WPBT Trip Report

I suppose I should try and get this up before I end up back in Vegas (that's February).

I've been going to these things since the summer of 2006 (I missed the Winter gathering that year though), and they're always a good time. This year was no exception, although things were a bit different.

These weekends used to be preceded by warnings of how to drink properly and maintaining a buddy system so someone would run a welfare check on you if you disappeared after 29 hours of greyhounds and soco shots. Now people talk about running in marathons and hiking through canyons.

Something something growing up.

For me, it's always about seeing friends I see but once a year, twice if I'm lucky.  It could be a weekend in an empty room with food and bathroom breaks and it'd still be a good time with this group. Of course, we'd undoubtedly come up with new forms of gambling by the end of it.

I arrived, I played slots and craps and poker and the like. I drank, but nowhere near to excess. I ate tasty food, had an ambulance called for me, worried a dozen people, talked hockey with a celebrity, walked through some hills, took a bunch of photos, and lost a few bucks. All-in-all, a good time

The Hike

Dan/Peaker posted an innocent question a month or so before the trip - "I want to go on a hike, is anybody interested?" 14 of us said "YES!" and he now had to herd cats bloggers.

Amazingly, everyone showed up on time. It should be stated that "on time" means "within half an hour of the we're-leaving-without-out deadline". We drove out to the wilderness, where any able-bodied mountain climber turned runner could easily subdue and bury 14 people that would never be found. Surprisingly, that's not foreshadowing.

The hike, despite Dan's claims of it being "at least a class 15, uphill both ways, definitely requiring crampons and years of training" was mostly a nice walk through some rocks and over a creek. I took pictures.













There was something like an 80% survival rate, which I think is pretty good.

That was Friday morning. Little did I know that an aquatic creature would nearly kill me that night.

The Ambulance

Post-hike was the usual activities of cleaning up, gambling, having a couple drinks, and patching together plans for diner. It was Friday on the Strip, so options seemed limited. But in today's world of apps, making a reservation for 4 that becomes 7 that becomes 12 is fairly easy. To China Poblano we did go. It's a solid restaurant that I've enjoyed in the past.

We took over our table, ordered a whack of dishes for the table, and generally had a good time. My drink took longer than expected to arrive, but I didn't care. The food arrived, and I dove into the tuna ceviche. With a crunch.

I called over the waitress and asked what was in their ceviche. She ran through the list of ingredients, finishing with "pecans".  Right, that would be the issue. I calmly explained my nut allergy, and she calmly went into an "ohshitohshitohshit" panic.

The thing with my nut allergy - it takes a little bit to kick in, so I'm never sure if I caught it in time. Those around me worried, and I collected my thoughts. I sucked on some lemons, a trick that used to work fairly well, but not so much this time. I felt the anaphylaxis coming on and asked Carol to get me some Benadryl. I'd already asked the hostess for some, but she seemed to have missed that memo.

As the staff was converging on me and asking if I wanted paramedics, or anything, Carol returned with the magic pink knock-out pills. I took a couple, and then left with the nice security man to fill out a report and determine if a hospital visit was in order. Again, Carol was great and stuck with me to make sure I wasn't knocked over the head and buried on a hiking trail to avoid liability and lawsuits.

Form filled out and lip noticeably swelled, I decided paramedics wouldn't suck. My Canadian brain was estimating US hospital costs and trying to remember if I had to let my insurance provider know before or after the trip in order to be paid back. Of course, not knowing my policy # or anything didn't help. I was led through the back halls of the Cosmopolitan, which are pretty boring, and by the time I was downstairs, the paramedics had arrived.

The first two through the door had a stretcher... for the person who had fallen and whacked their head in the elevator.  My guys came afterwards. A bit of discussion and more forms later, we all agreed that the Benadryl was doing its thing and they couldn't do much more for me outside of charging me ridiculous sums of money. I was on the road to recovery.

Back through the casino to my awaiting friends who had polished off what I'm sure was a delicious dinner. People seemed relieved that I was alive, then asked if I was upset they had already started joking about my death. Seeing as how I'd be the first to do the same if it was them, no hard feelings were had.

Of course, the restaurant didn't comp a single damned thing off the menu. But Michelle wielded her mighty might and talked them into taking off all the orders of the offending ceviche of death. Someone forgot to tell the waiter though, who then chased us out of the restaurant for the missing portion of the bill. Then he questioned Michelle's math while Carol stormed back in to grab the hostess. It was incredibly amusing to see the waiter wilt under Michelle's glare while the hostess came out like a scolded pet behind an angry local. Needless to say, all was quickly settled and we continued on our way.

The interesting thing about Benadryl is that it knocks you on your ass. More fun is when you've consumed a high-caffeine mint or two just before dinner and they're fighting it out, swimming in the booze you've consumed between those times.  The best option is of course to play poker on a screwed-up table with wooden posts all over it.

I think I said "it might be the Benadryl talking, but..." more than a few times during that game. I left a winner. "I almost died tonight" also came into play when needed. When did I ever claim to have pride?

Thanks to my two "moms" for the night in Carol and April. Who had various medications spread between the two of them and made sure to ask repeatedly how I was doing. It was appreciated, as I was myself a bit unsure about being alone until I knew I was in the clear.

The Tournament

The centrepiece of these gatherings is the tournament.The whole lot shows up to play bad poker for not insignificant winnings.

This lot:



I went out relatively early to my lust for Grange's mugs. Two beautiful copper Moscow Mule mugs were his bounty, and I wanted them. I doubled him up, and then gave him the rest of my chips on hands I have since forgotten. What a dick. To get him back, I had dinner with him and PokerVixen and OnAFoldDraw later that night at Herbs and Rye. I may not know what "get him back" means.


As with all tournaments, you want to go out early or in the money. I had plenty of time after my ousting to lose money and have some more drinks. To BrainMC and Chilly - Hey orange! You're up!

The tournament went until 11ish and finished with CJ beating TheWookieWay. I missed the 10th and 9th place finishers I think. But managed to grab a shot of the final 8.



The final two looked like this:



It was obvious from early on that CJ would win. Why? Because his flight left at 11:20, so the Poker Gods would make sure he was in the tournament as late as possible. He could have pushed every hand heads-up and he would have won. Maybe he did. I left about 3 minutes before it wrapped up. Congrats to everyone who cashed though.

The Rest

I had some great meals - Carnevino with Fuel, Bayne, and a buddy of Fuel's. Steak aged something like 8 months that tasted great, but fell short of what I expected. I'm happy I did it, I don't need to do it again. Fantastic wine.  Herbs and Rye with Grange, Poker Vixen, and On A Fold Draw meant some good drinks (Mule, and a solid Blood and Sand), and way too much food. Tao was worth doing as well, but like much of the Venetian, the menu is showing its age, trends have moved beyond the trends it was catering to. That said, I wouldn't have passed up dinner with the Penners and Brian if it had been at McDonald's. Carol also introduced me to Bachi Burger on my way out of town, which is on my list of places to return to. Great burgers.

I once again missed the chance to greet the runners as they finished. I tried to make it over there with a Penner and his fiancée, but we severely underestimated the crowds and route and made it too late. I did, however, spend the night post-dinner with a few of those who ran, and many who didn't, around a poker table in the Mirage. I left down cash, but up huge in fun. You haven't played advanced poker until you've called off 2/3 of your stack with K2o on a board that completely missed you. I made the right read on Penner the younger, he just had slightly less nothing than I thought... oops.

I met Wil Wheaton who had made it out for the first time in years, and he came across as a genuinely nice guy who was happy to be among friends.  I also took some of his money with a boat over his pair of 4s, and shot the shit about hockey with him. He's a notorious Leafs-basher, but after a couple shots (we've heard 'em all), he seemed to actually be interested in what the fanbase of the most loved/hated team in the league is like. Regardless of your team, all us hockey fans just want them back on the ice.

I brought contraband across the border in the form of Kinder Eggs for Absinthetics. I do hope his family hasn't choked to death... they seem really nice.

Drinks with the Nassis (wow, you've got to be careful typing that), Marty, Chilly, F-Train and M. Templeton rye at the bar by the sports book (it lives up to the hype. The rye, not the bar). Walking the strip with Alan and Kat (not that one, the one he's engaged to). More poker than I've played in previous trips with various friends. Up all night playing video roulette with Vinnay (bastard wins a bunch, I continue to lose). Learning open-face Chinese poker with Vinnay and Carol in Vinnay's room when we should have really all gone to sleep already. Getting a ride with LVCabChronicles and it being the cheapest airport-to-Aria ride EVER (seriously, $14.50! Everyone else was ripped off). Losing money to friends. Winning money from friends. Watching my MLife points climb at way too terrible an exchange rate. Being mildly insulted by Grange and his fervent anti-Canadianism (aka: jealousy).

