Arrival, Thursday Night
My friend Logan, his roommate Joe, and a regular from our poker game named Darren had been planning to fly out to Vegas for a few days during March Madness to bet on the basketball games and play some poker. Although I don’t follow basketball, I elected to come along anyway, as I’ve been wanting to get in some experience with live poker and I’ve never been to Vegas with just a group of my buddies.
On short notice, I managed to get a round trip, direct flights both ways, from Boston to Vegas for $300 from Jet Blue. I’d never flown with them before but was looking forward to the free satellite TV as a welcome diversion during the 6+ hour flight, especially since I don’t have cable at home. Very luckily for me, the Discovery Channel was running a Man Versus Wild marathon. Man Versus Wild drops a former British special forces member named Bear into a different hazardous wilderness each week with just a knife and a flint. He demonstrates how to navigate your way back to civilization, avoid the unique hazards of the region, and find food and water.
I spent three hours watching him escape from a dense South American rainforest, the most active volcano in the world, and one of the highest peaks in the Sierra Nevadas, the last of which involved him virtually butt sliding down several thousand feet of steep rocky cliff face and eating a live snake. It’s great entertainment.
The flight was fine, despite some turbulence, but once we landed we had to wait about twenty minutes on the tarmac for another plane to leave our gate. Then it was twenty more minutes for the bags to come off the carousel, then nearly an hour in line to get a cab.
Thankfully, my driver was worth waiting for. Seeing him yawn, I asked what time he got off, and he told me, “1:30, but that depends on who my last fare is. I’m not done until he is. One time I took this guy out to the Bunny Ranch at midnight. It takes an hour to get there, and he didn’t come out until 7:30 AM. My cut of the meter was $300, and he gave me a $250 tip.”
“Wow, just imagine what he spent inside.”
“The best part is that he called me up a few months later to ask if I could come get him from the airport. We went straight out to the ranch, and this time he invited me to come in with him. He paid for everything, and I was still on the meter! Frankly, I sort of felt like a whore myself, since I was basically getting paid to screw.” It seemed a little sleezy to me that he would keep the meter running when the guy was paying for his prostitute, but I didn’t say anything.
When I got in, Joe and Logan came to meet me in the lobby of the Venetian, where they’d been playing poker all day. “We’ve already played enough to cover our poker rate for the whole weekend,” Logan told me. For those who don’t know, the Venetian offers a discount on their suites if you play six hours per day in their poker room. So we got an amazing suite for the four of us for three nights for about $150 a piece.
I hadn’t eaten much since breakfast, and they were hungry, too, so we hit up the Venetian’s all night Grand Lux Cafe. The service was a little slow, but the prices were very reasonable, the portions were large, and my mozzarella and tomato salad was delicious. They also have all night breakfast, which is very exciting, even though I wasn’t in the mood for it at that moment.
Darren didn’t get in until the next morning, so between the two beds and the pull-out sofa there was no need for sharing. We turned in around 2:30 AM, and rather annoyingly there was a little light near the two stairs that separated the ‘rooms’ of our suite that would not turn off. When I got up in the middle of the night, I couldn’t see it and thought it had eventually gone out, but then I tripped over the pillow that Logan had cleverly stuffed in front of it.
This was really the only drawback to what was otherwise an outstanding room. It was spacious, very tastefully decorated, comfortable, and functional, with an amazing bathroom. The main room of the bathroom was monstrous, containing a full vanity, a spacious shower, an oversized tub, and a double-sink. The toilet was in its own antechamber.
My favorite thing about the bathroom was that the shower had two little jets on either side of the faucet that would spray water onto your torso while the shower head soaked you from above. It just helped to keep your body a little bit warmer and wetter during the shower. All in all, a fantastic room, and as I said, with the poker rate, we got it for a great price.
Friday
I woke around 8AM Friday morning, it being 11 AM my time. When I finished showering and dressing, Logan was awake as well. Together we went across the street to the Mirage buffet.
Though the selection at breakfast wasn’t great, the food was quite good for a buffet. The bacon was crisp and the french toast was hot and soft, not like the cold and stale hunks of egg-soaked bread I’ve seen elsewhere. The room looked a lot nicer and better designed than other buffets I’d been to, and judging by the promised lunch and dinner offerings, it would be a good place to have either of those meals.
We got back to the Venetian poker room around 10:30, as I wanted to register for a tournament that I thought started at 11. I learned, however, that it did not start until Noon, so I took a seat at a 1-2 NL table where Joe was playing. I quickly won $200 with a set of T’s on a K-high flop, and a little while later, got up to use the bathroom before the tournament.
I was playing a $500 deep stacked event that runs on Saturdays and Sundays. For a regularly scheduled live tournament, it’s a great structure: 10,000 chips to start and forty-minute blind levels. I had over 100 BB’s for the first two hours of the tournament, which is generally unheard of if you aren’t spending four figures on the buyin.
The play was predictably weak tight and terrible, and my aggressive play quickly drew the ire of my tablemates. Unfortunately, they kept outflopping me, and though I made some good laydowns, I soon found myself below average, with the blinds and antes rapidly spiraling. A passive guy with a ton of chips limped UTG+1, someone else came in behind, and I decided to take a flop with 86s on the button. The stakes were 300/600, so my 17,000 chips didn’t allow for big implied odds, but the play was so passive that I wasn’t too worried about either of the short stacked players in the blinds moving all in, as they almost surely would have were this an online tournament.
What I hadn’t counted on was the BB thinking he was the SB and tossing an extra 300 chips into the pot. When it was explained to him what was happening, he pulled the chip back, but the floor ruled that he had to raise. “OK, I’m all in.”
“I’m sorry, sir, but that would be a string bet. You must raise 600 more or forfeit the 900 chips.
“Fine!” he exclaimed angrily, firing his cards into the muck. The big stack just called the raise, as did the player behind me, and I was sorely tempted to move all in, as I felt either of them would have taken the opportunity to raise if they liked their hands particularly much. But a glance at the first player told me he might well look me up, so I just called.
