Vegas Pilgrimage
From: rafe@Xenon.Stanford.EDU (Rafael Furst)
Subject: Trip Report: Vegas Pilgrimage [FULL COPY, VERY LONG]
Date: 8 Jul 95 02:45:29 GMT
----------------------------------------------
Vegas Pilgrimage Trip Report, June 10-12, 1995
----------------------------------------------
The players, some of whom you've come to know through previous trip
reports, several newbies you'll come to know and respect for their
obviously deviant personalities and penchant for gambling:
Phil Gordon: Poker player. Scam King. Tilt-monster. Keeper of "The List".
Rafe Furst: Poker player. Deposed Angle-boy <:-( Apprentice Scam King.
Bruce Hayek: Vegas Virgin. Rock. Solid.
Tony Glenning: Aussie. Tiltable. Extremely proud. King of Low-limit.
Dave Lambert: Dice Boy. New Angle-boy <:-) Stock-option-king. 32off? Raise!
Jay Srinivasan: Vegas Virgin. Study for the bar? Naw, poker is better.
Steve Miranda: Weekend away from wife? Raise! Organizer. Stock-king.
Lenny Augustine: Big "decision" weekend. Pussy. Pussy. Pussy.
PREREQUISITES:
Okay, first of all, you should know that calling this a *LONG* trip
report would be severely understating the case. The seven of us
basically *exist* to gamble, angle each other, severely put each other
on tilt, and of course, play poker. Yes, this is the center of our
universe. Yes, every one of us is completely out of touch with
reality. A sad, deplorable state of affairs undoubtably, but hey, we
like it like that. So this trip was to be the epic, ultimate journey,
and damned if we weren't going to capture every single petty detail
and preserve it for some vicarious thrills years from now when each of
us is, as we will undoubtably be, bust.
To this end, I (Phil) spent the entire trip scurrying around with a
note pad writing down every possible item, and when we got back we all
contributed to this humoungous trip report. If it provides you the
same cheap thrill it provides us, great. If not, then you obviously
need to seek medical treatment.
To make sense of some of the expressions and stories in this report,
here are a few preliminary explanations:
"THE CIRCLE GAME"
I don't know where this game comes from, but apparantly its pretty
old. Most of us learned it in high-school. The object is to form a
circle with your finger and thumb out of somebody's line of vision and
below the waist, and then somehow get him to look at it. If he does,
you get to hit him on the shoulder. Sound pretty trivial? Well, with
this group, it is the ultimate accomplishment, and to successfully
nail somebody makes you a hero. If you get nailed, on the other hand,
everybody laughs at you, you feel like an absolute ass, and if that
isn't enough, you get stung on the shoulder. No better way to put
somebody in our group on tilt. Which brings me to the next point...
"TILTING"
For the poker-parlance purist, we tend to overuse/misuse this term, we
like it so much. As I've said before, each of us receives a deep,
abiding satisfaction from successfully putting another of the group on
tilt. Every action we take seems to have this goal at it's core.
Especially, this next one...
"ANGLING"
If one of us pulls a fast one on another, it's pretty much a
gauranteed tilt. As a result, the angles that we have come up with,
and will come up with on this trip, are so deviant, so complex, so
inspired, that they are an art form of their own. Here is the
angle-boy icon we use: <:-)
"PUSSY"
Okay, so its not quite politically correct. But around here its the
law: If somebody in the group doesn't immediately go along with
whatever gambling, angling, tilting activity anybody else proposes,
they are labeled "pussy." Lenny, for example, wouldn't come with us
simply because he had to make some minor "but-my-future-depends-on-it"
decisions this weekend. Lenny is a pussy. Maybe it's a bit brutal,
but this is how we maintain our status as the most easily corruptible
bunch of gamblers ever to pilgrimage to Vegas.
"BETTING"
We will find any, and I do mean any, excuse to bet with each other.
Often these bets turn out to be great angles, conceived to put the
bettee on some serious tilt. But regardless, the endless small bets
we make help us keep our gambling bugs well fed. One favorite is
Ro-Sham-Bo (rock, scissors, paper) -- a supposedly random game, but
one in which several of these gamblers claim to have an edge due to
their ability to read people and take the psychological upper hand.
An example from a recent bet:
Rafe: I'm going rock.
Victim: Okay, then I'm going paper.
Rafe: But you know that I wouldn't tell you the truth.
Victim: You might if you think I won't believe you.
Rafe: But I know you will compensate for that.
Victim: Just go! (exasperated at Rafe's continued scrutiny for tells)
Rafe: 1-2-3-<rock>
Victim: <scissors>
Rafe: (pocketing bet) You over-compensated.
"CHA-CHING!!" and "AI-YAAA!!"
These expressions represent, respectively, a cash-register going off
(which we use to denote any positive occurance, usually of a monetary
nature) and the classic Bay-101 asian gambler's expression of
surprise, shock, etc. (which we use to denote surprise, shock, etc.)
Now you understand our little world. On with the report...
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dateline: May 31, 1995. Weekly Wednesday Night Poker Game. Palo Alto, Ca.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Steve and Dave, fresh off a TREMENDOUS rush of options-trading, decide
a celebration Vegas Pilgrimage is in order. The others, by far the
most corruptible group of guys on the face of the planet, all chime
"I'm in". Cha-Ching!!! It's destined to be a classic. We have seven
players -- shattering the old record of five players. The weekend
will be June 9-12, just nine extremely long days away.
Reservations are made, plane tickets are booked. Reno Air, roundtrip
airfare from San Jose to Vegas -- $95 per person. Actually, it was
$95.75 with tax, but we screwed Bruce out of $0.75 per person. Not
that he deserved it, but it was a good angle to get him to pay for the
plane tickets.
Rafe was in charge of rooms. What a bad idea that was. Famous for
scamming GREAT rooms at the Mirage and Treasure Island, the group left
Rafe in charge and was never worried. Unfortunately, he had a brain
spasm and booked us across the street at Casino Royale. Now, I
seriously doubt if any of you have EVER stepped inside the Casino
Royale. If you had, I hope you were sprayed for lice before returning
to work... That place is a dump beyond all dumps.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dateline: June 9, 1995. Friday morning.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Yes, it's really Friday. Vegas. Pilgrimage. No one can possibly
work today knowing what is in store. The plan: everyone blow off work
ASAP and meet at Bay-101. We'll play poker until the very last minute
and then leave our cars there and take Dave's very large van to the
airport. [Note to fellow cheapskates, this is an excellent way to
save on airport parking. I hope any Bay101 employees reading this
don't blow our cover <;-) ]
Early in the morning, the email flew back and forth. Everyone was
counting down the hours. I was sitting at my desk, trying to look
busy, when Bruce came in to my office and gave me a great idea:
Bruce: "Hey Phil, what's the line on who gets to Bay-101 the
earliest?"
So for the next two hours, I decided to become Bookie-extraordinaire.
Here were the results, as they appeared in email:
----------------------------------------------------
Official Book for the VEGAS PILGRIMAGE, Summer 1995 v1.1
----------------------------------------------------
($1 bet maximum, others accepted at Bookie discretion)
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Note: Odds preceded by ** are for humorous purposes only and may not be booked.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Total Hours
of Sleep Person *Sleep only counts between 5PM Friday afternoon
Over/Under and 8AM monday morning -- no betting on yourself
------------------------------------------------------------------------
10 Dave
13 Rafe
14 Bruce -- we haven't seen him in action yet, high line
13 Phil -- recovering from a cold, so taking it easy :-)
12 Tony
13 Steve -- see comment about Bruce
15 Jay -- newbie who needs plenty-o-sleep
90 Group
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Total Net
Profit Person *Profit only counts between 5PM Friday afternoon
Over/Under and 8AM monday morning -- bets on yourself are OK
------------------------------------------------------------------------
-300 Dave -- loss predicted due to impending Craps binge
-100 Rafe -- past performance indicative of future results?
