I used to go to Atlantic City a lot. A lot.
At one time I would head down there every other weekend. See when you are an accountant it is pretty fucking boring. So a couple of us would head down to AC to have some fun. We weren't much for the sun so we didn't hit the Jersey Shore or the Hamptons. You had a pasty fat Irishman, a skinny Chink and a couple of Hebes. We would take the bus out of the Port Authority right after work on Friday night. $20 and you got 12 back to gamble.
We would stay in this old school hotel behind the Claridge which offered cut rate rooms. You were a block off the Boardwalk. They had a great coffee shop that was run by an Irish guy from Belfast. Some of the waitresses we knew from Times Square worked their now and again.
Anyway I often went by myself. I was not scared to be on my own. I mean I can make friends. I might of told you about one of these friends. Sal who was the bartender in "Sparky's Pub" in the Claridge Casino. It was a tiny eleven seat bar against the back wall of the casino floor. It had a couple or three tables as well as a banquet against the wall. The pub was dedicated to Sparky Lyle the old time Yankee Relief pitcher. At the time there was a lot of turis about Mickey Mantle and Willie Mays and a couple of other baseball players being Casino greeters. They were even prevented from going to the Old Timers game one year. Bowie Kuhn was a cunt. Still and all the pub was a Yankee fans safe space.
Sal was a guinea from South Philly and I was half a guinea from Brooklyn so we knew some of the same things. And just like Bob Seger I wish I didn't know now what I didn't know then. I always made sure I stopped off and visited. It was often my first and my last stop on a night of gambling.