The dealer spread the flop: 762r. The guy up front quickly bet 3000 into a pot of about 5000. I wasn’t sure what to make of this, but I didn’t think he could have an overpair, even 8’s, given his failure to reraise pre-flop with the limpers behind him. After a few seconds of thought, I moved all in for roughly 15,000. “I call you,” he told me quickly, though for some reason I felt like he was just being spiteful and I could be ahead. I turned over my hand, and he showed my KJ off-suit for no pair and no draw. Turn J, river J, and I’m out.
Leaving the others to play cash games, I went up to our room to unwind, check my email, call my girlfriend, etc. Afterwards I checked out the pool exclusively for denizens of the Venezia Tower. Nestled amidst a beautifully landscaped garden, I found no fewer than five pools of varying sizes, some heated, some sporting fountains or statuary, and all looking very relaxing. I read for a while on a stone bench in the shade of a large-leafed tree, and then headed inside to get ready for dinner. My only complaint about the pool is that there was no view. I later realized we were on the tenth floor of the hotel but unable to see anything about the hotel’s towers rising around us on all sides. It would be nice if there were a view of the city as well.
We dined at Delmonico’s, a Wolfgang Puck steakhouse in the Venetian. Since I don’t eat steak, I’m probably not the best person to review this place, but I found the service somewhat lacking for a restaurant of its caliber and price. When I eat at an expensive restaurant, I’m generally looking to try something new and appreciate the gourmet preparation. I’m expecting the wait staff to be knowledgeable enough to make suggestions, explain the preparation, and generally help me appreciate the meal.
When I asked our waiter about the soup of the day, he said simply, “lobster bisque,” with no attempt to make it sound appealing or tell me what was special about Delmonico’s lobster bisque. I got a very similar response when I asked about the fish of the day. My friends who ordered steak didn’t get much more information, and the waiter also offered no assistance as we were selecting a wine from a very extensive (and expensive) list.
By this time, our fourth roommate for the weekend, Darren, had also joined us. Darren’s a few years older than we are and recently married, but he has a baby face and routinely gets carded when we go anywhere. He didn’t get carded at Delmonico’s, but Logan did tell them that it was Darren’s birthday and asked the waiter how old he thought Darren was.
“24?” he asked after sizing him up for a minute.
“You’re off by nearly a decade,” Logan told him.
“I’m 14,” Darren chimed in quickly. Our heretofore stolid waiter unleashed a deep belly laugh that instantly tripled his charm. After the meal, he brought out a chocolate gelatto on the house for the birthday boy. Darren shared with the table, and we found it quite delicious, particularly the whipped cream.
From there, we went straight to the poker room to catch some of the Friday night action. The Venetian poker room is probably my favorite in Vegas. It’s spacious, with good game selection and higher-than-average maximum buy-ins ($300 at 1-2 NL and $1000 at 2-5 NL). The staff is also excellent, with some very efficient and friendly dealers, helpful and accommodating floor staff, and some of the best (and best looking) cocktail waitresses I’ve seen.
Having left my traveler’s checks in the room, I bought into the 2-5 game for the $700 I had in my pocket and ran it up over $1000 pretty quickly. To my immediate right was a vivacious Asian woman who looked to be about 50, and to my left was a dark-skinned, comical, slightly drunk, and downright maniacal young poker player named John. I was anticipating a fun and profitable game.
The Asian woman struck up a conversation with me and started giving me some pretty basic poker advice. Playing the part of confuzzled tourist, I asked if she wasn’t a professional. She told me no, explaining that she played for the first time a few years ago and fell in love immediately. “At first, I lose very much money, but I get better, and I love this game. My husband ask me if I want have sex, and I say, ‘No, I want play pokah, baby!!!’” Hmmm, perhaps it’s better that Emily doesn’t play.
Still in a playful mood, I asked if I hadn’t seen her on TV. “I doh knoh, I dohn watch pokah on TV.”
“You weren’t at the final table of the World Series?”
“Just a ladies’ event!” she announced proudly.
“Oh, are you Annie Duke?” I asked.
“Hahahaha, your friend, he is big boolshitter,” the woman told Darren, who was sitting on the other side of her. He nodded.
“Oh wait, I know who you are. You’re Johnny Chan!” she laughed even harder.
A little while later, she won a big pot off of a loud guy with huge arms bursting out of a muscle tee and frosted hair gelled into a prickly ridge. She got her money in pretty bad and made a runner runner straight. He said something about how badly she played the hand, and a big fight ensued. They ended up betting $200 on whether she had a gutshot or an open-ender on the turn. Although the guy was out of line for running his mouth, he was right that she had a gutshot, so I didn’t get involved. She insisted she wouldn’t pay unless she saw the tape, at which point John cut the tension with a deadpan incredulous, “Wait a minute, you all have cameras in here?!?!” to the dealer.
The meathead left not long after, without collecting his $200, but the fight pretty much killed the jovial mood at the table. The woman on my right seemed upset that no one took her side and was no longer willing to joke around with me. As luck would have it, the episode of ESPN’s 2006 World Series of Poker coverage in which I make a very brief appearance came on TV, but I could not get this woman to turn her head in look. I think we had lied/BS’ed with her too much for her to believe anything we told her.
I was up to about $1200 when I made a few mistakes. I had been playing back at John’s aggressive play, pulling a few squeezes on him, though it was tough being to his immediate right, especially as we got deeper. He straddled UTG, got two calls, and I made it $70 with red Q’s on my BB. He called, as I figured he would do with almost anything, and everyone else folded. The flop was a less than ideal KcT6c, and John called a $120 bet.
