I was in a good mood as I walked out of the Borgata late Saturday night. I’d won a few bucks at video poker, spurred along by two straight flushes, and had a nice dinner in the Amphora Lounge, albeit after a 20-minute wait.

   As I headed toward the exit, I saw a young man smoking a cigarette in what I knew was a no-smoking area. His immediate surroundings were not marked as such, so it is quite possible he stepped away from a table for a quick fix of nicotine. But it still annoyed me, as it often does when people light up in no-smoking areas. I quickly looked for a security guard to remind him, as I have long since learned that even very polite reminders to smokers often turn into nasty situations. Seeing no casino employee around and being it was quite late, I kept moving. But I thought to myself: Why can’t people just abide by the rules?

   Then something stopped me dead in my mental tracks. Who’s so picky about obeying the rules? I was wearing roomy cargo pants, into which I’d stuffed a couple of the small jars of mustard and mayonnaise the Amphora Lounge puts out for guests to put on their sandwiches. Also in my pockets were half a dozen tea bags I snagged when the server turned his back and left me alone with the box of choices from which one to enjoy with my dessert. There’s some kind of rule against walking away with that stuff, isn’t there?

   All right, I’ve written before about where’s the line to helping yourself to a little extra and making a pig of yourself. But the actual rule is still that NOTHING leaves the buffet room in your pockets or purse. So what was the difference between me and the man puffing away in the no-smoking section?

   Well, two that I can see. First, I was a little more discreet about stashing away my booty away from the eyes of employees and security cameras. But then, some smokers cup the cigarette in the palm of their hand in the no-smoking section, as if those nearby cannot smell the darn thing. The other thing is I happen to hate second-hand smoke, but love the tea they serve in the Borgata and those cute little jars of Hellman’s and Grey Poupon.

   Don’t get me wrong, if I’m playing in the no-smoking section and someone lights up, I’ll still summon an employee to tell them to put it out. But the epiphany was an eye-opener for my personal method of moral reasoning, and a casino is a strange place to have one of those.

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