Oh, and finding an incredibly hard to get bottle of boubon at a liquor store on the way to the airport. Like needle-in-a-field-full-of-haystacks hard.

All great memories. I'm sure I've missed some, and missed people. I apologize, no slights were intentional.

It was also a year of change. The IP is now no more. It's The Quad now. The Geisha bar was gone before we got there. I didn't even go in the IP this year, and only passed it on my way to dinner in the Venetian. This was our traditional meeting spot. The cheapest rooms on the strip, dealertainers, and $5 Pai Gow and craps. I couldn't tell you what it looks like now. That was a refrain often heard - "I haven't even been near it." The Aria is the new base of operations. The Excalibur made its return as the cheap game and cheap bar venue of choice. This decentralization seemed to help - people had to reach out. Texts and tweets were frequently sent as people sought out the next thing that was going on. I spent more time with more people than previous years. It was a sentiment I heard echoed a few times. In many ways, this diaspora brought the community closer together. I definitely look forward to 2013, where I expect to see at least some of you outside of Vegas before we all reconvene.

And I'll throw in a couple more pictures. These from the walk from the Aria to Venetian during the marathon. All these and more are also over here.










Is it next December yet?

Four Days in the Desert - Day 3

Let's see if I can get this one in a single post.

Saturday - Tournament day! We'll get to that.

So, up at the crack of enough-time-for-breakfast. I fire out a "anyone want more Wicked Spoon?" tweet, only be told Maigrey beat me to the punch because it was so awesome the day before. So I tag along with group, getting there about a plate or two in. Still, it's plenty of time to sample what I missed the day before (still very good) and head to the tournament.

See, that wasn't so painful. I pied-pipered the group back through Crystals to the poker room at Aria, signed up both myself and my last-longer team, caught up with some folks, grabbed BrainMC's nuts, and found my seat.

Oh wait... before it all started, we grabbed the group photo.  I played backup photog in a crappy spot, while OhCaptain perched on high to get what I assume are better pictures.  However, here is the best I grabbed.



Who was I seated with? It's been a while, so apologies to the one person I think I'm forgetting.  There was CJ, Drizz, Alcanthang, Maigrey, Jordan's buddy, a couple women I didn't know, eventually WhoJedi I think, and the mystery person my brain refuses to acknowledge even though I knew them.

Anyway, cards in the air, chatter and bounties and all that.  Hey! Jd, rest of the Royal on the board! Awh, couldn't get the final call on the river, showed the stone cold nuts anyway. Up a bit.  Ooo! Aces.  Won a little. Hammer drop (first at the table).  Al saw into my soul when the 7 hit on the turn and wisely folded, yes a legit hammer win.

Then I bled chips for a while... NOBODY got knocked out until PokerVixen saw the rail after the 2nd round. Then people relaxed, knowing they wouldn't own a copy of Gigli.  I went down sometime after the break when I shoved my KK preflop and Al called with AQ because he wanted my bounty (pic of your choice).  JT7 flop. Yah, no doubt here... K on the turn for my set, his nut straight, and I went home.  Seems only fair that I got KO'd by Al (who ran like a god for most of the tournament I hear), a minor bit of retribution for our HU battle a couple years back.  So yet another blogger gets a copy of the Vegas sunrise shot.  I should get on contacting Al about that.

So I'm out. I'm not particularly upset about it. Disappointed, sure, but it's hard to get mad in a friendly game like this one.I wander a bit, tell Dawn that she's the lone shining light for Team Bedrock (BrainMC being KO'd a few minutes before me), and decide to wander a bit.  Back to the room for a bit, and I fire out a text asking where I'm having dinner and with whom.  CK gets back to me pronto and plans are made.

Showered, changed, and back downstairs I once again swing by the tournament, shoot the shit a bit, and go back out on the floor (because watching live poker, even when it's friends, is boring, and I feel like I'm intruding on their play).  I wander by a bank of slots.

Normally, I ignore the video penny slots that nobody understands the workings of. 15 lines? 5 credits per line? No idea what wins? It's basic insanity. But one caught my eye.  "Do you like games with Gladiators?" DO I?? Airplane! The slot machine!

I plunk my ass down, drop $100 in, and bet the max.  BONUS!  Touch a square! Huh? Er... ok... touch.. nothing... touch... nothing.  Touch the right thing -- BONUS!! Touch passengers! Uh... ok... touch... touch... touch... bonus, bonus, bonus. Super bonus! Double bonus! Spinny give me money bonus! I have no idea what's going on, but I keep winning. On my first spin. Oh hell do I like games with gladiators.

When it finally ends, I have something like 18000 credits. Sweet. $180. Seems like a lot of work for $80 though. Wait... that's waaay more than I started with. Oh! It's a nickel machine! $900! Wheee.

So I play it down a bit. Hit another bonus, play that down and cash out. Put in another hundo, hit more bonuses, and cash out. I walk away with around $1100.  That definitely makes up for lack of tournament winning. Airplane! The Slot Machine is awesome.

Dinner isn't until 9:30, so I find more railbirds and chat it up. Numbono, PokahDave, F-Train, etc.. The final table is rocking 50% women, including my teammate Dawn Summers.  I'm hoping the "member of Astin's team wins the tournament" streak continues, but alas, she crushes all my hopes and dreams by going out 4th. Um, I mean... great job Dawn! Congrats to Chilly's friend for taking the whole thing down (right? It's been awhile. There was a chop at 3 I think.)

Wander wander wander.  Bar, slots, bar, tourney.  Chilly taking prop bets on how many toenails he has painted (answer: 1).  Finally, dinner time arrives, I grab my coat and head out with CK, Grange, and CaityCaity to Carnevino.

Never been before.  Will be back in January.  Carol did the ordering with some minor input from the rest of us and the waiter, and the meal was top-notch.

Bison chop, lamb, sweetbreads (my choice, and the most unexciting part of the meal, but I'm spoiled by the best sweetbreads in the world available in Toronto), pastas, carpaccio, crudo, house-cured pastrami, and more. The food was great, the conversation and company better. But isn't that how these WPBT things are supposed to work? Everything we do, the tournament, the outings, the gambling, the dinners, the drinks -- they're all noise around the core purpose of meeting up with awesome people.

Dinner wrapped up, and I finally made it to the IP. The moment I walked in those broken doors, I realized that I hadn't felt like I was in Vegas until right then. The Aria is very nice. The Excalibur is cheesy. Dinners at fancy restaurants are delicious. But with this group, and these trips, the Imperial Palace is home.

And what does one do in the IP? One sits down at a table and plays PAI GOW!!! I can't remember how much I lost there, but it was worth the price of admission to joke around with BrainMC, Maigrey, and the rotating cast of friends showing off their Pai Gow skills. Hours and a few drinks later I plunked down at The Ghostbusters slots because craps was looking too full.  Turns out that Slimer also wants to give me money because I walked up a couple hundred in a game I couldn't seem to lose.

By this time it was about half past ridiculous o'clock in the morning and I grabbed a cab back (the long away around, I REALLY need to pay better attention to the cabbies who are ripping me off) to Aria with Absinthentics and called it a night.

Next up - the final day, a small photo walk, and runners.

Hockey Pool

Once again, I'm running an NHL Playoff Pool. Quick details:

$20 entry
Last year had 141 entrants
1st place paid $1250
5 places paid out
10% of the total prize pool goes the winner's charity of choice. Winner got the tax receipt on top of the prize.

It's not the standard pool type. Teams are given a value based on their finish in the league. So Washington is worth 1 point, and Montreal is worth 16 (last place). Each win for these teams gets them that number of points. So 5 wins for Washington is 5 points. 5 wins for Montreal is 80 points.

If you're interested in an entry form, let me know either here or at my e-mail (my name (astin) at sympatico dot com). It'll come with all the instructions and details.

Deadline for entry is Wednesday at 5pm.

Oh, and I have to know who you are. So lurkers and spambots? Don't bother.

I Love Craps

I play craps for fun. While winning is awesome, as long as I get a good long run for my money, I consider it entertainment.

With that in mind, I devised a new (to me at least) strategy for playing my favourite game involving dice and betting and 7. At a $5 table, the most I can lose with my general strategy (pass line, full odds on a 3-4-5 table, and come bets with full odds) is $155. That would only happen if every point was rolled only once, followed by a 7.

This scales up easily. $10 = $310 loss, $15 = $465 loss, $20 = $620, etc..

