My Disastrous Gambling Cruise Experience

This past Saturday night was unlike no other. Somehow I managed to fit in a three floor casino boat, the most beautiful mullets in the world, mass puking sessions, and being ridiculed by roulette dealers all into a 7:00-1:00 time frame. Let me start from the beginning. You're not going to want to miss any of this. So pull the laptop close, crack open a Budweiser, and let big daddy Ben tell you all about the butt, more commonly known as Sun Cruz Casinos, that took a crap all over my Saturday night. If you're thinking about taking a gambling cruise anytime soon then read this article and pay close attention.

My night started when my friend Marc pulled his shiny 2003 Yukon Denali into my driveway and beeped a time or two, urging me to get my ass into gear so he didn't have to do the tedious task of walking all the way to my front door and using excessive energy amounts on pushing the doorbell. I took the cue, stretched my baby pink polo shirt over my head and onto my body, and most importantly fetched my wallet. I avoided the rain as much as I could and sought shelter into Marc's leather clad, softly humming Denali. We'd been planning this trip for a few weeks now. Originally we were supposed to go to Sun Cruz Casinos as a guy's night out, with several others tagging along. That number dwindled down to 2, Marc and I, and we were fine with that. Losing money was losing money, regardless of how many people were there to witness your grief.

We immediately went to BB&T to get the gas that fueled my date with the dealers. A very green gas, and in the form of five clean twenty dollar bills. I withdrew one hundred dollars from my checking amount. Small potatoes, I know, to your average gambler, but it's all I could really afford at the moment without the wife going postal on me. I stuffed the crisp new colored bills, the newly printed patterns of red and blue ink highly resembled Monopoly money, into my wallet where it was only a matter of time before they found a new home in the Sun Cruz vault. I couldn't help but think the weight of my wallet would slowly get lighter by the minute at the Casino boats. It would be nice if the dealers gave me receipts for every hand I lost, so I would at least subconsciously be guilt free by thinking that I had actually bought something.

Little River, South Carolina was a 45-50 minute straight shot drive from Wilmington. We were advised from the Sun Cruz Casino 1-800 number lady to arrive between 5:45 and 6:00 to ensure that we got reservations in time before it filled up. We followed the lines and curves of 17 and eventually arrived in North Myrtle Beach at 5:15. Marc had a knack for getting queasy on car rides, so it seemed like a logical idea to stop in Wal-Mart to get some Dramamine. He ended up purchasing the Dramamine pills, as well as an oil based medication that was applied behind the ears. It's never a bad idea to have a backup, little did we know neither one of them would be enough to tame the throws of the wild beast known as the Atlantic Ocean.

We boarded the large vessel at 6:40. Welcome to Disfunctional America. Leave your morals at the door, bring your inner demons, as well as your money, inside and order a drink! The well drinks were on the house tonight. And that, of course, would be all the house was giving out tonight. They'd be taking your money later that night at the BlackJack table to pay for the little bit of liquor they poured into the small, overfilled with ice, plastic cups. We walked around, gawked at by onlookers for what I can only assume as their amazement with people who were actually normal, like animals on display at a Zoo.

The casino boat was three floors dedicated solely for gambling space, with a series of decks provided for those that wished to seek refuge from the smoke, the mullets, and the belligerent people that made up 96% of tonight's Sun Cruz gambling population. The inside was an array of tables, slot machines, sounds, and colors that were enough to make Andy Warhol shield his eyes. The layout was appropriate. The first floor was the heavy hitting floor. This was where the House made the most of its money. The blackjack tables, roulette wheels, and craps tables were all located here. Just up the steps to the second level were the slot machines. This was evident by all the little old ladies walking around with old rusty coffee cans filled to the rim with dull nickels and quarters. Past the slot machines was the food buffet, which was looking more disgusting than ever. Third floor was mainly poker tables, a bar, and the large outdoor decks with benches and seating. Thinking back on the layout, it was perfect. Get drunk and gamble on the first floor. After losing most of your money, you move your way to the second floor to eat and kill some time. On the third, you lose the rest of your money being cocky at Texas Hold'em, and afterward you cap off the night by jumping off the deck and into the ocean to wash away your misery. Perfecto.

