It happens all day, in any corner of Tampa Bay. A gambler approaches a storefront with blacked-out windows in a worn strip plaza, or a building along a highway cutting through sprawl. The sign outside reads “arcade.”
In the blank eye of a security camera, the gambler presses a button and hears the approving click of an unlocking door.
The gambler steps into a dark parlor of glowing screens with cascading lines of fireballs and cherries. Bells and explosions bleep and bloop over the tap-tap-tap of plastic buttons, each tap costing maybe a quarter, or a dollar or $10.
When the gambler wins, they shout, “Cash out!” from their free-rolling office chair.
