So, beaten and bewildered, Otis and I emerged from the bar… ready for the big tournament of STARS. Or, at the very least, tournament of players who slot hoki are verifiably better than G-Rob. I knew I wouldn’t win, I just wanted one big score. I hit it early.
December 14, 7:00 PM (Eastern)
Wife of G-Rob : So, how much did you lose?
G-Rob : Some
Wife of G-Rob : Did you play badly?
G-Rob : Not at all. I dropped the hammer in a tournament.
Wife of G-Rob : Is that good?
G-Rob : No. Its the worst hand in poker. But let’s see if we can buy our groceries with pride.
Back in Vegas 1 PM ish (Vegas Time)
Does it really matter who I’m seated with? Sure other, better bloggers have detailed notes (speaking of which, I’m patting Otis down from now on. Nobody remembers that much detail) but I do remember this much, I was with Otis, Bad Blood, and Al. The rest is hazy. Remember, I’m a lush.
But, alas the crowing achievement was the first hand of the game. I’m in the SB and LO…the hammer. I remember 5 limpers to me, so out of pure blogger loyalty, I raised it 300. Folds all around, and I have glory. That’s the boobie prize for sure.
(Side note : last night I played with Maudie on UB and an aggressive all-in hammer play against two callers ended my night early)
I took the second hand of the tourney too. I was dealt AQ off on the button and with just 3 limpers I pushed all in. Two rounds of stolen blinds. YEE-HAW! I never won another hand. I was further crippled by AL CAN’T FOLD when with top pair and top kicker I raised it to another 3 hundred and he pushed all in.
A smarter tournament player probably would have called, especially since I’m positive he was banking on two over cards to draw. But because I foolishly wanted to ENDURE in the game, I folded and lost my bet. Dammit.
I made it to 19th, when in the SB I was dealt A 6 off and pushed in. Felicia, in the BB called me blind and showed 8 10 off. She caught a 10 in the river and I had plenty of time to play blackjack with Bad Blood. The good news is I won my tournament buy-in back.
4 PM (Vegas time)
So here we are a gaggle of losers. Otis, Marty (who finished 8th by the way), and I went searching for a cab and what would be my very first hours of sleep since getting to work at Midnight Vegas on Friday.
But ‘splain this to me please. A giant casino like Sam’s town with, I presume a gigantic number of tourists, has ZERO taxis standing by. We headed out the front door, we walked around to the side. We inspected the space near the dumpsters in the back, but apart from a flock of dim-witted hats there was NOTHING! Double dammit.
Finally we found a charming car hop who told us there was a WAIT LIST for cabs. Next one….30 minutes. The crash begins. Otis passed out on a bench. Marty pacing like an expectant father with an itchy bladder and me…ever used peyote? (For those of you who know my secret identity….neither have I)
When we did find a cab I climbed into the front…for the 37 hour ride to the strip. Otis was unconcious. I would’ve loved another round of rib-kickin’ fun but he was too far away and the cabbie would likely not be amused. C’est la vie.
NOW….he good stuff…really I promise.
If it seems like I’ve blazed through all the actual poker content, I have. I mean REALLY good stuff ahead and its important to me that I get to tell it first before Otis spoils it with better writing and his idiot savant recall of detail.
SO..that said…I’m being concise.
