If I told you you were confined for a week to a town of five or six thousand just like you, but with no cars, bikes or transit, and only an occasional patch of outdoors you could take stairs, elevators and corridors to and finally jostle thru the crowd to experience…
If I told you there'd be a daily schedule for all six thousand to line up to overwhelm a tiny village they've never heard of, where the locals have learned to be as much like you as possible—except for their quaint costumes—and to charge hugely inflated prices (but not for booze, which is dirt cheap, to assist the bargaining process) for worthless junk, specially made just for you, and never to seen anywhere except briefly, in their potemkin village and forever, your family room …
If I told you that not only would those six thousands pay my tied prices for the meals and drinks in that village, not only would they hand me their money in my casinos, but that they would "buy tickets" (in that quaint old phrase) to do so …
…you'd tell me I was crazy.
Like being jailed in a mall, and overnight they roll a different set of midway rides up to the doors and drive you out there because "it's what you do". Nothing to do but spend to forget there's nothing to do but spend, and no one to do it with but the same sorta folks you went on vacation to get a break from.
