The time I won at craps.

I don't gamble. I'll bet on things or play games of chance for money on occasion, but putting my money on a losing proposition isn't my idea of a good time. When I go to a casino I go to the poker tables and that's it.

The whole culture about it just seems so self-defeating and depressing. The superstition, chasing the high of that one-in-a-million lucky event. It's not for me.

My older brother is mostly the same way, with one notable exception: craps. He'd been talking it up to me for years, telling me how it's the most fun he's ever had in a casino, and I should just try it with him and see what it's like.

It seems too complicated, I told him. He said that you can just bet the Pass Line, which basically means you're betting that whoever is rolling the dice doesn't roll a seven. It's a social activity, he explained, because the whole table is betting the Pass Line and rooting for each other.

The way he described it, a group of a strangers drinking, cheering for each other on their wins, commiserating with each other on their losses, I could almost start to see the appeal.

I downloaded an app and started asking him questions, which he answered patiently. Eagerly even.

Then I saw it.

"What's the 'Don't Pass Line'?"

"It's a bet against the person rolling the dice. Nobody really bets the Don't Pass Line. It's a dick move."

A plan formed in my mind. "Ok, I'll play."

That night, I'm sitting at the craps table. To my right, my brother. To his right, our little sister. They sit me on the far left so I can get a feel for it before it's my turn to roll.

The rest of the table is a smattering of dead-eyed gamblers. They looked preemptively disappointed, but ready to be amazed. Like they were ready to get caught up in a run of good luck, but they weren't going to bring it themselves. Not the party I was promised, but there was some promise there.

First up, my sister. She rolls to set the point. We all put our chips on the Pass Line. Some of the gamblers make more specific bets.

She rolls again, and we win! She rolls again and again, and we keep winning. I see the spirits lifting around the table. There's talking, laughing, cheering, free liquor, free money, and suddenly I get it.

Eventually my sister rolls a seven and her turn ends, but that's ok because she already won the table a shitload of money. I'm up like $150 myself.

The table knows us a little by now. I'm new, we're all siblings, and surely my brother will continue the hot streak.

But a plan is a plan.

My brother takes the dice and rolls the point. Everyone places their chips. I place my chips.

The dealer asks me, "Did you mean to put your chips on the Don't Pass Line?"

"Yes, that's exactly what I meant to do."

Silence. Then my sister: "You're an asshole."

My brother rolls again: seven. The Don't Pass Line wins me a couple bucks.

I take the dice and proceed to go on a mini hot streak myself. I win like another fifty bucks, but the table never recovers. The mood is dead. I killed it.

That was probably twelve years ago. To this day, if it comes up, my sister will only call me an asshole again. My brother won't talk about it at all.