For stranded gamblers, blizzard is bad luck

John Curran

Tuesday, Feb. 18, 2003 | 9:46 a.m.

ATLANTIC CITY -- Mike DiBiase surveyed the eerily quiet blackjack tables and slot machines at Trump Plaza Hotel & Casino.

He had heard the snow forecasts before driving here Saturday for a one-night stay and gambled the storm wouldn't be bad. He lost.

Then he lost some more, hanging around the craps and roulette tables.

On Monday he was still waiting for roads to clear to go home to New York's Staten Island.

"My credit cards are crying," the 49-year-old DiBiase said with a shrug. "I lost much more than I normally do, because I've been stuck here and what else are you gonna do?"

A state of emergency declared by Gov. James McGreevey prompted authorities to halt bus traffic -- the lifeline of Atlantic City's 11 casino-hotels -- on Sunday night, leaving gamblers no way to home.

Some were given free rooms. Some kept busy shopping in casino boutiques. Many just kept gambling.

"We had plenty when we got here, but we've lost everything," said Diane Delle Cave, 39, of Brooklyn, N.Y., who was calling Western Union from a pay phone to have money wired.

"It's been awful. The restaurants are closed, there wasn't enough play in the (slot) machines, so we didn't win anything. Now, we have to get home because our terrier, Elvis, is by himself, even though we did leave him a lot of food," Delle Cave said.

Not everyone was unlucky.

Lou Sturniolo, 50, of Lincoln Park kept playing roulette after getting stranded.

"I've been betting half the amount I usually do, because I didn't want to run out of money if I wasn't getting lucky. But I was winning. If I'd bet my normal amount, I would've made a lot."

Atlantic City, which got about 17 inches, saw the snow turn to freezing rain overnight. On Monday major arteries were slushy but passable.

That didn't help people from northern New Jersey and New York, which were still being hit with the worst of the storm.

At a Trump Plaza bar, Joanne Castagna, 33, of Sayville, N.Y., sat nursing a soda as she waited it out.

"This place is like a closed mall," Castagna said. "People are just wandering around like zombies, no money, bored," she said. "I'm held captive!"

So were workers. Those who made it to work found themselves drafted to fill the shifts of those who didn't.

Even walking the Boardwalk was risky. Plows cleared some sections, but left slippery footing in place of the snow. Everywhere else, slush made the Boardwalk feel like a beach walk.