There are not a lot of ways in which James Bond and I are similar. He has Q to develop the latest in laser-related self-defense personal items; the closest I ever get to high-tech gadgetry comes from the back catalog of Sharper Image. He seduces women while cheating death on seven continents; I sometimes have trouble remembering the names of all seven continents. Most critically, I like my vodka martinis stirred.
But, 007 and I do have one thing in common: we’ve both risked it all on a single spin of the roulette wheel at the Casino Royale in Monaco and come up winners. (In the interest of full disclosure, I should point out that, for the purposes of the last sentence, I am defining “all” as “all that my dad would give me to gamble that day.”)
The Casino in Monaco is actually a much smaller operation than you would think, given its world-wide fame. It’s also much less exclusive than I had anticipated. I showed up in just-slightly-above-average American tourist garb — jeans, hiking boots, and a polo shirt borrowed from my father that was two sizes too small. I assumed that there would be a velvet rope and a heavyset bald Russian keeping out everyone but models and suave assasins, but in fact, a few hours at the Casino are yours for the price of an entry ticket — just 10 euros.
And, the building itself is worth the price of admission. The main room is decorated like a palace, with the significant difference that you can stay as long as you want, order a drink, and sit on the furniture. It’s kind of cool just to be able to chill out in an environment like that without a tour guide hustling you along or a museum guard giving you the stink-eye.
But of course, the real reason to be there is to gamble. My father insisted that we each take 150 euros and gamble until we had lost it all or were in a position to purchase one of the more modest yachts docked down in the harbor below. As roulette was the only game we understood, we decided to go with that.
The roulette tables are surprisingly welcoming to the hiking-boots-and-jeans set, with 5 euro minimum bets. I started out with my usual strategy of betting on either black or red, but gradually became more adventurous and started betting numbers as well. I’ve never had a lucky number before, but I learned that day that I in fact have two — 17 and 21. I won twice on the 17-21 four corners.
As always happens when I gamble, I became ridiculously stressed considering the small amounts at stake. I was tense, that is, until a guy walked up beside me and put 8000 euros on 1-24 and… lost. The guy had a 2/3 chance of winning, and he only would have picked up 4000 euros if he had, but no, all gone. He was dressed in a light cotton button-down shirt, jeans, and a few days stubble. He looked a bit like someone trying to look like someone trying to not look like a movie star, but he seemed to take the loss in stride, so I guess money wasn’t an issue. A little later, a short, sweaty guy pulled up beside me, put 5000 euros on red, and won. He immediately left the table, sprawled on a couch, and looked as though he was seriously considering having a major cardiac event. So apparently, winning can be more stressful than losing.
And as for me? Well, I don’t like to brag, but after tipping the croupier generously (what would Bond do?) and making up for my father’s somewhat lackluster performance, I finally walked away with 20 of Prince Albert’s euros. I hope it won’t impact his lifestyle too much…
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