+500 Phil -- BIG WINNER! Go ahead, bet against me!
0 Bruce -- unknown, but tiltable if losing
+200 Tony -- proven track record
-200 Steve -- loss predicted due to Craps binge with Dave
+100 Jay -- will screw down and eek out a modest win
+200 Group
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Total Length
of Trip Report (Phil and Rafe are writing the report, with input from all)
Over/Under
------------------------------------------------------------------------
14 pages, single spaced, 80 column width
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Regarding Circle-Game (that stupid game from high school where you
Over/Under get to punch the other guy if he looks inside
a circle you make with your index finger and thumb)
------------------------------------------------------------------------
6.5 Number of times Phil is caught throughout the weekend
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Regarding Women
Over/Under
------------------------------------------------------------------------
6 Number of girls Phil hits on Friday night to Monday morning
2 Number of times Phil gets flatly denied
2.5 Number of times Steve calls his wife
20 Age of youngest girl Phil hits on
35 Age of oldest girl Phil hits on
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Number of "Presto's" Won by the group
Over/Under
------------------------------------------------------------------------
5.5 I did extensive Math for this problem, so I wouldn't
jump to bet this one so quick... (ironic the line
is at 5.5, isn't it???)
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Regarding Lenny
Over/Under
------------------------------------------------------------------------
** 1000 Number of times Lenny thinks about us this weekend
** 30 Number of years we'll give Lenny shit about missing out
**10000 Number of times we'll call Lenny a pussy for missing out
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Regarding Drinking
Over/Under
------------------------------------------------------------------------
14 Number of DIFFERENT alcoholic drinks ordered by the group
during the course of the weekend (beer counts as 1 only!)
0.5 Times someone in our group throws up from drinking
13 Number of Rusty Nails Dave drinks during the weekend
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Regarding Eating
Over/Under
------------------------------------------------------------------------
1 Number of times we eat together as a group (all seven of us)
12 Total number of meals eaten at the Mirage Buffet
1 Number of times Dave eats a chili cheese dog between
5AM and 8AM.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Regarding Golf
Over/Under
------------------------------------------------------------------------
93 Lowest score by any of the five players
110 Highest score by any of the five players
103 Highest temperature while were playing golf
500 Total number of strokes taken by group (during golf,
masturbation DOES NOT COUNT, Rafe!)
4 Number of golf balls lost by group
7 Number of penalty strokes assessed to group
(For those of you who can't stand the suspense, the actual results of
the book are at the end of this report).
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dateline: June 9, 1995. Bay 101. 4:30 - 9:30 PM, Friday afternoon.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Well, Rafe finally disappears from his office around 4:30. He's a
total slacker at work anyway, so they probably wouldn't even miss him
for the couple of hours. He's the first to arrive at Bay 101. Jay is
coming down from Berkeley on the train, so he doesn't get to Palo Alto
until 5:15. Jay, Bruce and I all trek down to Bay101.
At the front door, I waltz right on through as normal. Jay, who looks
about as old as Opie on the Andy Griffith show, gets carded at the
front door. Of course, it doesn't matter that he's at least 26. The
security guard takes a look at Jays NYU Law School ID (Jay's Drivers
License was suspended last year) and hassles him a little. After a
while, in fine Lawyer-like fashion, Jay convinced the guy that he was
legitimately 26. The guy ends up asking Jay to represent him in an
upcoming lawsuit.
Our names are on the board, and God are we ready to rumble. There are
no 6-12 seats open, so we take seats in 3-6. Sit right down and take
a hand... wait for the button to pass? You gotta be kidding! This
is pilgrimage weekend -- let the gambling begin!
A couple of hands later, I'm in the big blind. Jay is at my table,
but he's reading through the card player looking for possible
tournaments to enter and reading Roy Cooke's column trying to pick up
some last minute pointers. Anyway, I look down and find K-4 suited.
Not bad for the big blind, unless someone raises. Atypically Bay101,
everyone folds to the button who VERY QUIETLY puts in a raise. It
goes completely unnoticed before the flop.
Flop: A88. I check, and the button says "hey, that guy didn't call my
raise." The dealer looks a little flustered, counts the pot, and
determines that indeed he is right! I concur, but I refuse to call
the raise until a floorman is called. (I know the rule :-). The
floorman comes over and rules that the flop must be backed up and that
I must either call the raise or fold. Well, this sends the button on
TOTAL tilt. "I'll just take back my raise then! I don't want to
raise if I can't have this flop." etc, etc. Anyway, the floorman
won't allow any of that. The flop is taken up, I call the raise.
The new flop: 632. I bet, knowing this guy can't possibly have a
piece of the flop after pitching such a fit about the last flop. He
looks disgusted and calls. Turn is a 9. Again, I bet. He throws
away his hand and gets up from the table totally on tilt. Cha-ching!
Haven't been at the table for more than ten minutes and I've already
got someone totally off balance. Gotta love it.
Anyway, around 7:15 or so, they open a new 6-12 table. And we're off!
Steve shows up and gets in on some of the juicy 3-6 action. Jay and I
go over and I get a seat at the table next to Rafe. The table is
fairly tight and Rafe and I hover around even. Rafe changes tables,
leaving me with the tight table. I loosen them up a bit with a
bluff-check-raise on the river that wins a sizable pot, but then get
called over to the other 6-12 table with Rafe.
Well, he had them going before I even got there. He's playing next to
an hispanic Walter Matthau look-alike, who Rafe actually takes to
calling "Walter". The dude was totally drunk, but he was just
POUNDING on Rafe. Pot after pot, Rafe couldn't win. Anyway, Rafe is
on semi-tilt after getting snapped off yet again by the guy.
Phil: "Hey, you should buy me a beer after giving my friend there such
a bad beat! Buy me a beer with his money!"
"Walter": "Waitress!"
Phil: <Cha-Ching!>
Rafe: <Grumble> <Tilt> <Grumble>
At about 8PM, Dave "Dice Boy" Lambert shows up. One of his first
hands out of the box, he's heads up against some guy at the end of the
table. AA5 on the flop. Guy bets, Dave calls. 3 on the turn. Guy
bets, Dave calls. A on river. Guy bets, dave raises. Normally, I'd
suspect Dave to have J5 offsuit here, but instead he turns over A8off.
Ai-yaaa!
Dave: "I hit my kicker on the river." <Gets up from the table, dances
around his chair, scoops the pot, giggles a little, then makes
it LIVE-12 on the next hand.>
Around this time, Lenny shows up. Now, a few minutes on Lenny. See,
he's sorta going through a mid-life crisis right now. He's got some
monumental decisions to make, and that's all there is to it. He's
trying to decide whether or not he's going to go to law school in the
fall or just stick it out at his company for a few more years. He's
also been given the ultimatum by his girlfriend -- "Marry me or else
I'm leaving". So, he's just basically screwed. And this weekend just
happens to be the LAST weekend for him to decide the law school thing
which will more or less decide the girlfriend thing at the same time.
Still, the group is firmly convinced that there's no reason in the
world for him to miss the Vegas Pilgrimage. He's such a classic guy,
there's no way we could do without him. We pressure him. We taunt
him. We lure him. We try to appeal to his sense of pride. We
basically do everything but drag him to the plane.
It almost worked. He actually booked reservations and came to Bay101
looking for us. Unfortunately, the pressure of his decisions
overwhelmed him and he decided to stay at home. "Pussy" will forever
be his name.
