Post-Labor Day Trip
Just returned from my first Vegas trip in two years and I need sleep badly, but I will try to write some of this report before I nod off and forget half of it. This was my first solo trip, and it was great to have the freedom to just sit at the tables, all day and night, for four days/three nights on the mid-week cheap. My wife is very understanding.
I’ll post this in four installments.
Day 1:
I arrive around 4:30 pm and check into the opulent Imperial Palace for three nights at $47 per. Yes, it’s a dive. But you can’t beat the location, and all rooms look the same when you are sleeping. Why spend real money on a room in Vegas when your wife isn’t with you?
Anyway, I catch the monorail to the Sahara for the 7 p.m. tourney, and because I am 45 minutes early I decide to sit in the 2/4 limit game to kill time. I ask the waitress for a Heineken and am informed that imported beers are unavailable in the poker room. What? People are drinking imports all over the casino floor, but I can’t get a Heineken because “we don’t make enough money off the poker room.” Strike one for the Sahara.
(Also, I have nothing against 60 year-old cocktail waitresses, but they shouldn’t be required to wear sexy little outfits like this poor woman was. I felt sorry for her.)
So I resign myself to big-vat American swill and continue with this silly 2/4 game.
A couple of other guys at the table are also waiting for the tourney. They appear to be friends. They begin talking about their seat selection. They compare the cards they’ve each drawn, and one guy tells the other to go draw another seat, one at his own table.
So the other guy gets up, goes to the desk, and comes back with a new card, giving him a seat at his buddy’s table! Not only that, but his buddy derides him for not taking the seat right next to him so they can work together! The dealer says nothing. No other players react. Apparently, this is how tournaments go at the Sahara. Strike two for the Sahara.
I am debating asking for my money back and leaving immediately, but I tell myself that it’s only $42 and remember the positives I have read online about this alleged donkeyfest. Finally, the tourney starts, I cash in for +$7 and take my seat.
Things go surprisingly well. I play super tight in the early rounds, watching the fireworks, doubling up once with AA over QQ all-in preflop, and dragging a couple small pots with late-position post-flop moves. No one wants to call my infrequent stabs from late position at modest pots. Our table happens to have six to seven original players who play fairly late into the tourney, as the management rotates players from broken tables through the meat grinder that is our table. So I am able to actually establish a fairly solid table image even though it is a tourney situation.
Later, I catch some cheap flops and double up through a couple early-position, post-flop desperados with bad timing.
With three tables left, I am seated across from the would-be colluder. I raise his big blind three rotations in a row with all-in moves (with big pairs every time, too, as a matter of fact). The fourth time, I have AK, and he calls with AJ. It’s karma, baby. I win, but I don’t have enough chips to bust him.
At the final table, I am one of three very short stacks, and it is survival time. I concede defeat and resolve to play to maximize my cashout, and not to win. Let the fireworks begin.
Mr. Colluder goes out around ninth when I am nearly down to the felt. Then, with the blinds at 5K/10K, I survive with Q8o in the BB with only 3K back (pair of eights wins over AQ!). Then, at 10K/20K, I catch QQ twice in three hands, and they hold up both times. Is it destiny?
No. Within 15 minutes, with timely luck and tight play (folding A9, KJ just to watch other players put themselves out), I go out in 5th place and cash for $372 (minus tip). I walk straight to the monorail, vowing that I will never play in that room again.
I will admit, however, that it appears to be a soft tournament with a good amount of fast weak play balanced out by some solid but predictable players. Also, it is obviously a cheap entry with a big field. I believe there were 105 entrants, and it was regarded as just another slow Monday night by the regulars in the room.
So it’s late, and I’m tired from my travel, etc. So I figure I’ll just check the poker room at the IP for a 1/2 NL game that I can play for an hour or two before crawling to the elevators. Sure enough, there is a horrible-looking game going, but I sit anyway.
The guy on my left is coughing and sneezing incessantly, picking his nose and spitting into a tissue. He sounds like a bulldog with TB. It is disgusting, and I don’t want to spend my Vegas trip in the sick bed, so I split after two rotations. The sympathetic floor manager graciously offers me hand sanitizer. No joke.
Still not sure if I am ready for bed, I wander over to the Mirage and find what appears to be a good game, but I am basically ignored by the floor manager for 5 minutes at the desk, so I say screw it and go home to get some sleep.
There was no single hand that was really good enough to elaborate upon today.
Up $360 for the day and for the trip.
So far, so good.
Day 2:
Today my goal is to find a good 1/2 NL game that I can sit in comfortably with my bankroll, which has now swelled. I am ready to roll by 9:30 am.
I check the poker room next door at Harrah’s, but the room looks somber. It is closed off from the casino by glass walls, and the mopes at the one active table are indeed playing 1/2 NL, but no one is talking, drinking, or smiling. Every player looks miserable. A couple of them see me through the glass and stare desperately, like they need to be rescued. I flee.
