Luck, and My Lack of It...

As some of you know, I’m a firm believer in luck. I worship luck the way some people worship famous people… from very far away and never likely to meet. I sit, starstruck, and wonder what it would be like to have good fortune just fall into my lap.

I’m not going to sit here and say that my life is all emo tragedy; that’s not what I’m trying to get across at all. While some horrible things have happened to me as of late, I do not blame them on luck. We can chalk those up to something bigger, if you like. What I AM saying is: when it comes to more “insignificant” things, I have the worst luck you have ever seen. Sonnets will, someday, be written about my grand (or really more like petty) misfortunes.

Games (of any sort) are the worst of the lot as far as this goes. This, especially, includes the lottery. Time and time again, I have had to prove to people that I should not be included in the office lottery pool. At my last job, they badgered me until I played and that, not unexpectedly, was the first time that they won ABSOLUTELY NOTHING back. They had always won a few dollars here and there, but the first and only time I got involved was the only time they won nothing. They never asked again. Unfortunately, the people at my current job were not deterred by that story and so I donate a dollar a week for the pleasure of being a “part of something” that will, ultimately, end in tears.

Unfortunately, my bad luck with lottery spills over into the real world. Every time I wander into any convenience store, I will, invariably, be behind the person who plays scratch-offs like they are about to reveal the cure for genital warts under the magic silver powder as they furiously attack the ticket with their coins or keys. 

Keep scratching, my friend... I don't need these Twinkies until next Thursday anyway.

 They stand there and make everyone wait as they incessantly scratch, win a dollar, use that dollar to buy the next ticket, and vigorously scratch at that one while I, and the rest of the county, stand somewhat patiently and await the inevitable cataclysm of 2012 that will end this eternity of waiting to purchase our soda or cigarettes. What would be wrong with buying some tickets, stepping aside, and letting people who have some semblance of lives get on with their over-consumption while you grind at your tickets that will, no doubt, reveal untold riches?

I will saw at the silver glue/powder until I see this.  Today will be my day.

The good news out of this? I will NEVER become a gambling addict. “Games of Chance” are my Kryptonite. I will not play ANY game that just involves being dealt the right cards. I may be one of the only white males in the Midwest who doesn’t even know how to play Texas Hold’em. There is absolutely no use in learning this game for me. Might as well set my paycheck on fire; at least it would provide me with momentary warmth. And don’t even mention “the fun of playing”, as I get no enjoyment out of any game where I’m guaranteed to lose.

I have nothing against card games, mind you. Twice a year, at our large family gatherings, giant Pinochle tournaments start up. This is a game I will play because, while I am dealt lousy hands every time, the challenge for me is to play those abysmal hands and apply some tactical skill to it all (that, and playing with my family is hilariously fun) . It’s a team effort and it’s all about overcoming disparity. Poker of any style relies on the luck of the draw (and yes, there is skill involved but too much of it is built around being dealt the right cards…I don’t know how that feels so I cannot speak any further on this matter).

This image is a lie.  The cards should be a 3 and a 5 (different suits) and those chips belong to the guy next to me.

I have never played roulette (not even the Russian style, which is why I am still here posting idiotic blogs… you’re welcome) or put a coin in a slot machine…ever. Oh, I’ve been to Las Vegas…when I was eight and spent my time looking at the pretty lights. I have no need to ever go back there (unless I was visiting someone. In case you’re reading this, cousin).

Recently, I went over to a friends house for a visit (and to return a winter coat that he had drunkenly left at my house).  As we chatted, the subject of this wretched game came up:

This was developed by the Dark Lord to torment my eternal soul.

My friend loves the game.  In fact, his bathroom is themed around it (which I think is kind of creative and interesting).  He spoke of all the dodgy deals and marathon sessions he has played in and suggested we play sometime.  My response was less than friendly.  They say he will get to come home from intensive care very soon and should have a full recovery, but I don't think I will be invited to dinner at his place any time soon.

It's not that I have any trouble grasping the game.  I can handle the money, property, and little green houses.  I can negotiate with the best of them (but only if I get to be the car.  I own guns) and can handle strategies.  I have the wherewithal to be a railroad tycoon and a decent slumlord.

The problem comes with the dice.

Of course, this roll means I am exactly seven spaces away from Boardwalk with someone else's large, red hotel standing majestically on it.

