Pechanga Resort and Casino is on notice!

Thanks for getting my back, Colbert.

I went to Pechanga Resort and Casino last night. Actually, first I went to Valley View Casino, and lost some money and ate their wonderful buffet while I waited for traffic to die down. I arrived at Pechanga around 8:30. I had a free room for the night, and was looking forward to scouting out the place. I'd only been there once before, for a George Jones concert. The casino was pretty busy for a Tuesday, not packed, but brisk business, especially at the tables. I decided to check into my room and rest for a bit before playing. When I checked in, I was informed the only room available was a Jacuzzi Suite, which sounded nice until I was informed the Jacuzzi Suite has a fold-out couch instead of a bed. I was uncertain about this, but decided to be a sport. The room was nice. The sofa bed was uncomfortable, but the bathroom was quite large. Quality shampoos and soaps (Gilchrist & Soames), a sewing kit, and even a bowl of candy, among other amenities.

The casino was nice, too. I remembered from my previous visit appreciating the amount of empty space in the casino layout. Casinos try to maximize the amount of money every square foot of casino floor makes, so it is always refreshing when a casino has wide aisles and walkways, and generally avoids the claustrophobic atmosphere of other casinos (Valley View, I'm looking at you). I was also happy with the table games. In particular, I was happy to see that they had double-deck games, which offered surrender. So I sat down and played, losing most of my cash, then winning it all back, then suffering a modest reversal. By 1 AM or so, I was very much in the pro-Pechanga camp.

Then came Magdy, a casino pit boss. What happened was, I was playing a double-deck game with one other woman, and several empty seats. The other player sat out a few hands, so I was playing heads-up. The other player came back and wanted to play, but the no mid-deck entry rule requires new players to wait for the shuffle to begin or resume playing. So I played another hand heads-up, when two people sat down to play, and were told that they, too, would have to wait. I lost that hand, and while the dealer collected my bet, the new player suggested I sit out. With no players, the dealer would have no choice but to shuffle, and the new players could begin playing. So I pulled back my bet and asked the dealer to shuffle. As dealers must anytime they shuffle prematurely, this dealer called over a pit boss for approval. And so Magdy enters the story.

Magdy immediately smells a rat. Clearly, this "shuffle" strategy is a brilliant con, designed to rob the casino of millions. He points angrily at the discard pile, stating that it's far too early to shuffle, and forbids the dealer to shuffle. I'm angered, not so much by the pit boss' decision, but by the anger evident in his expressing of said decision. The dealer was visibly uncomfortable, and the other players also seemed taken aback by the rudeness on display. I tried to shake it off, laugh if off, and placed a bet, which should have ended the situation. But another player asked, what happens if he goes to the bathroom or leaves the table. Magdy's reply: "We'll wait for him." They would allow one of the six crowded double-deck tables grind to a screeching halt for an hour, potentially costing the casino thousands of dollars (while I was not one of them, there were people at my table routinely betting $200-$300 a hand), all while I pretended to take a crap, rather than allow a dealer to spend ninety seconds shuffling a deck of cards. I quickly pulled back my bet, threw my players club card on the table (which I would no longer need, since I would never bet another penny at Pechanga), and colored up my chips, shaking with anger. What really infuriating me about the entire exchange was, none of Magdy's comments were directed at me. He seemed to make a conscious effort to ignore me the entire time, yelling at the dealer and another player at the table, but barely even looking in my direction. Why this is, frankly, baffles me. But I took it as a personal offense, and it is largely why I let this matter so upset me.

And make no mistake, I was upset. After I cashed in my chips, I went back up to the room and paced for a bit. I intended to go to bed, drive home in the morning, and just put this matter behind me. But as I steamed for fifteen minutes or so, I decided I would not tolerate the situation. So I went back down, got Magdy's name off his name tag (when I asked him his name during the incident, he ignored my request and turned his back to me, apparently considering the matter closed and me irrelevant), and then checked out of the hotel and went home. I was surprised that the desk clerk, while perfectly pleasant, didn't ask if there was a problem when I checked out of my room at 1:30 AM, but later it occurred to me that visibly upset people probably check out of the hotel in the middle of the night pretty frequently, after losing all their money, and the desk clerks are probably trained not to add to their burdens by asking if anything is wrong. Which is probably a sound policy. It's just over an hour drive home, so around 2:45 or so, I arrived home, much to Tanner's relief. I then proceeded to write a complaint letter to Pechanga, which I mailed off this afternoon.