So, once I show a profit of $310, I planned to up my betting to $10 + full odds. This way, a total loss would bring me back to even, and I'd drop to my $5 betting. Remember, I'm doing this for fun, and don't mind losing the house's money. The plan would then lead to a $775 profit meaning $15 bets (drop to the $10 level on a loss), $1395 profit means $20 bets, etc..

Yesterday, it didn't start so well. There were a couple tight spaces on the table to fit into, and I dropped my usual $500 on the table (I just don't think less than 10x the min bet gets you enough space to play on craps if you don't start out winning. And reaching for the wallet is a sure way to kill your mojo). This promptly started dropping as the table was a bit chilly. Not cold yet, but certainly not a winning environment. Some bad shooters, yours truly included, kept that chip stack dropping. I was soon looking down at somewhere around $200, while X had already bought in three times (having gone in for less than me to start... see what I mean?). $200 isn't nearly enough for comfort with the way I play.

But then the old guy got the dice.

I love old guys at a craps table. Especially when a wife isn't around. Craps isn't a game you pick up when you're 70, it's a game you've played for decades at that point. These guys have seen ups, downs, huge runs and terrible losses, and they keep coming back for more. I'll let some old, slow, toothless guy in a faded baseball cap roll the dice any day of the week. And I'll cheer for him twice as loudly.

This one didn't disappoint. A 4-point firebet, with 7 points hit, later, I was looking at my first profit of the game. And with me and my posse (6 of us in total) at the table, he ended up with a smile splitting his face with all the cheering and pointing and high-fiving coming his way.

From there, there was a steady climb. Up a bit, break-even, up a bit more... and I kept track of my profit rack. It passed the $310 mark and on the next roller, I upped my bets.

And didn't really go anywhere. It was a break-even roll. Then I lost some on E's roll and dropped below the threshold.

Then the mean old supervisor announced that they'd be upping the limit after 3 more shooters.

Well, damn.

X was rolling next, and I have to have faith in my friends (except Recess "The Iceman" Rampage, screw that guy at the craps table). $5 on the firebet, and the $10 bets continue, despite being below the $310 profit mark.

And X promptly got me back over that mark, but only hit a single point on the way.

Next shooter was a quick bust, and we were down to the last shooter before the table price doubled.

He did everything in his power to hold off that rate increase. 4 points hit, and loooong rolls between them, with me betting $10 the whole way. I was quickly in "cruise control" mode, where all I had to do was take the chips being offered me and watch my rack fill up. $70 on every roll came my way. When the 7 was finally rolled, and we all coloured up, I had the biggest stack going into the middle. Just under $1700 in green and reds getting turned into a nice stack of blacks. $1200 profit baby!

Which of course meant that I should have upped to $15/bet $400 earlier. Which would technically have increased my profit approximately another $200. I can live with missing out on that opportunity.

So yah... I love craps.

Slots? Still the abusive sugar-momma in my relationship with gambling. She pays me just enough to keep me coming back, but likes to remind who's boss by slapping me around when I get too cocky. $200 lost to that gaping maw. Which is actually lower than average when the wheels don't spin my way.

**Bayne pointed out a miscalculation on my part. The $5 I have on the come wins 1:1 on a 7-out. I always forget this because it's so minor compared to the loss. But it does adjust the total possible loss at $5 to $145. This makes the next level up $290 profit, then $735 profit, then $1315, etc.. Same idea applies, just my numbers were off.

Numbers

1 = My finish
12 = E's finish
3rd number = N's finish.

60=What I was told
60's=What he thought (so max is 69)
86=Worst possible finish (which wasn't him)

Just being passive-aggressively prodding.

Some Math

1 + 12 + 60 = 73

73 < 78

Alternate #1:

1 + 12 + 69 = 82

82 < 86

Alternate #2:

1 + 12 + 86 = 99

99 < 105

Obviously, something has been missed.

WPBT Report - Epilogue

This trip marked one of my longest stays in Vegas. It also marked the first one where I wasn't positively sick of Sin City on my way out. I love to visit, but constantly staring at the façade that's is The Strip wears on the soul after a few days, and I long for the reality of streets that have buildings in all directions as opposed to only one.

But on this trip, I wished for more time. I toyed with the idea of moving my flight 12 hours ahead just so I could hang at the Venetian, eat Emeril's food, and not bet on football. Why? Because I hadn't spent nearly enough time with my IFFs. Sure, I'd had a few conversations with Pauly, spent hours zipping between foursomes on the golf course, had a drink with Iggy, downed SoCo with Al, joked around with BamBam, talked photography with Alan and OhCaptain, met Lightning36, talked about AWOL friends with JJ, pissed off CK (not really) with my talk of the dinner she missed, and tons of other interactions with this mosaic of a group we have, but it wasn't nearly enough. I barely saw LJ, which always kills me because we were among the first bloggers either of us met IRL during the '07 summer gathering. I once again didn't roll dice with Bayne, making me 0-for-5 I think on times we've both been in Vegas. I didn't get to mock Recess at a craps table for making me lose all my money with his mere presence. I didn't teach OhCaptain craps (something Dawn Summers will no doubt call a blessing for him). While I got to joke around with Jordan at the tournament, not once could we get a Jews vs Gentiles game of anything going. Hell, I almost only see Kat, BamBam, and Pebbles at blogger gatherings, despite them living within an hour's drive, and I didn't even raise a scotch with Bammer (or OhCaptain for that matter, but there's no excuse for that one). There are people I wanted to meet that I didn't even see, and I people I saw who I didn't get over to at least shake hands with.

And I didn't sit down at a Pai Gow table even once.

So yah, I wanted more time. It's impossible to see everyone you want to see, and do everything you want to do on these trips, and looking back I didn't exactly come up short, but it still doesn't stop me from wanting more.

So next year, both before and after I successfully defend my Golden Hammer, I MUST find more time.

But until then, there'll be an Eh-Vegas, maybe a Summer Gathering, maybe I'll actually make an Okie Vegas, and who knows what other opportunities for meeting up with subsets of this group. See you there?

WPBT Report - Day 3

Seems I'm flying through these. It's not like I can write a ton about losing sessions, and if I write about dinner in-depth, it will probably piss off at least 2 or 3 people... and that warrants its own post :).

Day 3. Friday I think. It's tough to tell on 10 hours of sleep spread over 3 nights. Did I mention the amazing sunrise over the Strip when I went to bed after Day 1? No? There will be pictures.

Where was I? Oh yah, Vegas, day 3. Golf time.

Who golfs? Crazy people who like getting up early and standing around in the cold. Who's worse? The guy who only takes pictures of them.

That latter one would be me.

Now normally I'd throw some pics in the post, but those aren't sorted and processed yet. Soon though. I promise.

Golf was... cold. Now, it wasn't Canadian cold, and standing around was fine. But when zipping around in the carts, that wind chill was downright brisk. Some eggs benedict before tee off, hot chocolate at the turn, and California April's mittens (after she went inside at the turn) helped me stave off the cold. But from what I saw bouncing between the groups, everyone was having a great time. Congrats to DrChako, N, Colin, and Katkin for taking it down! And a cheer for the course's beer cart girl who was working with a broken foot (suffered in a dancing accident), a tear in her pants (right on the ass), and who still managed to provide drinks and chase down 3 dogs to be returned to their yard.

Some post-game drinks in the clubhouse and a trip back to the hotel with a sleepy Chako in tow. There was some time to kill before my next dinner... so N and I hit up a War table and promptly lost money. Bad us. Then it was on to video baccarat! That was terrible too. So instead of continually losing money, I opted to suit back up for our dinner at Delmonico.

I've said it before - this is tradition. This year however, I was disappointed. Seated at the front of the restaurant, near the door, after having made the reservation over a month ago, and this being our 3rd straight year there. The level of service was fine, but lower than previous years. To top it off, my steak was overcooked, a problem that was at least remedied without hesitation on the part of our server with a new filet. In the end, the food was still quality, and experience still a good one, but it seemed lessened from previous years. And no, that's not in comparison to Robuchon.

Food was digested, and then it was off to the IP again! We kept the suits on, but left the jackets behind. There's only so much class the IP can take.

And we were apparently too much. We managed to heat up our craps table BIG time. Taking what had been a quiet and subdued group to a frenzy rarely seen. Cheers for every roll, good or bad, high fives around the table. And everyone winning some cash.

So they upped the limit and we all left. Fuck you IP.

We went to Casino Royale. Where we had the best craps run of the trip. I was betting 6x-8x-10x odds, with 20x odds on 6 & 8 on the pass line. I doubled my money and then some before the table cooled a bit and I had just doubled up.

