Minnesota Indian Casinos

Sin City

Ever driven across the desert? It can be oppressively hellish in the heat of day. But at night, in the cool air with a full moon it can look absolutely eerie. I remember the first time I drove... The weird twisted shapes that form in the moonlit desert make you wonder what could happen out here in the loneliness of the night. The moonlight gave an eerie glow in the desert night, and the tarmac ahead of me was the only thing I could see as I took the I-15 north into Sin City and away from the City of Lost Angels.
Neither are my home, I moved to L.A. back in 2000 from my hometown of Helmud, MN when I dropped out of my senior year in high school. I originally wanted to travel north to Alaska and put as much distance between me and Helmud as possible. However, a cousin in L.A. hooked my up with a landscaping gig and 13 years later I own my own company. I can't say I am rich, but I make something more than a meagre existance and only answer to myself. Not too bad for a high-school dropout, is it?
Where was I...? Ah yes, Helmud. What a sorry excuse for a town. Every Tom, Dick and Harry strutting around like a big fish in a small pond, dreaming of moving away to the Twin Cities where they can be eaten by the real big fish. I never felt big fish, and there were one or two back at Cold Lake High School that tried to make sure I never did. Bud Reilly was one of them... I'll never forget that kid.
You see, Ol' Bud was the reason I left Helmud forever. Bud was a linebacker on the football team, and although everyone knew he would never go pro, it never stopped him from acting like he would. You see, back then I was a skinny boy and an easy target for bullies like Bud. That year, I decided to do something about it and joined the wieght lifting club. I went to every meeting and often worked out long after the school went silent for the night.
The night it happened, I had just completed a long workout. I was just starting to see some gains and was quite proud of my progress. I had a long way to go before putting on the size I carry today, but it was a good start. I undressed and got into the shower, and as I closed my eyes let the water wash away the stresses of the day, I suddenly became aware of someone else in the room with me.
I opened my eyes and there stood Bud, naked as the day he was born. I was confused at first... The football team had their own shower room and it's not like they had practice today. Then an evil grin spread across his face and he stepped toward me.
"You all washed up for me, Princess?" he asked as he came closer.
I suddenly knew what he had in mind. I tried to run past him, but who was I kidding? Bud was used to putting the hurt on kids twice the size of me in mid-sprint. He brought me down, driving my face onto the hard floor in the process.
"Playing hard to get, are we?" he snorted as he pinned my arms down.
I wish I could say it didn't happen or that I fought him off, but he did exactly what he wanted to me. Bud Reilly destroyed my manhood that afternoon. I lay there a long while after he finished, and when the water finally went cold, I picked myself up off the shower floor, got dressed and left Cold Lake High School for good. I know, I know... Why didn't I tell someone, right? Let me ask you, how could I? I suppose in retrospect I should have, but it was just easier to slink away and simply pretend that Helmud never existed.
After I moved to L.A., I funneled my focus on my work and my rage in the gym. I joined a local boxing club, and when I wasn't slaving my ass off under the warm California sun, I was working my ass off in that gym. I started putting on some serious size and won a few amateur bouts in the tournaments the club took part in.
Eventally, I had made enough contacts and put away enough money to start my own landscaping business. To celebrate, I decided to go to Vegas for a couple days to celebrate and that took me out to the desert and into the hands of fate.
I remember rolling into Vegas that night... It was like a shining jewel in a sea of darkness. I checked into a motel off Fremont and went out to have some fun. I never really was a gambler, but Lady Luck was with me that night. I won $200 playing blackjack at the Four Queens and then another $150 at roulette at Binion's. I went back to my motel to sleep and headed down to the famous Strip the following night.
It was at Casino Royale that I hit the jackpot. I started on the craps table and after a couple hours I had broke even. I stepped away from craps to play the slots for awhile and that's when I noiced him. Bud Reilly. He was sitting alone, playing blackjack, drinking whiskey and from the look on his face, losing large to the pretty Asian dealer.
I watheched him for a long while, trying not to stare. It looked like life had caught up to Bud and kicked him square in the nuts. That youthful heft he carried around and long since turned to flab, and that long face and sallow complexion made him blend in with the rest of the degenerates that circle this city like candles to a flame. He finally got up, finished his drink and started heading for the door. I ducked outside and waited for him to pass.
"I swear those tables are rigged!" I spat as he walked past. "How much did they take you for?"
He turned. Not even a glimmer of recollection on his face. "Pardon me?" he slurred.
"Those shysters," I went on. "They mark their cards. I have been here 3 days and haven't won a dime in there. Now the Sundance... That's where the action's at!"
"The what? Sundance?" asked Bud.
"Yeah," I continued. "The Sundance. It's not as well known as these clip shops on the Strip, but it has the best blackjack tables in Vegas. Gorgeous waitresses too! You've never been?"
Bud shook his head. "Can't say I have. Where'd did you say it was?"
"I'll show you. After the rip-off experience I just had in there," I jerked my thumb at Casino Royale, "I could use some better luck."
Bud was at that point where common sense should have overridden his gambler's instinct, but the whiskey had numbed his sense of judgement. "The name's Clay," I lied.
"Bud," he said, shaking my hand. "Is this your first time in Vegas?"
"Actually, it is." I replied as I walked him toward my truck. "How about you?"
We had crossed to the back of the parking lot. My truck was 20 yards away, but Bud was staggering pretty good. As we neared the truck, he stopped. "How far is this place?" he asked, with a hint of concern.
