Wednesday, March 12, 2014

Weekend Update

I've had a few days to recover from last weekend's trip to AC.  And a few days of recovery was definitely needed.

MK and I bailed out of the office Friday at 6:00 pm, and began the drive up 95 towards the Jersey shore.  The benefit of leaving on the late[r] side is that traffic has usually died down a bit.  We ended up making the trek in 4 hours, and were checked in to the Waterfront Tower at Harrah's shortly after 10:00.

First things first - a stop by Bill's Burger for a pair of 32-ounce drafts.  We walked over to the poker room, where there were three reg-infested $1/2 games going.  Pass.  We decided to hit the black jack tables for a few hours before re-evaluating the poker scene.  "A few hours," however, turned into 6 hours and, before we knew it, it was 4:00 am . . . we were approximately 10 beers in the hole . . . and had yet to even eat dinner.   My session was somewhat frustrating.  I was playing a base of $20 a hand, and increasing my bets as I got on a roll, maxing out, generally, at $50 or so.  I have no idea whether or not this is an ideal method of bet-sizing.  But, it's what I  typically do.  I was able to build up a sizable stack on a few occasions, but twice got hammered by bad luck.  The first time it happened, I had worked my bet up to $40 and was dealt 77 on a dealer 5.  I split.  A 3 falls on the first spot and I doubled down . . . another 3.  Perfect.  I pulled a 6 on the second hand.  Great.  The dealer, of course, pulls some Gary Loveman magic and ends up with 19.  Basically a $240 swing.  The same basic scenario happened to me an hour or so later while betting $50.  I split, doubled, ended up with two hands of shit, and watched as the dealer pulled an insane 4-card 21 out of her tits.  Some nights just seem to go that way, and it's hard to make money when it does.  In the end, I walked away exactly even.  At least I earned some sweet, sweet tier points during the evening.

After leaving the table, we hit Bills Burger for a healthy 5:00 am meal involving grilled red meat, onion rings and (for MK) a milk shake.

A mere 4 hours later, at 9:00 am, I was awake.  And, feeling wonderful (I suppose I should be use to it by now).  MK was still asleep (it seems that people with small kids are not quick to wake up on those rare days they get a reprieve from parenting).  I grabbed coffee and decided to grind some 100-hand VP.  I slip a crisp $100 into the machine and fire up some bonus poker at $5 a rip.  I immediately get some decent hands and work my $100 up to $150.  The entire time, the kid next to me is commenting on his hands . . . on my hands . . . on gambling in general . . . on and on and on.  He won't shut the fuck up.  Nor does he seem to appreciate how hung-over I am.  Nor does he take subtle social cues.  After 30 minutes, my buy-in is nearly doubled . . . the machine is hot . . . yet, I need to get the fuck away from this guy.  I call it quits and get some fresh air out by the harbor behind the poker room. 

Eventually, MK emerges and we decide to donk off a buy-in at the Showboat 2:00 pm tournament.  I get dealt quad 4's early on and win some chips.  It's the highlight of my tournament.  Nothing else worked for me and, I busted out unremarkably, 28th out of 45.  MK on the other hand made a deep run.  In fact, when the bubble broke with 5 remaining at the final table, he was the big stack.  He made it down to the last 3 when variance kicked his ass.  First hand, a short stack shoves and mistakenly thinks MK has called.  He hasn't.  But short stack had already flipped over his Poker Grump: 2(h) 4(h).  MK has 89 suited and calls.  He doubles up short stack when a 4 hits the turn.  A few hands later he gets his money in good again against the same short stack.  Again, he loses.  Finally, 5 minutes later, the small blind, who has MK covered, open-shoves.  MK snap calls from the big blind.  Small flips 8 T spades.  MK flips big slick.  Flop comes 78T . . . good game.

By the way, while MK was making his run, I spent some time tilting off some hundies in some of dem bad machines.  I mean, what else do you expect? 

It's 8:30 by the time MK busts out.  And, we haven't eaten since burgers at 5:00 am.  We have, however, already had a sixer, each.  Healthy living.  Food is a priority; but, not before a celebratory glass of Cabernet at Amada next door at Revel.

We then cab over to The Palm at Tropicana to throw down.  We start with seared ahi, calamari, and a bottle of Stags Leap Artemis (2010).   By the time my 16 ounce bone-in filet arrives an hour later, I'm goddamned ripped.   We eat while watching the Duke-NC game, and then decide to head back over to Harrah's for some more late-night black jack.

Now, to be honest, I have little recollection of Saturday night's session.  I remember buying-in for $200 and drinking a bunch of corona lights.  I don't remember heading back to the room.  I don't remember the various texts I apparently sent at 4:30 am before heading back to the room.   I did, however, wake up feeling OK, and found a shiny purple chip in my pants pocket.  I guess it turned out to be a solid evening all around.

In the end, it was another great trip to AC.  I ended up down $200 gambling (and down $250 at The Palm . . . OUCH!).  After a long weekend in Vegas and a trip to AC 5 days later, the cigar box roll took only a mild hit.  Hard to complaint!

Now, this weekend, it's time to catch up on some sweet, sweet sleep....



  1. The kid next to you at VP was MBC? Did he say that he learned to gambool from his dad?

    1. "Nor does he take subtle social cues..." (Playing in my head - SHUT THE EFF UP!!!) ;)

  2. You somehow left out writing about being better in life and gambling then the mentally handicapped degen gambler.... way to go!!!

  3. Dam but the guy who buys him MacDonalds and drives him to shitty casinos couldn't help but take a shot at him, and even threw his son in there. Great friends!!!

  4. I love living vicariously through you Triple P