Soucy and Sally, Headin’ East – “Winnings & Losings” – Casinos – January 25, 2001
Today marks the start of what I’m calling “The U-Turn Tour.” It’s not a traditional tour per se. It’ll just be Soucy and me and we won’t be driving, but flying between shows. It’s an upgrade for us — an indication we’ve been doing something “right.” Something that’s inspired both a bump in our paycheck as well as our mode of transportation (no disrespect Moby). These improved conditions are a testament both to our hard work the last four years and to our new booking agent, Jonathan Shank’s persistence and advocacy. Perhaps next time we’ll get to bring the whole band.
The slot machine blurs into a kaleidoscope of lemons, cherries, and searing red 7s, spinning in hypnotic abandon. All I know is that the moment those elusive three “bars” align horizontally, the quarters I’ve poured into the machine magic their way back to me. By 11:30 p.m., though, $7.25 has disappeared into the void without reimbursement. I’m teetering on the edge of giving up when Soucy, eyes gleaming with reckless confidence, suggests a higher-stakes game: “Dollar video poker!!”
It’s been a day—correction, a long day. Our flight from Boulder to Connecticut held nothing back in testing my patience. While still in Colorado, I lost my wallet containing $100 bucks, along with my credit cards, a receipt collection that could probably wallpaper a small living room, and most painfully, a picture of my brother and me recording together over Thanksgiving in Martha’s Vineyard. Losing it all—correction, losing it all again, felt like a punch in the gut. Soucy, somewhat begrudgingly, lent me some cash. But boarding the plane with an oversized carry on guitar, without an ID, took every bit of charm Soucy and I could muster.
Leaving the rest of our band behind in Colorado? Daunting. Imagining performing in casinos without the heartbeat of a full-rhythm section? Terrifying. How were Soucy and I meant to compete against the bells of winnings and the groans of losings without Kyle’s thud and Kenny’s blub?
On the plane, Soucy was seated in the middle of the aisle. This made him cranky until an exquisite girl took the window seat and mesmerized him by scribbling notes to herself in tiny pink letters all flight. We were served chicken cordon bleu and one highly processed chewy chocolate for “dessert.”
The casino, when we finally arrived, was gleaming like the inside of a pulsating gem. While no one moved apart from an arm here and there to pull slot handles, the circling energy of the room created the appearance of a strange, exotic dance. Endless panels of carnival mirrors twisted a warped reality and reflecting caricatures of ourselves. Over it all, like a blanket, hung an eerie din, a drone vibrating through the bones of the place. “Flatted fifth inside a dominant seventh chord,” Soucy murmured knowingly. “They’re crafting tension—on purpose—so you’ll crave a release that never comes.”
Dollar Poker proved to be a much more skillful game but more lucrative too. Not only did I make back my $7.25 but between Chris and I, we netted approximately $28 bucks (exciting for two novice gamblers). Our first act of celebration? Two Heinekens. The beers quickly devoured most of our spoils leaving us only $17 bucks after tip, but we didn’t care. Bottles in hand, we went to scope out the Wolf Den, our venue for tomorrow’s set. That’s when the security guy appeared, eyebrows etched into furious angles. “You gotta have that beer in a glass!” he barked, one hand gesturing sternly while the other lingered over his handcuffs. Ours felt like a crime as arbitrary as jaywalking in a deserted town but that security guard meant business. We chuckled about it on the way back to the bar but Soucy took the reprimand seriously and his mood dampened like a soggy bath mat. There would be no more gambling tonight.
I went back to my hotel room, ate everything in the minibar, and fell asleep with the TV blaring.