Yanni, Yanni, Yanni

Yanni, Yanni, Yanni

Noel Laflin

2-9-18

It was a hot night in Las Vegas and my lucky numbers were even hotter.

As the roulette ball kept finding its way to seven and twenty-six, I stayed put despite - or was it because of - the flamboyant older Greek man who kept extolling the virtues and brilliance of new age artist, Yanni.

"Yanni, Yanni, Yanni!," he crooned, picking up and kissing the garish gold cross dangling from his neck, all the while watching the ball hypnotically circle the wheel. "He is a Greek god!"

The ball dropped on seven.

I gave another silent prayer of thanks.

"Hey," a drunk two seats down chimed in, "and what about that girlfriend of his? That Linda Evans is pretty hot," he slurred.

"Linda Evans!," yelled the Greek. "That bitch is ruining his music!"

"Yanni needs to dump that distraction and find a find a real woman - preferably Greek," he concluded.

"Yanni, Yanni, Yanni!" he sighed as the next spin concluded and the ball found its way to number twenty-six.

I gave a quick fist pump.

Busted, the Greek pushed away from the table muttering Yanni's name three times over.

The ball landed on seven again.

I picked up my winnings and went in search of my good luck charm.

He was easy to find, two tables over, as someone had just mentioned Linda Evans.