Columnist Susan Snyder: Stinginess is a true compliment

Friday, March 22, 2002 | 8:59 a.m.

Susan Snyder's column appears Fridays Sundays and Tuesdays. Reach her at snyder@lasvegassun.com or (702) 259-4082.

I'm not sure I'd call my cousin's husband a "comp wizard," but he gets his buck's worth -- even in Las Vegas.

When the pair visited here last week they said they did all right comps-wise. I didn't ask for the gory details, but I know they earned $100 toward dinner at one of the Strip's better mid-range restaurants.

He also managed to upgrade the ride I offered out to Red Rock Canyon into one that included the Fremont Street Experience and The Rio (all in one evening, mind you). And he let me pay for dinner.

I would feel badly about exposing Flinty Boy in print if it weren't for the fact that his ability to live and travel on the cheap is his major point of pride and a legend in our family. This is a guy who once told the waitress at a Bennigan's that it was his birthday so his kids got a free dessert. (I think that tab was on me, too.)

We all know this going in, and it has become a game I play about once every 10 years. Besides, somebody is going to take the financial advantage when there is one.

So it may as well be you or someone you know, author Max Rubin says in the second edition of his book "Comp City: A Guide to Free Casino Vacations."

Rubin is a former Las Vegas casino executive whose book explains how to get free stuff -- "comps" -- from casinos. This is especially useful if you're gambling in a town where you have no relatives.

Rubin's first "Comp City," published in 1994, focused on Las Vegas. The new edition covers comp-gathering in Nevada and 16 other states.

It's a serious guide telling how everyone from high-rollers plunking down $20,000 a hand to $5 blackjack players can get something for nothing.

Well, almost nothing. You have to play, and therein lies the rub for people like me. Susan's money doesn't go on the table (unless, of course, I'm picking up the dinner tab).

Free doesn't feel free if I have to take money out of my wallet to get it. The only thing tighter than my cousin's husband is my fist around a $10 bill I earned writing this dreck through which you are suffering.

The system for playing the system isn't complicated. But there's something in me that wouldn't pay 50 cents for the privilege of overeating at a buffet or wearing a satin baseball jacket sporting a casino logo.

I'd feel guilty wasting money on blackjack and asking for a stretch limo ride with champagne and caviar. I'm a mere newspaper writer with a modest lifestyle who thinks sushi is bait in better wrapping.

Rubin's opinion: "Many people, amazingly enough, think asking a (pit) boss for a comp is degrading. That's OK with me, and it should be OK with you. Let those people go hungry or pay retail like all the other ill-informed sheep that casinos lead to slaughter."

B-a-a-a-a-a-h.

Until gambling became "gaming" it wasn't fit for regular people living in such places as Iowa, which according to Rubin now has at least 13 casinos. Don't all casinos -- no matter how many tigers and rollercoasters they have -- still cater to the shill who wants something for nothing?

"Gimme a break," Rubin writes. "Unless it's someone with a serious death wish, who the hell else is going to play blackjack, craps or baccarat at $25,000 a throw? It sure ain't gonna be someone who's earned his money."

Nope.