The key moment of that table though was a drunk guy named Ray. With a strategy of betting the field, and then placing bets on the non-field numbers, he'd amassed quite a rack of chips. Which he proceeded to count out on the felt when an 8 was rolled. $10 place bet. $1000 odds bet. 100x odds being used!

And he rolled an freakin' 8! $1200 won! So when he rolled another 8, he counted out $1000 again!

And sevened out to lose it.

Good times.

Sadly, in all this I missed Steel Panther and the MGM games. Next year for sure.

It became a relatively early night as we headed back around 4am... plans for the Bellagio buffet and and the Winter Classic loomed large for Day 4.

WPBT Report - Day 2

Ziplining. We did this for the first time last year and had a blast. This time around we switched Asian friends and convinced E to come along. We also opted for an earlier start time, especially since we had dinner reservations for 6pm.

3 hours of terrible sleep had passed since we called it a night. I tossed and turned out of fear of missing the alarm and being late for our reserved time. When the alarm did go off, I shuffled around getting ready and we managed to get out with a reasonable window available (which is exactly why I aimed for 30 minutes earlier). Sadly, our only food option before flying over Bootleg Canyon was McD's in Boulder City. You yanks have WAY more options than we do up here. What gives?

Turns out we didn't need to fear being late, as we were the only 3 going that day. They course had changed a bit, and the training line was gone. We finished in about half the time of last year, but still had a blast. Next year will be round 3. I'll try to do it on the Friday though, so guys like Alan and Peaker can come along.

Back to Vegas we did go, with a few hours to kill. E had also never been to Mandalay Bay, so we pulled in there, walked the floor, and I turned $20 in the Burger Girl machine into $80, and turned that $80 into $200 at Blazing 7's. Slot wins! Sadly, this would be the high point of slot play for the weekend for me, and it didn't even cover my losses on them so far.

We wandered through Mandalay to the Luxor to Excalibur and out to The Strip. The goal was to find Joël (pronounced like Noël dammit) Robuchon so we could beeline it there later in the day when we came back to eat. Finding it wasn't an issue.

I took the opportunity to swing by M&M World to buy $80 worth of the little candies that melt in your mouth, not in your hands. Yes, $80 worth of M&Ms. Deal with it. I once again got a free dispenser with my ridiculous purchase.

Then to Walgreens to finally charge up my prepaid phone with minutes. This wrapped up all the "errands" I had to run on the trip. It was a small load off my shoulders.

The thing is, once you get to where the Walgreens is, it's a shorter walk to the Bellagio than Mandalay Bay... so we abandoned the car in favour of more time and walked back to the hotel, where we had just enough time to suit up for dinner.

Cab back to MGM and quick walk to the finest dining in Vegas, and one of the top in the States, if not the world. What can I say about this meal? It was simply amazing.

13 types of bread offered. 15 minutes of covering the cheeses available. 40 types of petit four for the taking. And those were just the carts. N and I both opted for the Menu Degustation - 16 or so course for $395. E went with the $195 Prix Fixe option. All of use were overwhelmed with the quality.

The room is the definition of lush. Firm purple couches. A massive chandelier. A bio wall that makes you forget that you're not sitting in a restaurant in the French countryside. Impeccable service and knowledge. And each dish an eye-opening taste of excellence. Hell, here's the menu. It shows 13 courses, but the carts add 3 more. If you ever have money to burn or win big enough to not care - go here. Just make sure you're dressed for it.

I'll probably be back, and will start saving now. :)

The meal took nearly 6 hours to finish. We changed down to protect the suits from the IP smoke cloud, and made it to the Palace around 1am. Lucky for me, it was Thursday night, also known as the night everyone gets in and stays up late. I started with a hug from Kat, a surprise attack hug from CK, handshakes with JJok, Ohcaptain, Schaubs, Iggy, Pauly, Falstaff, Peaker, Penner (either one), Otis, BamBam, Pebbles, and the list goes on and on of course. I gave the Wife instructions for drunken husband, drinks were drank, stories told, and a good time had by all. I can't remember if I gambled... I think I wandered off to lose at slots a bit. Regardless, it was 5am when I bid the room adieu and wandered back solo to my room for another solid 3 hours of sleep.

WPBT Report - Day 1

It's the same every time. Days before I leave, the tune gets stuck in my head. Then it fades as I rush around to get ready. Then, as the wheels lift and the plane starts climbing, a distant singing begins in my brain. It's as if the man is standing there on the Strip belting out the tune and I can just pick it up over the Toronto skies. As we approach, it gets louder and louder.

Bright light city gonna set my soul
Gonna set my soul on fire

I watch TV, movies, read, and usually doze off for a bit. But eventually I turn my head and look out the window. Blackness for miles starts to brighten. Outlines of mountains and valleys are barely visible. Then, a road, and a speckling of lights.

Got a whole lot of money that's ready to burn,
So get those stakes up higher

The smile that's been sporadically appearing on my face for the past few days starts to grow again. It has no intentions of leaving this time.

There's a thousand pretty women waitin' out there
And they're all livin' devil may care

Finally, the lights fill the window. Desert gives way to a civilization that has no right being there. Some of those lights are higher in the sky than others. Some spell words like "Flamingo" or "MGM", and one shoots straight into space. The songs starts hitting its crescendo.

And I'm just the devil with love to spare

We touch down, with The Strip looking close enough to touch. And I hear nothing but The King's voice going through my head.

Viva Las Vegas, Viva Las Vegas

I'm back baby. As sick as I get of Vegas after a weekend, there's no other feeling quite like the joy and anticipation of landing at McCarran. It's time for my 3rd WPBT Winter Gathering.

We got in Wednesday night, a full 12 hours earlier than usual. The flights were cheaper than the extra night in the hotel, that's +EV. N picked E and I up, having arrived a few hours earlier. First stop? In-N-Out Burger. Verdict? Decent fast food burger, fresh ingredients, and the worst fries I've had in a long time. They were pretty obviously overcooked in stale oil. Shame about that.

Then it was check-in time, where I was going to put in my first bet of the trip - $20 on upgrade. The line was short, but long enough for me to pull out President Jackson, fold him up, and make a sandwich with him and my cards. I handed that meal over to the middle-aged woman behind the counter, and the bill fell out in front of her. Without missing a beat, she picked it up and put it the side with just enough body language to let me know I was a winner.

"One or two beds? Smoking or non?"

Hmmm... info that is in my reservation already. Unless she's redoing it.

"Okay. We have you in a lakeview room on the 36th floor, which is the highest floor I have to give, and they're all suites. Tune to channel 22 to listen to the music for the fountain show, and at that level you can reach out your window and touch the fountains. I'm just kidding about the last bit. You will need your room card to access the floor."

WIN!

Standing next to me was N, with a reservation in his own name. I'd mentioned a couple times that I was dropping $20 to shoot for the upgrade. But he missed the part where I actually did it. I had mentioned he was checking in with me in the hopes I could spread some of the mojo his way. He neglected to provide any green paper to the woman, and was given a parking lot view on the 25th. Lesson learned.

The room was great. Fairly standard 2 queen layout, but a HIGH ceiling, on the top floor, dead-centre of the hotel (one room north of the middle column of the Bellagio). The Eiffel Tower across the road completed the scene. I'll have some pics to get up soon. For $90/night + $20 at check-in, this couldn't be beat.

Checked in, it was time to explore. E had never been to the Rio, and had an interest in the cocktail waitresses' outfits, so despite my warnings of it being a Wednesday, we went. And were disappointed by the lack of staff. So it was time to head to the IP, for I had heard rumours that they had craps there.

Dice were rolled, money was lost. There was a cute flirty girl from Alaska having a blast at the table. She couldn't remember where she got the fat lip from the night before, but we all assumed she won the fight. She left with some drunken skeezebag who wouldn't leave her alone. No, it wasn't me. It was 6am when we called it a night. When the staff says "you guys don't know when to quit" and accusing you of spreading lies and falsehoods when you announce that "this is my LAST roll!", you get the impression that it's time to get some sleep. Besides, we had to go ziplining in a few hours.

Rolling Rolling Rolling

As I mentioned last week, I spent the bulk of yesterday at Casino Niagara putting little plastic circles in various places on green felt while I or someone else threw clear red cubes with pips all over them across a table.

