By Wendy Pierman Mitzel
While most of us are at the office or the grocery store or the basement laundry room rubbing out chocolate milk stains, there’s a place that’s hopping like it’s a Friday night in Times Square: Mohegan Sun Casino.
Deep in the cavernous bowels of the casino, reached only via long passageways from each entrance, there is a daytime “underworld” that’s less Godfather and more Grandparent.
Elderly gamblers ramble by on rentable motorized scooters like battery operated Vespas in Italian roundabouts. They are often followed by the accompanying spouse, who often has an oxygen tank on wheels and most likely a fanny pack and is yelling instructions no one is listening to.
They beeline toward the sensory overload of slots with flashing cartoon women who entice them to play Mermaid Fin and Gypsy Eyes and China Shores and push the hit button over and over so they are rewarded with beeps and trills and scrolling reels that almost never say jackpot. There, the slot players sit, taking advantage of the free drinks and discretely inhaling the lit cigarettes dangling from their non-playing fingers.
Bored greeters wait for high rollers at the exclusive sections red-roped off like a Friday Night Fight. And at tables like Black Jack and Roulette is the younger crowd, leaning on elbows over green felt and waiting for the magic number. No one looks happy. Nearly everyone appears a combination of focused and zombified.
Outside the gaming perimeter there are strollers with babies to add to the scooter traffic. Workers push loaded trash cans past caterers pushing loaded carts of food supplies navigating around the two twenty-something dudes dragging a luggage cart through the center of it all.
Near the escalators to the exit, two elderly men talk at each other waving their hands and shaking their heads as the occasional beautiful woman or good-looking man strolls past. Middle-aged men with beer bellies and UConn sweatshirts hustle toward the hive of activity. Did I mention the women with oxygen tanks and fanny packs?
In the passages from one casino section to the next are upscale boutiques with gorgeous window displays but not one customer inside. Along the way are video signs that advertise the upcoming Chippendales Show, Wine Wednesday’s and Bingo Nights – something for all the ladies! And when the ladies are happy – the men will follow.
So why was I there in the midst of all this daytime excitement? Thanks to an expiring spa gift certificate from the boyfriend from Christmas, I had to “force” myself to drive down to Norwich and “force” myself to get a massage at Elemis Spa in the hotel.
But here’s my other dirty little secret…. it’s not the first time I’ve been to the casinos. I don’t really gamble much more than $10 as I am about as cheap as it comes (ask my kids) but I do like taking a night to attend a show in one of the fabulous theaters or comedy clubs and I enjoy the nightlife at the expensive but highly creative restaurants. (Here’s a tip: drinks and apps will do just fine.) There are waterfalls and glowing glass-blown art. There are stuffed wolves and Indian artifacts celebrating the culture of the people who operate the establishment. It’s glamorous and entertaining and you don’t have to battle the elements like rain or snow or the humid summer heat. The beautifully appointed casino is a little city that keeps track of neither time nor space. It’s a mini-vacation to another world.
Oh, and there’s one more little private matter …. my favorite slot: the one where the pretty fishies swim around and do a little dance when something exciting happens. I’ll hit that penny-slot play-button more than a few times just to see what those animate goldfish will do next! Now shhhh… don’t tell.