High Roller Ferris Wheel Opens In Las Vegas

Night view from High Roller ferris wheel
(Image: vitalvegas.com)

When one thinks of Las Vegas high rollers, one imagines excitable dice players shepherded by sharp-eyed wise guys through plush, over-the-top venues. (Martin Scorsese's Casino nicely captures the flavor of that era.) Well, the one city that truly never sleeps (sorry, New York) has challenged expectations, as a sales manager might say. On Monday, a new ferris wheel called High Roller opened for business in Vegas. According to a piece in the Chicago Tribune, the 550-foot wheel of fortune offers arguably the best views of Sin City money can buy. And yes, the ferris wheel is definitely a pay-to-play event: the cheapest ticket to ride is $24.95. You'll need to add another ten bucks for an after-dark experience.

Google Glasses Banned from Atlantic City Casinos

Image: techisdom.com

Casino operators, working hard to stay a step ahead of gambling's legion of aspiring and active cheaters, have targeted Google Glasses as verboten in their establishments. The latest casino oasis to ban the trend-setting specs is Atlantic City. According to a story that originally appeared in The Press of Atlantic City and picked up by siliconvalley.com, the New Jersey Division of Gaming Enforcement invoked the ban earlier this week. Why it took this collection of Captain Reynauds until now to discover Google Glasses' potential for unfair gambling advantage is something of a mystery.

Maybe someone put in a timely phone call to the faceless Trenton bureaucrats who represent New Jersey taxpayers. "'Even if (Google Glasses) had not been used for cheating," Gaming Enforcement Division director David Rebuck wrote in a memo to AC casinos, "...'their presence at a gaming table would lead to the perception that something untoward could be occurring, thereby undermining public confidence in the integrity of gaming."

Something "untoward"? In an Atlantic City casino? Perish the thought!

Jumping into the Football Pool

Until two years ago, I had never participated in a gambling pool. My wagering experience, prior to jumping into my office's pro football pool, consisted of a rare two dollar bet on some thoroughbred horse races and some quickly, tiny sums of money lost at Las Vegas and cruise ship blackjack tables.

Gambling is not a common experience in my family. My mother bet on horses as often as I did, and with about as much success. I can't recall my father ever making a wager, although I believe he was capable of it. My brothers might have played cards and bet a few bucks, but they were hardly habitual gamblers and, as far as I know, lost the urge somewhere after their teen years. I can't think of a good friend or a colleague who put his or her money down on a sure thing. Given the number of gamblers in the world, and especially in sin cities such as New York, one could say my association with non-gamblers beat the odds.

My father-in-law died long before Amy took a chance on me as her husband. He was a player, according to my wife, my now-deceased mother-in-law, and anyone I've met who knew him.

He gambled enough to attract Vegas' largesse. He knew the man who invented the casino junket. He knew people who strongly resembled the Ace Rothstein character played by Robert DeNiro in Martin Scorsese's movie Casino. Like many businessmen, my father-in-law couldn't stop trying to outwit the competition. Amy's dad would have enjoyed nothing more than placing football bets with his son-in-law. In fact, he would have insisted I get into the pool and get wet.

Since my plunge into football gambling, I've become more interested in the outcomes of the games. I take note of dull teams and wonder if they'll cover the spread. I cautiously watch squads being touted as "can't miss" propositions. Above all, I try to have fun and not take it too seriously. This is a difficult stance for me, as sports betting is one area in which I have a very competitive spirit.

The cost of admission for the sinner's way to enjoy the Sabbath is a little bit more than what I pay for one month's dues for the local YMCA. My late father-in-law would have been perplexed by a Sunday afternoon spent in virtuous physical exercise, but would have understood investing a few hours in a sporting proposition.