The dealer turned a 6, and I checked. Without much hesitation, John bet $300. With nearly $1100 behind, I had a tough decision. I really felt like he was on a draw, but my only move now would be to check-raise all in, and if he did have a K or a 6, I’d be drawing near dead. After much thought, I folded, and he showed be 95cc. Darren and I discussed the hand later and concluded that I definitely should have shoved on him. I was basically just playing scared with 220 BB’s and over $1000 cash.
Still steaming from that fold, I raised to $25 with AA in early position, and both John and a short-stacked guy who seemed kind of tight called. “I have the best hand right now,” John told me. The flop was a very dry Q85r.
“You say you had the best hand?” I asked him.
“Yeah.”
“OK I check.”
“Well it’s not best anymore, I check too.” The other guy checked pretty quick, and the dealer turned a T to complete the rainbow. I bet $55, John folded, and the other guy min-raised to $110. Immediately I had a sinking feeling my my stomach. I asked what he had left, and when he told me $160, I rationalized a reraise all in by telling myself that after the flop checked through, my hand was pretty under-represented. He quickly called with QQ for top set.
I later learned that calling this guy “pretty tight” was like calling the cocktail waitress’ outfit “pretty revealing.” He went to showdown twice in about three hours, both times holding big pairs pre-flop that turned into sets on the flop. I’m also pretty sure he (correctly) folded K’s to me pre-flop, which really burned me up.
I did make one play with which I was very satisfied. I had moved seats to get off of John’s left. The player three seats to my right was extraordinarily passive, as revealed by this hand: he limps behind a bunch of limpers and bets an A64 flop checked to him. I call with A2 on my BB, everyone else folds, and he immediately comments that this is “suspicious” of me. The turn is an A, and I check and call again. The river brings an 8, I check, and he checks behind with A4 for a full house, telling me that he didn’t see how I could call with a worse hand. Although I was ready to muck my A2, I still hate his check.
Anyway, in the hand I want to talk about, I called an early position raise with 76s in middle position, and this guy called from his BB. The flop came 56c9c, he checked, and we both called a bet from the raiser. An 8 on the turn filled my gut shot, but when the BB bet out $100, I figured he had the same hand and just called, hoping to bluff him off of it if a scare card came on the river. Sure enough, the river was a 9, and he checked. After thinking for a few seconds, I bet $300, and he told me he was folding a straight.
By midnight, we were done playing serious poker and ready to get drunk and have some fun. We put our names on an interest list for a 6-12 Mixed Games table and kept bugging the floor staff until they finally helped us round up another group of friends to play with us.
For the who don’t know, the 6-12 Venetian Mixed Game is some of the most fun you can have playing poker in Vegas. Everyone is there to play some unusual games, drink free drinks, and have a ball. The mood is very laid back, and the dealers do their part by joking around and letting the players decide how the game should be run.
We were joined by one pretty weak player and a group of four young guys who seemed pretty solid. One kid in particular was not drinking and had a very strong grasp of the triple draw games like deuce to seven. This was kind of annoying since we were just looking to screw around and have fun, but he sort of got into the spirit, and he didn’t leave with too much of our money.
The nine of us settled on a rotation of Stud/8, Omaha/8, 2-7 Triple Draw, Razz, and Badugi. Impressively, several of our dealers avoided a very common error when dealing Stud/8, which is to pull the chips into the pot once the action is heads up. Since these pots are so often split, it is more efficient to keep each player’s bets in front of him for the duration of the hand once it is heads up, but very few dealers do this. Yet another feather in the cap of the Venetian poker room staff.
Saturday
Although it was after 5AM Saturday morning when we went to bed, I woke up in time to play the $500 Noon tournament feeling not the least bit hungover. It may have been better if I slept through it, though. Early on, I made a classic internet donkey mistake and failed to look at the stack size of my opponent. He had lost a big pot early on after calling a check-re-raise all in with 99 on an 8-high flop and was down to just a few thousand chips at the 100/200 level.
I raised to 600 with Q’s and he called on the SB. The flop was an ugly AJ5r, and without looking at his stack, I bet 900. He instantly moved all in for 1350 more, and I decided I was priced in to call. His A8o held up, much to my annoyance, and just like that, I was short stacked.
At the 200/400 level, I played another interesting pot. A guy with a huge stack who turned out to be an atrocious calling station had moved to the table not long ago and was getting involved in quite a few pots. With about 6500 chips, I raised to 1200 UTG+1 with AJ off-suit. The calling station called, and a guy with even fewer chips than I had called on the button. I obviously wasn’t worried about the station, but the button worried me. He really ought to moving all in with any hand he wants to play, and if he does just call, he needs to have a monster. Him being a terrible live tournament player, however, this isn’t what I put him on. Rather, I figured he would have some kind of medium strength hand. I think he would have shoved AK and maybe AQ in this spot, though I can’t say for sure.
The flop was AT6r, and I really had no idea what to do. I couldn’t afford to bet and fold, but I figured that if I got any action on this board, I would be dominated. Finally, I decided these guys were so obvious with their play that even from out of position I could check and figure it out. So I checked, the big stack checked, and the button bet 1000 into a pot of 4000. Ugh. I think I maybe should have check-raised all in here, but with that bet on this board, he’s likely to have either a hand that crushes me or very little. I called and resolved to figure it out on the turn. The calling station hemmed and hawed, announced that he had a little piece, and called. I don’t think this was an act of any kind and read him for bottom or middle pair.
The turn put an 8 on the board, and I checked again. The big stack also checked, and the button moved all in for 4000. Since I could basically beat only a bluff and didn’t think he would bluff into two callers, including the calling station, I folded. The big stack called instantly with his 86s and eliminated the button, who had AJ. Oh well.
My bustout hand was equally annoying. Still at the 200/400 level, a pretty generic player opened for 1600, and a tight player called. This was waaaaaaaay more action than we usually saw pre-flop, and believe it or not, when I looked down at a pair of Queens, I wasn’t happy. But with 5000 chips, I had no choice but to move all in. My stomach really sunk when the old nit on my left asked the dealer to count it down. He finally moved all in over the top, and the raiser started saying, “I don’t see how I can fold this,” and I knew that one of not both of them had me crushed. The raiser called with KK, and the nit had AK. The case K on the turn put the final nail in my coffin.
