Foxwoods: Pleasure in the Absence of Sin? Essay -- Descriptive Essay, D

cubic decimetre two miles from Providence, on Route 2 off Interstate 95 you will find a purple and turquoise glow in the middle of the Connecticut woods. On the Mashantucket Pequot reservation, the largest gambling gambling casino in the human beings Foxwoods, sits nestled among massive, old growth trees and modest hills. Route 2 cuts a straight shot through the woods. An endless row of headlights returning from the casino illuminates both sides of the rural, two-lane road, and a string of brake lights guide the manner towards a land run by rules of luck, addiction, and money. A tour pot returning to New York lights up a hand-laid, New England stone wall. In its disrepair, the wall no longer marks the boundaries of a proud property, tilled and worked with Protestant resolve. The decrepit mass of stones stands as a sadly antiqued memento on either side of a yellow brick road towards a fantasy world of elusive profits and dreams backed only by chance.The pastoral vision of a P uritan New England, with stone walls and discolor clapboard houses, frames an approach to the self-contained complex of mammoth buildings. They rise higher up the tree line and cast an umbrella of neon over an other than undeveloped and rural part of Connecticut. Residents of the three closest towns have complained that they tidy sum no longer see the stars due to the lights cast off from Foxwoods enormous towers. Last year, tour buses coming from New York, Hartford, Providence, and other points discharged 1.1 million gamers. The buses shuttle constantly along this paved artery in the midst of Foxwoods and Interstate 95, so you are never alone, and there is never darkness. I asked a Yale student, 21-year-old Cory Anthony Lee whether he sees himself as a winner. A winner. in that location really are no wi... ...as they fall into cupped palms, quarters sloshing like dope up in super sized plastic cups. Its a posting sound that induces you to keep going. Cresting, high-pitched waves of noise always ends on the up, and thrill through your body to make mush of the brain. You are filled with a sense experience of propulsion, repetition, a feeling of the inevitable. Its maddening, deafening, like that ringing in the ear when youre sick or have damaged your tympanic cavity both a persistent ring and buzz, but one which isolates you from all realm of normalcy. The noise distracts you from the impulse to stop at your limit. Cresting waves of winning, surrounded by the circular rhythms of machines on the edge of paying big, fill you with a sense of anticipation. Foxwoods studiously prods, cajoles, and seduces you into believing that you are always on the cusp of making it all back or winning more.