And it hit me as I bellied up to the rail that I haven't played craps since August, and that was in Atlantic City and was terrible. I hadn't played craps at Niagara since last year. It was a damned shame. My brain had taken the craps reflexes and shoved them in a dark little corner. I was placing minimum odds for the first few rolls, and felt like something was askew. Then I looked at the card - 3-4-5. It was all coming back. I confirmed that I could bet 3x odds on the 4 and 10 and the craps portion of my brain came leaping into the light, crying out in joy at his freedom.

The crew at Niagara was awesome as usual. Of course, it helps that when my group walks in, we turn a quiet, boring table into the most fun place in the house. Even on the cold streaks we're cheering and hollerin', joking with the crew, and showing the rest of the table what tipping is. They love us there.

And for the next 4.5 hours, we cheered ourselves hoarse and clapped our hands sore. And we didn't even win that much.

N drove E and myself there, and we started off warm, but things quickly cooled off. My $500 initial rack started to dwindle, climb back up, and dwindle again. It got to the point where I had around $28 left in front of me and N about to roll. I pulled out another $500, saying that I had faith in my buddy. Darryl, one of the top-notch crew (and who has been there EVERY time we've gone), pointed out that if I had faith, I wouldn't be reloading. I pointed out I needed the chips to bet on him.

I never touched that second rack. N went on a heater. Hitting 4 points for the fire bet and $125 to me ($5 fire bet on my friends). Breaking even was suddenly a possibility. M and his brother showed up around this time and brought new energy to the table, and the hot streak continued. By the time the dice went through the 5 of us, I was looking at a nice profit. The opposite end of the table had slowly warmed up to our revelry, but seemed afraid to roll... and they kinda sucked at it anyway. Except one older Asian guy who had high-fived N during his roll. That move alone had us up the volume when he got the dice. He was shocked, confused, and happy as a pig in shit when we started cheering him. The guy probably lost a few hundred bucks yesterday, but undoubtedly had more fun then he's ever had at a craps table.

The dice got back to N, and my profit was gone again. He went on another sweet roll, hitting 3 points and a lot of numbers in between, and our side once again turned it around. It went back and forth like this a few times, with us winning, and the other side of the table taking it away. We'd sucked in a random player to our side who was fist-bumping us whenever a point was hit. He was loving it too. The ups and downs continued, until the dice got to E for the last time. A conservative player who has no faith in his rolling, E always enjoys hitting the tables. He started his roll. 8......8. 5.....5. 8.....8. 9....9. 10.

The man was on the verge of our second fire bet hit for the day. The table was going nuts. He was having a blast. And he'd been hitting numbers between points like mad too. The 10 roll took a while, but with the bases loaded for me and my friends, we just kept raking it in regardless. Then.... HARD TEN! The table exploded! And he kept rolling! 4! C'MON 4!!!

But... 7 out. I looked down at my nearly $400 profit and we kept going. The next guy lost me around $100 and we called it a day, all of us happy with the results. -$475 to +$285 isn't a bad swing on a $5 table. Plus, we were starving.

We cashed out, and I couldn't resist the Blazing 7's, where I promptly lost $105.

Dinner - steak for the winners! Tanqueray No. 10 martini for yours truly. And it was decided we were going back!

Dinner wrapped up, M & his bro went home, well those of us who intend to have FUN in Vegas returned to the casino. The table was STILL $5 (unheard of for us - it's usually upped to $10 around 5 or 6 pm, and it was now 9), but our crew was gone, and we love our crew.

So I returned to the slots. Burger Girl! Where I went on a huge side game run and turned $20 into $90 on a quarter machine. I took that winning ticket and returned to the Blazing 7's that had taken my money earlier. In went the ticket, and out came $200 a few minutes later. BOOYA!

Off to Let it Ride! Oh how cold that was. Lucky for me, I had a 3-card wheel as I was getting ready to leave the table and $5 on the bonus. My loss had become tiny and I opted to up and leave the table.

To WAR! Easily the game that requires the least skill in the casino. It was mindless fun. Our first dealer was a bit of a downer, but he was soon replaced with Greg, who we engaged in banter immediately. He made what could be a boring game fun. I had been timing my bets horribly, increasing and losing, decreasing and winning. I was halfway through my stack and opted to finish off my reds and call it a night. Then the tied War happened, then another War was won. Suddenly I was even again, and it seemed like a good time to take off.

Up $335 on the day, which may not be a huge hourly rate, but it's tough to find another way to get paid for having fun. Vegas is right around the corner, and now I'm more psyched for it than before.

What AC Needs

So Pauly put up a link to this NY Times article about the "death spiral" of Atlantic City.

How appropriate.

It's a piece that touches on some of the problem areas of the city by the sea, but offers little in solutions or depth. What it does give the impression of, however, is that the decision-makers in town have absolutely no idea how to fix anything.

My suggestion? An enema.

Think big? Think HUGE. AC needs to be flushed out. Entire neighbourhoods, within a block of the boardwalk, need to be razed and rebuilt. The confusing and terrible road system in there needs to be redesigned. The garbage that is visible at every turn needs to be cleaned up.

In short - someone actually has to give a shit about the place.

And maybe, in that rectal torrent, they'll get the casino owner's heads out of their asses. My visit in August, a weekend where the biggest thing going on was the Atlantic City food festival with some celebrity chefs, floored me with the cost. Your boardwalk hotels - and there's not ONE that rises above a mid-level strip hotel in Vegas - were asking more per night than I've paid for twice the quality in the desert. Freebies? Ha. You can't even park for free. And the receipt-swap trick (pay for parking at one hotel, it's good for parking at another) isn't advertised anywhere.

And it's not like these are rookie operators. Harrah's doesn't know how to do the little things to keep people happy? I just lost $1000 in your casino, and now I'm being dinged $10 for parking? Fuck that.

The casino floors are so ultra-80's-cheesy that it hurts to walk through some of them. The smell of desperation saturates the air as you pass seniors pulling their pensions away.

There's a simple reason the Borgata is suffering less than the rest of the city - they have a fucking clue. They do it right. You walk onto the floor and feel like money. You want to wander around, see what the place has to offer, and eventually find a chair and offer up some lucre at the altar of the gambling gods.

The rest? They feel like the casinos your grandmother warned you about. Unsafe, dirty, and untrustworthy.

Burn it to the ground, collect the insurance, and build something people will want to visit. Not something where they want to find a clean shower to wash off the filth and despair they've absorbed during their brief stay.

Yet still, I keep eying the cheap flights from YYZ to ACY...

V-E-G- you know the rest

And it ain't "etarian"

VEGAS BABY!

Here I still, still bitching about by Atlantic City losses, still blowing New Jersey germs into clean Canadian tissues, and the lovely, talented, far-more-organized-than-me April goes and lets us know there's a WPBT tournament scheduled for... December 12th! At Caesars!

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOYA!

Funny thing is, I was just writing up the e-mail to my usual gang of friends about it before the news hit.

Flights are now in the somewhat reasonable range from Toronto, but still far from the deals of last year.

Doesn't matter though. *I'LL* be there. Harrah's is giving me my money back dammit! That, or someone across the table is.

AC Endgame - Where The Cash Runs Out

It's 9:30 when the alarm goes off. N and I are both down over a grand. No big deal in the larger scheme of things, but still more than either of us have been stuck in the past. Usually by this point I've hit a big slot win, had a great craps run, or cashed in a tournament to make up loses and then some. Not so much this time.

But it's a new day! We're checking out of the Slodge and moving to Caesars for the last night. We boldly speak of how the casinos will be our bitch this time, while secretly knowing we're going home busto.

We leave and head into town. It's prime checkout time, so we opt to drive around a bit before heading to Caesars. First stop? Harrah's. We wander around, grab some lunch at the deli, and opt not to spend a dime in the casino - It's the closest thing to a win we've seen. On our way out, we once again recoil in horror at the ugliness that is the Trump Marina. Never have I seen so ugly an exterior for a casino. It looks like government building that you suspect has a very dirty swimming pool in it.

Next? Might as well take a look at the Tropicana. We're both surprisingly impressed by their effort at the theme. Sure, the casino is old, but we've been in far, FAR worse, and they've obviously made an effort to keep the property in decent shape. I guess new owners will do that. A few bucks were dropped on terrible slots, but there was still no desire to drop cash on a table, although the surprisingly packed poker room was tempting.

Off to Caesars, in a storm. Once again, someone turned the sprinklers onto full, and the ramps in the parking garage were one large waterslide. We made it outside and already people were pulled over. Stranded women in the rain looked like they could use the wash, and rivers of garbage flowed alongside us. AC was getting powerwashed in front of our eyes.

