I've been reading Pauly's excellent stories about Eskimo, Flack, and Vinh and a clouded thought came to mind:
Were they once upstanding married fathers who changed diapers, went to the T-ball games, and help the wife with chores around the house? Suddenly some degenerate gene inside their bodies mutated enough to turn them to the alternate universe of gambling/party-like-a-rock-star?
Many times after staring down the rank three month old garbage smelling load my daughter left in her diaper or another cold shoulder from the wife, I wonder how much easier it would be to give up the picket fence, three bedrooms, and quiet lifestyle of a suburban dad to chase a lifestyle that offers no apologies but comes with no rules, no guidelines, no responsiblities.
For now my love for the kids and the wife keep the gambler inside low enough so I'm plunking around on $50 to $100 tables on Full Tilt and Stars while enjoying a new found love for reporting on Poker.
The question remains, what if something snapped and I end up wheelchair drunk playing $2 blackjack at the Plaza at night after chasing down O8 games with the AARP set during the day on the strip?