My Name Is Bramblett...Reid Bramblett (cont'd)

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All the buttons stopped blinking. It told me to insert a coin to play.

Hey, what about my Full House?! Where's my money? Twelve francs would have allowed me to leave having spent a net of only four francs — not bad for a research expense. Frustrated and angry at the machine, I did what every sane person does when in the same situation in Atlantic City or Las Vegas: I gave it another franc, and set to pressing the big, blinking button again.

This time, in just three francs I got a winning hand — two pair; not great (I'd only won 4 francs), but I was happy. This time, I let the machine blink away merrily and didn't touch a damn thing. I looked around until I got the attention of an employee. He came over and I said (after establishing that Italian would be our language of choice) "I won; how do I get my money?"

This seemed to take him aback. He pointed to the buttons that would allow me to reinvest my winnings to that tiny "coins/credits" number in the upper right hand corner of the screen, and explained that choosing that option was what most people did. However, if by "most people" he intended the glazy-eyed folks perched with hunched backs and slack lips at stools all around me whose only discernable skill was pressing a single button repeatedly, I figured that was not the option for me.

I shook my head vigorously. "No," I said "I am done; I want the cash." He said I had several choices, and again tried to convince me the best one by far was to reinvest it, but I finally got out of him the method to get my big payoff.

Turns out that part of all the flashing the machine's screen had been doing when I got my Full House (and was doing again with my measly two pair) was a set of lights in the upper left corner that kind of looked like a staircase with the word "BONUS!" at the top. A light would strobe up this staircase one level of a time to finally light up the word "BONUS!" briefly, then start again from the bottom. My job now was to hit, yes, the same big, blinking button I had been using all along at the precise moment the word "BONUS!" lit up.

I did so; it was fairly easy.

Still, no cash. "Now you can reinvest double your winnings to your credits," the employee helpfully explained. I gave him a look. "Cash," I insisted. He made a face and pointed to the "CASH" button. I pressed it, and the triumphant ring of four francs hitting the aluminum pan rang across the room. "Thank you" I said to the employee — who had clearly failed to do his job of keeping me in my seat and would probably get fired for letting me leave with a jingle in my pocket. "Now where were you when I got the Full House?" I grumbled.

In all, I spent 15 francs, a little over $10, which I feel is reasonable enough — especially since my self-imposed limit was 20. I had spent the same amount for admission to get into a dance club the night before — though to tell the truth, I would prefer to spend the evening dancing rather than pushing big, blinking buttons (not that I did dance, what with my overcoat and shoulder bag still on my person, but that's beside the point).

Still, now I have gambled, and feel none the richer for it. However, I did find out where SPECTRE is hiding the nuclear weapons. All I can reveal is: "Chateau de Neuf, Chardonnay, 1952."

Copyright © 1999 by Reid Bramblett. All rights reserved.