"One thousand dollars," he muttered.
The Greeks had walked in several hours earlier and had been playing at different tables than I had. I had no idea whether they had collectively lost $1,000 or if the guy muttering had lost $1,000 himself.
"One thousand dollars," he said again, and then looked at his buddy across the table. "One thousand dollars tonight? We could've had women, and drugs, and...women. But, no, you wanted to play cards."
Over the course of the conversation, I gathered that the Greeks were gypsies who had spent most of their life in South Carolina. One of the group seemed like he had Americanized himself very well. The other two still seemed stuck in the world of fortune telling, spells, and the art of theivery.
"We wouldn't have spent $1,000 at Platinum," the Americanized Greek protested. "No way we spend $1,000 at Platinum."
A young American kid broke into the conversation. "Why go to Platinum? Go to Nepals. Take $40 and go into the VIP room at Nepals and you'll come out one satisfied customer."
American Greek seemed to enjoy the potential debate. "No. Platinum. It's the best." Even the kid didn't seem to want to argue the issue. It was a matter of preference. But the Greek continued. "I go in the back room of Platinum--I come in my pants."
Nearly every player at the table looked up from their cards, but no one said a word.
"I do! I come in my pants," he shouted, as if we didn't believe him. "Go in the back room, come in my pants. I do!"
For the first time in hours, the table was completely quiet, as if two seconds of silence could serve as a collective, "Right on, man. Thanks for sharing."
"Florida," said the first Greek. "We could've left tonight with $1,000 and gone to Florida. Women, drugs, women. And you wanted to play cards."