I intended to reprint the letter in its entirety, but I realize now most of the letter will be redundant, following this post. Perhaps I will print the letter later, if I receive a response from Pechanga to share. For now, I'll just offer this snippet:

Again, I am not writing to object to casino policy. I personally believe permitting an occasional courtesy shuffle is good business, both for goodwill, and for getting in more hands per hour (by allowing additional players to join the game). I realize shuffling slows down the game, and the casino has other reasons for prohibiting shuffles early. You are welcome to set your own policy. Had Magdy said no, the dealer cannot shuffle early, I’m afraid our policy forbids that, I wouldn’t have cared. In fact, I’m rather shocked how angry I was at the conclusion of this incident—I merely asked for a shuffle at the request of another player who wanted to join the game (though I personally dislike playing heads-up myself, and thus was not opposed to the shuffle). Magdy went out of his way to be hostile, and create a situation where being in Pechanga made me intensely uneasy. Enough so that I would rather drive home at two in the morning than spend another minute there.

That's the crux of the situation. Magdy managed to take something I really didn't care about, and did everything he could to make it impossible for me to not care anymore. This, after I'd decided I liked Pechanga, and would like to come back sometime. But that won't be happening now.

I enjoy zoos. I have some moral qualms about some aspects of zoos, particularly in regard to the presence of primates, but tend to be willing to overlook the more problematic elements, as merely a concentration of larger social ills. Primates in captivity may be depressing (I try to avoid those exhibits as much as possible), but seem morally defensible to me as a necessary stopgap, in the face of habitat decimation and the bush meat crisis, to ensure the existence of endangered species. So I don't have a problem with the existence of zoos, but I certainly believe that their practices should be monitored and debated, and that debates like the recent debate over the presence of elephants in zoos are good for the animals and, ultimately, the zoos themselves.

I tend to side somewhat on the animal rights activists' side on the elephant issue. The present conditions at the San Diego Zoo and Wild Animal Park strike me as woefully inadequate. The Zoological Society seems to agree, as they are improving the Zoo accommodations. But, while I tended to begrudgingly accept the recent importation of several elephants from an African wildlife refuge as a lesser-evil type of situation, the concomitant need to ship off several elephants to die in Chicago and Utah was less defensible. But I certainly felt there was room for debate on the matter, and was willing to give the Zoo the benefit of the doubt, or at least agree to disagree.

I received the current issue of Zoonooz in the mail today, and the topic of the issue was elephants, promoting their new and improved elephant exhibit, currently under construction. The opening letter from the president of the Zoological Society even addressed the controversy directly, which I was happy to finally see done in the organization's official organ. Unfortunately, all the letter did was show that the San Diego Zoological Society is not as willing to tolerate dissenting opinions on the elephant issue as I am. In her letter, Berit N. Durler helpfully explains the nuances within the arguments on either side of the issue: opponents of the zoo "would rather see elephants go extinct that live in the care of humans," while zoo supporters are the only people favoring the existence of elephants. I found this false dichotomy infuriating, and quickly wrote an angry letter to President Durler, which I repost here for your own edification: Dear President Durler: I was pleased to see that the February issue of Zoonooz, which I received in the mail today, was devoted to the topic of elephants, and my interest was raised when you made reference, in your opening message, to "the controversies surrounding the management and protection of elephants in today's world." Given the press given to critics of your institution on the matter, I was eager to hear your side of the matter. Especially as, I must say, I have some misgivings regarding the conditions of elephants in your care myself. Imagine my surprise when I was informed, by you, that those who criticize your position on the matter "would rather see elephants go extinct than live in the care of humans." Really? That's our only choice, support your position or rejoice in the extinction of elephants? I didn't realize that, because I tend to think a few paltry acres is inadequate for the care of elephants, I actually was a first-class elephant-hater. Thanks for clarifying the stark contrasts in the elephant debate, and making it clear that either I'm with you, or I'm against the elephant. I thought this was an issue where we could agree to disagree, where I could support the good work of your institution, with some discomfort about some aspects of your surely well-intentioned work. But apparently there's no room for dissent at the Zoological Society of San Diego. I would hope that someone working to save animals from extinction would use the word "extinct" to raise awareness of the stakes of animal conservation, and not as a slur to fling at those who disagree with you. When animal rights activists dump manure in front of the Zoo, they look like idiots. When you start dumping the same b.s. in your Zoonooz column, you hardly come off looking better. Until more reasoned discourse prevails, I shall not be renewing my membership.

---

I currently have a Curator's Club membership at the Zoo, so I would hope they would take my opinion at least somewhat seriously, and at the very least reply with more than a form letter. Time will tell.