Intersession 1972: The Flamingo, the Grand Canyon, and the Pepto-Bismol Blackjack Run
Alan and I decided to spend intersession in Las Vegas — January 1972, a chance to escape the cold and do something a little outrageous. We flew west, caught a cab from the airport to the Flamingo, and checked in under the glow of its famous neon.
That first night, we wandered the casino floor, played a little blackjack, and had dinner. The next morning, Alan had a surprise: he’d booked us on a small-plane tour to the Grand Canyon.
The plane — a high-wing single-engine — didn’t just fly over; the pilot descended into the Canyon itself, banking along the sandstone walls for a view that seemed almost unreal. It was spectacular, but the turbulence didn’t agree with me. I’ve never been a great flyer, and by the time we landed, my stomach was in open revolt. Still, I had my Nikon F3 with me and managed to take dozens of shots.
On the ground, we toured the rim and watched a group of riders making their way down the canyon trails on burros — slow, careful steps against the vast drop. It looked like an unforgettable experience, though I decided it was one I’d rather photograph than try.
We flew back to Las Vegas that afternoon. By the time we landed, my stomach was still in knots. That evening, I sat down at a blackjack table in the Flamingo with a bottle of Pepto-Bismol in my hand. I must have been quite a sight, but I kept playing — and winning. Over the next couple of days, I held my own at the tables, enough that the dealers began to recognize me. I wasn’t doing anything fancy, just applying the basic strategy I’d learned from Ed Thorp’s Beat the Dealer — a book Mike Berkley had gotten me started on back at college.
The trip was over too soon. A few more sessions at the tables, some wandering along the Strip, and before we knew it, we were back on a flight to New York. The desert neon, the Canyon’s silence, and the unlikely run of cards all stayed with me — a perfect snapshot of an intersession well spent.