More Money, More Problems & My Lotto Dreams

I still dream the American Dream —  I am, of course, referring to the lottery. One day my numbers will come in, I know it, and I will be sitting on top of the mountain. I do not play often, but I do admit that I cave into the temptation when that jackpot reaches a number bigger than my social security number.

I usually buy my tickets at this doughnut shop in my neighborhood that sells more tickets than doughnuts. The shop has its regulars. A lot of them are retirees that sit by counters, reliving box scores as they talk about how close they have come to collecting massive paydays. Then you have cab drivers that never seem to go anywhere. They sit there with bear claws and over sugared coffee, tapping their anxious knuckles into the table.

The lady behind the counter hides her acne scars with makeup that does more to highlight them than conceal them. She angers easily if you do not heed the warning to close the door behind you. There is a giant ceiling fan that actually makes the place hotter. At first glance, you notice all of this silver sawdust that decorates the floor, then you take another glance, and realize that it is all the remnants of lottery scratchings.

 A couple of weeks ago, the Megamillions Jackpot was $105 million. I don’t know about you, but I could certainly use $105 million. In my head, I already knew the numbers that were going to be selected; I was already fantasizing about the things I would say to former girlfriends and enemies.

But first, I had to pick the winning combination of numbers.

I walked up to the lotto kiosk and struggled to pick my numbers. The problem is that any combination of numbers is just as good as another. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, and 6 has as good as chance as any other mix of numbers. However, I do not want to spend a dollar playing those numbers. I tried to apply emotional science to my selections: I picked my mother’s birthday, I picked the number of legs on my dog, I selected the route number of the bus that takes me home. The last three numbers were selected based on the pattern that best made my lottery ballot look like a bird.

I went home and waited for 8 o’clock so that my presumed winning numbers would come up, I could begin my new life in the morning. Although I had not spent any of own money, I was already looking into my priorities. I wanted to settle all of my bills as well as the opportunity to purchase a helicopter. In the end, I was able to hit three numbers; I would have been able to hit four if my dog would have been born with a dozen legs. Those three numbers translated to a cool jackpot of $7. That was a little less than I was anticipating; it meant that I would have to report to work on Monday and hold off on buying that helicopter I was planning to get.

I may never win the lottery, but that does not discourage me from trying. I think the fun comes from thinking up all of those plans should the means and resources become available. Furthermore, there’s the joy of comparing stories about how close I came to hitting it big at the doughnut shop with my new friends. Although the lady behind the counter refuses to hang my half-winning ticket amongst the others, the people there still recognize my efforts as we all hold on to the promise of future prosperity.

Follow Oscar Barajas on Twitter @Oscarcoatl