The Oyster War by Summer Brennan

Author:Summer Brennan [Brennan, Summer]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781619026483
Publisher: Counterpoint

PART III

THE GEOGRAPHY OF HOPE

A scientist is never certain.

—RICHARD FEYNMAN

When the facts are on your side,

pound the facts. When the law is

on your side, pound the law. When

neither is on your side, pound

the table.

—LAW SCHOOL ADAGE, ORIGIN UNKNOWN

11

CASINO

ON A SATURDAY night in November, the multilevel parking garage of the Graton Resort & Casino stands conspicuously empty. This is in contrast to the adjacent parking lot that, albeit, is both vast and marginally closer to the casino’s entrance, but that is also packed full with parked cars. Still more vehicles circle and circle through the lanes, looking for vacant spaces, despite the virtually empty structure just next door. There is no signage for the casino from the highway. The building however, in a minimal, modern design, proudly displays the backlit word CASINO above a waterfall wall at one entrance, and another glowing CASINO sign hangs from an asymmetrical, wave-like arch at the other. Once duly de-automobiled, visitors are greeted by a petite, be-suited man who welcomes them and wishes them luck.

Florence and the Machine’s “You’ve Got the Love” is playing on this particular Saturday, and the plushly carpeted interior smells of artificial fragrance and cigarette smoke. Once inside, any music that might be playing is all but drowned out by the buzz of bar revelers, card dealers, pinging slot machines and the frantic, shout-y ocean sounds of various sports (football, ring fighting) coming from the casino’s many, many televisions. The card games are up front, and the machines are in back—some three thousand of them. Scattered throughout are a variety of bar spaces to fit different purposes or moods. G Bar, a sports bar, boasts the highest number of TVs in an already TV-heavy space. I count more than forty. Sky Bar is lit fluorescent purple with white couches and wine-dark drapes, giving off an air of exclusivity, or at least the attempt of it. Another bar, called “8,” has beaded curtains, red velvet armchairs and cigars to smoke. According to the casino’s website it also offers “high limits and luscious libations,” and unlike the other bars is open twenty-four hours a day. There are four “casual dining” restaurants (steakhouse, fancy North Beach–style pizza, dim sum, grill) and a food court with a sign that says MARKETPLACE. Each vendor is a local chain—Three Twins Ice Cream, Habit Burger, Beach Hut Deli—but the feel is still more mall than local market; it is definitely a food court, and the presence of a Starbucks and a gift shop selling cigarettes and cheap dresses only adds to this impression. The Starbucks, like “8,” also never closes.

On the gaming floor, the brown carpet is patterned with enormous blue, pink and lime-green flowers—which looks more contemporary than it sounds, but which nevertheless will likely seem very dated in just another ten years. Some of the light fixtures look like giant abstracted pine cones, while others, a cascade of scarlet glass, resemble flurries of red butterflies tumbling down in a cone-shaped swarm. The clientele, although ethnically diverse, is skewed above age forty, with a generous salting of white-haired senior citizens thrown in.

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