The boat knocked off around 7:15. While others were scrambling to the five dollar BlackJack tables and claim a seat, Marc and I headed to the buffet on the second floor to fill up our bellies so that when we lost our money later on it wouldn't hurt so much when we swallowed the situation. I was able to score a free buffet pass before we boarded so I was pretty stoked about getting free grub. The caterer slopped the green beans, roll, and barbeque rib tips onto my plate which looked terrible enough to pass for an elementary school science project. I balanced out the unhealthy meal by ordering a Diet Coke and made my way to the table Marc was already sitting out. He was eating an éclair, deciding to forego the disasters on the buffet line and go with something more familiar that he knew would be decent to eat. We listened to two women talk about the Red Sox and how, after seeing Marc's éclair, they wished they had gotten that for dessert instead of the cheesecake they had chosen. After Marc finished his éclair he got up to throw it away and came back, not empty handed, but rather with a spare éclair to please the two women beside us now. They blushed, thanked him several times for being thoughtful and up we were to find a spot at a Black Jack table. Who knew Marc could be such a bro?

In order for gambling to be legal for native North & South Carolinians, the vessel had to travel and tread in International Waters. It took the boat thirty five long minutes to arrive in International Waters, which looked no different from National Waters. We were sitting at a five dollar BlackJack table when the dealers were given the nod to shuffle up and deal. I got forty dollars worth of chips. And it took me thirty five minutes to lose every one of those chips, as if the Cookie Monster were inhaling them with a nice glass of warm milk. After being up by nearly $120, Marc hit a cold streak and now only held an $80 advantage. We decided to break up the night by wondering around and eventually we ended up at a roulette table. This is where the losing money part was the least of my worries…

After putting down only two dollars in chips on red and winning, the tubby dealer in front of me puts his hand on hips and stares a Charles Manson stare. He was the better part of 300 pounds, and his hair a bright shade of orange that accented his now blushing cheeks. Chubs the dealer was pissed. He had orange hair. Of course he was unhappy.

"You can only bet five dollar minimums!" he said with what little authority he thought he had. His fancy laminated name tag clung to his shirt as if to say, "Hey buddy. I've got a name tag. I'm tough shit. And it's laminated. You don't want to mess around with a guy that's got a laminated name tag, do you?" Every head at the roulette table turned to see what fool this man spoke about. I stood there with the usual shit eating grin on my face.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know," I rebutted, a decent argument given the fact that, well, I didn't know. I nervously shuffled the chips in my hand, drawing the man's attention to my hand. His eyes opened even wider now and I could see I had ruffled some feathers, or perhaps a few rolls of blubber.

"Your chips. Down. Right now," he instructed, pointing a finger at my hand, like a police officer warning me to put down my weapon.

"What do you mean? I have to bet them all now?" I said, being the amateur roulette player that I was.

"You have to keep them on the table!!!! We have rules here, man. Let's just freakin' throw the rules right out the window for you!"

"I'm sorry," I apologized again for my second offense, while gently laying the chips down onto the soft green mat. "I didn't know I couldn't hold them."

"You don't know a lot," he said. He spun the roulette wheel around for the onlookers that were beginning to be frustrated with my lack of knowledge. "But you need to learn," he jabbed one last time. I finished the conversation by turning my back to him and deciding to spend my money elsewhere. "No tips for you!" I said in my best Soup Nazi voice as I walked away.