Once again, I went upstairs to cool off and unwind a bit. Logan, Darren, and Joe had gone over to play the Mandalay Bay 2/4 NL game, which we’d heard was quite juicy. I called to see what they wanted to do for dinner, but they all had nice stacks at loose tables and didn’t want to leave, so I went over there to join them.
The Mandalay Bay poker room is pretty cramped relative to the Venetian room, and the dealers are a bit slower and more amateurish. They rake the pot even when there’s no flop, and they take additional money to put into a progressive high hand jackpot (Edit: Logan tells me that there is no rake on the jackpot, in which case I see no drawback to it. As he points out, it did seem to draw some fish.) To add insult to injury, the waitresses are not nearly as attractive as those at the Venetian either. However, the games are very good, and the floor is a lot more welcoming than they are some places.
There weren’t any open 1-2 seats so I sat in a 1-2 NL game while I waited. They didn’t make me post, so I came in UTG, though I didn’t play a hand until my button, when I raised to $12 after two limpers with KsQ. Both limpers called, and the flop came As 6s 2s. Check, the guy to my immediate right bet $15, I raised to $60, the first guy folded, and the second guy called. I turned a K and shoved when the action checked to me, but the dude called with A6s to stack me.
He paid me back a few hands later when he completed the SB and I checked 93o on my BB. Flop 9s 6h 3h and he check-calls a pot-sized bet (there were other players in the pot, but they all folded the flop). The turn put up another heart, and we checked through. A river 9 gave me a boat, my opponent bet $30, and I raised him $100 more. He told me he wanted to return some of my money and called with Kh 5h.
As I was leaving, I witnessed a hilarious showdown. I didn’t see the action on every street, but on a KQQ52 board with three clubs, one guy shoved and the dude to my right elbowed me and showed me his hand: 9c3c. He had floated the flop with a backdoor club draw and hit. When the SB called, I said, “I think you’re screwed” but it turns out the pusher had AQ and the SB had overcalled an all in bet with K5 on the river! 93 ships another big pot.
I was still a bit frustrated from the tournament and tired from the night before and certainly not playing my best when I first sat down at the 2-4 table. I made some bad plays early on and got off to a bad start. Eventually my aggression started to pan out and I got together some chips and a good reputation. Having just raised some limpers in the last hand, I raised again to $45 with AdKd. The loose player in the SB called, two of the calling station limpers called, and we saw a flop of 4d6cQd. Gin! The SB bet out $50, one of the calling stations called, and as soon as the action was on me, I leapt of my seat, shoved my chips into the pot, and called out loudly, “All in!”, doing my best to look like a very excited amateur with a big pair. The SB thought and folded, but the other guy called quickly with a pair of 8’s. He managed to dodge all of my 15 outs. “Nice read,” I told the guy as genuinely as I could muster as I left the table, too annoyed now to keep playing.
It was barely midnight and no one else wanted to leave yet, so I walked around by myself for a bit to cool down before going back to my room. Nothing all that remarkable had really happened, I’d just had some bad luck in two tournaments and lost one stack at a cash game. This wouldn’t even faze me online, but when playing live, so much more is invested in a single game, since they run more slowly and you can’t play more than one at once. It’s something I need to work on if I want to start playing more live poker.
Sunday
Joe, Logan, and Darren all left on Sunday, which meant we had to check out of the Venetian. I was staying another night, but at the MGM, so the plan was for them to move all of their stuff into my room there. Since they didn’t get in until like 8AM Sunday morning, Joe decided to crash for a few hours while I went to breakfast with Logan and Darren, both drunk. I enjoyed a pretty delicious Belgian waffle, watched them lose some money at craps (I don’t play table games), and then talked by the pool with Darren while Logan nodded off on the chaisse lounge next to us.
The front desk had extended our check-out time to Noon, but Joe was still grumpy when we woke him up at 11:30. We had to wait in line to ensure we got our poker rate when we checked out, which took like twenty minutes. After that, there was a long line to get a cab at the Venetian. We confirmed with the driver that this is due to a terribly set-up taxi stand. Apparently the Venetian is constantly changing the layout so that drivers never know which lane they need to be in to pick up passengers and the whole thing turns into a giant mess. Apparently some drivers won’t even make pickups at the Venetian for this reason.
I had no trouble checking into the MGM early, and for $70 (with poker rate), it was a great room. Though it was on the small side, it featured a great view of the strip, two very comfortable pillow-top beds, a large tub, and a nice TV.
Logan took a nap while the rest of us got lunch and played some cards. I got seated at a very loose passive 2/5 NL table. The only guy at the table who was at all aggressive was on my immediate right, and I played back at him a few times just to set a dynamic and keep him in line.
I picked up a fair number of chips in the early going by raising limpers, making continuation bets, etc. The first big pot I remember playing was against a guy I called (in my head) Captain Calling Station. He was a graying fifty-something, hefty but not fat, with a goatee that ruined any dignity that the first hints of wrinkles on his face might otherwise have brought him. He wore dark sunglasses (I immediately lose respect for anyone wearing sunglasses at a 2/5 cash game) low on his nose so that he could peer over them like a disapproving librarian when he was trying to get a read.
I’m pretty sure that most of the time, the only thing he was looking for was an excuse to call. Obviously that’s where the Calling Station part came from. The Captain was because he looked like the kind of single guy who stands out on the deck of his boat with a beer in hand and a leather-skinned middle-aged woman in a sagging bikini on his arm. But he’d been calling a lot of my raises and continuation bets out of position, and I’d let him win more than one pot with a marginal hand.
