Yes Virginia, the Bristol Casino Will Change Your Luck (for the Worse)
‘If people make stupid bets, how is that my problem?’
A casino is not so much a place as an absence of place, a transportation nexus from reality to its opposite
Coal-town gamblers battle depression in a state of ‘dark flow’ while politicians and developers steal their paychecks through legislated fraud
Jimmy and I are sitting at a plastic high-top table in the Bristol Casino bar. He’s wearing jeans, a faded Florida Gators hoodie, and a navy ball cap with an unfamiliar gray, triangular logo. It’s a Saturday night in Virginia, and some local bluesy act is playing too loud on the makeshift stage behind us. “Do you know who Graham Betchart is?” Jimmy shouts over the licks. He doesn’t wait for my reply. “He’s a mental skills coach for the Sacramento Kings. He’s got this thing he says. He says, ‘Be where your feet are.’ Live for the moment. Don’t worry about yesterday or tomorrow. Be in the now. That’s how I live life.” Jimmy rolled into town four days ago, and he’s been at the casino every night since. “I like this place,” he repeats for the third time, but always with a new qualifier. “It’s got good music, good energy. I don’t really believe in God, but I believe in energy.” Six months ago, Jimmy worked as an assistant manager at a Publix grocery store somewhere in Florida, while …