Although my colleague Hiro is brilliant and amazing, we don’t exactly see eye-to-eye on some things. Most things. Ok, anything. (Hey, if you ever want to see a Quebecois turn funny colors, you should tell him that every problem you have with the English language can be traced back to the French in 1066.)
I saw the Strip as an unending sensory overload of twisty passages, all alike, but he knows Vegas terrifyingly well, so on my first night, he showed me around the casinos.
Each time we went into a new casino, Hiro would find the roulette wheel, and place a bet on red, and then he’d win. Each time he won, he’d see it as further proof that he was pleasing the casino gods, that luck was with him. Each time red would come up, I’d see it as further proof that it’s equally likely to come up red each time! The roulette wheel doesn’t remember what it got last time! It definitely doesn’t remember what you got at the last casino! That’s what a game of chance is, Hiro!
The casinos were pretty exciting, and I’ve never had so much fun arguing. Think I’m going to call him up and tell him why Quebec independence is a terrible idea.
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