I've never been to Vegas, but it's resided in my top slots for desired vacations since I can remember.
I know most people would choose to head to Amsterdam for debauchery or trek a foreign mountain or lounge on some exotic beach. Yet it's Sin City that beckons to me, drawing me in with its siren song.
Vegas is a city of optimists, chock-full of people completely and utterly convinced that -- with the next level pull, the next flip of a card, the next roll of the dice -- they, too, could hit the jackpot.
I hear these stories and -- like everyone else -- secretly think. "That could be me. That should be me."
I'm troubled somewhat, though, by the way people equate "winning the lottery" with "living the American dream." Coming into a sudden windfall is most decidedly not the American dream. The Horatio Algers of the past worked to get what they did. Yes, it was rags-to-riches, but there were numerous stops along the way. They were hardly insta-millionaires.
Still -- American dream or not -- winning the lottery is pretty darn awesome.
I don't need to hit the Big One. I don't need to be a billionaire. But a nice chunk of change unexpectedly coming my way would be more than welcome.
I know someone who hit the lottery twice.
Yeah, you heard me. Two times.
And I know the odds are against me. But aren't they in everything?
I still believe.
Bought one ticket.
And freaking WON. Twenty-five whole bucks.
I'll take a little luck anywhere I can get it.