wherein our hero eats cake

PART THE SECOND
2009.01.11

I've been on a Vegas tournament hot streak, chopping four of the last six I've played, including the Venetian nooner on my previous visit. Let's keep it rolling!

No sooner do I walk out the door of the Tropicana than I see the Deuce pulling up. I run as fast as my gimpy legs will allow, smiling and waving at the bus, which seems to be waiting for me. As I close in, it picks up and pulls away. Mother pus-bucket. I hope everybody watching enjoyed a nice chuckle from it, I have plenty of time.

I arrive at the Venetian and sign up, an old pro by now. I'm even able to avoid the nasty corridor of perfumed stink that causes angry nose and itchy skin. I've an hour before it starts, time to walk the canal and shop the windows. I wonder if the Eternal Dusk lighting scheme is effective in generating that "just about to go out" excited state. I stop in at a hat-seller (hatter? hattier?) and spy a specimen that would look rather fetching on my noggin. Tournament Victory Hat, that's what it'll be. I shall return this evening.

Having exhausted this activity (with no luck finding leftover attendees of the Adult Video conference), I elect for some exercise. Laugh if you must, but I feel getting the blood pumping before a strenuous mental activity is beneficial. The brain needs oxygen, and I'll be sitting on my duff all day. To that end, I find an extra-tall staircase in the casino and run down and up. And again. And again. I do this perhaps a dozen times, people on both escalators giving me the hairy eyeball. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Keep it flowing, body in balance. I'm pumped, I'm primed, I'm ready.

Despite the name, this tournament isn't all that deep-stacked. The 7500 in chips is nice, but after a few rounds it's like any other cheap tourney. Because of this, I'm not getting out of line with trouble hands. Suited connectors maybe on the button, but other than that, only pairs and big Aces. Stab me in the throat if you find me with KJ. I catch AA twice in the first round, both times re-raise the same person preflop, take it down on the flop. Up to 9400. Unfortunately, in the next few rounds I have an AK that doesn't hit and an A8s that gets me in trouble, so I'm down to 5100 at the first break.

Bloodflow! This time the staircases just outside the poker room. Up one, down the other. Up and down. After half a dozen times, the folks in the booth at the top must be wondering who this crazy person is who keeps running past them, but oh well. A few mental exercises and psyche-ups, time for more cards.

Several of the dealers have been excellent, including Eric, Shane, and Rachel. Unfortunately, now we have Kathleen in the box, who seems generally competent until the following: Seat 1 says "Raise" and Seat 3 (same guy I kept 3-betting with my Aces) folds before an amount is clarified. Earlier, Rachel had admonished players for this and explained why. Nothing from Kathleen. I pipe up from Seat 7 with, "Hey, mind waiting until he's done next time?" and the player is all, "WTF, he said raise, piss off." At this point I expect the dealer to pick up the slack, but instead she turns to me and lectures that the player said raise so the fold is not out of turn. I protest that the raise wasn't complete and she asks if I want to call the floor. I want to move on, so I shrug and let it go.

I'm getting hungry and I don't think I can wait until the next break to eat, so I call food service. I see a new dealer before I see a menu, so I call again. I get the floor involved, who apologizes that he's doing what he can. I understand, but my tummy feels differently.

It's not quite fit-or-fold time, but I like to push a little earlier than most tend to think about it. Any reasonable raise makes it more likely someone will be committed, and I don't like calling all-in. Nobody wants to bust out in this phase, so my AK and JJ pushes pull in the blinds and some limps, keeping me alive.

At this point the lack of food service would be comical were not my stomach eating itself. I pass on the offer of a mostly-consumed quesadilla someone had left behind, but then the floor announces that there's an unclaimed cheeseburger sitting around. "I'll have it!" I yell from the back of the room. Then I reconsider: "Do I have to pay for it?" Yes. I'll take a free pile of heart-clogging grease, but I'm not buying it. Considering how vocal my food requests have been, I get some ribbing for this, but I simply don't feel it will keep me alert for the game.

Finally I get it. No, not food. AA on the button. Everybody folds to me. Grr. The BB seems tired of my aggression, so I make a standard raise, my best to make it look like I'm afraid of pushing again. He raises to about half my stack, so I count down my chips with a "well, if I'm gonna call..." shrug and throw them in. He calls with KK. Hollywooding probably made no difference here, but I can at least feel like it played a part. He has me barely covered, and now I'm sitting more comfortably with over 10k.

The floor informs me that the food server is in the room and will be over to me shortly. Score!

I peel up KK with 9500 and see a couple of limps of 400. Push. Take it down. Should I have bet less? I'm so hungry.

I look around the room and see no food servers whatsoever. Boo. Last time I played this tournament, they stole the sandwich a friend had bought for me. Not falling for that one again, I'm trying to order within the room, but they won't have it. The Venetian doesn't want me to eat.

My hand is 77 with 8500 and I face two limps of 600. Push. Take it down. I'm happy with this result.

Wait, who's that? Someone wearing a vest and holding a menu? Standing next to me? It can't be! I have cards and the button, so I tell her that she should stand and wait right there until I order, otherwise she's going to find herself tackled on the floor. I find 64s and nobody in the pot. I have a twinge about it, but feel I'm short enough to make a move yet big enough to scare people off, and I'm distracted by my desire to order food, so I throw the chips in. Called by the BB, same guy who almost went broke with KK. Crap! He has 77, I don't even come close to improving, now I'm a microstack.

I order the Minestrone. More ribbing. After all that whining, I'm only getting soup? Hey, I eat a little throughout the day, it has vegetables, and it's cheap. Besides, how long can it take to prepare? Tummy needs nourishment!

The blinds are 400/800 with antes, I have A4o and 2575, let's get 'em in. Called by the BB who shows 52o. A flop of KK6 and I'm looking good until the turn pairs the 5. A miracle 6 on the river and I yell "Ship it!" while the dealer points out to me that he paired his 5. "That's nice, but I'll take Kings and Sixes, along with the pot." Never release your cards until you have the chips. Ever. Another push with AKs, no callers, and my stack is where it was before my earlier fumble.

Still no food, but at least she brought crackers and a spoon! I ration one saltine to tide me over and our table breaks. The floor assures me he'll let the server know where I am. We'll see.

I'm off to Table 37, Seat 9. This spot is a good candidate for Final Table, which is nice because it means chips come to us and I don't have to move again. I'm a big fan of the 9 seat because I can see everybody while being out of the way, and my view of the action isn't blocked as with Seats 1 or 2. However, it's not long before I discover the fatal flaw: It's afternoon. That big row of glass doors provides the setting sun ample room in which to blind me. Awesome.

People ask me why the hell I'm slowly eating crackers, and I explain my situation. The dealer chuckles and says that while it sometimes takes a while, the food is delicious. It had better be. We go on a break and I worry that they'll show up and leave with my food before I get back. The food I was trying so desperately to order long before the break.

Finally, twenty-five minutes after I've ordered and well over an hour since I first requested service, my soup arrives! It's hardly a soup, it has so much hearty stuff in it. The blinds are high and I'm short-stack again, so I feel A6o is good enough for pushing. A4o feels it's good enough for calling, but unfortunately so does AKo. No improvement for anybody and I'm done in 45th place. No hat for me. I stay in my seat and finish my soup.

It's delicious.

... next up: Who is this young woman tearing up the V's high-stakes cash games? ...