Vegas Slots
After spending a week in Las Vegas after almost a decade and hoofing it through most of the resorts on the strip south of Wynn, I finally put my finger on what element was missing from the cacophonous harmony of each casino floor: the sound of hard currency.
The slot machines all lacked coin-drop trays. There were no change machines, where one used to be able to procure a free souvenier — the plastic coin bucket. No more humping ten pounds of nickels across the room, an overflowing bucket in each hand. No more sibilant rattle as someone cashes out a big win.
Instead, the machine prints a ticket that you redeem for cash in an ATM.
I’ve never been much for slots, but I always found them interesting, and engaging — to a point. Slot play used to be something you could follow with your eyes. You might have three paylines on the three-reel slot, so you could always tell when things were lining up in your favor. Now the video-screen slots have five reels and something like 30 or more paylines. With no handle to pull, the player is reduced to a passive automaton pushing that “rebet” button and waiting for a positive outcome that never arrives.
It’s certainly a more efficient money-delivery system for the house. Fewer cashiers to pay, a limited or eliminated hard count procedure at the end of the gaming day — not to mention the wear-and-tear those heavy coin carts put on the floors. And the more paylines you can add to a machine, the higher the average bet becomes. The easier you make it to spin the reels, the more plays per hour you get.
What’s most alarming about my observations, of course, is the thought itself that “Things aren’t what they used to be,” a sign that I’m already turning into a curmudgeon.