The drive to Caesars was easy enough, and 10 floors up, we finally found a parking spot. I was surprised that parking would be at such a premium on a Sunday. We checked in without incident, and were amazed at how terrible the elevator alcove was. As I expected, our room was around a couple corners, at the end of the hall, by the fire exit, with frosted windows that don't open in order to protect us from the view. Ah, discounted rooms for Total Rewards members.

I opted to pay for the wireless (it's free at the Slodge, but costs $13 for 24 hours at Caesars... yah....), to see if LJ was going to make it down. No dice, but I don't blame her. Between terrible weather, WSOP burnout, and her general stress level over the past few days, a pretty strong case could be made.

We wandered down to the casino and went straight through to the candy store in the Pier shops. I needed me some M&M's of odd colours. After I had loaded up a couple bags of M&M's, I made my way to the Jelly Belly section and proceeded to load up on the best jelly beans in the world (I may have a bit of a sweet tooth). The woman at the cash had been eyeing me with great suspicion the whole time and finally walked over.

"You do know it's $11.99/lb, right?"

"Yup."

"Oh, okay."

And she was gone. I had expected this brief exchange much earlier, as they no doubt have people walk away when the bill is tallied, leaving them to resort the mixed up bag of candy into the appropriate colours. This is much harder for Jelly Bellies as different flavours sometimes share colours. $60 of candy later, I was out of the store and off to buy fudge and taffy. That came to another $20. $80 in candy has a way of taking away some of the pain of losing.

With our purchases dropped off in the room, it was FINALLY time to do a little gambling.

Except it was now 4:30pm, and dinner was coming up soon. So I hit the "restaurant reservations" button the phone and asked for a reservation at Buddokan. First, it turns out that button doesn't quite put you in the right place, as I think I ended up at the front desk. After a transfer, I was informed "we don't make those reservations, but we can give you the number."

Now I know I'm a nobody. The amount of money I gamble in a given YEAR doesn't amount to 10% of a moderately high-roller's buy-in for a single craps session, but I'm still a customer, still a member of your loyalty program, and still fairly annoyed by AC's overall ghetto-Vegas atmosphere. There's a restaurant in your shopping complex, attached to your hotel, and I want a reservation. You can put me on hold and call the damned restaurant yourself and spend the 20 seconds making the reservation.

But no, I got the number, and the reservation was made.

With about an hour and half before the res, we opted for... craps. Now, Caesars was ROCKING the craps tables. 11 tables going strong, most of them $10. We saddled up to one that felt good and played. There were some minor ups, and even half an orbit of warmth. Then it got downright chilly. In the next round, I was the only roller to hit anything (2 points), and even that was too quick to make serious cash. At least we got our hour and half out of it, but coloured up and cashed out down a bit more.

Dinner was, once again, great. Some solid "family-style" serving of chicken and ginger gyoza, kobe beef satay, edamame, lamb chops, and wasabi-crusted kobe steak. I had a hard time saying no to the banana tower for dessert, and N enjoyed the mini donuts filled with sweet cream. Unlike Sea Blue though, we weren't bursting at the seams from the volume of food.

Finally, FINALLY, came some more poker. We opted to ease back in with the 8:15 tournament at Caesars... which turned out to be a 14-man affair that wouldn't last long. I built up a nice chip stack through card-rackage and we merged tables at 10 people. N quickly became the chip leader in a killer hand where he had AA vs AK and KK all-in. Nice job there. I maintained a solid stack until a series of hands against shorties that re-raised all-in for less than my "get the shorty out of the hand" bets. Soon enough, I found myself near the bottom of our very short-handed table. In the end, I went on the bubble, to be later berated by N (who chopped 50-50 HU + extra from the other guy to cover N's withholding tax). AC charges taxes differently than Vegas it seems, and I think N got screwed by it (not the chop, but the casino). 30% off ANY winnings and BEFORE dealer tips, whereas Vegas is anything over $1200 and AFTER tips. Lemon.

While N was cleaning up at the tourney, I was sitting down at the cash games. I was playing it tight for a while, and chipped up nicely when I took down a couple pots (QQ that became 666QQ vs nothing against an all-in and AK vs KT or something), but generally played as weakly as the rest of the table.

My ass was saved at one point when my 48s hit the 6s5s7o flop. The turn didn't help, but all the money got in with my 2nd nut straight and straight flush redraw. The 9o on the river saved my ass when my opponent flipped over 89o for the nut straight that now split with me.

This pissed him off to no end, but I silently didn't tell him that it was minor compared to the straight he spiked on the river and orbit earlier against me for 1/3 of my chips.

As the night wore on, my stack wore down. I finally woke up to how shitty I was playing and upped the aggression. This worked nicely, bringing me up to mostly even before they broke the table at 4am. Sadly, even is not a win.

I decided to end my gambling for the trip with a visit to a slot machine I've never played... Hot Hot Penny. Yes, the official slots of Buddydank Radio, and the Buddy-Joanada union of bliss. This is, without a doubt, the most insane slot machine I've ever played. In no time at all, I had taken $30 to $200, and then dropped it back to $100 before going back to $160 and then down to $0 to end the night. I have no ideo what happened, what won, or how ANY of it works, but it's nuts... and far too much fun.

To bed, with a 9am alarm waiting for me. It felt like I slept for 5 minutes before than infernal sound started going. It took a full hour before I actually woke up, and then "rushed" (read: didn't rush) around getting ready. Some souvenir shopping also had to take place, and we were finally on the road around noon... which meant any dreams of making it back to Hertz on time would be shattered.

Sure enough, we got to the airport at 2:20, and were dinged with $70 in overage charges... $93/day to rent, $70 if you're an hour late. I fucking hate rental companies. I'm done with Hertz too, after they pulled the "oh, you'll have to talk to the manager" and then make us wait until we HAVE to leave to catch our 4pm flight. Nice move asswipes. I have to make that phone call soon.

Lunch at the bar by the gate, on our slightly delayed flight, and home before supper. Much like Vegas on the last day, there was no place I wanted to be more than... home.

So AC, you win this round. You took a couple grand out of my pocket, but you're just keeping it warm. Next time, I'm flying right into your heart and then I'll rip it out with my bare hands.

AC Day 2 - The Slope Continues

Up at 10:30 after hitting the pillow at 4am. I consider that an oversleep for gambling time.

We met Dawn and Mary at the Showboat tables, said hi, and we moved on to exploring the sauna outside along the boardwalk. One long walk, some pictures, a blister, and a meal at Johnny Rockets' later, we continued our search for $5 craps. Alas, such a thing seem to be a non-entity in AC. Boo to that. We settled on a $10 table in the Boat and Dawn swung by to learn the game.

She sucks as a student. After explaining 12 times that 7 is only good before the point, and bad after point, she was still surprised when she rolled a 7 and they took her money away. She became even more confused when I threw out my customary "I have no singles" crew tip - two-way hardways with a hi-lo for the crew. I'm a generous soul. Of course, Dawn was wondering when my half-fat double latte was coming after I seemingly ordered coffee from the stick girl. She left to play poker, being thoroughly confused, in a legendary fashion, by the best table game on the floor.

Except that Craps can suck it. N & I were down hard, but were at least entertained by the drunk woman (not Dawn) who was berating the stick girl. She'd been cut off (the drunk, not the stick) and left to await sobriety at a video poker machine she wasn't playing. She figured that stumbling over to the craps table and attacking the petite asian girl would be the best way to get service. A man in a suit came and tried to talk her into waiting some more for her "drink", but just then the waitress came by and let the supervisor know she had been cut off. He gave the "I KNOW that, and I'm sending security, not you" look, but the waitress was too dumb to pick up on it and told him as loudly as possible that the woman was cut off, in front of the woman... leading to an all-out brawl that tore up the casino. Or more accurately, some shouting, and the drunk returning to her seat at the video poker machine she wasn't playing.

But would it end there? NO! Some drunk guy decided to then yell at the stick girl and the pit boss (who hadn't been involved) that if "she wants a fucking drink, you should give her a fucking drink!" These two should sober up and write a book on how to annoy paying patrons and get your ass kicked out of the casino.

The bad mojo ruined the table, and THAT was when Dawn left. Oh, and also, they were raising the limit to $15, which sucks balls and gets people to go away.

N and I lost more money over at the Taj, but not before winning a bunch first that we promptly gave back. He busted out and I was down to scraps when my roll came up and I promptly won back my losses for that table. This got N back in to lose a few hundred more before we called it a night for gambling.

We swung back to the Boat, found Dawn and Mary still at the table (some 10-11 hours at this point), and decided to wait until they wrapped up. A little video poker rejuvinated the spirits, even though I lost, because there was some value in the time spent. Then the search for food was on.

