Digital Wanderer

We live as long as we fly

USA — 28, Ho-Chunk Casino

At night, after Hoolihan’s, we took a quick look around the Ho-Chunk tribe casino.

In case you didn't know, in 1987 the US Supreme Court ruled  that Native Americans are partially independent from the federal government, and therefore can build gambling establishments that don't fall under state laws, which makes things a whole lot easier. Obviously, a good chunk of the cash is raked in by non-Native hustler-organizers, but sometimes bonuses trickle down to the rank-and-file tribe members too. For example, the Cabazon tribe has only 50 people – those guys definitely live off the fat of the land. 

There are officially 562 Native American tribes in the US in total, and only half of them have sold out to the white devils and allowed gambling businesses to be set up under their name. The Navajo, for example, who number a whopping three hundred thousand, just hustle by making Dream Catchers.

A close-up of a brown leather dream catcher with a white web, beads, and fluffy feathers. It hangs against a blurred background of water drops and greenery. 
Dream Catcher, a souvenir heavily hyped up specifically to be sold to white people

Generally, Native Americans usually don't just live badly, they live very badly. Their land, which is far from the best , doesn't even really belong to them – it's managed by special government agencies. Most live in poverty, suffer from alcoholism and drug addiction, and see no point in life. Those who do have money from the gambling business aren't particularly overjoyed either. If I were in their shoes, I wouldn't be celebrating either – what a country they lost!

So anyway. The Ho-Chunk, also known as the Winnebago, are natives of Wisconsin and Illinois, and the tribe numbers about six thousand people. They have more than one casino, but we visited the one located in the city of Baraboo, in the Dells region. Interestingly, the Ho-Chunk Indians don't have that sacred cow of political correctness –  equal opportunity. This means equal opportunities for all job candidates, which includes the famous trinity: Black people, disabled people, and gays. The Ho-Chunk have first-class people, i.e., Ho-Chunk Indians, and then there's everyone else. No one pays any attention to this, and it's considered kind of a compensation for the genocide. Anyway, I better keep my mouth shut, or else, like Lukyanenko, I might develop an unhealthy hatred for America.

I hadn't been to a large casino before this. Overall – it's fun. Huge rows of slot machines of various kinds, with mostly retirees sitting at them. They give out free drinks with ice, and the tastiest mass-market thing I've tried in the US isn't the eternal boring soda, but cranberry nectar, even if it's not exactly natural.

The HO-CHUNK CASINO building with a bright facade decorated with Native American patterns, set against a snow-covered parking lot and a blue sky. Cars and several people are visible under the covered entrance.

The slot machines take paper dollars and spit out dollar-sized tickets, which, in turn, you can shove right back into a machine or exchange for cash. Coins and tokens are no longer in style – the sound of cascading coins is played out of speakers. And half the machines have screens, terrible ancient CRTs at that, which make your eyes hurt. So it's like that joke about the fake Christmas tree ornaments. If I'm going to throw money to the wind anyway, I'd prefer hardcore classic machines, so the process would at least be classy. 

Here's how I played: first I won 5 bucks playing cards, then I lost it and even more in the “one-armed bandits.” Then somehow I broke even again. After that I sat down next to a gigantic lady to play something similar to bejeweled. I decided I'd stop at 20 bucks – supposedly a lot of people play to around that amount. I lost almost everything, literally had a few dollars left. And then BAM, a super game triggered. Two jewelers popped up on the screen and offered me to pick precious stones. I poked at random, not knowing the rules (and it seems there aren't any anyway). As a result, the machine started ringing and tallying, and spat out 27 bucks for me. At that point, thrilled, I grabbed the cash and bolted. My sister lost a twenty, so overall the casino made a profit off us – I only won 7 dollars, after all.

The playing field of a match-three puzzle with multi-colored crystals on a checkered background, where several stones are exploding from white electrical discharges. On the left is a panel with the accumulated score, level number, and menu buttons. 
The famous game Bejeweled

Overall, casinos are a stupid pastime, but maybe it's worth going sometimes. The main thing is to know your limits. But I'm in no danger here – my scientific mind is too strong, constantly whispering: “You know very well, probability theory works in the casino's favor.”