Isleta Casino and The Patio

I visited the Iselta Casino last night. It's located about 10 miles south of Albuquerque on Exit 215 from Interstate 25. I didn't see the casino from the I-25, but once I took the exit and rounded a curve to the southeast the casino appeared in the distance. Alone in the desert, the Isleta Tribal Council has created this place and I'm not sure I'll ever be back.

For one thing, there's nothing else to do within miles of the place. They are building a huge resort motel next to the current facilities, but I could see no other development of any kind in the area: no homes, no shopping malls, nothing. I admit I didn't look around much, but from the looks of things this casino is like the Route 66 Casino west of town: all alone on the reservation and miles from the nearest grocery store. Albuquerque is not far, maybe ten minutes north on I-25, however.

The second reason I was not impressed by the Isleta Casino is the poker room. Since poker is about all that I play at a casino, a poker room must be a good one. Unfortunately the poker room at the Isleta is very small. I counted eight tables packed inside a space the size of double-car garage. I visited the place on a Saturday night and there were only two tables active with players. At the Sandia Resort, as a comparison, on a Saturday night there are maybe 18-20 tables full of players with a waiting list.

After leaving the Isleta I drove back to the Sandia and spent the evening watching high-stakes blackjack players. I awaited the eight 0'clock drawing for the Fall Cash Giveaway, but alas was not selected to take home the $7,000 pot.

______________________________________________________________

She cuts my hair, so I have to mention her. I write of her because she represents the many kind people I have met while on the road. She works hard, has a funny disposition, and obviously loves people. I first noticed her at Starbucks, on The Patio. I was a new arrival in town and was sitting on The Patio and noticed she came there for breaks from work. Her hair salon is located next door. Every day for a week I saw her. I finally met her and had her give me a haircut. Often here family will drop by and visit with her. They are typical of the working class of Albuquerque, living from payday to payday, lucky to get a day off and maybe a break during the work day.

This composite picture of life at the Starbucks patio also contains images of weathly retired people who frequent the place to talk shop and read their newspaper. They've made money in real estate, the hi-tech industry that flourishes here, or any number of the federally-related scientific and military businesses for which Albuquerque is known. Along with the lady who cuts my hair, I've met movie producers, real estate developers, consultants, stock brokers, scientists, artists and authors on The Patio.

They all ask me, of course, what I do for living. I tell them, "I'm doing it. I sit at Starbucks all day and visit with people."

One particular man I see almost every day, I have not met. He's a consultant for people looking for professional jobs. He meets his clients on The Patio. They discuss resumes, job interviews, and all kinds of issues related to job-seeking. He's written a book that he provides them, has regular meetings with them individually and in groups, and has periodic conferences related to helping others find high-paying professional work.

How do I know all of this? By listening closely. I sit near by and listen in. I've learned a great deal from him and he has no idea I'm one of his "clients." He's a busy man. I've seen him meet as many as four days in a row with four different clients. Most of his clients are middle to late aged, and are concerned about competing in the professional job market against younger men and women. He often tells them, "looking for a good job is a full-time job in itself." A person must put in the time and effort to find the job they desire. I can feel the empathy he has for them, and I can understand their frustration. Many of his clients have been forced out of their high-paying careers for numerous reasons, and now find they have to hit the job-seeking market.

One afternoon, this consultant finished couseling a man who was obviously in anguish over his situation. I could tell by observation that this particular client was in emotional trouble and the consultant did his best to keep him focused on his future. It was evidently a rough meeting.

After his client left, the consultant looked tired, took a sip of his coffee, then received a phone call:

"Yes, dear. I'm coming home. Do you need anything?"

"Some soup? Do you like that chicken noodle?"

"Okay. I'll run by the store on the way home. I love you."