Dawn hates the House of Blues, so naturally I suggested we go there. If lasers could be shot out of eyes, my skull would have two holes in it. Then again, if lasers could be shot out of eyes, my skull would have been obliterated years ago by the people I've gotten that look from.

We opted for the themed restaurant next door instead - The Ha ck. Some know it as The Hard Rock, but there were letters missing.

20 minute wait, screw that! Instead we spent 3.5 hours walking the boardwalk seeking food. Megan's looked promising until the waiter told us we'd never get full eating their paltry bar food now that dinner was over. Off to the Pier for The Trinity Irish Pub. A pretty solid prime rib was had by me, but the lack of Kilkenny was shocking.

See, in Toronto, you can't find a pub that has Guinness but NOT Kilkenny. In the States? Aparently the creamy and delicious sibling of Guinness can't be found. At least the waitress knew what I was talking about, having been to Ireland. No wonder America is failing. Mary was appreciative of my plight, being an anglophile and all, and it was good to have one other person at the table sympathize with me.

Anyway, food was good, as was, once again, the conversation and laughs. I think Dawn has a problem though - she was tweeting during dinner, but her blackberry was dead, so she simply tweeted in the air, as if she was holding her precious device. I opted to tweet just because she couldn't. I'm awesome like that.

We did the 12 hour walk back to the Boat, with Dawn getting some Ben & Jerry's by shoving three old ladies and a blind parapalegic out of her way because they were taking too long to finish their orders for Cherry Garcia. She smashed the glass with one old lady's walker and scooped half a tub of caramel-caramel-caramel ice cream with extra caramel sauce into her custom ice cream cup before flipping off the cashier and then flipping them a quarter so they could call their mother or something. The details are fuzzy due to the running away and the dead fish smell at that portion of the boardwalk.

We made it back to the Boat, told security some terrorists dressed as cops were chasing us and made it to the parking garage in time to escape. The four of us decided to split up, with N and I heading to our car, and Mary and Dawn escaping to New York (a place movies had led me to believe you escape FROM). We said our goodbyes and left the flashing lights in the rearview mirror.

N and I decided to head to the Borg, and this time we did so with minimal getting lost. The place was rocking. So now I know where all the hot waitresses are. The Borg figured it out right - AC is an escape, just lower-rent than Vegas, and people don't want to see 45 year-old overweight women brining them their drinks. They want hotties. No wonder it's got all the press and Trump can't make a buck on the boardwalk. We wandered to the poker room, and N chickened out when he saw the sharks swimming in the water. I tried to explain that this might be the only time building a table image might MEAN something in AC, but after his monumental craps losses, he just couldn't bring himself to wager any more of significance that night. So we hit the video poker again. I've never played video poker away from a barstool before this trip, and let me tell you - it's a lot less fun. Maybe that has to do with the continued losing though.

2am rolled around and we called it a night, opting to get up early to check out and start gambling sooner.

But the dude who came over to talk to us in the back lot of the Slodge delayed these plans somewhat.

"Atlaaantic City baby!" is the cry we heard as we climbed out of the 'stang. "Atlantic City".

You know what's hard to see? A black guy in dark clothes under a tree at 2am. But he made sure we could hear him.

"You guys having a good time?"

"We've had better, knew it was time to leave when we ran out of money."

He walks over.

"Man, I came her to relax a bit, have some fun. Left the female at home this time. But ain't won a thing."

This is now confirming my belief he's a broke drunk degenerate looking for a handout, the "we're broke from the casinos" story will stay in force. Not hard, since it's mostly true.

"Yah, we hear ya. Never been this stuck before. Just not a good weekend for playing the tables."

"Yah man, I came down here before with my female, you know? And the first, FIRST slot machine I play, I win $7000. SEVEN THOUSAND DOLLARS. Man, I got that shit out of there fast. They all wanted me to stay, and put me up in a suite, and all this crazy shit."

"Of course man, they want you to give them their money back"

"Damn, yah! But I ain't falling for it. They say I can go think about it and let them know, so I get out of there to 'think about it' ya know? But this time, this time I lost what I brought. But you know the trick? You gotta only bring what you can lose. I leave all my credit cards, atm, all that at home when I come here. Where you guys from?"

"Canada"

"Canada, huh? I'm from DC myself. I left the female at home this time, ya know? But I can't win shit. I just want to come here, have some fun, and I can't even get my dick sucked man! I mean, when you lose, you can't get your dick sucked! I got 11 inches right here [grabs] and ain't no girls wanna suck me! When I won, I could've got my dick sucked, but not now!"

We look away from the grabbing and shift nervously... this just got weird. "Uh, yah... that's tough."

"Man, 11 inches! I mean, there's girls out there who LOVE to suck dick. The get all on it, and deepthroat it man, shiiit. You know you love that. Hot girl, wants to suck your dick, and she can all deepthroat it and shit"

He hasn't really stopped grabbing... we look for an exit, but this continues... 11 inches, deepthroat, can't get my dick sucked, etc.. He finally stops to take a breath.

"What you gonna do man? Well, good luck finding someone to do that for you."

"Yah man, hey how long you here?"

"We should have left yesterday after today's losses." We're walking away... about 5-10 ft at this point.

"Hey, hey! What's your room number? You know you'd say yes if some hot lady wanted to suck your dick. She's hot and can deepthroat and shit. You know, free of charge, and all clean and shit."

"Goodnight!" We're walking up the stairs. He gets louder, and it's after 2am.

"Hey, what's your room number? If I find some ladies, I'll send 'em over your way... you now you'd say yes if they wanted to suck your dick!"

N walks to the room door (which is facing the lot) and goes in, I follow and lock the door behind us. Then I suggest that next time he may want to go around the corner so the guy can't see where our room is, because if there's knocking in an hour, I ain't answering.

N thinks the guy was a pimp, I think he was dressed like a nearly homeless drunk, and might just be crazy. But the pimp theory does hold some water. Regardless, it was all a bit odd, and if anyone came knocking, I slept through it... although we were debating if a chair against the door might not be a bad idea.

Because an important rule is: If a pimp offers you something for free, you're gonna get rolled at best.

AC Day 1 - The Start of the Downward Slope

I was running a little bit behind. Every day of my life starts like that though, so it isn't really new.

I was well within both the range of time I'd agreed to meet N, and to make the flight, so I wasn't very worried. After the shortest ferry ride in the world (seriously - it's in the book), I was in line for the flight from YTZ-EWR. We were told we'd be moved up a flight. The 10:15 instead of the 11:15. Except that it was 10:05 at the time. When I asked why, we were informed of the fear of rain delays on the other side. Okay then.

I wasn't overly pleased though. I'd been looking forward to relaxing in the Porter lounge with a coffee and some snacks. An earlier departure also royally screwed us on the rental, because of the 24 hour days most companies measure in.

The 10:15 left around 10:40. We were in around noon. The 11:15? Cancelled with any remaining passengers shunted to 1:30. I was now quite happy with the 10:15.

Except for Hertz.

I get given the bill, and it's around $100 high. I asky why? "Extra hour on the last day". Take it off. Okay. We go to the prescribed spot, and what we got sure as hell wasn't a Mustang. It was a Pontiac G6. We returned to the desk. Manager-type is all apologetic and switches our contract to the right car. A few dings and scratches, and a cigarette burn in the driver's seat (and a couple filthy seats to boot) weren't a major concern, but got marked regardless. We were on our way.

And promptly got lost looking for the alley Google told me to go down for a camera store. Blackberry/Google/GPS combo to the rescue though, and the ghetto camera stores were found and quickly abandonded as possible places to find what I was looking for.

We got lost finding our way back on the highway. We had little desire to enter Manhattan, so found our way to turn around and head in the right direction. No worries from there on out until the next camera store stop. They had monopods, they had carbon fibre tripods, they did not have the models I was interested in. Ah well. Back on the road... after a quick Wendy's stop. The various detours and stops had managed to land us into some sort of rush hour. Another detour was taken to avoid traffic, the highway rejoined, and we were on the move.

Until the storm hit. A couple drops to a torrential downpour in seconds. Flashers on by everyone and a speed drop of 30 miles or more as we crawled through the storm. I opted not to stop, as we were already well behind schedule, and it was the right move. We pulled into the Slodge shortly after 6, checked in, and headed out for dinner with Dawn and Mary at Sea Blue. Then we got lost in the attempt to find the Borgata.

Oh, we could see it. But actually getting to it? That's a whole new challenge. It's on its little island of AC, that can only reached by asking the right questions of the guards, one of whom only tells the truth, and the other only lies. That, or you take the highway that promises a toll road, but doesn't mention that the toll comes FAR after the turn off to the Borgata.