A $100 tournament starting at 6PM had drained a lot of players out of the 2/5 games, and our table was in danger of breaking. The floorman told the dealer to stop raking the pot when we got five-handed, which I thought was cool as hell, but some others at the table were talking about quitting anyway. I started ramping up the aggression, so when everyone limped my button, I raised to $40 with K9o. Only the Captain called, and he check-called my bet on an A67 flop. Having decided to win I was going to win this pot or die trying, I was going to fire again on the turn, but then I hit my 9 and decided I’d check behind rather than risk a check-raise.
The river was a T, and Cappy checked again. I was pretty sure I couldn’t win at showdown, but I had been meaning to try a bluff in a spot like this after observing how passive most liver players seem to be on the river. This was a major difference I noticed between live and online games, having seen live players check down some huge hands on the river (like the A4 full house from Saturday) on the assumption that, although they were probably good, worse hands would never call. Similarly, my river value bets were not getting paid off as often as I expected.
With this in mind, I bet $200 on the river, nearly the size of the pot. With no hesitation at all, CCS counted off $200 in chips, and for a second I thought he had called. I must not have looked too disappointed, though, because he stopped without putting them in the pot, played with them for a minute, and folded.
It was tempting to show him my bluff, since after all he was a calling station and I didn’t plan to bluff him very often, but he seemed like the kind of guy who might be easily embarassed and/or enraged by something like that, so I just mucked and stacked the chips.
In the interest of saving our crumbling game, the floor asked if we wanted to change the stakes to 5/5 NL, for which there had been an interest list for hours. I was all for it, but the bigger stacks didn’t want to cash out down to $1000, which I wouldn’t have either in their shoes, so I didn’t push the issue. They found us another player, set the max rake at $1, and we kept it going until the table filled up again.
Not long after, I finally stacked someone. I forget the exact action, I think maybe some people had limped my BB and I’d popped it with 55. Anyway I flopped a set and bet $100 on a K-high flop, $150 when the third heart came on the turn, and then shoved like $250 on the river. The guy mucked when I tabled my set, so I don’t know what he had, and since the dealer was between him and me, I couldn’t see his reaction, either. He proved to be a pretty big station, though, and since the players to my immediate right were some of the better ones at the table, I moved across the table to get to the left of the presumed fish at the first opportunity.
I should add at this point, because it becomes important later, that the woman who took my old seat looked to be in her early 60’s, with a sweet face and the perfect little old lady vestments: a beige sweater with an oversized ceramic image of a cartoon mouse eating a block of cheese pinned a few inches below her left shoulder. Based solely on her appearance, I assumed she would essentially be a dead seat at the table. That is, she would play too tight to lose much and too predictably to take much from anyone.
To my right was another older woman named Barbara who told me she was one of the original dealers at Caesar’s Palace back in the day. She seemed nice enough, but something about her, either the way she looked or dressed or carried herself, I’m not quite sure, made me think she was a little strange. Sure enough, after a bunch of limping, she suddenly opened raised to $40, got one call, overbet the pot on a 9 high flop, and got all in against AJs that flopped a flush draw. He turned the flush, and she whispered under her breath, “Dumb shit.”
There was plenty more swearing where that came from, some at least seemingly playful, some of it downright spiteful and mean-spirited. She once called a raise to $25 from the sweeter old woman and check-folded KK face up on an A-high flop. The other woman turned over AA, and Barbara cried out, “I knew it, Mary, you little shit! That’s why I didn’t reraise you!”
That was the first time Mary raised, and she’d been at the table for over an hour. About an hour later, she raised again, and after one caller, I elected to call on the button with 65o, as Mary had about $600 in front of her and I covered.
As is my habit, I envisioned what kind of flop would allow me to win a big pot against what I was sure would be a big pair: certainly 347, but I’d be willing to call any reasonable bet on any flop that gave me so much as an open-ender. What about 66x? Would she figure me for calling a raise with a 6? Hard to say, but she’d have to lose something.
Then I envisioned the aftermath. This poor, sweet old woman sits patiently, socializing with friends and waiting for her pocket aces. She finally gets them, the holy grail of Texas Hold ‘Em, and she loses two months’ social security checks to a “bad beat” from some young hot shot who calls an early position raise with 6-5 offsuit. Is this really who I am? A guy who invests $15 in a garbage hand in the hopes of ruining this poor woman’s evening (maybe her month? This is the kind of bad beat story she might tell years into the future) and taking her money, money that could have been used for her grandson’s college education or her granddaughter’s orthodontia?
The flop came Q82, Mary bet and won the pot. She flipped over AQ suited and tipped the dealer.
Barbara also seemed really excited to know the floor people by name and was constantly calling on them for little favors, such as to announce an open seat at our table, give her a massage (this is the floor man, mind you, not a professional masseuse), or to move the whole table because her seat was in the aisle and kept getting run into. I offered to swith seats with her, as this would have put me closer to my fish, but she shot back kind of grumpily, “No, I want this one one!”
At first she seemed friendly with some of the regulars there, but after she got stacked again and left in a tizzy (unfortunately I forget the hand), everyone started talking about her. One of the floormen came over and said, “Whoever busted her, thank you.”
Even sweet old Mary chimed in. “Ooooh, I do not like to play cards with her. She’s as sweet as can be away from the card table, would do anything for you, but she gets in such a bad mood when she’s playing poker. I have to show her my AA or she’ll go on all night about how unlucky she was to get an Ace on the flop.”
I unfortunately did not get to keep the fish’s money for long. After a couple of limpers, I made it $40 out of the SB with AQs and two calls, including from the guy I previously stacked. I could now see more clearly that he was an oafish 30-something wearing a shirt that said OMW. I amused myself throughout the evening by thinking of things that could stand for. Anyway, the flop came out rags but gave me a flush draw. I bet $100 and OMW called.
If you flop a big draw and don’t get the money in right away, the turn can be tough to play. We got an offsuit K, and I decided to fire again, both because this was a good card to represent and because even though I was committing myself to call an all in I could count on quite a few outs. So I bet $175, he moved in for his last $250 or so, and I obviously called and missed. He showed me KJo with no spade, meaning he had called the flop with nothing and turned a four-outer.
