GREENWICH, Conn. -- In a stunning triumph of optimism over simple arithmetic, Americans tapped their savings, choked sidewalks and interstate highways and blissfully endured hours in the summer sun Sunday as they lined up by the millions for a 1-in-80-million shot at a quarter-billion dollars.
After the Powerball lottery game announced the biggest jackpot in the nation's history, people flocked across state lines to Connecticut, the District of Columbia and the 19 other states where Powerball tickets are sold.
Jay K. Patel of Forest Hills, N.Y., spent $3,000 at Greenwich Cigar and Stationery, where police had set up pylons, barricades and yellow "Caution" tape to control the crowds. "Dollar and dream -- that's all you think," Patel said as the shop's single lottery machine chugged out his pink and orange slips. "Now, I have 3,000 dreams."
*** Moron of the Year Award ***
Ernie Kovic, 28, a waiter from the Bronx who said he was studying aircraft design at a trade school, bought 3,000 tickets with money he said he had been saving for tuition. "If I win, I won't have to go to school," he explained. "Heck, I can buy my own aircraft."
[10-1 odds Ernie shows up on the CYGS thread]
***
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"It's the greed factor: Bigger is better," said Douglas A. Orr, the marketing coordinator of the Multi-State Lottery Association, a group in West Des Moines that runs the game. He said officials expect to sell at least 150 million tickets before the drawing at 10:59 p.m. on Wednesday. For the record-breaking pot in May, 138 million were sold. A ticket costs $1. The chance of winning is 1 in 80 million.
<snip>
This description was typical, perhaps: "You should have been here yesterday," said Valera Alcala, a clerk at the Plaid Pantry convenience store on Hadyen Island in north Portland, Ore., just across the Washington state line. "The line was to the back of the store, into the subway, out the door, past the dumpster and into the mobile home park next door."
But that was Saturday, when the jackpot was a relatively modest $183 million. Try again on Wednesday, when it is up to $250 million -- or almost one dollar per person in the country.
"I think they'll start going crazy here beginning Monday night," said Barbara Bush, a clerk at the Amoco Station in Hammond, Ind. "That's when we'll start seeing paychecks, rent and mortgage payments and the food money start to come across our counter."
Because Powerball tickets are not sold in New York or New Jersey, Powerball fever has brought a fleeting democracy to Greenwich, where Escorts jockeyed with Jaguars on streets lined with shops sporting elegant awnings and offering pricey merchandise.
For some, the frenzy was frightening. Gerald Guerrier, who works for a lottery machine service firm in Rocky Hill, Conn., nursed printers and motherboards Sunday with the urgency of a heart surgeon. Crowds outside his various stops cursed as he went in and cheered as he left. "At one deli, the owner told the crowd, 'If he doesn't fix the machine, kill him,"' Guerrier said with wide eyes. "One lady said, 'There'd be no witnesses."'
Gail Howard, owner of a publishing company in White Plains, N.Y., said she expected Powerball to propel sales of her lottery books and software which for up to $79.95 help players eliminate combinations that she says are unlikely to win. But Ms. Howard said that all that expertise might improve the odds from 1 in 80 million to 1 in 50 million. "If this is your time, God will pick you," she said. "It's still luck."
At 8 Sunday night, 300 people were lined up at Putnam Shell here. Anticipating even bigger crowds on Monday, the Greenwich Police has doubled its day shift from 20 officers to 40, and set up barricades at 10 stores, Lt. David C. Ridberg said.
Because of the rush, many stores told patrons they could not play their carefully chosen numbers, and would sell only "quick picks" chosen by the cash register sized lottery machines.
Customers shaded themselves with umbrellas as people wended through makeshift versions of the pens found at amusement parks. Most stores let groups of about five in at a time and kept the rest out on the sidewalk. Cheers erupted each time a group emerged and the next lucky bunch moved in.
Last week, as word spread about the $150 million jackpot, many people slept in their cars in order to be in line when machines went on at 6 a.m. This week, store managers said they expect even larger slumber parties. At Greenwich Cigar and Stationery, which sold about 30,000 tickets Sunday, the owner took appointments for high rollers. "I have a man who wants 10,000 tickets coming at 6, a $2,400 order at 7 and a $3,000 at 7:30," said the owner, Ashok J. Sheth.
For retailers, every number is a lucky number: Stores keep 5 to 7 cents for each ticket they sell, according to the Powerball spokesmen. But just the prospect of riches made some customers feel flush. "All I need is $2 million. I'd give away the rest," said Elina Gomez, 56, of Elizabeth, N.J.
A Powerball riot nearly broke out at Zyn Stationery here when Consuelo Sipsas of Queens, N.Y., tried to slip into the store ahead of 100 people in a line presided over by three Greenwich police officers. Cries of "The woman in white!" and "Shoot her" erupted from the crowd, and an officer removed her from the line. "What can I say? I felt lucky," Mrs. Sipsas, 47, said as she moved up the street toward another Powerball outlet.
When the store closed at 6 p.m. after selling 15,000 tickets in 12 hours, some people shouted at Officer Terral A. Hardy as he tried to disperse the scores who remained. "Go 10 more miles up the interstate, and you wouldn't have to wait," he said. David T. Brown, 60, tried to get to the door to negotiate with the shop's owner, and stalked off muttering when Hardy blocked his path.
Peter B. Alter, an insurance broker from Rye Brook, N.Y., had driven to Greenwich for dinner with no thought of lotto. As he walked down Greenwich Avenue, strangers kept asking him where they could play Powerball. Alter cheerfully played along, pointing them to the main highway and saying, "Just look for the lines." |