Anyway, Lenny shows up and is on the rail perusing the poop sheet I
brought along with me. He's making some bets on the sure things (just
like a damn lawyer) and gabbing with the group. Rafe, meanwhile,
still on tilt from Walter's bad beats, buys me a beer. What a guy!
Waitress brings it over and Rafe says "It's for that ugly guy over
there" <pointing directly at me>. Waitress walks right past me and
brings it to Lenny who is standing at the rail.
So, 9:45 shows up and the entire crowd is ready to go. We all cash
out and head for Dave's van:
Phil -190 -- but free beer and Jay bought dinner
Rafe -250 -- totally on tilt
Dave -140 -- even after winning Quad-Aces without a kicker
Bruce -250 -- can't believe it -- over 1/4 of the bankroll gone!
Jay +375 -- thinking about retiring from law to become pro poker player
Tony +10 -- only had about 30 minutes to play, so happy!
Steve +125 -- wow, the wife can't complain about this! Maybe he should call...
All pile in the van and discuss the poker at Bay-101. Long-term
parking is our destination. It's about a five minute drive from
Bay-101. That was at least time for ten bad-beat stories and time for
additional bookings of poop-sheet bets. I ask Dave to turn on the
interior light so I can write down some poop-sheet bets... (dark
foreshadowing)
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dateline: June 9, 1995. Reno Air. 10:30PM, Friday night.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
We all check our clubs and then get seated on the plane. The flight
really wasn't all that crowded and we all sat together. Immediately,
before the plane even starts to taxi, Rafe, Bruce and Tony (all seated
together) bring out a deck of cards for a $50 buy-in pot-limit holdem
tournament. No chips are necessary -- they just use a pad of paper to
keep pot size and stack size. God, these guys are just animals!
Anyway, very first hand out of the gate. Rafe folds on the button,
Bruce calls in the little blind, Tony calls from the big blind. Flop:
332. Next thing I hear (I'm sitting behind them) is "I'll bet 4",
"Pot", "Pot", "Pot" and both Tony and Bruce are all in before the
turn. Turn is T, River is J. Bruce turns over 2-2 (Ai-yaaa!) for a
full house. Tony groans quite loudly (loud enough for the flight
attendent to come over and ask if anything is wrong) and flashes his
3. It's now heads up between Bruce and Rafe, with Bruce at a 2-1 chip
advantage over Rafe.
Meanwhile, Dave and I are playing "Hollywood" gin in the seat behind
the three pot-limit guys. $0.25 boxes, $0.10 a point. First game,
Dave schneids me for a $30 win. Second game, I schneid Dave for a $35
win. Dave is on TILT from hell. Third game was a hot contest, but I
managed to eek out a $15 win. Final game, Dave knocks after one card
and catches me with 66 points on the very first hand. OUCH! Game
over shortly thereafter for a schneid and a $35 win. Dave wins $15 or
so by the time we taxi up to McCarran airport and deplane.
Oh yeah, Rafe and Bruce battle it out for almost an entire hour.
Rafe, playing masterfully, comes back from his initial 1-2 chip
deficit and kills Bruce. Winning hand: AQ off, the supposed
gauranteed tournament loser. But Rafe is a pro. What a comeback!
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dateline: June 9, 1995. McCarran Airport. 11:45PM, Friday night.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
We haven't made a bet since deplaning ten minutes previous, so we're
standing around baggage claim trying to think up a bet. Dave comes to
the rescue:
Dave: "Let's have a $5 per person baggage claim pool. First golf bag
owner wins."
What a brilliant idea! Rafe, Phil, Steve, and Dave are in. Tony is
out. He doesn't bet on anything that he doesn't have a statistically
significant money-odds to win. Actually, he's just a pussy.
Well, Dave "Dice-boy" Lambert, wins the pool. I'm on tilt, because I
was really confident that I would win. So, I decide to get even using
Steve and give him $5 side action between our two bags. I win, Steve
is down $10 in the airport. Dave, the big golf bag winner, is smiling
that shit-eating grin we've all grown to expect and admire.
We catch a Limo (we all fit) and head to Casino Royale. It's a
brilliant night outside, almost a full moon. Lights blazing. Vegas.
The excitement is electric. We're all visibly anxious to get to the
Mirage poker room.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dateline: June 10, 1995. Casino Royale. 12:30AM, Saturday morning.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Limo arrives and drops us off ($35 including tip). We head inside to
the luxorious accomodations of the Casino Royale. NOT! Man, it must
have taken 45 minutes to check in. See, they don't have "credit card"
computers at the check-in counter, so everything must be called in
over the phone. That, and the union staff is on strike and I think
the replacements are a few chips shy of a full bet, if you know what I
mean.
We have three double rooms, but seven people. We ask for a cot and
some extra blankets. "Sorry, the hotel doesn't have cots and we don't
give out extra blankets." Oh my god, this place is hell. Anyway, we
bitched for a few minutes but then realized that we wouldn't be
sleeping that much anyway and the longer we argued with the guy the
longer we'd stay away from the Mirage poker room. Screw it, we're
outta here. FINALLY get to the rooms, dump the stuff and take off for
POKER HEAVEN.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dateline: June 10, 1995. Mirage Poker Room. 1:00AM, Saturday morning.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
It's 1 in the morning, all of us have already played at Bay 101, and
then been pummelled through the airport and a horrible hotel check-in.
Tired? Nah. The question is only, who will pussy out first and go to
bed?
The seven of us arrive at the Mirage and immediately sign up. There
is very little wait, and we're all seated almost right away. We start
off at 3-6 and 6-12, but we're convinced we'll all be playing in the
100-200 by the end of the weekend.
By 2:30, we're all going strong for the session, if not in cash, then
at least in free drinks. (statistics that follow don't include Bay-101
action)
Phil: -100, 6 drinks
Dave: -30, 6 drinks
Tony: +5, 5 drinks
Rafe: -90, 4 drinks
Jay: -70, 0 drinks -- loser!
Steve: +30, 0 drinks -- his wife doesn't allow him to drink after midnight
Bruce: +180, 2 drinks
No one is even close to retiring for the evening -- the first to leave
would be Jay at 4:45 AM, down 300 for the session (but still winning
for the trip). I'd be the very next to fall, at 7:00 AM. Down 150
for the session, but having a blast. I head back to the room and
crash until 1:00 in the afternoon.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dateline: June 10, 1995. Mirage Poker Room. 2:00PM, Saturday afternoon.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
I wake up around 1PM and head over to the Mirage. Everyone(!) is
there and playing. I quickly take a survey for hours of sleep and
chip position for the entire trip:
Phil: -550, 6 hours of sleep
Jay: +75 8 hours of sleep
Dave: +280 4 hours of sleep
Tony: -140 4 hours of sleep
Steve: +135 3 hours of sleep
Bruce: -170 4 hours of sleep
Rafe: -450 4 hours of sleep
Well, at least everyone got at least a FEW hours of sleep. The real
surprise in the crowd was Steve -- man, get him away from the
ball-and-chain and he's just unreal!
We all stay and play all afternoon. Never saw the afternoon sun, but
it was supposedly really hot outside. Bruce is trying to recruit just
one other person to go see Penn and Teller, but nobody is evenly
remotely interested in leaving their table. Come to think of it,
Seinfeld and Cosby were both in Vegas while we were there too and
nobody even considered doing anything but play poker and golf. Now
that's dereliction^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H dedication.
Bruce: C'mon, (Rafe, Phil, Dave, etc.) I'll go buy the ticket and you
won't have to even move until 8:00 tonight.
Response: What if I'm on a rush at 8:00?
