Randall Bruce of Bayside, Queens, had that sweet premonition again. The 48-year-old English teacher woke up and just knew he’d have a lucky day. So he pulled on a bright yellow sweater-vest, clipped his mustache, put his hair in a ponytail, and hurried to Manhattan’s Port Authority Bus Terminal. He was going gambling.

“It’s just a feeling I get,” Mr. Bruce explains. “One time I won a thousand dollars.”

It’s 8:15 a.m. on a Friday morning, and Greyhound’s daily “heartbreak express” is en route from the Port Authority to Boston via Connecticut’s Mohegan Sun casino. It’s a long ride – more than two hours – and an even longer ride back, in rush-hour traffic. It seems a small price to pay this morning to Mr. Bruce and the small band of gamblers who have taken over the middle section of the coach. None of them has much money.

What they’ve got, they’re willing to risk, in the hope of hitting the jackpot.

Governor Pataki, too, wants a slice of the action. This winter he sent the state Legislature a bill that would resolve major Indian land claims and allow up to five casinos upstate in the Catskills.

There’s plenty of evidence that casinos could provide a much-needed injection of revenue to state coffers. Connecticut’s two casinos, the Mohegan tribe’s Sun and the Mashantucket Pequots’ Foxwoods, raked in more than $2 billion last year. The amount that is paid to Connecticut each year is not public, but the Pequots announced last month they had forked over more than $2 billion to the state in slot revenues since Foxwoods opened in 1993.

Much of that money came from the pockets of ordinary New Yorkers, like Mr. Bruce and a bus-mate, John Staerianeas. So what do they have say to the prospect of the Empire State’s having its own casino region?

Upstate is “too far,” Mr. Staerianeas, a self-employed produce deliveryman who hits the Mohegan Sun about once a month, says. “If they would build one in New York City, that would be the best. A lot of people would come, and I certainly would prefer it.”

A Bushwick resident, Carol Davis, is just happy to get away.

“I have three kids and my husband has them today,” Ms. Davis, who works with developmentally disabled students, says. “It doesn’t matter whether it’s Foxwoods, the Mohegan Sun, or New York, I just want to get away from my family for the day. If I win I have money to shop. If I lose I’m down $200 to $300. That’s okay.”

Mr. Bruce sounds more philosophical on the issue.

“They interviewed me for a telephone survey,” he says. “Said they’d like to build a casino somewhere in Queens. That’d be a lot easier for me. I like this bus ride. I enjoy the scenery. I’d check out the new casinos. But it wouldn’t really affect me.”

The bus pulls into the Mohegan Sun about 10:30 a.m., disgorging its passengers onto a loading dock outside the cavernous casino, where they line up to receive free scratch-off lottery cards and a voucher they can use for a lunch buffet.

By the time the return bus leaves at 6:30 p.m., it has only two of its original gamblers. But there’s plenty to talk about.

Mr. Staeraneas won $1,000. He replays his day’s biggest wins again and again and considers what he’ll do with his new winnings.

Mr. Bruce listens glumly and contemplates the hole the day has just blown in his wallet.

“I lost $400,” the teacher laments. “I just got back from vacation, and that’s more than I spent the whole time.”

Mr. Bruce isn’t sure how much shorter a trip to the Catskills would be. But it’s sure going to be a long trip back to Queens tonight.