When Dave Yeager stumbled upon the chamber of shiny, casino-style slot machines, he felt an instant pull. It was his first night of deployment in Seoul, South Korea, and the United States Army officer was in a bad headspace. The September 11, 2001, attacks had just happened, and he had a wife and two children under the age of 5 at home whom he missed fiercely. He felt lost.
Yeager had never seen a slot machine on a military base before—there weren’t any in the US—but he figured trying his luck couldn’t make things worse. “As I’m sitting there, the first thing I’m noticing is that my shoulders are relaxing,” Yeager remembers. “Then, I won. In that moment, all the stress, the anxiety, the pain, the hurt, the fear—it washed away.”
Pulling the slot machine’s levers felt like a salve—until they didn’t. Yeager found another room filled with slot machines at his next base. Over a period of about three months, he spiraled into what he says was a “devastating obsession” with playing the military-run casino games. He eventually drained his savings, sold his stuff, even stole from his unit. He didn’t tell anyone what was going on. “I thought no one could help me,” he says.
Disclaimer
The information contained in South Florida Reporter is for general information purposes only.
The South Florida Reporter assumes no responsibility for errors or omissions in the contents of the Service.
In no event shall the South Florida Reporter be liable for any special, direct, indirect, consequential, or incidental damages or any damages whatsoever, whether in an action of contract, negligence or other tort, arising out of or in connection with the use of the Service or the contents of the Service. The Company reserves the right to make additions, deletions, or modifications to the contents of the Service at any time without prior notice.
The Company does not warrant that the Service is free of viruses or other harmful components