(Bruce gives up)
Meanwhile, I decide that in order to "get even", I need to play in the
10-20 game. I get in a live game and quickly call Rafe to get in with
me. The guy on my right is flashing his cards on EVERY hand.
Unbelievable.
Now, I'm a moral/ethical kinda guy, but I think it's the player's
responsibility to protect his hand. I'm going to take FULL advantage
of this additional information. Finally a situation I can use!
Then...
I'm in the little blind, the old guy is the button. He's got 10-9
offsuit, I've got A-Q. Everyone folds to him. He calls, I raise the
big blind out and he calls. What a perfect situation! I know exactly
what he has (even suits!) and I have a good dominant hand over his.
Yeah, right. Flop is AQJ. I bet, he raises, I reraise. He calls.
Turn is 2. I bet, he calls. River? You guessed it, an 8. I check,
he bets, I throw it away and mutter "You got me -- I missed my
draw...". Of course, I'm on tilt from hell. Rafe is just laughing
out loud because I had told him that I could see this guys cards every
hand...
My "fish" leaves with some of my money, and my name is called for the
20-40 game. Looks pretty lively over there, so I go over and sit
right down. Then...
Qh-9h middle position. I call. Button calls, as does the big blind.
Flop comes T92, three suits. Everyone checks. Turn is 9. I'm
creaming now, so I bet. Button calls, as does the big blind. River
is a 5. Blind bets, I don't believe he has anything, but I call
hoping to coax a call out of the button. Button raises, little blind
reraises. Geez, I go all in for my last $60 (1.5 bets). Button
scoops with a slow played T-T. Little blind looks totally disgusted
and turns over 5-5. I'm in third place! Jeez, just not my day.
A while later, a couple of "pros" check in to my game. Roy Cooke (of
card player fame) and some other dude with more gold on than anyone
I've ever seen except Mr. T. Anyway, I'm playing well and actually
winning in this game, so I decide to stick it out for a little while
and see what happens. AK offsuit in the big blind. Roy Cooke raises
from early position, other pro calls, everyone else folds, and I say
"Well, it's just me and the two pros. I call!" Flop is a dreamy A92,
three suited. I bet right out -- no reason to get fancy, right? Cook
calls, Mr. T. calls. Turn is Q. Now, I'm a little worried. Pro
might have A-Q. Doubt he has AK or he would have raised me on the
flop. God knows what Mr. T has -- but I'm betting he's got a piece --
maybe T9 suited? AJ? AQ? Anyway, I check and Cook bets. I call.
River is J, leaving the board with A92QJ. Again, I check, Cook bets
(now I'm sure he's got AK, AQ, or AJ). Mr. T. calls. I think for a
long time and then call. Third place again! Cooke had 99 for a set,
Mr. T has AJ. I'm disgusted and ask for a table change. I'm
disgusted because I knew I should have folded, but I didn't have the
resolve to do it... comments anyone? About this time, Rafe calls
across the room and informs me that at 7:15 PM he is offically EVEN
for the trip. It is noted in the book.
Next, a famous rec.gambler, Michael Hall, shows up and sits down at my
table next to me. He's extremely well dressed -- quite a contrast to
our t-shirt and shorts group. A couple hands after sitting down, he
hits a PRESTO for a truly monsterous pot. flop 58K, Turn K, River 9.
Two players went four bets with him on the turn!
Meanwhile, Dave and Steve are off to beat the hell out of the craps
game. Both of them made a fortune earlier in the month on stock
options, so they decide to have some fun and play some craps. They
both brought $500 for this purpose. Their master plan: parlay the
$500 into $2000, then take the $2000 and buy in to the 50-100 game.
Cash out at $5000 or bust. Sounded good in theory at least! Well, at
least the house had fun...
They both got murdered at the craps table. Dave, three rolls and out.
Steve, Craps, Craps, two rolls and out! Dave two rolls and out!
(repeat ad nauseum) See ya! Back to the poker room.
Dave: "Never!" Dave decides to "buy back in" at the craps game. See,
he's got this "gambling aura" and he knows he can't possibly lose at
craps. He's "Dice Boy" and knows it. The dice belong to him. So
when he finds the only position open when he goes to rebuy is at a
"private table" where a high roller bought in for $100,000 and is
letting five other players stay at the table and roll with him, Dave
knows what he has to do. Well, Dave gets started and rolls for about
20 minutes straight. The guy made about 30K on Dave's roll --
bringing the guy back to even. Dave finally sevens out and the guy
tosses him a $100 chip. Dave smiles, he's close to even. I leave,
totally disgusted at the negative expectation play being rewarded.
Needless to say, everyone was envious. "Dice Boy" was vindicated and
came all the way back to win $400 in craps for the trip...
Later, Michael invites Jay and I out to dinner at the Alladin. He's
well comped there for some reason, so we take him up on it. Free
dinner? That's my most positive expectation play yet! We go to the
seafood restaurant there and order up. Champagne, Lobster, Crab,
potatoes. Everything was fantastic. Thanks Michael! After dinner we
walk back to the Mirage and get back to serious poker. 20-40 here I
come. No chance for these guys to keep me down for this long. I'm
due for a rush.
I'm waiting for the 20-40 seat, and I look over to Rafe and Bruce in
the 10-20 game. They seem to be having a really good time; they are
laughing hysterically. I walk over and ask them what they are
laughing about. Here's the story as Bruce tells it:
At some point during the game Rafe and I were in together, Rafe gets
annoyed because he hasn't put a player on tilt for a while. So, in
classic Rafe logic, he decides he must put the floorman on tilt.
Now you had to see this floorman to understand how this was as
hilarious as it was. He's this very serious guy with his nose in
the air and an aristocratic air about him. He's completely put off
that people keep hounding him to get them in a game -- guess he
thought he was applying for the job "prima donna" rather than "floorman."
And -- get this -- his name tag identifies him as "Bobo".
So Rafe sets in: "Oh Bobo, could you please take this glass away? I'm
done with it." Later... "Hey Bobo, I'd really appreciate a couple
cushions for my chair. Could you go find some for me?"
Bobo is not a happy boy. Bobo looks like he wants to feed Rafe to the
Mirage's white lions. Can you say "poor Bobo"? Rafe couldn't...
Relentless Rafe, 5 minutes later: "Oh Bobo, I haven't got those
cushions yet. Could you please get me some?" And when Bobo finally
finds these damn cushions and brings them to Rafe with his teeth clenched
so tight his cheeks are bulging, it was all I could do to stop Rafe from
tipping him a quarter.
Later, Rafe would top this tilt accomplishment when he has a grudge
with one of the rocks at the table (as told by Bruce):
I've just beat this older guy who's already hemmoraging money and tilting,
by showing him AA on the river. Pot was capped pre-flop, so he probably
had KK or QQ.
The guy agonized over the decision to call the river, and after he called
and saw my cards, he nods moodily and disgustedly flings his cards. Then
he kind of hangs his head and stares at his diminishing stack.
Rafe, in a bright, whipper-snapper tone of voice: "You had Queens didn't
you? I'll bet that's what you had." The guy slowly looks up at Rafe and
says nothing. Rafe: "Queens? Did you have Queens? Queens. That's a
bummer."
I'm feeling sorry for the guy, and thinking Rafe doesn't realize how
absolutely annoying his pestering must be to this guy, I whisper: "Rafe,
that's bad poker etiquette. Don't ask somebody what they had after they
fold." Then I joke, "Of course, if your trying to get him on tilt, that's
another story."
Rafe, fully serious, "I know it's bad etiquette. I am trying to get him
on tilt."
At the same table, Bruce and Rafe had encountered an interesting tourist.