Next stop, the Flamingo. Now this looks like fun. The room is relatively loud, as it is right off the main casino floor, but the 1/2 game looks fun and social. I sit and begin what turns out to be a 16-hour session (with one break for dinner). The game is perfect: very passive pre-flop with occasional raises to $7 or $10, and then some loose aggression after the flop from most of the players. Very friendly and social, nearly all tourists with low calling standards and few pretenses about their poker abilities.
I reckon that I am the second or third tightest player at the table, depending on the lineup, but my table image is much tighter than this. Guys are remarking on my “tight” play, etc. Unfortunately, I have few opportunities to capitalize on my table image due to poor cards and untimely drunken lunacy.
For example, one guy in particular would occasionally make a post-flop bet or raise that was so enormous that it made it impossible to rationalize a call. I’m talking $80 raises into pots that are 3 to 10 dollars. I folded a lot of decent but unexceptional hands to this craziness.
Crazy Guy was not doing this every hand. He was just doing it enough to take it down most of the time that he did it. He was winning a lot of hands, too. In fact, he and another guy were killing the table. Crazy Guy had bought in for $200 and had about $1,400 in front of him at one point.
Also, there was a crazy young guy from Florida throwing pre-flop money around on the table. He was friendly enough, and he was easy to handle -- he folded to most bets on the flop. I noted, though, that he was incredibly rude to his wife on the cell phone, and when she came by the table to visit him I saw that she was a pretty young thing. Very sexy. More about him and her later.
During this entire marathon session, I was generally up or down only $100 or so, just laughing my ass off at Crazy Guy’s good-natured drunken banter, and waiting for a spot. But it never came.
Finally, around 3:30 a.m., I get QsQd in middle position. Crazy Guy limps in front of me and I raise to $20. One caller behind me, and Crazy guy calls.
Flop is 7 4 2 rainbow with two spades. Crazy guy, with huge stacks, bets $85 into the $67 pot. I raise all in for my remaining $145, and I lose when his nut flush draw catches on the turn.
I bust out down $390 for the day. Very frustrating, but I had a great time and felt very comfortable in the room. I knew I’d be back.
Stopped by the IP poker room on the way back to bed and sat 1/2 NL late night for about 30 minutes, dropping another $27. God that room is horrible. It is tiny, cramped, loud, and the players are unspeakably bad. It makes it very difficult when every player at the table is limping with any two cards. And if you happen to fold five hands in a row (“fold”? what’s that?), they get scared and won’t play a pot with you anyway because apparently folding is something only professionals do.
Also, I saw a waitress only once during the whole 45 minutes I was in there, despite the fact that the room is right next to a service bar. The management, however, was very attentive, nice, and professional. The hand sanitizer was magnificent.
Down about $417 for the day. Down about $57 for the trip.
Day 3:
The day begins around 10:30 a.m. with a walking tour of the neighboring casinos. At the Mirage, there is one 3/6 game going and nothing else. I take the tram to TI, where my brother has encouraged me to play. I have never seen the room, but I’ve read a lot about it at allvegaspoker.com.
The room is in a good location, off the casino floor in a quiet room near the tram. There is one 1/3 NL game going, so I railbird a while and then decide what the hell, I’ll see a few hands.
I buy into the always-hated one seat for $300. On my left are three young guys who are looking very tired after a long night into day. They are all playing a lot of hands. The 3 and 4 have modest stacks, but the 2 on my direct left is loaded with about 2,200 and is talking smack. The other five players appear to be early morning rocks, hoping to take these would-be sharks with the nuts. They are folding machines.
The 2 seat begins jabbering right away, making a remark about my muffin and coffee. Then he straddles my first blind when it comes around. I play three rotations, catch nothing, and cash out minus $8. I’ll have to give the TI poker room another shake when the room is actually alive with games. The room is nice enough, but this particular game sucked, so I had to move on.
Now I want to check out the Venetian and then Caesar’s. I love both of these casinos, and the poker rooms do not disappoint. They are both spacious and comfortable, well lit, well furnished, and the managements are attentive and nice. One thing, though: there is no place to railbird in either place. The tables are removed from close observation from the rest of the casino, or even from the front desk areas. This makes each table more intimate and quiet, but the cost is the ability of players to first observe a game to see if they want to get into it. This helps sell poker and fill poker seats, IMO, but I understand that many people would prefer to be removed from railbirds. To each their own.
But because I didn’t really have a chance to watch a game for a bit from behind a rail at either place, I didn’t have a chance to really want to join a game at either place.
So I pick up a sandwich to go from the Subway in Casino Royale, and I head back to the Flamingo, where I eat my sandwich and wait for a 1/2 NL game to open up. After a 15-minute wait, I land in the same seat at the same damn table as the night before.
The game goes well. No real eventful hands. A lot of the guys at the table were also sitting last night (including friendly loose guy from Florida), so I have a solid table image. I have a couple good scores and go up $100 or so.
After a few hours, a couple guys from our table return from a dinner break. One guy settles into the 6 seat on my left and remarks, laughing, “We’ve just been talking to some hooker about The Trade.” “Oh yeah”? I ask.