I tried not to show any frustration as I paid him off, but this got tougher to do when he muttered bitterly, “What goes around comes around.”
My eyebrows shot up. “How’s that?”
“You beat me and then I beat you.”
“Mmmm,” I grunted, pursing my lips and nodding. Right, I flop a set, you call me down with God knows what and lose your stack. Then you call me with air, catch a miracle turn card, and dodge twelve outs on the river. I can see how those are parallel situations.
Worst of all, he pretty much stopped playing pots with me after that. We played only three more of any significance. First, I raised AK from the BB, bet at a whiffed flop, and check-folded the turn. Then I raised KTs against his limp, bet when I flopped a gutshot with an Ace on the board, checked down the turn when I picked up a flush draw, and then overbet the nuts on the river. He folded suspiciously.
In the third one, I raised J0s against some limpers on my button, got two calls, and checked down an A-high flop. The turn gave me a gut shot and a flush draw, and once again two calling stations checked it to me. I wanted to bet badly, but I didn’t think either of them would fold much of anything, nor was I confident that a bet now would lead to a big river bet getting paid off if I hit. So I checked again and rivered the flush. OMW led into me for $30 into a $75 pot. I thought about making $100 more, but decided for $120 instead. This time he paid me off with A2.
Suddenly, I was running really hot. On the next three hands, I picked up 99, KQs, and 99 again, twice picking up the blinds and several limps and once flopping set over set to stack a guy with like $300. The next orbit, I raised OMW’s limp to $25 with JTs in LP. The button, who was sitting on very nice stack, made it $75, and the SB called cold (!). Priced in, I counted off $50 more and prayed for a big flop. What I got was the potentially tricky 982r.
The SB checked. To cold call a $75 reraise with $325 behind, he ought to have a monster, but that wasn’t the vibe I was getting from him. More likely was that he was just another overly loose passive live player. Still, I didn’t want to commit myself to getting it in versus him on the flop if it helped his hand, as I probably don’t have more than 8 live outs.
If the button were smart and aggressive, he’d be re-raising me with a ton of hands given how aggressive I’d been this orbit. However, this was the first time in hours I’d been re-raised pre-flop. We both had nearly $900 behind, so I figured the best move would be to check and see what he does rather than getting blown off of eight outs to the nuts. With stacks of this depth, I may even be able to knock him off of an overpair at some point during the hand if I miss and get the right sense from him.
Anyway, the button checks also, which surprised me, and the turn is a beautiful Qs to give me the nuts and put a flush draw on the board. SB checked again, and now even though I thought it was unlikely that either opponent liked his hand much, I had to bet. There was barely $200 in the pot and I had a virtually unbeatable hand, so I needed to take a line that would allow me to put all $900 of my stack into play if the button liked his hand after all. I bet $200 and both players folded. Oh well.
One other kind of funny hand, this guy sat down to my right and bought in for the minimum of $200. After a few limpers he completed the SB and I checked T3s in the BB. Flop was 932 and gave me a flush draw. He checked, I potted it, everyone else folded, and he checkraised to $75 with like $125 behind. With deeper stacks I might have just called him, but then I never know what to do on the turn, so even though I knew he wasn’t folding, I figured I had plenty of outs and wanted the table to see my three-bet all in “on a draw” so that’s what I did. He snap called me with 32o for bottom two pair, but I rivered my flush.
Staring at me with a look of anger and frustration, he demanded, “Did you just go all in on a draw.”
“Sure did.”
“And what was at that time middle pair.”
“Yup.” I avoided eye contact and stacked the chips. He grunted and reloaded.
Eventually, he came around and decided I might be a pretty good player after all. After the seat change, I was to the immediate right of Captain Calling Station, who actually turned out to be a pretty nice guy (though a degenerate gambler) named John. I thought he’d be angry or resentful that I’d been hammering on him before, but he was pretty humble about admitting I’d gotten the best of him. He told me he didn’t mind losing to me because he never left a casino with money. One night, he said, he was up $27,000 (I got the impression he played much higher stakes than what we were playing, and the prospect of getting into those games with him had me drooling), and came home with nothing after blowing it all at blackjack. His wife called him every name in the book and eventually divorced him. Yipes.
I made my usual straddle UTG and looked at my phone: 11PM, meaning I’d been playing with barely a break for 8 hours. More importantly, I could detect a seismic shift in how the table regarded me. I had a mountain of chips stacked in front of me, and most of my opponents had been around long enough to see me raking in all of the big pots I played. Lately, I’d been getting less action and hearing less grumbling about my “bad” play. But this table was soooo juicy! Not juicy in the sense that they’d lose their asses with anything, but juicy in the sense that there was $7500 in the table and only one other guy who seemed to have half a clue how to play poker. After folding, I resolved to take a walk, go to the bathroom, and play one more hour.
I returned to my seat and posted from the CO. The other competent player limped UTG, Mary limped behind him, two or three other players, including OMW, limped in, and I looked down at 75. It was tempting to limp in too, just to play a pot in position, and then I remembered that I’d already posted. I tapped the table, the button limped, the blinds tapped, and the flop came out Q77.
UTG bet $30, and Mary, to my surprise, called. It was unusual for our table to see this much action on such a dry board, so I just called in position with my trips. Everyone else folded, and the dealer burned and turned the K. UTG checked, and Mary, to my great surprise, bet $75, leaving a little less than $250 behind.I considered it very unlikely that she would play any hand containing a 7. Could she have KK or QQ? She limped behind a limper, and I’d previously seen her raise AA in a similar situation, so I slightly discounted these, but who knows. I really didn’t think she was the type to semi-bluff. Maybe AQ or KQ? I called, resolving to throw my hand away to a big river bet.