This tourist appeared to have never left her seat the entire trip, and she
quickly became a trip icon. At Rafe tells it:
"Endurance Lady"
At the 10-20 table early on Sunday morning (like 6am), there's this
50ish woman in seat 10 who looks like she's going to pass out from
exhaustion. Bruce and I had been playing there since about 6pm Sat
and she'd been there the whole time. The guy next to us says that
she's been there since at least 4am on Saturday morning (over 24
hours). She'd had around $1800 in front of her he said, but since
we'd been there she'd been pulling out bills. We also figured that
she likely got there on Friday night (most people don't just arrive at
4am). So we put her on about 36 hours straight. What's more, both
Bruce and I realized that we hadn't seen her go to the bathroom the
entire 12 hours we were there! Twice she stood up, (Is this it?! Is
she finally gonna go?!) then she stretched and sat back down. We are
both in awe and absolutely hysterical over this fact. The rest of the
table for once couldn't help but laugh with us (instead of staring at
us like we were loonies, see above stories). Understandably, she was
oblivious to the whole convo. By piecing together info from
dealers and other players, her presence at that same table was
accounted for the entire weekend!
And during this session Bruce and Rafe make another huge contribution
to the poker advice column:
HELPFUL POKER STAMINA HINT: Bruce and I discovered a super-secret
bonus-comp sort of deal that you can get at the Mirage, if you are
trying to match Endurance Lady's session. Forget taking a 5 minute
break to go the snack bar. Just order a tomato juice with lots of
olives and celery, and tip big. The waitress will bring, essentially,
a meal in a glass. All the nutrition you need for those marathon
sessions. Bruce and I had about 8 each in our session together, and
promptly came down with olive-plastic-toothpick poisoning. Somebody
asked us to join them for breakfast, but we were absolutely bloated
by then. I think I began peeing red myself. Of course, Endurance
Lady was too purist for any such prop. Liquid might necessitate
going to the rest room and hence missing a hand.
At this point, Bruce hops over to another 10-20 game. He's looking
pretty content among the fish, but I'm on that list and my name is
called shortly after he sits down. This table was AWFUL. No one was
having any fun at all, and certainly they weren't playing on tilt. I
decided I'd fix that. As Bruce tells it:
I'm playing 10-20 at a reasonably sedate table, with a bunch of calling
stations. Now this is a game I like... low variance and you eek out a
slow profit. But Phil had other ideas.
Phil sits down out the table and starts in with this sloshing, raving
drunk act. And every couple seconds, he lets out this high pitched
giggle, which I know must have everyone on the table at tilt because I
*know* what he's doing and it's still grating on me.
This quiet lady to my left find herself in a hand with Phil, and she plays
with this disdainful look on her face as she bets into Phil.
Phil: "I'd watch it! I've got 2 pair already! Giggle." Dealer
starts turning the river card, which it turns out makes Phil's
flush. Phil: "7! Full House!"
Quiet, slowly tilting lady checks to Phil, who giggles and bets. "Don't
call, I've got a full house!" (Board has no pair.) Lady ignores this
helpful advice and calls anyway with top 2 pair, to see Phil's nut flush.
Phil giggles crazily and he plays with the pot.
A couple minutes later, this lady's husband walks over and asks how she's
doing, and through gritted teeth I hear her say, "I was doing fine until
giggle-boy over there sat down. But I'm going to get him..."
Not long thereafter, this same game turns into a capped-every-hand
gambling frenzy.
Anyway, I succeed in tilting the table and then get called for 20-40 again
with my modest $200 win at that table noted. Not long thereafter, Bruce
is trying to capitalize on the frenzy and runs into this hand:
I've got 6h 9h on the button. I call an 8-way pot for 1 bet, both blinds
raise, so I call a 7 way pot for 3 bets.
Flop: 5h 7c 8h. Betting: capped 6-way (5 bets). Bruce: very happy.
Turn: 10c. Someone new bets, I raise. 4 people in for the 2 bets.
(Turns out the preflop raisers flopped and turned top sets.)
River: 9d.
Winner holds: Js4s.
Pot was: $800+.
Winner says biligerently: "About time. I haven't hit for an hour."
Bruce: on tilt.
That night/morning at about 5 AM, I go out for a poll for the
notebook, but everybody is looking pretty bleary-eyed and I end up not
getting updates. The extent of sleep-deprevation would be felt from
here on out. For example, at one point Rafe and I were playing at the
same table with Bruce watching. He had decided he was too tired to
play, and was satisfied to sit on his stash after a major comeback.
Suddenly, he just about falls onto Rafe's lap. Here's Bruce's side of
the story:
So I'm standing there watching the game, and my eyes drift to one of those
carts that scoots around providing change for the slot players. It
has this flag on top that says "Change". For some reason, I zone
out completely staring at that flag. (No surprise there.)
I had thought that flags like that are attached to the slot machines,
so I expected them to be stationary. My extremely clouded perception
translated the flag's motion thusly:
"I know those flags are stationary, therefore the room itself
must be moving."
(Kind of like the effect when you're in a parked car next to one
that rolls forward, and you think yours is moving and slam on
the breaks.)
I stare at this "moving room" for a few seconds, get vertigo, start slowly
leaning over to compensate, and almost fall over. Well, I guess it's time
to go to bed...
Of course, he doesn't go to bed. Instead he
grabs Dave for a final craps session. In the course of this craps
session, Bruce would earn the title of "Official Alzheimer
Representative of the Vegas Pilgrimage." Bruce tries to explain:
At one point during my long night at 10-20 (26 hours), Dave borrows $400
from me. By the time I get up from my game, I've forgotton I gave it
to him. We hook up to walk across the street for craps. On the way, I
ask "Do you owe me some money?" Dave's answer, "No, we ro-sham-boed
for $400 and now we're even."
10 minutes later...
We get to the craps table. I open my wallet, flip through the bills,
and gasp in shock. It appears that a large chunk of money is missing!
Dave watches as I count and recount my wallet without saying a word.
I look up and he's cracking up. "Bruce, you loaned me $400." Oh yeah.
For the second time in 10 minutes, a light goes on, but only dimly.
20 mintues later, after craps on the way to the room...
Bruce: "So you owe me $400?"
Dave: "Yes Bruce."
I crash at 8 AM. 4 hours later I wake up, and the first thing
I ask Tony (my roommate) when I wake up is "Didn't I loan you some
money last night? I'm sure I gave somebody $400."
Fortunately for me, I only forgot one more time that day. To confuse
issues some more, Tony borrows $200 the next morning. Again that evening
I go through the ritual of opening my wallet and being shocked.
But by that night I had things under control. Or so I thought...
Next morning at the airport, I would overhear Rafe talking to Phil.
"Phil, did I borrow $400 from you last night? I remember borrowing some
money, but I'm not sure from who." I'm f**king startled once again.
Me, jumping in: "Oh shit. I think it might have been me. I've
forgotton some of the loans I made. But I'm not sure. Can you remember?"
I'm anguishing over what to do about all this damn money I have lost
track of, and wondering how I can possibly ask Rafe to repay me when
apparantly neither of us is quite sure about the loan.
Rafe finally saves me by letting me on the fact the he and Phil were faking
the conversation to set me up. Bruce scores +4 sinility points for
the trip.
Meanwhile, Steve has encountered a most interesting example of poker
player tourist. It later turns out that everybody had noticed the
people described below at one time or another, and everybody had
witnessed at least one comical occurance. Rafe sums it up:
I overhear Steve and Tony talking about this guy with an enourmous head
playing at 6-12 all weekend long and this appendage of a wife who sat
behind him the ENTIRE TIME he played, her head lolling forward most of
the time. Bells went off in my sleep deprived head and I asked "Did
he have a really thick southern accent and drink all the time?"