We finally found our way to the Borg, the parking lot, and a powerwalked through the casino, a mere 20 minutes late for the reservation. An exasperated Dawn and Mary were already 3 sheets to the wind drunk and raging against the poor hostess until we stepped in and saved the staff. They rewarded us with oysters, except for Dawn, who got a dollop of Cheez Whiz on a Ritz cracker, because she told a racist joke.

At least, that's how I remember it. The video may show some other lie.

Dinner was great, but not quite up to the expectations I'd been lead to. It was all a touch... bland (excpet maybe the sea bass with miso glaze in a mushroom broth). Good, but perhaps too reliant on the flavours of the ingredients themselves without complimenting them with a touch of seasoning. N and I wanted the tasting menu, and N was busy talking the waiter into serving just the two of us instead of the whole table because Mary and Dawn wanted a la carte, when they both decided to be easy and go with the tasting. Now I must recreate the recipes for them in payment for their sacrifice.

Any shortcomings (and to be honest, the meal was excellent, just not super-excellent) were hidden by the riotous conversations being had by the four of us. Much of which is on Twitter @realdawnsummers. None of it from me, for I can't stir my coffee and tweet at the same time.

The time was about right to had to the Taj for the Midnight Madness. A not-terrible cheapo tourney that starts at 12:15 (obviously, that's why it's called the Midnight+15 minutes Madness). I have never been so card dead, and considering how quickly the thing turns to a pushfest (20 minutes after the break), that's saying something. I had pocket aces on the FIRST hand, won a decent-sized pot, and then saw nothing more playable than 77 the entire night. Ah well.

But at least we had a quasi-newbie at the table to entertain me. Woman who had "fish" written all over her and had obviously never played live poker before... or at least never raised.

When the blinds were 50-100, she started standard raising to 300. No big deal. Except for the time she tossed out a 500 chip without saying anything, and it was taken as a call. "But that's a 500 chip!" "If you don't indicate you're raising, then one big chip is just a call." "That's stupid." Everyone at the table: "That's the rule." "Oh." So a few hands later and the blinds at 100-200 she picks up her 500 chip and says, "FIVE. HUNDRED." and we all snicker a little because she's being funny and angry at the same time. Dealer grins and nods and play continues.

The blinds, going up every 20 minutes (or ONE orbit of play, what a slow table), get to 200-400, and there's a new dealer. The woman, who by this point has been pegged as a fish by everyone, not only because of her lack of raising etiquette, but the fact she was betting 300 into the pot on the flop no matter how many chips or players there were (2000 chips? 4 players behind? 300), and calling down the to the river with brilliant hands like KJo unimproved. If anyone had a pair, they were happy to pay against her. Anyway, 200-400, pre-flop, and she puts out the 500 chip and says "five hundred". Except, of course, 500 isn't a raise any more. Dealer says, "That's a call, minimum raise is to 800". "Oh, sorry, 800 then." "Too late." "WHAT?" Rest of the table : "You didn't say 'raise', so it's a call." "HUH?" Dealer: "Just say 'raise' when you want to raise honey, and you'll be fine." Me: "Just only say 'raise', no other words." Naturally, there are some more callers to her limp. Play continues. A little while later, at 300-600, play goes around to another guy, who tosses out a 1k chip and a 100 for 1100. Dealer points out blinds are now 300-600 and min is 1200. He apologizes and tops off the bet. Woman now starts to go a bit nuts - "How come THAT is a raise but mine wasn't??" "Because he bet more than half the big blind, and used two chips, so the raise was obvious." "This doesn't make any sense. This is dumb." Rest of the table : "No, YOU are dumb" (not really). Rest of table: "She's right, those are the rules." Woman fumes. But continues to play terrible poker until her final hand.

Rock in the corner limps, and so does she. Flop comes A29. Rock checks, she bets 2k into a 4.5k pot, rock checkraises to 5k, she thinks and calls. Turn comes A, rock puts her all in, she thinks and calls. Cards flip over, rock has AT, she has K9?? "I didn't believe you... ah well" river pairs the 2 for the Aces full boat, and she's done. As soon as she's gone from the room the table erupts - "Well, that wasn't unexpected" "How terrible was she?" "Pot's 3000? I bet 300." "I don't know how many times I had to call with my crap draws because she gave me odds." "I can't believe you won with 77 on that one hand against her... no wait, I can." Poor lady who sucks at poker.

Toss in a couple hundred in slot losses, and my first night in AC was not a promising start gambling-wise.

That Took A While

Tomorrow I'm off to Atlantic City!

I get into Newark around 12:45, pick up the car, and head south.

Probably swing by a few camera stores on the way in search of a monopod. There's a couple on Elizabeth in Newark, and one more on the way that may be worthwhile. Or not. What do I know? Not much.

Check in, head out, meet up with Dawn and Mary, grab some grub, and then gamble it up.

Taj midnight seems to be the first call. Since dinner is at 7, I think I could squeeze some craps in there too. "Squeeze some craps" should never be said again.

That's about it as far as planning goes. Saturday's looking like it could actually be dry and sunny out, which lends itself to me grabbing the camera and heading to the boardwalk. Maybe there will be mini-golf. There should be salt water taffy and fudge. The type made with chocolate and sugar and stuff, not the dirty kind. Freak.

Of course, there will be more gambling, eating, and I might have a beverage or two.

Sunday? Well, looks like LJ may make an appearance, assuming she isn't arrested for going on a killing spree at her local Sears first. The continuation of nebulous "plans" will proceed with some combination of hanging out, gambling, eating, and drinking. We also move to Caesar's from the Slodge that night. Yay Total Rewards card.

Then Monday we grab grub and head home. This should be a long, fun, and ultimately refreshing (in an exhausting, body-killing way) long weekend. I'm looking forward to it.

I still think you should be there. Whoever you are.

Lottery Switch

Let's see... I play poker (badly), craps (not so badly), and slots (far too well to be comfortable with it). I also, on occasion, drop a couple bucks on the lottery.

A sucker's game? Sure. Remember how I said I play the slots too? Shut up.

Canadian lotteries suck a little bit. I think the biggest prize ever was around $54 million. Compared to the hundreds of millions in the US multi-state lotteries, this looks like chump change.

Except we get to keep it all. No taxes on it. No annuity payouts. Just, "here's your cheque for $54 million sir." So there's that going for it.

There are two major lotteries. 6/49 and Super 7. Super 7 being a "choose 7 of 47" lotto.

6/49 is $2 for 1 pick of 6. Super 7 is $2 for 1 pick of 7 + 2 quick pick lines, for 3 sets of numbers total.

6/49 odds? 1:13.9 million
Super 7 odds? 1:20.9 million

Meaning that anything under $27.8 million in 6/49 isn't really mathematically worth it if you think only of the jackpot. Super 7 has a higher goal of $41.8 million, which it seldom reaches.

Still better odds than Powerball.

But the lottery corp is dropping Super 7 for something called Lotto Max, which sounds like a terrible name that was invented so it wouldn't have to be translated into French.

It smells even more scammy than most lotteries.

$5 per play. 3 set of numbers. 7/49. That would be 1:28.6 million odds.

Or a $143 million EV to be worthwhile.

Jackpots start at $10 million. And continue to rise until won or hitting $50 million. At $50 million, they start a series of secondary prizes of $1 million each, with seperate draws and winners. It's not clear if they keep rolling unwon money into the next week's total jackpot, or if there's a $50 million cap.

If there's a cap, then it will NEVER be worth the $5.

Plus, $5 doesn't strike me as a good number. People complained when 6/49 went up to $2 from $1, even though they increased the jackpots accordingly. People don't mind dropping a $2 coin on the counter for a lotter ticket. A $5 bill has a different attachment, and in these times, it's pretty strong for the prime lottery players.

The desperate, the retired savers, the spur-of-the-moment buyers, the "we play the same numbers every week" groups - that's a 150% increase in cost to them. The groups at work that pool their toonies together? They just cut the number of tickets they'll buy to keep the cost the same.

So the potential is there that the odds, which are worse, never line up for proper EV, the cost is higher, and the payouts are more confusing.

I think we have a loser of a game on our hands here folks. Layering bonuses and confusing extras on a game only works when people think it's affordable. The grandmas pushing "max bet" on the penny slots don't realize they're spending the same as me pushing "max bet" on the $1 slots. But they think they're only paying pennies, and winning dollars. I know how much I'm flushing down the drain.

A $5 lottery that nobody really understands the payouts of? I expect a boost in 6/49 sales.