What's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?

"What's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?" I actually spoke those words to Laura the first time I saw her. She was stunning, and I was intimidated. So, I opted for corny and carny over smart and slick.

Let me back up a little...

I needed to get away for a few days - by myself - and I had just arrived in Las Vegas after a long flight from Boston. In those days, the cheapest ticket to Vegas was aboard one of the "junket" flights, and my air and hotel package had me staying at the Flamingo. I checked in, showered off the travel cobwebs, and dressed in clean clothes. Then, I headed for the lobby and looked for a restaurant.

In Vegas, of course, hotel restaurants are located so that patrons must walk through the casino to reach them. And as I walked through the Flamingo casino, a $2 blackjack table beckoned to me. The stakes were just right for my limited budget, and, as a bonus, the table sported a beautiful young woman dealer. So, I sat down.

I was Laura's only customer at that session, and after a while of wistful but silent gazing at her, I decided to try and talk with her. So I summoned some courage and asked, "What's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?"

To my surprise, she took me seriously and explained that she was working to pay her living expenses and her tuition at UNLV. She gave me a little humble pie lecture about how most people living in Las Vegas live normal lives, and I confess, I really had never considered all of that. Like most vistors to the town, I only saw the superficial Vegas; the neon had blinded me to the possibility of normal. Was there life beyond the Strip? Who cared?

Thanks to Laura, I was beginning to care. "What are you studying?"

"Paleopathology," came the answer.

Beauty AND brains - I was truly impressed!

After a while of pleasant conversation between us, the blackjack pit boss came to our table. "You're okay for an early out, Laura," he told her.

I asked her what that meant, and she explained that her normal 20-minute break was coming up at the end of her eight-hour shift, and that she was being approved to clock out early.

Again summoning courage I didn't know I had, I asked her if she would join me after work for dinner. But, she demurred. "We're not allowed to date customers," she explained.

Persisting, I promised her that I would never again sit at her blackjack table if she would agree to come to dinner with me. Pressing the issue, I told her that I would never even play at the Flamingo again, if she said yes to dinner with me that day.

I blinked my puppy-dog eyes at her and tried to look as pathetic as I could, and I guess that was the clincher for her... as finally, she relented: "OK, but you'll have to go around back to the employees' parking lot and meet me there." (Years later, she explained that she only agreed to have dinner with me that evening, because she had always been fascinated with Boston and its many colleges and wanted to hear more about both. Okay, considering how my life with Laura turned out, I'll reluctantly buy that!)

So, around to the employees' lot I went...

(To be continued...)