Apparently it was the same couple I'd seen on Friday night (about 60
yrs old) and I remember feeling really sorry for the wife at 5am,
wondering why she didn't go to her room and go to sleep. Maybe they
didn't have a room? In any case the next 5 minutes were filled with
everybody cracking up telling their own experiences seeing this side
show at various points in the weekend. Steve said that he remembered
seeing her asleep standing up leaned against the wall near the men's
bathroom. ONE HOUR LATER, she comes over to where Dave and her husband
are playing poker at the 6-12 game and absolutely berates him because
she's been waiting for him by the bathroom door! Unbelievable -- he
didn't even notice she was missing, although she had been at his elbow
all weekend. How could she stand in front of the restroom for 1 hour?!?
Then Bruce tells how at one point Steve come up to him, both dejected
about some bad beats and at the same time in absolute hysterics about
this lady.
Bruce: Steve, what's wrong?
Steve: (looking pitiful and yet laughing crazily) I've just seen the
most pathetic couple you can imagine.
Bruce: Where?
Steve: (pointing) Over there at 6-12.
Bruce: Come on, show me.
Steve: No way! I can't go over there because I'll start laughing again.
Bruce: Come on.
As they approach the table, Steve catches a glimpse and backs off again
while busting up. Bruce can't believe that anything could be that funny,
turns the corner, and just about hits the floor himself. He and Steve
are falling all over the poker room having a no-breather. Sound like a
bunch of high-school kids? That's giving them too much credit.
It was actually pretty tragic -- this emaciated lady looked like she
hadn't slept for a month, her eyes were completely bloodshot and she was
wearing a crumpled tank top that looked anything but fresh. She was
hunched forward in her chair, alternately falling asleep and almost
falling over, staring with bleary eyed resignation at her husband, or
giving him this hateful, reproachful glare whenever he lost a pot and
tried to tell her a bad beat story.
The consensus is that they drove down to Vegas for the weekend to satisfy
his gambling compulsion, didn't get a room, and she was stuck watching him
lose all their money at the tables. He was an awful player. The amazing
thing was that this guy had an eternal, country-bumpkin kind of cheerful
look, what with his overweight size, his dungarees, a huge balding head
and country tan. His wife was the exact opposite -- scrawny and made-up,
pasty-white, extremely bitter and reproachful. What a couple!
Eventually, everybody drops off to bed thinking about how they are
ever going to play a good round of golf tomorrow in our bad beat,
extended tilting, sleep-deprived and state.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dateline: June 11, 1995. Dennys. 1:00PM, Sunday afternoon.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
So, it's Sunday afternoon and Rafe and I wake up from a few hours of
sleep. I'm feeling quite refreshed, Rafe seems to be doing a little
worse. Couldn't sleep because he was so wired about the bad-beats
he's been taking. Ah well. We head down to Denny's for a little
breakfast before golf.
French Slams are the call. It's hard to believe, but it actually hit
the spot. Rafe and I played Ro-Sham-Bo for the check, and as always,
he won. But I'm stuck so much, it's just a drop in the bucket. I pay
the check and we head back to the rooms where we are to meet the other
golfers.
Dave and Steve are present and accounted for, Tony is MIA. We call
the Mirage Poker room and page him, but get no response. Ah well,
it'll put him on tilt if we leave him anyway, so we just take off.
He'll find his way to the course himself. Catch a cab and head out to
the Las Vegas Hilton Country Club for our 3:15 Tee Time.
Now, at this point we are all suffering from massive sleep deprivation:
Steve: 3 hours
Phil: 11 hours
Rafe: 4 hours
Tony: 7 hours
Dave: 4 hours
We're all a little on edge, but we're in a good mood to hit some golf
balls. The temperature at game time was 102, 1 degree shy of the
poop-sheet line. We check in with the proshop, pay the $75 per person
(twilight rate starts at 3:00, regular rate is $125 per person), and
get permission to play as a fivesome. Then, we plaster ourselves with
sunscreen and head to the driving range.
Dave angles me for a couple of bucks with driving competitions -- "Bet
you a buck you can't drive it between those two signs out there"
<signs are about 100 yards apart, and I do have my pride so I accept>.
Of course, he aids my swing with a really loud cough in the middle of
my backswing... Meanwhile, Tony shows up and is really on tilt about
us leaving him behind at the hotel. He tries to angle his way into
getting us to pay for part of his cab fare, but we'll have absolutely
none of that.
Finally, the starter calls for the "Tilt-boy" fivesome. We gather the
carts and head to the #10 tee. We're playing the backside first. And
what's cool is the Hilton has these devices on the carts that work
with triangulation and radar signals that tell you exactly how far
from the pin you are from any spot on the course. At first, Rafe's
cart was the only one working, but we soon fixed the other two carts
as well. It's very cool! The screens give you little pointers and
cautions for each hole as well, not that it will do you much good...
Anyway, Tony, being the pussy that he is, does not want in on the 5
way skins match immediately because he didn't have time to hit balls
first. Never mind that he's the best golfer in the crowd... It just
doesn't matter. He's out, which leaves us to bet amongst ourselves.
As you might expect, it turned into a betting spree. I had individual
skins matches with each player, although I had to give Rafe 1/2 stroke
on three holes and Dave 1 stroke on six holes. Steve, in fine form,
played me even up. Rafe and Dave played a skins match. All this for
$1 per skin.
We finally tee off and get rolling. Now golf with this crowd is
anything but quiet. Just about everything is legal to tilt you.
Coughing during the backswing, bet propositions as you are addressing
the ball, angles galore. You name it, they'll angle you on it. I
started off playing rather well, and by #15 (our fifth hole), I'm up 4
on Dave, 2 on Rafe, even with Tony, and up 4 on Steve. Then, as Rafe
recounts:
Playing golf on Sunday, I've had 4 hours sleep since we arrived,
Steve's had three. That we didn't kill ourselves driving in the same
cart is a miracle. Lambert has us all in tears as he is needling Phil
and Tony mercilessly the entire time. There are more side bets than
total strokes at this point. It is like the 8th or so hole of the
round, and Phil and I have a head to head skins match. He is up three
on me and there's 4 skins riding on the hole. I figure the only way I
am going to beat him today (he went to sleep early so that he could be
sharp for golf) is to put him on tilt. I step up and take my tee
shot, Tony complements me on it, though he mistakenly calls me "Phil".
I deride him for calling me the wrong name for the second time that
round. He rejoins sarcastically that "If you weren't wearing the
exact same clothes I wouldn't get you two confused". And indeed, I
notice that he's right, we have the exact same shorts on, white shirt,
white baseball cap, tennis shoes and white sox. I remark about the
shorts to Phil and he looks down at his and says they are not the
same. I say, yes they are (which they were as it turns out), and tell
him to look at mine, at which point I put a circle below my waist on
my shorts. (See "CIRCLE GAME" in trip report prerequisites)
He looks right at it for a full second and turns beet red, nearly
spears me with his driver as Dave hits him for me and reminds him that
we only have 4 more circles to go to hit the poop-sheet Circle game over,
which we both bet Phil on. Phil is steaming as he steps up to hit his
tee shot and shanks it, whereupon Dave promptly reminds him that this is
a "stroke" hole on their bet. I think Phil lost at least 6 skins (4 to
me and one each at least to Dave and Steve) on that hole. Plus, I
think that shot (Dave is this true?) also put the group over on the
lost balls line, which cost him an extra two dollars. Needless to say
Phil was on tilt for the entire rest of the round, requiring me to
press the bet twice before the end. I netted $12 from him that round
by hitting bogie every hole on the back nine. And all because of
the Circle. Never underestimate the power of the Circle!!!
