World's Richest Man: I Leaped Across Time

I spent the evening reading Reagan Lee's recent paper on the hardware, software, and gaming industries from 1997 to 2001.

Even though he was currently only about to complete his bachelor of arts undergraduate degree, his work was already highly regarded.

I wanted to prepare myself to have a productive conversation with him when I will go to meet him and try to recruit him.

The Reagan Lee I knew was a Professor of Financial Economics, one of the most highly regarded Professors at Harvard.

After reading for hours I finally crashed for the night.

My alarm woke me up at 5 a.m.

I quickly packed up, checked out of the hotel, and hopped into a taxi.

I arrived at the airport with plenty of time to spare and boarded my flight just after 7 a.m.

I settled into my seat. To my left, an overweight man was struggling to buckle his seatbelt. To my right, a mature woman in her early forties. She wore a light blue cardigan over a simple blouse.

I tried to relax...

"Achoo!" She let out a loud sneeze, then she immediately began rummaging through her small, well-worn backpack.

Noticing her plight, I reached into my own bag and pulled out a packet of tissues.

"Here, these might help." I offered them to her with a polite smile.

She looked up, "Oh, thank you so much," she said gratefully, accepting the tissues and dabbing at her nose.

"Weeeeeee! Weeeeee!" Before I could settle back into my seat, a young child a few rows ahead started wailing at the top of their lungs. "Weeeee!" The sound was persistent and loud.

'If this is how it's going to be, I might seriously consider flying business class...' I thought.

The crying continued unabated, but an hour later I sighed with relief as the cabin became quiet.

Some time later, I looked out the window as we flew over the Grand Canyon, Lake Mead and the Hoover Dam.

The plane touched down at McCarran International Airport. As we taxied to the gate, I glanced out the window.

Las Vegas, or as some called it, Lost Wages.

A city of neon lights and endless entertainment.

It was thankfully November, which meant the weather was more bearable.

Summer is a tough time in Vegas. It's hot as hell! dry and hot as hell...

I waited at the baggage claim for my suitcase. When my bag arrived, I grabbed it and headed outside to catch a cab.

The driver had this wild hair sticking out from under a stained baseball cap, with sunglasses that barely stayed perched on his nose.

He spun around as I got in, "First time in Vegas?"

I gave a half-smile, "You could say that."

He seemed momentarily puzzled, then his face lit up. "Oh, man! You gotta check out some of the strip clubs! The Spearmint Rhino's wild, and Crazy Horse III has amazing shows too. Trust me."

"Sounds like you know what you're talking about..."

"Oh hell yeah!" he said, driving through traffic with wild abandon. "I'm tellin' ya, I've been to these clubs more times than I can count."

On the way, I saw several billboards stating, 'What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.' There was a time when Las Vegas was actually trying to become a family entertainment capital, but it has gone back to it's roots.

It was back to sin city.

The cab screeched to a halt at the Bellagio Hotel and I got out.

I wanted to get a room here because of the high-rolling casino that it was connected to.

As I stepped into the hotel, it was clear that there was no hiding anything in this city. The hookers prowled the lounges, openly asking out unaccompanied men.

The check-in process was swift, and the rate for a night was lower than what I'd paid in Boston.

"Welcome to the Bellagio," the receptionist said with a polished smile as she handed me my room key. "Enjoy your stay."

I entered the room and walked over to the window.

There was a clear view of the Bellagio Fountains. The jets of water arched high into the air. During the night, the fountain would be illuminated and there would be a very nice night show with the water dancing in sync to the music.

I unpacked my suitcase and pulled out the shirt my grandpa gave me for my 17th birthday.

It was a green Hawaiian shirt with bright exotic flowers on it.

I put it on, took my wallet with me and headed downstairs to the Bellagio Casino.

I went straight to the ATM in the casino lobby and withdrew $50,000 in $100 bills. It only took a minute, and a guy was even there to help me bundle the cash.

Just like that, I was holding a thick stack of banknotes. $50,000 really didn't look like much.

I went to the cashier to buy chips.

At the cashier, I saw this guy who, to be blunt, looked like a total nutso; he had long blond hair and wore baggy clothes. He was trying to deposit $1 million in cash—two full suitcases stuffed with $50 bills.

The dude was actually sitting on the floor, taking pictures with the money, with his tongue out.

Meanwhile, a few gents were waiting in front of me, clearly getting impatient.

Finally, it was my turn.

I walked up to the cashier, "I'd like to get 10 $5,000 chips." I said.

The cashier nodded and started counting the money using a machine. After a few moments, he looked up with a smile. "Everything checks out. Here are your chips."

I took the stack of chips from him and immediately headed for the blackjack tables.

Most of the tables were packed with players, people all around me were gambling away their money.

But there was also a special area—a VIP area. There was a small door covered with a red curtain; a man with a shining bald scalp in a black suit stood in front of it.

"I'd like to enter the high-rolling tables." I told him.

He looked me over. "Sir, could I see your chips, please?" he asked politely.

I showed him my ten colorful $5,000 chips.

He glanced at it, nodded, and then opened the curtain. "Welcome in," he said, motioning me through.

It was way different inside. There were fewer players, and some of them had people holding their chips for them. The tables were clearly marked: some had a maximum bet of $20,000, while others reached up to $100,000.

I walked up to one of the tables with a $100,000 maximum bet and took a seat next to a middle-aged gentleman in a red t-shirt.

The dealer was a brunette. She was wearing one of Ballagio's dresses. It was buttoned down, covering all of her private parts, but the top was open, showing just enough cleavage to be enticing.

She was maybe 30 and attractive but there was hardness in her eyes.

She smiled as I sat down.

Blackjack is one of the few casino games where the player has a chance. If you do it right, you can minimize the house advantage on each hand, and if you're not overly obvious about it, you can arrange to play for bigger stakes when the odds in the deck are in the player's favor.

Now, that didn't mean that I could do it...

I ordered Coke and placed five of my $5,000 chips in front of me, stacking them neatly in a pile.

The dealer nodded in acknowledgment and began dealing the cards.

I got dealt a queen and an eight - 18.

I motioned for no more cards, and the dealer played the house cards: a 4 showing.

She flipped her down card, a 7. 11 so far, and she took another card.

A jack.

21 - Blackjack.

-25,000$.

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