Since I came to the United States – about 12 years ago – I have done very little travelling. There’s always a reason to not travel: school, work, time … and of course, money. School is no longer an issue, but everything else remains an issue. In spite of these issues, I was blessed to take two trips recently, but the second one is the one I want to write about today.<\/p>\n
So I \u00a0was at The Borgata Hotel and Spa<\/a><\/strong> in Atlantic City. Prior to this trip, I had never done any of the following: never stayed at (or heard of) The Borgata; never been to Atlantic City; definitely never gambled. We didn’t know what to expect at The Borgata. As usual, I packed too much of everything: too many shoes (three pairs), too many clothes (four pairs of jeans, five tops, and three dresses), and too many eye shadows. I only used one. After we packed in the garage, we tried to deliberate on where we would go for breakfast the following day. When we entered the hotel, we were both like kids in a candy store. \u00a0Everything was so big. And bright. And beautiful. And fancy.<\/p>\n We had a three course meal at Wolfgang Puck. I’ve never had mashed potatoes that was this creamy. Until we tasted it, we suspected it might be butter. What we couldn’t understand was why there would be butter under our meat (I had chicken. He had beef). It was orgasmic – the food, I mean. Every course of the meal came in very small portions, but at the end, we were stuffed. I don’t know how that happened. We decided to walk around the hotel. It was like a little indoor city. There were so many other places to eat, night clubs, concerts, shops, a large casino with countless games, bars, lounges, and bathrooms that you could get lost in – literally. People walked up and down the boardwalk, just like us. The day before we came, Jill Scott had just come to perform. We missed that one.<\/p>\n Speaking about the bathrooms that people could get lost in, I have a confession: I stole their napkins. No, not the bathroom tissue. But the napkins, the ones you use to wipe your hands after washing them. They are like towels, not the kind you see at regular bathrooms – the ones that feel more like paper than tissue and can slice your hands if care is not taken. Yes, I stole them. \u00a0My only regret is that I didn’t steal more of them. And now, my dilemma is what on earth to do with them. I didn’t think about that when I stole them.<\/p>\n If the power had gone out at The Borgata Hotel, I’m sure the light from our eyes would have been enough to light up the building. We were positively impressed, and we were not afraid to show it. But more importantly, it made us even more determined to be rich. When you’re rich, there’s just so much of the world and of life that you get to experience. It’s unfortunate, but money really makes or breaks a lot of things. Sure, we would rather not put a price on the quality of one’s life, but the powers that be (not God) have put a price on it, and unless you can pay it, you are on your own. When I talk this way, some people tell me that money is overrated, and that it is the root of all evil. To this I say, it is not money that is the root of all evil. It is the love of money (above life) that is the root of all evil. And while money cannot buy you happiness, it can buy you a comfortable place to wallow in your misery. That’s my quote. Don’t steal it without giving me credit.<\/p>\n The bad news is that I am not yet rich. The good news is that I will become rich. The better news is that when I do, I will go to places that The Borgata has nothing on, places that may force me to stay on my knees all day to thank God for His grace. Whoever said that money is not good?<\/p>\n But that’s not all. On our second day at The Borgata, we decided to gamble. The first game Later that evening, we spent $66 on a buffet restaurant ($33 per person). I thought it was rather pricey, but when we went in there and saw the decor, hospitality, professionalism, and variety of foods, we could not complain. At 9pm, we attended a comedy show that almost had us laughing our guts out. Two caucasian comedians and one African American one. I don’t remember their names. Then we went to a bar for drinks. We both ordered cocktails. He didn’t like his, so I, being the alcohol consumer in training, I decided to down them both while he ordered himself a beer. I was feeling quite happy<\/em> by the time we left the bar.<\/p>\n Many more things happened in between, but some things are better left unwritten. The rest just don’t have enough space for them to be written. If I weren’t still anonymous, I would have posted some pictures of myself. Not to worry, my anonymity is almost over<\/a><\/strong> (January 1st 2012). Plus, we’ll go back to Borgata at some point. Then, I’ll post pictures.<\/p>\nwe<\/del> he played was The Hangover game. Till today, we don’t know what happened or how it happened. All we know is that a five dollar bill went into the machine and never came out, and then, GAME OVER<\/strong> was splashed boldly across the screen. Next, we went to another game – don’t remember the name. Another five dollars was fed into the machine. We didn’t know how to play it, but we figured we had to pull the lever every now and then. Yeap. Our five dollars disappeared. Then we went to yet another game. It cost 20 cents per bid, so I played for one dollar. We did not know the rules of the game, but he kept saying, “Play, play, play!”<\/em> So I did. I pushed random buttons, and voila! We won $116.70. Woooooot! \u00a0We used our Nigerian sense to cash out immediately before the machine collected the money back.<\/p>\n