I had a bit of a rude surprise when checking out of my room this morning. Apparently my hotel package did not actually include the $1000 non-refundable folio that I thought it did, and on which basis I purchased a $300 massage. At first I thought this was an error on Atlantis’ part, but I just reread my confirmation and sure enough it says, “If your package includes hotel plus a $1,000 USD food credit”, which mine apparently did not. It also says, “Any funds that you have not used will be refunded to you upon check-out.” So yeah, I just can’t read. I probably wouldn’t have spent $200 at Nobu last night either…. Then again maybe I would have lost at credit cart roulette (I bought out so I could use the folio credit I thought I had) and eaten the $1500 bill, so I’m going to pretend that that was what was going to happen.
While I’m amending recent blog posts, I also have to admit to backsliding on my “don’t judge assholes” philosophy. I split a cab with fellow PokerStars Team Online member Andre Coimbra, whose flight was half an hour before mine, so I got to the airport plenty early. That was good, because the customs line was massive and there were only two agents working it. People all around me were just losing their minds with frustration.
When I got to the front of the line after nearly an hour of waiting, I heard someone say “Next!” I looked around but didn’t see an open station. I did see someone stepping up to one of the stations for non-US citizens, so I assumed that was what I heard and went back to waiting. Someone behind me shouted, not gently, “Over there!” I looked around again, saw the open station, and started walking towards it. As I did, someone else shouted, “Get over there, kid!”
My first instinct was to get flustered. I had, after all, made a mistake that slowed the line down by several seconds. But I forced myself to take a deep breath and calm down. I didn’t stop walking, but I did turn my head and slowly scan the line behind me until I saw the person who’d shouted. I could tell it was him because he was still red in the face and waving his arms at me. You could tell he was the sort of guy who shouts at strangers in the airport. I met his eye for a minute, smiled broadly at him, and then went about my business. I know it would have been better to ignore him, but I must admit it felt good to needle him.
Speaking of which the customs agent gave me the needle when I finally found him. Our conversation went something like this:
“Traveling by yourself?”
“Yes.”
“What were you doing down here by yourself?”
“Playing poker at the Atlantis.”
“What place did you finish?”
“Nothing good enough to remember.”
“How much cash do you have with you?”
“About five thousand dollars.”
“How much cash did you come down here with?”
“About eight thousand dollars.”
“So you lost?”
“Thanks for rubbing it in.”
“Go ahead.”
So kind of an unpleasant start to my day, though I had a nice chat with Andre in the cab and he gave me one of the (very expensive) pictures he bought from one of our PSTO dinners. Also I’m playing peek-a-boo with a little girl a few rows down from me in the terminal and I’m returning from what was all in all a great week in the Bahamas, so it’s all good.
“So you lost?”
Nothing like twisting the dagger a little more on the way out.
I guess he was confirming that I didn’t buy several pounds of marijuana.
Sounds like every conversation I’ve ever had with people/friends who don’t or never have played poker.
I do my best not to mention numbers at all to those people. Occasionally, mostly when I cash in the WSOP, it’s unavoidable. As long as we don’t talk about numbers, though, I find that virtually everyone is fascinated by the idea of playing poker professionally and that there are questions are no more stupid than mine would be if I tried to ask them about whatever they are experts in.