Every person who likes to gamble should make a trip to the Atlantis Casino on Paradise Island in the Bahamas.
If you are single and male, the place is paradise. If you have a family, the same thing.
I have only been to Paradise Island, but I am yearning to return. I can still remember the savory taste of the fresh conch salad I bought from an outdoor vendor next to the beach. While I was consuming the salad, local island girls passed by and gave me inviting smiles that didn't need an interpretation.
I made both of my visits to the island with John Carroll, who published a weekly newspaper called Weekday in Lake Park, FL. Carroll was an adventurer, a journalist and a dice player. Like me, he possessed a gambling spirit and he had an eye for beautiful women.
To get to Paradise Island you need to book a flight on a seaplane owned by Chalk Airlines out of Miami. Either that or hitch a ride on a yacht owned by a millionaire friend.
I am going to share two secrets about Paradise Island and the Atlantis Casino that few people know about. One has to do with Heaven and the other has to do with hell.
Let's go to Heaven first.
Carroll and I had reserved a cottage suite on the island for two nights. After checking into our suite, we took a dip in one of the resort's swimming pools. Then we began exploring the place.
We walked around the casino and were heading for the beach when we heard the unmistakable sounds of a church choir coming from the basement of the casino.
Incredibly, a church was in service. We entered the church to find it filled with people. A large choir made up of islanders and dressed in colorful robes was singing 'How Great Thou Art' and their harmony was excellent.
The choir did two more songs before they sat down. When the applause was finished, the minister smiled at John and me.
'I see we have two visitors,' he said. 'May the Lord bless both of you. Welcome to our church. Could you please tell us who you are?'
John rose to his feet and identified us. He said I was there to play in a poker tournament and he was there to enjoy their beautiful island. He complimented the choir for their heavenly music and said he would love it if they could visit Lake Park and perform for the people who live there.
The choir applauded us and the minister promised to 'see what I can do.'
When the service was over, John and I headed for the beach. One of the church members followed us. He was in his 80s and asked us if we would like to see something special.
'Such as?' I said.
He beamed.
'There is a lagoon near here where German U-Boat crews used to take their submarines and dock there for some rest and relaxation before heading out to sea to destroy allied merchant ships with their torpedos,' he said. 'I can show you the ropes hanging from the palm trees that they used to swing from as part of their exercise.'
We followed him to the hidden lagoon. There we saw half a dozen old ropes dangling from coconut palm trees. The lagoon was large enough to accommodate a submarine and was hidden from the ocean by a sandbar. It was an amazing history lesson and we thanked the islander for showing us the spot.
The white sand beaches at the Atlantis are dazzling. The water is perfectly clear and the scuba diving and snorkeling are spectacular. Large fish including small sharks and manta rays swim undisturbed in the blue waters. A four-foot shark swam so close to me I could almost touch it.
That night Carroll and I gambled. He shot dice, using his controlled roll system, while I played poker. Luck was running with us and we both won.
The lounge was filled with attractive women in evening gowns who were available for conversation, a drink or more if you were interested. We didn't get to bed until around 4 a.m.
I placed third in the poker tournament and won nearly $4,000, while John picked up several thousand shooting dice. We also played the slot machines and I won another $500.
Before we climbed aboard the Chalk seaplane for our return flight to Miami, Carroll spoke again with the church minister about having the choir come to Lake Park for a concert. The minister promised to see what could be done about his request.
'You are a believer?' he said, smiling.
'Every true gambler I know is a believer,' said John. 'It goes with the territory.'
Author: Geno Lawrenzi Jr.
(Geno Lawrenzi Jr. is an international journalist, magazine author and ghostwriter and poker player who lives in Phoenx, AZ. He has published 2,000 articles in 50 magazines and 125 newspapers. If you want to share a gambling story or book idea with him, send an email to glawrenzi@gmail.com ).
