Credit Card Roulette

There are infinite ways we human beings can live life on the edge. For example, you could test your mettle by swimming with sharks in the South Pacific. Or, you could brave the elements by attempting to ascend Mount Everest.

Heck, you could even try dating Britney Spears, which I would classify as “gutsy.”

But, as a true urban-ite – well-situated here in San Francisco – I’ve found there’s nothing quite more perilous than participating in a round of credit card roulette with six of your good friends at a first-class restaurant.

What is credit card roulette, exactly? Well, Urban Dictionary defines the practice of credit card roulette as:

A game of chance to decide which person pays for a restaurant meal. Every party contributes a credit/debit card into a hat and the waiter/waitress removes one card at time. The last card removed pays the entire bill.

And I attempted this game of chance last night… and lived to tell about it.

Six of my guy friends – Greg, Joey, Matt, Andy, Kyle, Clark and myself – met for a nice meal at The House of Prime Rib here in San Francisco. Over the course of two and half hours, the seven of us (well, six… Clark arrived late) enjoyed a lavish meal of stiff drinks, fine wines, tasty fixings, and of course, world-class cuts of meat.

No expense was spared for us seven young professionals (well, six… since Clark arrived late), and after a delicious meal, the check arrived, totaling in the neighborhood of $400.

As we all dipped into our Fossil wallets to pull out our respective credit cards of choice (no one carries cash in this city), someone in the group offered the idea of credit card roulette. It was a bold call from a member of our assembly (and I believe it was Clark who made the call, ironically, as he arrived late, didn’t partake in the meal, and was exempt from the game).

And after those three words were thrown out into the open – credit card roulette…– a feeling of tension poured through our booth. We all looked at each other, each sharing the same simple thought: “Is this a good idea…? Is it worth it to forgo an easy payment of sixty dollars with the chance of having to pay $400 instead…?”

I admit, I was nervous. I’m not much of a gambler, and I would have been very content just paying my share and walking out the restaurant to eat another day. Had I known my dinner might have cost $400, I might never have agreed to meet my comrades for a “friendly” meal.

But the pack I run with isn’t as cautious as I claim to be; they gamble on everything – sports games… cards… ordering late-night Chinese food. There isn’t a bet they wouldn’t consider; a spade they wouldn’t spade.

So I was in; I took out my Mastercard and handed it over to our server who collected everyone’s card. It was hard parting with my credit card, knowing that when it would be returned, it may be slapped with a hefty, hurtful fine. The situation seemed similar to a parent taking their child to the doctor’s office, with the possibility of a painful vaccine shot floating eerily in the air.

After mixing up the bag of cards, the seven of us looked up to the server with horrid anticipation. She pulled the first card…

“Kyle,” she said softly. Kyle was safe. The gun’s chamber had spared him, saving its silver bullet for another victim.

The server reached into the bag for the second time…

“Matt,” she said after pausing for dramatic effect. Matt was now safe, as well. He and Kyle shared a mutual look of relief, and each took a long sip out of their wine glasses with intense satisfaction.

And the rest of us… well, the rest of us were scared. Four credit cards remained in the bag; the four of us remaining – Greg, Andy, Joey and myself – each had a 25% chance of being stuck with the bill. The odds were high, the moment tense, and I now realized why smokers smoke.

The server shook up the bag again, dipping her hand gently into its deep recess… You could hear a pin drop before she announced delicately…

“Greg.”

Greg, who looked as pale as a ghost, exhaled a huge breath. He avoided the deathblow, and was now free to enjoy the next few minutes of financial freedom along with Kyle and Matt.

There were just three of us left, including me. I was mad at myself for engaging in such a game. This behavior was completely un-Mitch-like. I never win these things, I thought to myself, and was starting to contemplate what it would mean to snack just on Top Ramen for the next month and a half.

I looked down, partly in prayer, and partly because I wanted to avoid the looks of everyone else. The server reached in the bag one more time…

“Mitchell,” she whispered, as gentle as an angel. I had survived. I had survived my first game of credit card roulette. The gods had spared me, and I nearly fainted.

Greg, who was sitting next to me, looked at me, saying nothing. He held up his fist and I did the same, knocking his. It was a simple act of solidarity between men, meaning “you made it; you survived."

But as I had safely crossed the River Styx a la Prime Rib, there were still two members of our group on the other side, waiting for passage. Andrew and Joseph.

After the server announced my name, Andy stood up and headed towards the entrance. He took a seat by the door with his head in his hands. He couldn’t watch; he was unable to handle the situation. After all, he now stood a 50% chance of paying for our entire meal. A coin flip…

Joey, to his credit, remained at the table, calm, stoic… almost tranquil. Joey awaited his fate with the patience of a man who already knew what the final outcome would be.

The server, who must have been a theatre major due to all the drama she was creating, put her hand in the bag one final time. She fished around, and after a minute or so, pulled out the final plastic vestige.

“Andy,” she read.

Upon hearing his name, Andy, who was hiding in the corner, let out a huge scream of joy. He had made it through alive; Andy was safe.

And then there was Joey… He had lost; he had taken the metaphorical bullet in the back of the head. Joey was left to foot the entire House of Prime Rib bill – 400 bucks… blood money.

And he took it like a man; I even recall a brief smirk crossing his face before the server sealed his fate.

And that was that… That was my first taste of credit card roulette. It was exhilarating and frightening, all at once – an experience that may have removed several years from my life (in conjunction with the two and a half pounds of meat I consumed at the table).

Dinner, with my friends, will never be the same again...