That this trip isn’t the stupidest thing he’ll ever do
That they won’t drive one mile before she asks, Where are we going? three times
That she’ll ask why can’t she drive anymore
That she’ll say her teeth hurt, she doesn’t want to go, where’s her momma
That she’ll ask if she’s dying
That she’ll ask if he’s dying
That she’ll say he’s not driving to the casino; he’s putting her in a home
That the handicap spot will be open in front of the lobby
That the manager will accept his expired voucher for two nights free and throw in two coupons for a free buffet
That he’ll hit a blackjack
That she’ll agree to stay at her slot machine until he comes back for her but will get up, get lost, and scream until security comes
That she’ll remember their room number
That she’ll look at her arm where he will have written the room number
That he’ll be able to play the required three hours a day to earn the free room
That he’ll be able to concentrate and not make dumb bets like last time
That she’ll leave her purse in the ladies’ room, the car, the buffet, the coffee shop
That they’ll find her purse each time
That it will still contain her wallet, which he will empty except for $10 and a copy of her license
That she’ll remember to stay in the room when she wakes up from her nap
That he’ll remember to tape WE ARE IN ATLANTIC CITY to the back of the door
That she’ll remember not to double-lock the door, because then he’ll have to get security to open it
That they’ll split a muffin and a cup of coffee every morning
That they’ll find a sunny bench on the boardwalk
That he won’t yell at her when she tries to take home the hotel ice bucket
That this will be their last time in Atlantic City
That they’ll come home winners