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here is a tension in the crowd, a sizzling silence as words and cheers cut short and all eyes focus on the same point, everyone holding their breath, every jaw and fist clenched like in the final moments before a fight, as if everyone is about to explode at once.

More people are huddling around the table now, closer to the action, pushing against one another until there are no distinct bodies anymore but rather a single compacted entity made of suits and cleavages and spilled glasses, a wordless human volcano ready to erupt under the wary watch of the floor muscle, the entire casino going silent as the wheel spins and spins and spins.

But for now, Keng Joo is celebrating his big win and doing awkward dance moves on the gaming floor. “Stay close, I’ll show you around.” I follow him to another high limit room, where a member of his entourage is playing blackjack.

“Management obviously wants us to handle this kind of situation really carefully, but sometimes it’s hard to keep it under the radar.

You can’t pretend the dead grandma sitting at the buffet with crab legs coming out of her mouth doesn’t exist. It’s like…anywhere else, I guess, just crazier.” He describes how specialized cleaners are sometimes called to sanitize a room from blood and other bodily fluids, at times completely repainting or refurnishing it before the next three p.m. He mentions the thefts and the cheating that casinos have to deal with on a regular basis – up to 34 percent of gambling-related crimes being committed by staff.

– and in the vodka-infused breaths, as heads go lighter when the chips totaling more than 0,000 get counted and pushed toward the winner. “I’m just living the life, man,” he says, smiling and sipping on a glass of Macallan 1950 single malt whisky ordered from the MGM Grand’s reserve. The resort he stays at is a cluster of curved glass buildings rising from the Strip in a silvery flare.

The personnel from this 4,000-room hotel know him well.

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