He says, “Yeah, she’s still over at the bar, working.” So I wait a moment and then glance back at the bar. I realize immediately that this hooker is Florida guy’s “wife”, whom I saw last night. Fortunately, Florida guy is currently out of his seat, so I warn the two guys not to say anything about her.
What was their story? Was he really her pimp? Or were they just ambitious swingers looking to freelance a bit while they were in town? Ah, Las Vegas. City of mystery.
Anyway, I am now up $152, and tonight is the night for my One Big Dinner, so I do it right. When I return from my beautiful and overpriced steak dinner at the Flamingo steakhouse, I am seated at a new table. But again there are several people who know me from the night before, and that is good.
I start out lucky. I limp with AQ and the flop comes A62 rainbow. The woman on my right is playing A6 trash. She is short-stacked, so I put her all-in on the flop, she calls, and I catch a Q on the turn.
Later, heads up against Mr. Crazy Guy from last night, I go all-in for $85 into a $170 pot with a KJ two-pair, no spades, with four spades showing on the board at the turn. He calls me, the river comes a blank, but I take it down. (?! What could he have possibly had?)
I am also taking down modest pre-flop pots with big reraises from late position. I never do this without big cards, of course. In a few hours, I am up around $400. I am having fun drinking and folding and listening to the banter, so I stay late, go card dead, and finish in rock-tight style around 5:00 a.m., still up $372 for the session.
I am in terrible shape at this point. I am not stumbling drunk (I’d long ago switched to coffee), but I am desperately tired and sore from sitting in that chair for so long. The walk home is a nightmare. Only pimps and hookers and street people lurking about. I nearly run back to the Imperial Palace, where two hookers proposition me before I can reach the elevators.
By the time I get back to my room, I have cold sweats. I know I should try to vomit, so I try. But I give up after I realizing how tired I am. Then I develop an excruciating cramp in my calf that has me rolling on the floor in agony for five full minutes. My entire calf muscle is rolled up like a softball under my knee. I nearly cry it hurts so bad.
Around 6:00, as I lay on the bed waiting for my pulse to stabilize or stop altogether, I realize there is no way I can check out by 11:00 a.m. today. I call the front desk and arrange a late checkout, and I finally go to sleep.
Up $524 for the day. Up $467 for the trip.
Day 4:
Around 11:30 I limp to the shower in pain, trying not to put weight on my calf lest it lock up again. A long steam revives me, and I dress and prepare for checkout. After checking my bag into security at the hotel, I head for Subway. Need bread. Need meat. Need food to clear bile.
My flight leaves at 9:10 tonight, so I can play cards until about 7:00.
Back to the Flamingo I go, to the same darn table with the same group of people. It is such a happy table. Good people. They love me here.
It’s my last day, and I decide to loosen up my standards (a bit) and catch some cards. The good people give me another $252 before I am forced to retrieve my bag and hail a cab to McCarran. The good people are friendly, but they are not sorry to see me go. There are easier marks waiting in line for my seat.
Up $252 for the day. Up $719 for the trip.
All in all, not a bad trip. But ultimately disappointing. After airfare, hotel, meals, cabs, and tips, I netted a little over $200 of that $719. That’s not a big reward for nearly 50 hours of grind-out marathon poker. I was hoping to make at least a grand so Sarah would be sufficiently convinced of my poker genius to let me go again.
Ah, maybe she still will.
Great, TR. Glad you finished in the black.
great report greenblood. thanks so much for sharing! grant it u didn't have the most profitable trip, u still finished ahead AND most importantly, had a great time.
as far as the leg cramp....i woke up the other night with that same feeling....it was the worst pain i've ever experienced. i'm a pretty tough guy, but i was broken pretty badly. fortunately, it went away shortly after and hasn't returned...
Great trip report. It's a great feeling to have your poker winning cover all of your other trip expenses - it's like a free trip to Vegas!
I hope to do the same thing come late October. I will most likely have at least $1,000 in expenses (flight, hotel, food, etc) for the 4 nights I am there. So I am hoping to win at least that much playing poker and betting on football while there. It does make the wife a lot happier when you come back home with more money than you left with.
@greenblood
Wow...this is amongst the strangest most unpleasant phenomenons. It happens to me too. Sometimes its the calf, sometimes the arch of my foot, but the all time worst is just beow the calf...i guess its the achilles tendon or something...last time it happened i also fell out of bed rolling on the floor screaming like a GIRL. Its about 10-30 seconds of pure uncontrollable hell followed by the inevitable full day of limping around like you've been shot. Then someone asks you what happened and its just too damned embarassing to try to tell them. I read somewhere that there is a cure for it. I will look it up and see if I can get back to you on this. Anyways good TR. I will be there from Oct 4-8 staying at Caesars.
Great trip report. Nice to see someone else giving some love to the Flamingo (you should do a room review if you haven't already). I've really enjoyed playing poker there and at the Venetian. I was afraid this was becoming a TI Poker Room site instead of an All Vegas Poker site! (No offense intended to the TI lovers on here. It's a nice room. I just enjoy hearing about other places sometimes!)