The river was the A, and Mary bet about $55 into a pot of nearly $300. I smiled inside and stared envisioning how this pot would give me a stack of over $2000 and get me unstuck for the trip. Her weak little blocking bet told me she was uncertain about her hand, probably worried that I had a 7. What could I raise? What would she call with? I decided that if I bet her last $183, she’d be getting better than 2:1, and would maybe talk herself into a call, both because she might want to put me on a busted flush draw or just because she didn’t want to fold two pair to the “Macadamia”, as her friend called me (because she thought I was a nut).
“All in”, I announced, moving a stack of red chips into the pot. Her spindly claws couldn’t shovel chips into the pot quickly enough. “Can’t win this one, sweetheart,” she informed me with a hint of malevolent glee as she flipped over her pocket Aces for a rivered full house. I grimaced, matched the last of her chips, and smiled at her. “Nice hand.”
In my mind, I replayed it. No reason to shove the river. She isn’t going to call with a worse hand. There was no flush draw on the flop to represent. Though unlikely, she certainly could have a boat, and the odds of her having a boat are probably better than the odds of her calling with a worse hand. But the weak river bet is what I kept coming back to. The more I thought about it, the more I realized how perfect it was. If she made the big bet herself, I’d already resolved to fold. But the underbet convinced me I was good and induced me to try raising for value. Had she stumbled upon this brilliant play by dumb, nut peddling luck? Or did she know that I would do the work for her, and that she couldn’t count on having a big bet of her own paid off? I wanted to ask her this, but I realized it would be rude, as I’d essentially be accusing her to her face of being just another clueless case of beginner’s luck.
After another orbit of folding, I stood up, wished everyone a good night, and went to cash in my chips. I felt a tap on my arm as I stood waiting for the cashier to convert my racks of casino chips into crisp $100 bills. Looking over and down, I saw Mary smiling up at me. “It was an absolute delight to have you at the table, and you’re a helluva poker player,” she told me.
“It’s too bad we were across the table from each other, we didn’t get to talk much.” She said good night and started to return to her seat, but I stopped her. “Your river bet was perfect,” I said.
Her face lit up. “I invited you right in, didn’t I?” she whispered conspiratorially.
“I couldn’t resist,” I admitted with a smile.
Monday
I had some Mandalay Bay chips that I forgot to cash in on Saturday, and since I needed to go there anyway, I decided to check out their game. The guy keeping the wait list when I first got there didn’t seem to speak English very well, and I couldn’t figure out whether there were actually NL games going or if I was just on an interest list.
I took a seat at a 4/8 limit game while I waited and was pleasantly surprised by the dealer, who took the time to explain to me a few things that, though I knew them, would have been useful had this been my first time playing poker at a casino. I guess a lot of inexperienced players start off in this game or something, but I definitely had some hiccups getting accustomed to things like moving chips over the betting line and would have appreciated more welcoming dealers when I was starting out.
Anyway, the game was predictably ridiculous, which meant I had to play super tight. The only decent hand I got, I raised a limper with TT, got 3-bet, the SB cold called, and I check-folded to a bet and a call on a QJx flop. The 3-bettor had 33 and the cold caller had QJ. Oh, and for some reason the blinds were $1 and $2 even though the bets were $4 and $8. I got bored and annoyed very quickly and kept darting up to check where my name was on the NL lists. The same guy, Josh W., was ahead of me for both 1/2 and 2/4 NL. Bastard.
The blind was about to hit me again when a woman starts calling for Josh W. I was praying that he won’t respond and that she’ll realize he’s not responding before I have to post. The dealer was scrambling the cards from the previous hand when the floor woman tapped me on the shoulder. “Are you still interested in a seat at 2/4 NL?”
Guess it wasn’t too hard to figure out that the guy who kept running over to check the list was the next guy on the list. “Most certainly.”
She led me to my seat (another thing I liked about Mandalay Bay, the floor was much more hands on and helpful than what you get at, say, Foxwoods) and brought me my chips.
I could tell immediately that the game was good, very good. There was some big convention at Mandalay Bay, and several of the guys in the game were wearing business dress and badges, which was a good sign. In one of the first hands that I saw, a scuzzy looking dude in a dirty, faded sports cap raised a couple of limpers to $35 and got called in like six spots. Wow. Then he shoved roughly $300 on an AcQc3s flop. A guy two seats to my right calls, and the rest of the board falls Jd 6h. The pusher shows 9c7c for a busted flush draw, and the caller shows 8c6c for a worse flush draw that rivered a pair. Wowowow this was going to be a good game. And since this wasn’t internet poker, the guy who just pulled off the ridiculous catch didn’t get up and leave with his ill-gotten gains, but instead stayed at the table to my right with a giant stack. I set my sights on him immediately.
The first pot I played, there two limpers on my BB, I raised to $24 with KK and got one called. The flop was like 966, I bet $35 and got called. Ooooh, a K on the turn, I bet $75 and take it down.
I built myself all the way up about $1100, honestly without playing any pots worth mentioning here. The game was just that soft, and I suppose I was getting the right cards in the right situations. I did see two players give off blatant tells. The first one, I had TT on a JJ94 board after the flop had checked through. I bet and a huge calling station called me. I bet $75 on the river, and he moved all in for $74 more. While I was thinking, he looked over at the guy next to him and said, “It’s time for me to leave anyway.” I mucked and he showed me QJ.
The other pot didn’t involve me, but the guy to my right was in the BB in a limped pot when the flop came out with three T’s. The SB checked, and the BB exclaims really loudly, “What is that? I check,” and rapped the table violently. I immediately figured him for quads. The flop checked through, and on the turn the SB bet. “You don’t have anything, I call,” the BB announced, quickly tossing his chips into the pot. Everyone else folded, the SB checked the river, and the BB slammed a stack of reds into the middle of the table, grossly overbetting the pot. The SB folded, and the BB proudly showed his quads.