By this time thing started to turn sour, like month old grapes. I typically have a strong stomach when it comes to seasickness. A fortress with an iron gate, my stomach's only penetrated when it comes to consuming mass quantities of beer or hard liquor. There's never been one documented moment for seasickness from me whether my travels are by car, plane, boat, or any other means. Being that my Vegas luck had gone south so far tonight, it only right that the barbeque rib tips in my belly felt as if it were traveling north. The vessel was bobbing up and down in the Atlantic, fighting six footers and making most of the passengers highly uncomfortable. At 9:00 I took my first Dramamine. It helped about as much as if I had put in an Altoid. At least then I would have fresh breath, an advantage that most on the boat couldn't speak for. I chased the Dramamine with the ointment Marc let me borrow. 3 times behind the left ear. 3 times behind the right here.

Marc and I were troopers. He had followed the same procedure and we were both yet to see results. It was off to the slot machines, or as Beavis likes to say, "The Sluts." This was by far the most addictive of the games one could lose their money at. It was evident by all the old ladies reaching into their coffee cans, pulling out a quarter and getting their quick fix by pulling on the lever, like a heroin addict reaching for a needle. Instead of highs, however, most of the time with Slot Machines there were lots of lows. In my case, twenty dollars worth of lows. Several times I came within an inch of the big $8000 jackpot, nearly lining three diamonds in a row. The solution to part of my financial worries, only an inch from striking. Story of my life…

Marc had told me earlier before I became enthralled with the Slots that he was going to either A) find an open seat at a $5 BlackJack Table or B)go to the upstairs outdoor deck to get some fresh air. The way the night was going I put my bet choice B. It was the only bet I won at the entire night. I walked to the third floor deck and there he was. Pitiful as could be. Hunched over in a chair, arms braced against his head and staring at the angry ocean was my friend, Marc Miller.

Seasickness had gotten the best of him, and he had been reduced to this pathetic state. The bad news wasn't just that he was seasick. The bad news was it was only 9:45. We still had over three hours on this damned boat. And not to mention, I wasn't feeling so good now either….

Before I joined Marc at his side, I decided to go down to the first floor restroom to use the bathroom and hope to piss away my bad luck. I was intercepted by a Casino worker that informed me the first floor bathrooms were now closed due to a much needed cleaning after "several passengers got sick from the rough seas." And that's when I smelled that smell. You know, the smell. Janitors have closets full of the stuff. Like in middle school, when someone puked in the hallway in Middle School there was a distinct chemical smell associated with cleaning throw-up. My nostrils caught the smell, and it was enough to do me in. The barbeque rip tips shot up to the back of my throat like the Space Shuttle Discovery taking launch. I raced back up to the third floor deck for a breathe of fresh air. Before I knew it, Marc and I were twins, both in upright fetal positions. We were joined by 20-30 others that had various miserable states plastered all over their faces.

And here we remained until 12:30. Miserable and sick. We never threw up. Marc guzzled down 2 more Dramamine while I chose to give the ointment another try. Nothing helped. Marc, currently holding a $50 profit, decided to go downstairs and give BlackJack hell for a little while. He returned in twenty minutes, losing one hundred and fifty dollars.

At 12:45 the games had been ended and we were headed back to Little River to dock and depart. Masses of people had gathered around the Exit doors in line, waiting to get as far from this vessel as possible. It's interesting that only hours earlier this same crowd was eager to get inside and find the nearest open five dollar table. Now, things were different and things were definitely sad…

Smiles had turned to frowns. Tanned faces were now ghostly white. Eyes sagged. Hopes that boarded the vessel with the passengers wouldn't leave them. Many were in concentrated form, perhaps thinking of ways to tell their loved ones how their children's college fund was now non-existent.

After leaving the casino shell shocked, we took a trip to the Waffle House where I added a sausage, egg, and cheese sammy to my already unbalanced stomach. And it was most certainly delish. The barbeque tips greeted the sandwich with a hardy welcome, as if the stomach had been partying all night and the whole, "if the stomach is a rockin' don't come a knockin'" bit. The night ended with me in bed, trying to convince myself that my bedroom was not still spinning. Sunday I slept off the rest of my Dramamine overdose.

So the moral of the story here is…Well, there really isn't one. Casino boats are a great way to make a lot of money. Or they can suck really badly. Piece of advice: Check the Weather Channel before you go.