The best part of the trip to Las Vegas, Atlantic City or even Monte Carlo are those secret, evil little thoughts. Will I be a huge winner? Will it be like hitting the lottery? Will I make page one of the Daily News? How much will Uncle Sam take back in taxes?

Headline - "Retired Jericho Dentist wins millions at Atlantic City." There I am being interviewed by Channel 2, 4 and 7. The same questions over and over again. "What do you want to do with all that money?" "How will you spend it?" The flash bulbs popping in my face blind me for a moment. Should I act humble? Act like Jimmy Stewart? Gary Cooper? Nah - no one, especially my friends, would believe me, Stanley Greenberg trying to show humility.

Before you enter the casino dreams abound.

-The slot machine that pays off in hundreds of thousands of dollars can be the one you are currently throwing money into. When those three 7s line up across the machine's face and all those bells and whistles go off, a magical moment is reached. It was worth inhaling all that second-hand cigarette smoke in that noisy atmosphere.

-The roulette wheel turns in my mind. The little white ivory ball nestles into my number. I watch the croupier smile and push the tall pile of chips toward me. Thirty-five to one! What wonderful odds. This is better than the stock market in the 1990s. Why don't they banish zero and double zero? Roulette is truly a mindless game, but if you have your chips on a number it is thrilling. After I have made a hit, should I leave the table with the winnings? Or should I try to "break the bank?" Just one more bet and just one more. Either I'll be rich or back where I started.

-On to the blackjack tables. "I'll have a Bloody Mary and make it spicy," I say to the cute, tray-carrying waitress in the abbreviated costume. Twenty-one is the magical number. An ace has a value of one or 11. The dealer must take another card if he has 16 or under. "Hit or stick" that is the question. What is the next card coming out of that infernal shoe holding the cards? Who knows?

Great expectations and wild hope are the commodities of the amateur and tenderfoot gambler. When does reality enter the picture. This column was written prior to my New Year's Eve trip to Atlantic City. Next week - reality.