Friday, Feb 29th, 2008
If you missed Part I, I don't know what's wrong with you, but go read it right now.
Now that I'm mature (read: I no longer have any sort of physical all-nighter stamina) I've learned that it's ok to get a little sleep in Vegas. The days of three night trips with 6 hours of total sleep are long gone for me, but I have to say that I was a little embarrassed with the solid eight hours I got on Thursday night. Friday morning, nevertheless, did NOT leave me feeling like a million bucks, but Big Show and I had business to attend to: negative EV was lurking all over town waiting for us.
We stopped at the Club Gracie player's club desk to validate the free match play coupons the Venetian had mailed to us: I had a $25 freeroll and Big Show, courtesy of his reckless blackjack assault last trip, had a $50 match play. We put the validated match plays in our pockets to save for later, and went in search of chow.
Big Show wanted to "save" Chipotle for Saturday, so we hit Wasabi Jane's in the Venetian food court for lunch. This is basically the rich man's Panda Express - it's the same shit, with a slightly Japanese tilt, and hopefully less gastro-assault aftermath effects. The steak & cheese sandwich I'd had the prior night after 2am at the Grand Luxe Cafe wasn't exactly easy on the stomach.
Adequately fueled, Big Show and I hit the Venetian poker room, where we were promptly seated next to each other in a 2-5NL game. Early on I got called down by a Nascar cockchugger when I held AK and it was the only hand his 99 could beat on the T-8-2-4-Q board. "That's what I put you on" he explained after he called my river bet, and I laughed and told him I'd consider it a loan, not a deposit. Unfortunately, I didn't get the chance to stack this d-ball, as I was called for the 5-10NL game which was just starting.
I'd asked the Big Show late the prior night if he thought that the leap year would be a positive sigma gambling event or a negative one. We concluded that gambling on a leap year had to be hugely positive EV, but unfortunately, my Venetian 5-10NL session did not back up this theory.
Despite a fantastic game - one of the top 5 crazy games I've ever played in, wilder even than Six Sigma Sunday in terms of sheer pot size, I was unable to make anything good happen. My AK ran into a donkey's 2-5 on a K-2-2 flop where I had to pay him off as he'd raise me there with any king and probably any ace. Then, I made a nice raise on the button with 4-4 when the flop came A-2-5 with two clubs and a weak tight doucheball made a weak bet. I pushed on him, a pot sized raise back to him, and he called me with JTc. The turn was a 3, giving me a wheel, and the river was a 4, putting a wheel on board - that's how it went for me all day.
Yellow $1k chips were flying in the game, as a true local maniac sat down to my immediate left. I picked up JJ and came over the top of the donkey's open raise, all in. The maniac called me cold (with SEVEN high!!!), but I knew I was dead when a tight Russian assassin re-raised. I couldn't crack his KK, and then dumped another buyin after that.
Down 3 full buyins, I was pretty steamed, especially since the game had been so good and I couldn't harvest any of the berry patch, but Big Show's boss had set us up with a top flight dinner at SW Steakhouse on his tab, which promised to be a rewarding freeroll. After changing into sharper attire than my uber-intimidating long sleeve Puma t-shirt I'd terrorized the poker table with, we met Big Show's brother in law and his buddy, and walked over to the Wynn.
Dinner was no joke - as Noey, the somelier and our host, remembered us from our prior journeys, and removed the menus from in front of us, letting us know we'd be in his good hands. He slammed us with a nice shellfish platter, crab legs, and a fantastic bottle of wine, then a small scallop dish and a tasty salad with bacon and blue cheese, before levelling us with the knockout blow: the Kobe beef. I'm not one to leave food on the plate in front of me, especially when we're talking about the best steak I'd ever had, but it was so rich I couldn't even finish the last two slices, which were eagerly absorbed by Big Show. Big Show's bro-in-law had no luck pawning off any of his Chivas aperitif on me, as my eyes teared from a mere whiff of the swill.
After dinner, we started walking through the Wynn, but I quickly lost track of the Big Show when I wandered through the Wynn poker room, which was cranking at full blast with volatile cash games in the wake of the Wynn Classic tourney that was going on. I called Big Show's cell, and he answered in muted tones.
"You're on the shitter aren't you?" I had a good read. He confirmed as much, and I had some similar business to take care of, but ran into the crowd coming out of the Avenue Q theatre, and had to go in search of a less trafficked poopatorium.
I found a nice oasis over by the Blush "uber-lounge" and texted Big Show from the throne "In the shitter by Blush." Yep, I'm not afraid to admit that I'll send text messages from the toilet. In interesting urinal-spray-absorption news, the Wynn no longer uses the blue AstroTurf from Anti-splash.com - they have a new piss flow mediation brand.
After exercising the SW Steak position, I met up with Big Show, and we returned to the Palazzo to dominate the double deck BJ game. We sat down at the quarter table, and whipped out our match play cards. Big Show got maximum value from his by spiking a top of the deck blackjack, which of course prompted him to stand up and scream "I DRINK YOUR MILKSHAKE," confusing a new batch of casino personnel. When a chooch sat down at our table, I, having no tolerance for sub-optimal play, quickly called an audible to move to the black chip table across the pit.
This decision worked well, as we crushed the game for several hours, drinking the Palazzo's milkshake repeatedly, and each putting together a win in the neighborhood of 2 dimes. THe cocktail waitress came by with champagne, which got me going in full swing. Maybe Leap Year was positive EV after all! Since we were pretty much unwilling to play with other people at the table, we didn't get to meet any crazy characters like Androgynous Kim Jong Il. We became the characters ourselves, as my relentless "I DRINK YOUR MILKSHAKE" exclamations along with Big Show's pleas of "MONARCHEEEEEEEEEEEE" instead of MONKEY confused and tilted dealer after dealer.
Having recovered a portion of my poker losses from the day, and again showing pathetic staying power, I retired to the room after dumping a buy-in in the Let-It-Ride game.
until next time,