This also reminds of a story I forgot to include yesterday involving Captain Calling Station. This old guy on my right was playing a pot out of position against CCS, and on the river the board was like AKQTx. The important part is that the river put the four straight on the board. Before the old guy had even acted, CCS eagerly bet like $90. The old man teased him about it. “You’re that eager, huh? Can’t even wait for me to act? Really excited about your straight, hmm?” It was very obvious to me, and, I thought, to everyone, that that was exactly what was going on. But the old man checked and called the bet anyway, and sure enough CCS showed him the straight.
After hours of trying to get into a big pot with the guy who couldn’t fold a flush draw for any price, I finally got my chance. He raised to $15 after two limpers, which was kind of a small raise relative to what most people were doing. I didn’t really know what to think of that, but it looked like it would certainly be a multi-way pot, so I called with Ks6s on the CO. Sure enough, seven of us saw a beautiful 8s 4s 2s flop.
The action checked to my mark, who bet $55. It was kind of a weak bet, but still a good sign that he had something, since no one continuation bets into five callers if he misses the flop completely. Then, the player immediately between the two of us moved all in for a little over $200. My read on him was that he was just in general way too eager to shove his stack into the middle, he had bought in kinda short and lost his chips twice already.
Although I was happy to see so much money going into the pot, this actually put me in kind of an awkward spot, because I was going to have to call this bet cold for almost 20% of my stack, which would make it very difficult to conceal the strength of my hand (raising was just too likely to kill my action, and I wanted to give someone behind me the chance to semi-bluff with the As or put me on a draw). So when I called, I tried make it sound as though the guy’s over-aggressive shoving tendencies had something to do with it. “Alright, I’m gonna call you,” I told him with sort of a chastising tone of voice, as though I were teaching him a lesson or giving him less credit than I otherwise would in this spot.
The action folded around to the fish, who also called. Between this action and the fact that he didn’t even seem to consider a raise, I figured him for the As. I wasn’t sure about what his other card was, and although it didn’t affect his equity in the pot, I thought it might affect his turn action.
I held my breath and prayed for not-a-spade on the turn. The dealer showed us a black 9, but it turned out to be a club. My fish checked. There was now about $650 in the pot, and I had around $850 left in my stack. The fish had me covered. Against a good player, it might have been tricky to determine a good bet size here, but based on how I had seen this guy play his flush draw hours ago, I had fairly easy decision. “I’m all in.”
The fish groaned and stood up. He looked down over the dealer’s had at me as I stared emotionlessly at the felt. “What do you have? Do you have an 8?” Right, I’m shoving 200 BB’s on the turn with middle pair. Good read. He went on like this for a minute and then turned over the As that I knew he had and stared at me for a while.
The all-in player called the floor and tried to get the fish’s hand killed for exposing his card. The floor ruled that since nobody was left to act, he was allowed to show his card. The whole time, I was thinking of ways to keep him in the sidepot even if they killed his hand for the main pot. Perhaps I could feign moral outrage and tell the floor I didn’t think that was fair and didn’t want to win on a technicality and offer to let him play his hand in the main pot anyway. Thankfully I didn’t need to resort to anything like this.
“You have nine outs,” someone at the table said, quite inapproriately, though there was nothing I could do about it, and I knew it didn’t really matter anyway.
“I think I’ve got more outs than that,” the fish responded, flipping over his other card, the Jd. Wow, is this guy really looking to call off 200BB, a larger than a pot-sized bet, with a bare flush draw on the turn? Even if his other outs were live it would be an awful call.
“I call!” he suddenly announced with great excitement.
It occurs to me in retrospect that this was probably the largest pot I have ever played, in terms of number of BB’s. There were well over 600 BB’s in the pot, and you just don’t get that deep at low- to mid-stakes online NL games, and certainly not in tournaments. The fact that I had gotten the money in as nearly a 6:1 favorite made it particularly exciting.
But I had didn’t have much time to enjoy the moment, as the dealer quickly burned the top card from the deck and revealed the river: the Qs, the black mariah. My King-high flush had been overtaken by my opponents Ace. “Fuck!” I exclaimed, banging my fist on the table as my triumphant opponent pumped his in the air. This is not an uncommon reaction for me when I’m playing online in the comfort of my own home, but at casinos, I’ve generally tried to comport myself with more tact. I’m still not proud of how quickly frustration overtook me, though I did calm down almost immediately.
“That’s one of the worst I’ve ever seen,” said a gentlemen from North Carolina with whom I’d been friendly. I lifted my head from where I had allowed it to droop sullenly over what had been a mountain of chips just a moment before.
“Good playing with you,” I told him. I was too frustrated to play my best any longer. In a live game, you spend hours building a stack, getting to know the players at your table, and trying to set up great situations like the one I’d just been in. It took about four hours between the time when I saw this guy make his first terrible call and when I finally got the opportunity to take advantage of that information to induce a much, much worse play on his part. And then he lucks out and wins anyway.
On my way out, I clapped him on the back and said, “Enjoy it,” as genuinely as he could, and I hope he does enjoy it. I’m not spiteful, and it helps that I don’t think he thinks he outplayed me or anything like that. He was there to gamble, like so many others in Vegas, and he was one of the lucky few who came out on top. Poker is the only game in the casino where the house lets the gamblers spew money to you rather than to them, and guys like this one have made me a boatload of money.
When some old lady drops a quarter into a slot machine and wins a six-figure jackpot, the casino doesn’t cuss her out and tell her how lucky she was and what a terrible decision it was to play the slots. Instead, they celebrate, cheer for her, hang a picture of her smiling face on the wall. The occasional longshot win is what keeps them gambling, so I hope that he does enjoy his winnings, because in the long run, he’ll probably donate them and much more back into the great poker economy. And in the end, I’m the lucky one, because I’m one of the very few who is able to take money out of this economy, enough money that I don’t have to have a 9-5 job or a boss or a morning commute. I am the lucky one.