I could spend years studying the intricacies of Monopoly and study mathematical theories pertaining to the science behind winning and would still be the first player out of any game I choose to torture myself by being involved in.  The evil dice will make sure of it.  Any other players with developed properties on the board are guaranteed income from me each trip around the board.  Usually, I just ask the banker to hand my $200 from passing "GO" to the nearest property owner before I even roll... it's just easier that way.

Interestingly, the only dice roll in the game that seems to be "in my favor" is when I roll "doubles" to get out of jail.  This, however, only serves to let me land on other players' properties faster and, thus, helps me more quickly ease the burden of my small pile of cheerfully colored money.  The cheap properties that I may have acquired during the early stages of the game invariably get flipped over to the "mortgaged" side by about the fifth trip around the board.

Never been there, they tell me it's kind of helpful.

As we chatted about this (yeah, I'll say it) Satanic board game I tried to get across the point of my bad luck.  In response, he pulled a set of large dice out of his desk drawer and asked me to roll them.  I think I rolled something like a 6 and a 4.  He scoffed at me and told me that it was a decent roll, and it was.  The problem, I explained, is that the roll meant nothing.  Yeah, I can sit and roll dice all day and get truly random numbers just like anyone else.  When the roll stands to gain me anything at all, those rules change.

"Alright," he said, not for nothing, "roll them again, and, this time, it's purely for honor."  That was enough.  After he looked, dumbfounded, at the dice which had come to rest on 3 and 1, he swept them back into the drawer and snapped "Got it. 'Nuff said."   After I left, he probably dipped them in paint thinner and slaughtered a few chickens in the back yard to ward off whatever curse I had brought upon his home and family.  Can't say I blame him.

Now this brings us to another style of game:

Part of any self-respecting gamer's "standard battle loadout."

Yes, I am a nerd/geek/dweeb who likes role playing games (a subject I plan to blog a bit about later, so I won't get into the why's and where's right now).  For those who do not know, these are games where you take on the role of a "character" and get put through a series of mental-picture adventures by the person who takes on the role of "Gamemaster." The various dice that inhabit your collection represent the element of "chance" that allow the characters to succeed or fail in their endeavors.  I know... but, believe it or not, I have touched a girl before.

I have enjoyed these games for many years but as I get older, my tolerance for my idiotic luck fades. WARNING:  GEEK TALK APPROACHING.  A year of two ago, a friend ran a Star Wars roleplaying game.  I was excited because, in this particular new version of the game, players were finally able to take on the role of Jedi.  This, to me, was the ultimate "nerdgasm" as I have been such a fan of these fictional knights since 1977.  I ordered the game book off of Amazon and eagerly awaited its arrival like a kid going to bed on Christmas Eve.  I poured all the creative mojo I posses into the creation of this Jedi character.  I came up with a cool name for him and, with the assistance of the gamemaster, wrote a heck of a good back-story that I think even George Lucas would be happy with.  The excitement pounded in me as we sat down around the table in the basement (my life is a cliche...I swear it is) and pulled out the books and dice.

Suffice to say, I ended up with the clumsiest parody of a Jedi Knight that anyone has ever seen.  On a twenty-sided die, I was unable to roll above a 4 in any given circumstance.  What resulted was nothing more than my character that I had worked to hard to create and flesh out becoming a lightsaber-wielding Chevy Chase from the early years of Saturday Night Live.  To the ultimate annoyance of my friend, the gamemaster, I quit the game and spent my Saturday nights home watching movies and playing Playstation games (while my wife continued to go play in the Star Wars game).  It was quite peaceful.

This past year, right after we found out about Dad's cancer, it was suggested that I join a different game now being played by the same group.  The company of people became a "safe place" and I am still involved with the game.  This time, however, I had the gamemaster make my character for me and I put almost no effort into him. I also found it amusing that, due to it being the 21st century, I could game "paperless" (aren't I "green?") with the use of my netbook.  My character is a spreadsheet and I have a .pdf of the game book on the hard drive.  Abandoning physical dice in favor of an electronic "roller," my misfortune is not as bad as it once was... probably because I have much less invested this time.

Thankfully, so far, this phenomenon has kept itself to matters that aren't terribly important.  Again, luck had little to do with my parents' passing.  That was a matter of life and health and the lack thereof.  So far (vigorously knocking on every wooden surface I can find), no trees have fallen on my house (sorry, Rob and Wanda) nor have bolts of lightning electrified my television or computers (yet).  As long as the bad fortune stays within games and other insignificant matters, I can live with it.

At least until the power goes out right when I am finally doing well in a game of Black Ops.  Trust me, it will happen.