I've gone into an Off-Track Betting (OTB) parlor about a dozen times in my life, eleven times to duck into the doorway to get out of the rain, and once—just once—to place a bet. That one time that I did bet, I won, making me probably the only guy in New York City who can say that he has bet at OTB and quit winners.

That one isolated OTB incident happened because my wife Stella's sister and brother-in-law came into the city to have lunch with us in Chinatown, right next door to an OTB parlor. Having never been in a legal bookmaking joint, they were hot to place a bet or two. I figured what the hell, I'm already here so I might as well go along with the crowd and put my two bucks down too. Knowing zip about the horses, I decided to consult the people who claim to have the inside track on the nags—the handicappers who pick 'em for the tabloids.

Fishing in the trash cans I found their daily tout sheets. Almost all of the pony pundits had concurred, first, that a couple of the nags would come in first and second in the first race, an "exacta." As they obviously knew more about these particular horses than I did, I went along with their picks. I won $54 for my two bucks, which made me The Last of the Big-Time Spenders with my in-laws, as I treated everyone to Chinese lunch with my windfall.

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