"Not far," I replied. "Here, let me get the door for you." I walked around to the passenger side and opened the door for him.
He looked in the back of the the back of the truck as he neared it. "What's with all the tools?"
"I'm a landscaper. C'mon, let's hit the Sundance!" I smiled, holding the door open for him.
For a brief second, I thought he was going to bolt. But he finally climbed into the truck and I shut his door for him. I walked around the truck and opened the driver's side.
"Maybe can you drop me at my hotel? I don't think I can handle more blackjack tonight."
"Sure, Sure. Say... Did you go to Cold Lake High School?" I grinned at him.
Bud looked alarmed for a half-second as recognition seeped into his whiskey-addled brain. It was the half-second before I hit him repeatedly until he slumped over unconscious. I started the truck, and turned on to the road. I already had a destination in mind.
It was close to 3:00 when I turned off the highway and onto a stretch of dirt road. I was about 20 miles from Las Vegas, and the clouds had cleared enough that the pale moonlight made the desert landscape look like an alien world. Bud was starting to stir as I drove up into the desert hills. As he came to, I stopped the truck and got out. He fumbled with his seatbelt, opened the door and tried to get out. I caught the door as his head came out and slammed the door back on to his forehead. He fell back, stunned. I reached in the back of the pickup and retrieved my spade. Opening the door, I grabbed Bud and pulled him out of the truck.
"So we meet again," I sneered. "I bet you never thought you'd see me again, did you?"
I threw him to the ground and raised the spade. He had just enough time to roll over before I brought the blade down as hard as I could on his crotch. He was screaming like a banshee now, so I raised the spade again and brought the flat down hard on the top of his head. The screaming stopped and Bud went out like a light.
It took me 40 minutes to dig the hole. The sun-baked earth in the desert was like concrete, but I had all the tools I needed at my disposal. But was coming to by the time I had finished digging. He was whimpering now, as he realized I had taken his clothes, duct-taped his hands and feet, and stuffed one of his socks in his mouth.
"Alone at last," I began. "I never thought I'd see this day, but Lady Luck has smiled on me tonight!"
Bud was sobbing now and making pleading noises. I kicked him and told him to shut up.
"Twelve years ago, I left Helmud because you destroyed my life." I grabbed him by the hair and pulled his face to mine. "Tonight, I am taking it back."
His eyes grew wide as he saw the hammer. I hefted its weight and made a motion like I was going to brain him with it. He whimpered again and started sobbing. I went into the tool kit in the back of the truck and retrieved a box of nails. I set them down in front of him. He was utterly terrified now, and I was afraid he'd swallow the sock, so I pulled it out of his mouth.
"OHPLEASEOHPLEASENOPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEOHGOD!" he blubbered.
I listened to him and smiled as I took out a nail and drove it into the handle of the shovel with the hammer. His babbling got worse as I drove four more of them into it at all crazy angles.
"Looks almost medieval, doesn't it?" I stated as I admired my handiwork. "I guess you know where this is going, don't you?"
The babbling turned to screaming then. I came up behind him and grabbed him by the hair. "Scream all you want, Bud. NOBODY is going to hear you out here!"
I slowly worked the nailed end of the shovel handle inside him, twisting it as much as I could. It took all my strength as I pushed it in until it could go any further. He made noises I didn't even think a human was capable of making. It was literally music to my ears.
I watched him suffer for awhile before I kicked him over into the hole I had dug for him. He squealed and mumbled something as he hit the bottom of the hole. I walked back tot the truck and got my other spade. As the first shovelful of dirt came down on him, he started babbling again. He kept it up as I slowly filled the hole in, burying him alive. I swear I could still hear him as I tamped the dirt down and walked back to my truck to leave. The sun was just starting to break as I pulled into my motel, and despite the early hour, I had the best sleep I had enjoyed in 12 years.
During Bud's final hours on this earth, I realized something about myself. You see, I can't describe the pleasure I felt when snuffing out his pathetic life, but I can say it was better than anything else I had ever experienced before or since. Since that night, I have made two more trips out to the desert on moonlit nights when that alien world comes to life. Neither of them were quite as satisfying as Bud was, but I do know one thing: They made me feel ALIVE.
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Made our way after calling to ask if the craps table would be open. Drove 2 1/2 hours so got a hotel and went down to play cross and the table was only 1/2 open - couldn’t get on. When I asked at the table they said they wouldn’t be opening the other side due to 5 call ins. … Off-track betting is also available at both of these tracks. Native American Minnesota casinos may offer slots, video poker, and blackjack. Bars offer video pull-tab games. These mimic slot machines. These were rolled out to help pay for a new stadium for the Minnesota Vikings. That has been a disaster as the games are not popular among tavern Minnesota casinos are scattered throughout the state, either on Native American Tribal land or under Native American Indian jurisdiction. Minnesota has 22 tribal-state regulations and Minnesota casinos allow blackjack, slots, craps, and other video gaming machines. Bingo and poker are allowed, too and are allowed by separate tribal agreements. Minnesota casinos that serve liquor may levy a minimum betting age of 21 years. Minnesota Gambling History Bingo was the first gambling game of chance to be legalized in Minnesota; that took place in 1945. 1991: Tribal casinos are now allowed to offer table games as well, with the exception of craps and roulette. 2009: In a letter sent to 11 internet service providers the Alcohol and Gambling Enforcement Division of Minnesota attempted to block the access of 200 off-shore casinos.

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How to Win with House Money at Craps

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