PART THE FIRST

wherein our hero arrives and brushes death by whiskey
2008.12.10

The miracle of flight makes me sleepy, so after being jostled awake at landing I meet up with Bashful at baggage claim. We cab to MGM, home base for the week. Slick and balla at the front desk, I fold the $20 and slide the card. "Any upgrades available?" Yes weeknight, booked weekend, can't do it. I get handed my $20. Guess the $40 poker rate doesn't make one a high roller. Or maybe they were full. In any case, epic fail. At least I'm up $20!

Keep in mind I have precious little experience playing poker. I've dealt a whole lot and I've a bunch to say on the subject (ldo), but real live play not so much. I haven't even played extensively online. Home games and the occasional cardroom tournament, that's the bulk for me.

I sit down at the 1/2NL, which (don't laugh) is a big game for me. Gotta start somewhere. I've incredible comfort at the tables, I just suck at playing them. Sneezy and Dopey are already there, so we do the head nod thing and settle in. Play solid, up a little, until I make my fatal transgression: I ignore my instinct. I'm largely a visceral player, and I have a strong feeling my flopped BB Special trips are no good, yet still find myself calling off most of the stack I had ground (grinded?) up. I should write a book.

Sleepy and Doc cruise in and give their hellos. They originated this trip and had arrived the previous day to play a specific tournament. It is unfortunately suggested that we dine at the Rainforest Cafe, and we acquiesce considering we have not yet gained our bearings and nobody has eaten all day. Overpriced crappy corporate chain restaurants are not what I want in Vegas: I prefer overpriced crappy unique corporate spots. Still, food is food, and it's nice to meet up with everybody. I just didn't expect to be harassed by a gorilla in a Santa hat.

Back to the felt where I grind up solid for a while. My table's not hot, and I pass up one change before finding one that's more my speed. Nice and friendly, people who know enough to follow basic strategy but suck enough to tell me exactly how they play. One woman, for example, was whining for an hour about how she lost with AA against some stupid hand or another. Eventually it's revealed she called the entire way. Guy bluffed flop, semi-bluffed turn, and hit river. Gee, that sure was a harsh beat, brood on it some more while I steal your loose calls. Most of the table is weak passive, and I build up profit over what I lost earlier.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, I get a phone call from Grumpy, who is on the tarmac and sounds three sheets to the wind. I'd not be surprised to learn he's hired a driver to pick him up immediately from the plane and drop him off next to the lion habitat. He gets seated at the table neighboring mine and I hear "rebuy!" and "cocktails!" far more often than I should. I occasionally walk over and suggest he take it easy, but I don't linger for fear of feeling 18 little daggers pierce my face.

I'm lucky to hit my hand of the night. A small EP raise that everybody calls, as do I with 99 from the CO. Bad Beat Lady pops it to $20 from UTG, a limp-reraise she pulls every time. Again everybody calls and I know it's not getting opened again, so here we go. Flop of K98 and I feel it move. Surprisingly, the BB bets $100. Considering the draws and the crazy gambooler to my left, I push for $350 or so. Gambooler, who has me covered, instacalls and proceeds to stand up and do a victory dance while starting to table his had. I see a K before I yell "whoooooahhh!" BB protests that he gets to see the hand, but I insist that it did not affect my action and he should act knowing what everybody else did. He tanks for an extremely long time before open-folding 98. Button has K8. BB was drawing dead, button's excitement and my reaction to same cost me a few bills. At least a K didn't spike.

A while later and gambooler is done (apparently this was the tail of a huge losing streak on the tables). Grumpy has busted again and decides to take the seat. Two minutes later, his old table has broken. "Cocktails!" With his presence the dynamic shifts dramatically, and I just don't have it in my heart to circle with the other vultures. I'm sitting on a nice payday, I want to play the Venetian tomorrow, time to call it a morning. I hear later he built his last $200 up to almost $2k before ultimately returning it all.

... next up: The Glory of the Hard Rock Straddle ...