Harrah’s Cherokee Casino may be the saddest place I’ve ever accidentally visited.
Romping around the mountains in North Carolina, playing in the leaves of the Smoky Mountains and wandering around its vast expanse inhaling all its fresh air (don’t worry, we left a little for you) we found ourselves among the worn out, hungry and thirsty. Before heading back to our cottage at Lake View, we opted for a spontaneous stop.
What could present a bigger shift for our mellow, tree huggin trip than an overpriced cocktail, noms and loosing a handful of bills at blackjack?
The casino and hotel are out of place to begin with, two dozen stories of glass with an amusement park lot for cars complete with shuttle bus in the middle of nowhere America. Dozens of once thriving motels dot the road before and after the casino, their pools empty, weeds as high as my shoulder eking out through the cracks in the pavement. Reminders of a simpler time when people visited to get away, not to gamble their life savings.
The first experiential assault beyond the landscape interruption: the casino is dry. No beer, no wine, no adult beverages of any kind. How does that work? They expect people to gamble sober? This has to be a challenge to the house odds of success. Still, the sandwich consumed at one of the two restaurants wasn’t all bad and the cheese fries consumed were a gamble of their own – with our cholesterol.
The casino itself is a sad, sad place. Visitors have to sign up to play, and are equipped with an ATMesque piece of plastic with their name printed on it. The card is attached to a coiled tether with a clip on one end – when playing a game the card must be plugged into the machine. Big Brother meets child leash…beyond demeaning and creepy.
Wandering around the floor, I was nearly toppled over by the sheer tragedy of the other patrons. Grandmothers and grandfathers abounded with their tracksuits, oxygen tanks, walkers and cigarettes dangling from their fingers and lips. All plugged into machines, fixated on the screens. Both the hope and hopelessness of the scene floored me.
The card tables added another level of disappointment. Crammed in tightly, our parents (and parents parents) were fixated on the computer displays in the table. Computer displays because there were *no cards* present…the dealer merely hit a Simple Simon style button on their console to deal, hit, stay.
We were in and out in one lap, one slot (to say we did) and less than 20 minutes. If this visit and this exposure to the death of America is what I get for being spontaneous, you can have it. I’ll stick to my plan from now on.
11 Nov 08
9:12 am
We used their parking lot to turn around in July. The thing that unsettled me was the daycare center right next to it, catering to the patrons.
11 Nov 08
9:56 am
I’ve seen their TV ads for years but have never been. That sounds crazy. A dry casino???? No cards??? What fun is that….
11 Nov 08
11:05 am
That was pretty much my exact experience upon visiting a few years ago. We walked in, asked where the bar was, and were totally shocked to find none available. Hit a few slots and promptly left. Very tragic, indeed.
11 Nov 08
11:07 am
The sadder part of it is, when that place opened many years ago, they had such an overwhelming turnout that people had to be turned away! All the local news reports were to turn around and avoid Cherokee, that the Casino had waiting lines just to get in and you could well stand for hours before even making it through the door, none the less to a slot machine. It’s pathetic, really.
11 Nov 08
1:29 pm
be sure to yelp this…good stuff.
11 Nov 08
3:59 pm
I recall my first experience was a casino in Biloxi… Bright lights, loud noises. A gross, smelly building full of desperate shitheads.
15 Nov 08
11:34 am
a well-written piece about a poop location. at least the natural scenery was nice, even if the man-made entertainment wasn’t. glad y’all got to take this trip!
26 Nov 08
10:12 am
i have always suspected this. thanks for the confirmation…