- by Oy! Once every three or four months, my wife and I (and occasionally some friends) hop in a car and take a day trip down to Atlantic City. The two of us usually bring about $300 total in cash. The rules are simple; when the cash is gone, we're done gambling. It's worked out well so far... We've won a little more often than we've lost, and we have a lot of fun. We always go to the same casino; Caesar's Palace. No, the ludicrously tacky Ancient Rome theme doesn't sell the place, but Caesar's does have a number of things in its favor: Their garage is the most convenient from the Atlantic City Expressway. They have Blackjack tables (my only game) on a floor totally separate from the noisy slot machines. Caesar's isn't owned by Donald Trump. Yet. The Monkey Man plays blackjack at Caesar's. The most important factor, obviously, is the Monkey Man. Although many of my friends have seen him on multiple occasions, none of us know his real name. We don't care... If the Monkey Man is playing, we'll kill to play at his table. I'm not normally superstitious about anything, but the Monkey Man is the exception. One of the first times I played blackjack at Caesar's, we lucked out... My wife, myself, and two friends all managed to get our own table. We won some hands, we lost a few... But then a very short, elderly Asian gentleman (not an employee) took a seat at our table. I couldn't tell if he was Chinese or Japanese, but I'd guess Chinese. I'm not sure why. In any case, this tiny, wizened, old man grinned constantly, and he played more enthusiastically than anyone I've ever seen. He lost the occasional hand, but his grin never wavered. After a few hands, he started chanting "Monkey! Monkey! Monkey!" at the cards... My wife, friends, and I looked at each other and shrugged. I think it was my friend Mike, sitting next to the Monkey Man, who figured it out... For whatever reason, he was referring to the face cards as "monkeys." When his first dealt card was a face card or an ace, he would chant "Monkey! Monkey! Monkey!" hoping to get another face card, which would give him a 20 or 21; a nice, solid hand.

Fair enough. Then it got weirder. The Monkey Man's petite wife showed up. She wasn't playing, but she was giving encouragement. "Oooh... The monkeys are hiding!" O.K., it was surreal, but that's when I realized something. My wife, my friends and I were winning. Almost every hand. My wife and I were about $150 and $180 ahead (we bet small). One of our friends was over $600 ahead. I assume that the Monkey Man was winning as well. Right after he left our table, I lost four hands in a row and pulled out quickly (still $120 ahead though!). I was unsuccessful in finding the Monkey Man at a different table that night. A few weeks later, one of our friends (who was at our table during the first encounter) was playing at the same casino, and she heard a bunch of rowdy college students playing blackjack at the table next to her. "Monkey! Monkey! Monkey!" they were all shouting in unison. She asked the students about it, and they pointed to a table in the far corner of the room. Sure enough, there was the Monkey Man. Apparently, we weren't the only ones familiar with him. On a recent trip, my wife was playing and not doing so well. A friend of ours (who was only watching the game) suggested to her that she move to a different unoccupied seat at the same table. It made no sense, but she did it anyway. And started winning. My wife made up all her losses and came home about $200 ahead that night. According to her friend, the Monkey Man was seated there earlier in the evening. Creepy. That's the Legacy of the Monkey Man; the one true good-luck charm. I'm told he usually plays on Saturday nights at Caesar's on the second-floor blackjack tables. If you see him, smile kindly, and try and get a seat at his table. I can't guarantee anything, so don't be stupid... Just have fun, and watch for the monkeys.