Free Fat Old Woman in Las Vegas: Gambling, Dieting and Wicked Fun by Pat Dennis Page B

had double seats to ourselves. If we didn’t stop at another town, the ride to Vegas would be actually pleasant.
    Ten minutes later, the bus veered off the highway once more and pulled into another station. The journey was starting to feel like a metro bus line. I glanced out and saw at least ten people in line. Every seat on the bus would have to be utilized, even the “broken” bench seat behind me.
    A young Asian woman ended up sitting next to me. Her small frame barely made a statement in the area that was provided for her. She immediately pulled out a Kindle and started to read. I assumed she was a student. Until I had to go to the restroom and disturb her by asking her to move into the aisle so I could exit, she’d be the perfect seatmate.
    Meanwhile, a slim, handsome twenty-some year old man loomed over Akeisha. He wore black jeans and a dark brown t-shirt that looked road weary. He carried a small backpack in his hands.
    “Do you mind if I sit?” he asked, his British accent floating through the air like a ’90s romance starring Hugh Grant.
    Akeisha pulled her earbuds out and beamed a wide, warm smile. “Are you from England?” she gushed before motioning for him to sit.
    It was easy to see Akeisha’s hormones stirring. Mine would have been as well. The man from across the pond was movie star gorgeous. Still, she looked uncomfortable when he slid into place. It was as if she wanted to apologize for just being alive.
    My heart fluttered a bit. It was an apology I, too, had wanted to make most of my life. I sent a prayer upward to my chubby goddess in the sky and asked her to take care of the girl.
    Akeisha’s friendly seatmate introduced himself. I didn’t catch his name but I heard Akeisha proclaim it to be a lovely name. Her voice was as big as her spirit. It easily carried over the sound of the wheels whirling underneath and the continual grind of the engine.
    She offered the man a hard candy, but he declined. He must have asked if she’d ever been to Vegas because a conversation began that would last the entire trip. She promised she’d teach him everything he needed to know about Vegas, from where to eat to where to gamble to what shows to see. His gentle laughter proved he was enjoying her well-earned knowledge.
    Akeisha announced she was what they called a “high roller.” She claimed to always come out a winner. Of course, no one ever believed her, but she insisted it was one hundred and ten percent true.
    It wasn’t. No one consistently wins in gambling. No one. But the act itself dilutes a player’s ability to remember anything but the last time they won. I am convinced Akeisha wasn’t lying when she claimed victory over the slots. She was deluded, like all gamblers. She’d continue to believe that statement until her first loss. At that point, all of the losses she’d endured over the years would tidal wave into her consciousness. The disappointments and pain would stay like a polluted oceanfront only to be washed away by the possibility of another tidal wave of a win.
    The cycle of lose-win-lose never ends. I know. I have been caught up in it for decades.
    I pulled my iPod out of my bag and attached the earbuds. I was preparing to turn it on when the bus pulled abruptly along the side of the highway. My head jolted upwards and I looked around. One thing for sure, it was not a good place to be parked. Cars and semi trucks sped past. The shoulder along the highway was too narrow for a bus.
    Upfront, passengers started mumbling. A few minutes later, the gossip finally made it to my ears. The gruff driver had pulled over, not in an emergency, but to make a call to his girlfriend on his cell phone. For five minutes he continued to chat away while passengers in the back began making bets when we’d be jackknifed by a semi.
    As one last truck passed at a speed close to a near death experience, the driver abruptly pulled back on the highway and sped off.
    Relieved, I placed the earbuds back in