Yes indeed, I was on tilt. And it didn't stop there. Dave pulled two
really great angles that stand out particularly well. #5 is a 340
yard par 4 with a creek running perpendicular through the fairway
about 20 yards in front of the tee box. Dog leg right. Anyway, Tony,
usually a very good golfer, walks up and plops one right in the creek.
Dave, never to be left behind does exactly the same thing. I'm riding
in the cart with Dave, and of course there will be a bet upcoming.
Dave: "Bet you $1 I'm closer to the green than you after next shot."
Tony: "You're on"
Tony: <splat, another ball right into the creek> <TILT>
Dave: <screamer of a 5-wood to the edge of the green> <GRIN>
Tony: <MORE TILT>
Of course, Tony didn't see Dave TEE-UP his ball in the rough! What an
angle boy that Dave is...
Another classic Dave angle. #13 is a 301 yard par four with a HUGE
fairway bunker lining the right side of the fairway. Dave, never to
miss a fairway bunker, drives it right in the bunker about 100 yards
from the flag. Steve angles over that way, but stops in the fairway
next to the bunker.
Dave: "Wow, I'll bet I'll still be closer to the green than you next
shot despite being in this damned trap."
Steve: <sleep deprived> "I'll give you 5-1 odds I hit it further than
you do."
Dave: "You're on" <snicker>
Steve: <Screamer of an 8 iron about 20 feet from the green. All smiles.>
Dave: "Hmmm. Good shot. But, since there are only 2 skins ($2) riding
on this, I think I'll go for the $5." <takes out a 3-wood
although it's only 100 yards to the green and hits a blast
about 50 yards over the green to win the bet, since Steve said
the bet was hitting "further" instead of "closer to the pin" >
Steve: <TILT>
Dave: <Shit-eating-grin high fives Phil on yet another successful angle>
So, after all that golfing, here were the final results:
Hole 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18
Par 5 4 3 5 4 4 4 3 4 4 3 4 4 3 5 3 4 5
--------------------------------------------------------------------
Phil 7 5 4 8 7 7 4 4 6 5 3 7 4 4 8 4 6 5 98
Dave 7 6 5 7 6 6 6 7 6 6 5 9 5 4 7 4 4 7 108
Rafe 6 5 4 6 5 5 5 4 5 4 6 8 5 4 8 4 5 8 97
Tony 5 6 3 8 8 5 4 4 6 6 4 8 5 3 5 3 6 5 94
Steve 6 5 4 5 7 6 6 4 6 6 3 7 7 4 6 5 4 6 98
All in all, the Hilton is a fabulous course. We recommend it
strongly! We catch a cab and head back to Casino Royale for a quick
shower before dinner. In the cab, Rafe asks the Cabbie about the
Rockets game. He placed his bet on the Rockets -3.5. Cabbie said
Houston won by four. Rafe was very pleased... This would DEFINITELY
turn around his luck and get him back on the winning track. $100 on
sports is a great start, right?
So, we get to the Mirage and hook up with Jay and Bruce who are still
playing poker. Jay decides to join us for dinner. Meanwhile, Rafe
goes to the sports book to claim his winning ticket. A couple of
minutes later, he comes back to the group totally on TILT.
Rafe: "I'm going to kill that cabbie. Rockets only won by 3, not 4!"
Group: "Aiii ya!!!!"
Rafe: <TOTALLY TILTED, feeling $200 poorer ($100 that he lost and $100
that he thought he had won :-)>
Anyway, we get our line passes from the Poker room personel and then
head to the buffet. We end up waiting longer for Jay to run back and
get his comp than to get in to the restaurant. Steve went back to the
room to pass out, thus destroying my poop sheet line of at least one
meal with all 7 of us. Steve wouldn't admit it, but we all firmly
believed that he went back to call his wife.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dateline: June 11, 1995. Mirage Buffet. 7:30PM, Sunday night.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
So, there we are. Mirage buffet. The four golfers are totally
dehydrated, Jay and Bruce are totally badbeat-crazed. We proceed to
relay the events of the golf round to Jay and Bruce, and they give us
more bad-beat stories for the trip report (Waaa...), and a few good
beat stories.
Here are two of Bruce's contributions:
Favorite win: (10-20)
Before telling the hand, let me set the stage somewhat. I'm going
on about 20 straight hours at this table, I'm in sleep-deprevation
mode + second wind and feeling good. This strange space I'm in
has me goofing around with creative "angles", as with this next pot:
I'm one off the button. Three callers to the guy on my right, who
raises. I make like I'm going to re-raise (by slopping out 5 chips),
then pause and pull one back for a call. Hopefully this
draws suspicion as to what type of hand I have, and has them thinking
that I hold something very different from a 7d8d. Who knows.
6 callers for 2 bets. The flop comes rainbow 56K. Checked to the
raiser, who bets. I call quickly, and 2 others come in. Turn is a
Jc, making 2 clubs on the board. Same guy bets, I call, one other
caller. At this point I show my cards to the guy on my left.
I'm hoping that the betting-dude (who I'm putting on a K) reads this
as "he's showing off all his outs; he probably just caught a flush
draw."
River: Ac. Checked, our man with K-something sort of sighs and
bets tentatively -- I have no idea why (maybe K-J?). I raise,
and mutter "I think you've got me." First player folds, K-man looks
like he's going to tear his cards in half. He stares at the board
for what felt like hours, then hurles his cards. Good thing he
was a strong enough player to get off that hand ;-).
I pass on the opportunity to reveal my hand and instigate full tilt...
Bruce's Ugliest round: (10-20)
Lost $500 in one round. During this round, I held AA, KK, QQ, AQs
and they all lost. The last snap was cute: KK with flop Q96 rainbow,
loses to 45s. (I guess she felt obliged to draw for the straight flush --
the 6 was of her suit.) Final board: Q9654.
Somehow, the conversation turns from poker to the metaphysical. Maybe
it's the bad karma that's responsible for the bad beats?
Meta-physics, the provable by science versus that which must be
accepted on faith, philosophy. Exactly what you'd expect a bunch of
sleep-deprived poker players stuck over $2000 to be talking about,
right?
Anyway, after everyone had a couple of plates of food, Dave pipes in
with a story about a time he was at the Taj Mahal. "The real Taj, not
the casino, moron." Anyway, Dave is at the Taj Mahal looking out over
a beautifully manicured lawn. Out of a door comes six Tibetan monks
who walk right to the center of the field, and begin what appears to
be some ritual. One of them lies down on the grass and the other
monks cover this guy with a sheet and lay three sticks over his chest
and then back away. The guy pokes his head through a hole in the
sheet and then "magically" LEVITATES about six feet in the air, spins
around, and then goes back down to the ground. The monks remove the
sheet and then go back inside, like this is just some daily routine.
Now, the group is entirely skeptical:
Dave: "I wouldn't have believed it myself, but I can't think of any possible
explanation for it. The field was perfect, they couldn't have any
mechanical thing underneath the field."
Bruce, who incidently is a professional magician: "Dave, I could set up a
couple of mirrors to give that impression in about 15 minutes. You
wouldn't be able to tell at all."
Dave: "These are poor Tibetan monks, not magicians. What would they be
doing with mirrors?
Bruce: "Dave, it's obvious. Those monks spent their life-savings on mirrors
for the sole purpose of fooling you, and furthering your mysticism.
.... To put you on tilt."
Dave <getting flustered>: "I believe what I saw. Those monks had some
kind of power. You had to be there."
Group: "Dave, how much hash did you smoke that day?"
