Tom Zoellner
Phoenix Magazine
A writer and an attorney embark on an unholy mission to lay bets in each of Arizona’s 26 casinos over a single, sleep-deprived weekend. 1,600 miles driven. Hard truths revealed. Busts galore.
It’s hour 36 of this idiotic quest.
We’re strung out on fatigue and Adderall, on the losing side of the bankroll, and rounding another interminable bend in this highway following the Gila River downstream. We’re waiting for the lights of Winkelman.
Next to me in the driver’s seat is the semi-famous Valley attorney who anonymously tweets as “Clue Heywood” on Twitter. I met him not long ago because he professed to like a book I wrote, and I met him for a beer at a dive bar. We somehow talked each other into a ludicrous mission to place a bet at each of Arizona’s 26 tribal gaming emporiums within a 48-hour period. And now here we are, bombing through the Pinal Mountains toward our fourth to last s
op, the Apache Sky Casino, that has a street address in this old mining town south of Globe. We’re shaky and frenetic
