

I sit down in front of a roulette wheel with a thousand bucks, the Psychic Friends on speed dial, and my own private Leprechaun, and I will get up with an empty wallet, a summons from Dionne Warwick and a four leaf clover shoved up my ass.

A friend once told me to win in Vegas you have to walk in believing you are going to win. If you feel lucky, you will be lucky. Although this approach has worked for me with the opposite sex, I'm not sure it translates to roulette. It might get me laid at a party but in the casino I'm just getting fucked.

Other people, however, don't seem to share my misery. I've met the little old lady at the slot machine with the Super Gulp sized cup of quarters in front of her who tells you she hit $27,000 on her first pull yesterday off a $1 bet. I've seen the high roller in Caesar’s with a private table and a half million in chips lined up in front of him, tossing the dice with $25,000 single bets. However, this weekend I saw something that amazed me even more than that bastard tossing around the value of a Buick like it was the value of a BIC.

A guy walks up to our roulette table, and watches the action for a little bit. Pulls out a hundred dollar bill and drops it on black. Looks at the table, sees a big pile of chips on 28 (black), and tosses a $100 chip on top of that as well. As the ball is making its final rounds around the wheel, he thinks “what the hell” and places a second Franklin on black.

The ball drops into black 28.

For those of you who don't play, that 36 to 1 on the number and 1 to 1 on the color.

He leaves with four grand. One bet. One spin. One table.

I’m lucky I left with my lunch after that.