Dave: (defensively) "Hey, I hadn't had any hash since the day before."
Group: "Aiii-yaaa!!!!!"
So, the metaphysical discussion got a little silly, but at the time we
were absolutely in stitches. Meanwhile, 3 people go the desert buffet
and all come back with pecan-pie. Next thing you know, everybody is
trying to give away their pecan-pie. Soon Bruce comes back with, yes,
another piece of pecan pie.
Bruce: "I don't understand what all the fuss is. This pie isn't that
good."
The last of us finally drop off to sleep at around 2 AM, knowing full
well that we have to get up at 5AM to catch our early flight home,
then go to work. Aiii-ya! But the complete oblivion that most of us
were experiencing from sleep deprevation would make for much
entertainment at the airport the next day...
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dateline: June 12, 1995. Time to go home. 5:30AM, Monday morning.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
The next morning, I'm highly on tilt thanks to poor poker results and
Rafe's continuously waking me up to tell me he can't sleep. I hope to
improve my mood somewhat by taking advantage of Rafe's utterly
wiped-out state to nail him with the Circle, a real accomplishment
since Rafe *never* gets caught. I'd better let him explain:
It's 5:30am Monday morning and we are jolted to semi-consciousness by
the wakeup call. I only got 4 more hours of sleep (bringing my total
to 8) and am on mega-sleep-deprived-tilt. I had woken Phil up the
night before complaining of my inability to sleep, so he takes no pity
on me as I'm in a fog, searching for my glasses. I ask him if he's
seen them, and turn my back to him and look in my bag for the second
time. He then says, "here they are", and my circle-radar goes off.
Without even turning around I say, "I'm not looking, Phil."
Phil goes even further on tilt, mutters, "F**k you, you sonofabitch!",
and storms out of the room, having suffered his final "bad beat" of
the trip! Check-raise, reraise!
We get to the airport in a complete haze. Everybody crashes on the
plane -- no poker tournaments, no gin, hardly even a bad beat story.
On arriving in San Jose, I become the victim of yet another angle, as
if I need any help with this massive tilt. This time it's Steve who's
dishing out the abuse:
I'm down 1k, Phil's down 950. I set it up with
dave that we rho-sham-bo for $51, of course it is
set up that I win to go down $949, thus making Phil
the big loser for the trip. Dave and I wait until
Phil gets off the plane behind us. We rho-sham-bo
and surprise, I win $51. Phil now thinks he's big loser
and is on tilt...again.
Waiting for the car, Phil convinces me to rho-sham-bo
for 50cents so that we will be tied if he wins. I agree
only because there is the chance I can win and keep
doubling up until I actually win $25 from him. That
way he will *really* be the big loser. Phil wins this
rho-sham-bo, so he thinks we are now even and is off
tilt.
We send Dave to get his van and we mill about outside waiting for him.
And waiting. And waiting. At some point somebody proposes a line
that Dave comes back without the van.
One of us notices that we all look completely scraggly, unshaven and
half asleep. We are also all wearing our glasses. So of course we
have to shoot some "after" pictures, to compare to the ecstatic
"before" shots we had shot just a mere 2 days before while leaving Bay
101. If this makes it into the poker trip report archives, we'll link
the before and after photos as well as some candids of Steve in
compromising situations that his wife will enjoy. We'll see who has
the last angle now, eh Steve-o!!! <:-)
And then, a good 45 minutes after leaving to get the van, Dave
returns... *without the van*!! Somebody missed a good bet.
Remember, about 17 pages ago, how the van's dome light was turned on
so I could keep track of bets for the poop sheet while on the way to
the airport? Well it's been on all weekend, and the van is not gonna
be moving anytime soon. Meanwhile, we're all waiting out there in the
sun, falling asleep on our feet and knowing we have to go into work,
but are going to be hours late. We call a tow truck to give us a jump
start, and then hang out by the van for an hour waiting and talking
about (what else) poker expectation. Here's Rafe's description of the
scene:
Dave's van won't start when we get back to SJO, so as we wait for the
facilities guy to come jump start us, we push the van into the aisle
so the battery can be accessed. But it's at an angle (of course <;-),
so it blocks the whole aisle, not allowing any cars to pass.
Most cars are going around us, but finally a stubborn bastard who
appeared to be in a hurry pulls up and waits expectantly. We realize
that we have to move the van, but we are all kind of lazy and moving
really slowly as we pull ourselves to our feet. We see the guy
getting more impatient. There is some debate as to whether the van
should be pushed forward or backwards since forward looks
quicker, but backwards make it easier to turn the wheel without the
power steering. Two others and I get behind and start to push
forward. But the thing ain't budging. So I yell to the rest of the
guys to come help, and much to our mutual chagrin, the others were, of
course, on the other side pushing opposite us. The guy in the car
has a bird's-eye view of this whole fiasco and is on mega-tilt and
curses us from his air-conditioned, working vehicle (I lip-read
"f**king idiots" as he drives by).
And finally, at around 10:30 AM Monday morning, we leave SJ airport
and the trip is officially over. On to work -- boy this will be a
productive day. Now if I can just make it until the Wednesday night
poker game, maybe I can get even there...
Trip "Units" Results
--------------------
Dave -225
Rafe -550
Phil -950
Bruce +700
Tony -350
Steve -1000
Jay -10
Group -2385
--- THE END ---
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Results of the Official Book for the VEGAS PILGRIMAGE, Summer 1995 v1.1
(I think I'm going to go into the bookmaking business. Except for the
shellacking we took as a group in gambling, the lines were almost dead
on!)
Total Hours
of Sleep Person
Over/Under Actual
------------------------- ------
10 Dave 8.5
13 Rafe (new sleep deprivation king) 8
14 Bruce 9
13 Phil 14
12 Tony 14
13 Steve 13
15 Jay 12
90 Group 78.5
------------------------
Total Net
Profit Person
Over/Under Actual
------------------------ ------
-300 Dave -225
-100 Rafe -550
+500 Phil -950
0 Bruce (only winner on entire trip) +700
+200 Tony -350
-200 Steve -1000
+100 Jay -10
+200 Group -2385
----------------
Total Length
of Trip Report
Over/Under Actual
---------------- ------
14 pages, single spaced, 80 column width 18
----------------------
Regarding Circle-Game
Over/Under Actual
---------------------- ------
6.5 Number of times Phil is
caught throughout the weekend 5
----------------------
Regarding Women
Over/Under Actual
---------------------- ------
6 Number of girls Phil hits on 4
2 Number of times Phil gets flatly denied 2
2.5 Number of times Steve calls his wife 2
20 Age of youngest girl Phil hits on 21
35 Age of oldest girl Phil hits on 33
-------------------------------------
Number of "Presto's" Won by the group
Over/Under Actual
------------------------------------- ------
5.5 3
------------------------
Regarding Drinking
Over/Under Actual
------------------------ ------
14 Number of DIFFERENT alcoholic drinks 12
0.5 Times someone in our group throws up from drinking 0
13 Number of Rusty Nails Dave drinks during the weekend 12
------------------------
Regarding Eating
Over/Under Actual
------------------------ ------
1 Number of times we eat together as a group 0
12 Total number of meals eaten at the Mirage Buffet 11
1 Number of times Dave eats a chili cheese dog between 0
5AM and 8AM.
------------------------
Regarding Golf
Over/Under Actual
------------------------ ------
93 Lowest score by any of the five players 94
110 Highest score by any of the five players 108
103 Highest temperature while were playing golf 102
500 Total number of strokes taken by group 495
4 Number of golf balls lost by group 9
7 Number of penalty strokes assessed to group
Play Online Poker
Blog: Home | Feed (Atom)
