Hitting the Max Bet button, I lost dollar after dollar, until that twenty became a buck and a half. Reckoning there was no better game to burn this hateful Jackson in my pocket, I sat down and loaded the money in. Over my shoulder, I heard a mighty throng of digital beasts charging me from the Buffalo Gold’s glaring display. Walking into this house of monetary sin, a purely Oklahoman blend of cheap cigarettes and expensive vapes enveloped my soul the small casino looked like a garish photo from a tourist’s travel guide, with truckers and winners, hitchers and losers, having a grand time in this Vegas-style bargain buffet of basement slots, courtesy of, as I later learned, the Chickasaw Nation.Īs the security guards gabbed over by the restrooms, Prefab Spout’s “King of Rock and Roll” played overhead-hot dog, jumping frog, Albuquerque-while I toured the den of inequity, looking for that one slot machine that will quickly lose me an easy twenty dollars of spending cash.

I looked to the side and noticed a casino-a Love’s sanctioned casino!-that was just beyond the glass door. As I pulled a large Styrofoam cup out for an unsweetened iced tea, I heard the sound of buzzers and bells over the canned music and uncontrollable hacking.

The convenience store was generally hopping as many of these Love’s usually are a few customers coughed, wiping their noses on their sleeve as I walked past the sweaty roller-grill items and durable free toppings bar to the soda fountain.

However, we got about as far as Newcastle when we decided to pull over at Exit 107 to hit the Love’s Travel Stop across from the Newcastle Casino for two fill-ups: one for the car and one for me. I grabbed my ladyfriend-or did she grab me?-and we headed down the once pastoral I-44 corridor with no particular place to go.

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