Another (Relatively) Short Chapter
Only two sessions to go on my trip report. Hang in there!
I got a very good night sleep on Friday night and even ended up snoozing my alarm until 11. Snoozing is a something I do regularly at home, but is unheard of in Vegas. Checkout was at 12, so my timing was just about perfect. I took my time showering and packing my suitcase with all the unused toiletries that the Orleans provides (always a +EV move, and not a bad haul at that). My plan for the day was to get a cab to the Bellagio and play there until I had to leave for the airport (12:45 am red-eye flight).
So at 11:40 I was dressed and ready to go, and just packing up all my notes from the trip. I happed to glace at one of the scrap pieces of paper I used to record my sessions-it was the Orleans tournament schedule. There was an entry for a Saturday daytime tournament: $50 Hold’em (one Rebuy) at noon. The same time as checkout, and only twenty minutes away. Whoa! Suddenly my leisurely pace turned insanely frantic. I called the poker room, and was told that they couldn’t reserve a seat for me over the phone, regardless of whether I was a guest in the hotel or not. Dammit. So I got the hell out of there, raced down the super-long hallway to the elevator, and then wove my way through the casino with my bags in tow. The elevators are in one corner of the casino, and the poker room is in the exact opposite corner. Now, the Orleans isn’t Caesar’s Palace or anything, but it’s not tiny either, and there were plenty of people milling around and interfering with my mad dash.
So I made it there with fifteen minutes left, and managed to get one of the last three spots in the tournament. I still had time to check out and make it back before the cards were in the air. I headed back for the front desk, still toting all my bags. There was no line at the checkout desk, and I held out my poker room card to the desk clerk. I had only played for three hours, but I was pretty sure I still qualified for at least one discounted night. She totaled me up without touching the card. It sounded like too much money. "Do you want that on your American Express card you booked the room with?"
"Did you check my card for a discount?" I asked. She explained that she couldn’t do anything with this card-the poker room manager had to approve any discounts. Ugh. I dropped my bags at the bell desk, and raced off (once again) for the poker room.
The room manager swiped my card and looked at his computer screen critically. "You’ve only played three hours," he said. I quickly explained that I was playing in the tournament, I had stayed three nights and didn’t my play at least qualify for one night’s discount? "Ah, what the hell," he said, scribbling on a little slip of paper, "next time make sure you play the full three hours each day." He handed me the paper and gave me a friendly wink. Woohoo!
So one more lap between the poker room and the registration desk. I sat down in my seat with a full two minutes to spare, and only slightly out of breath. I was happy for a number of reasons: 1) I found one last tournament to play in before I went home; 2) I made it to the tournament in time; and 3) I got my discounted room rate even though I didn’t deserve it. After the cards were in the air, I added 4) the tournament was soft, as people were only making minimum raises before and after the flop, and there were a ton of limpers each hand.
Once again, I caught something the dealer did not. At least I thought I did. Blinds are 10-15, four players limp in. I don’t remember the flop, but it’s not important. EP player bets 15, MP player raises it to 30, and a LP player puts two quarters and a dime into the pot. Before the chips hit the felt, he says "raise"; after the chips hit the felt, he says "forty-five". The dealer gives him 15 in change, and I immediately object. "He put in 60 and said ‘raise’, the bet should stand at 60." Everyone looks perplexed. The dealer, sounding a bit uncertain, informs me that he CAN’T make it 60. It’s like she doesn’t understand English. I start to re-object, and in mid-sentence it dawns on me: I haven’t entered the Twilight Zone, I have entered a limit tournament.
Ugh. What followed was a tournament so boring that I will summarize it with a mere two sentences (a new record for me):
Session Time: 1:30
Session Total: (-50) + (-20) + 10 (bounties) + 235 = +175
Cumulative Total: -873
I got a very good night sleep on Friday night and even ended up snoozing my alarm until 11. Snoozing is a something I do regularly at home, but is unheard of in Vegas. Checkout was at 12, so my timing was just about perfect. I took my time showering and packing my suitcase with all the unused toiletries that the Orleans provides (always a +EV move, and not a bad haul at that). My plan for the day was to get a cab to the Bellagio and play there until I had to leave for the airport (12:45 am red-eye flight).
So at 11:40 I was dressed and ready to go, and just packing up all my notes from the trip. I happed to glace at one of the scrap pieces of paper I used to record my sessions-it was the Orleans tournament schedule. There was an entry for a Saturday daytime tournament: $50 Hold’em (one Rebuy) at noon. The same time as checkout, and only twenty minutes away. Whoa! Suddenly my leisurely pace turned insanely frantic. I called the poker room, and was told that they couldn’t reserve a seat for me over the phone, regardless of whether I was a guest in the hotel or not. Dammit. So I got the hell out of there, raced down the super-long hallway to the elevator, and then wove my way through the casino with my bags in tow. The elevators are in one corner of the casino, and the poker room is in the exact opposite corner. Now, the Orleans isn’t Caesar’s Palace or anything, but it’s not tiny either, and there were plenty of people milling around and interfering with my mad dash.
So I made it there with fifteen minutes left, and managed to get one of the last three spots in the tournament. I still had time to check out and make it back before the cards were in the air. I headed back for the front desk, still toting all my bags. There was no line at the checkout desk, and I held out my poker room card to the desk clerk. I had only played for three hours, but I was pretty sure I still qualified for at least one discounted night. She totaled me up without touching the card. It sounded like too much money. "Do you want that on your American Express card you booked the room with?"
"Did you check my card for a discount?" I asked. She explained that she couldn’t do anything with this card-the poker room manager had to approve any discounts. Ugh. I dropped my bags at the bell desk, and raced off (once again) for the poker room.
The room manager swiped my card and looked at his computer screen critically. "You’ve only played three hours," he said. I quickly explained that I was playing in the tournament, I had stayed three nights and didn’t my play at least qualify for one night’s discount? "Ah, what the hell," he said, scribbling on a little slip of paper, "next time make sure you play the full three hours each day." He handed me the paper and gave me a friendly wink. Woohoo!
So one more lap between the poker room and the registration desk. I sat down in my seat with a full two minutes to spare, and only slightly out of breath. I was happy for a number of reasons: 1) I found one last tournament to play in before I went home; 2) I made it to the tournament in time; and 3) I got my discounted room rate even though I didn’t deserve it. After the cards were in the air, I added 4) the tournament was soft, as people were only making minimum raises before and after the flop, and there were a ton of limpers each hand.
Once again, I caught something the dealer did not. At least I thought I did. Blinds are 10-15, four players limp in. I don’t remember the flop, but it’s not important. EP player bets 15, MP player raises it to 30, and a LP player puts two quarters and a dime into the pot. Before the chips hit the felt, he says "raise"; after the chips hit the felt, he says "forty-five". The dealer gives him 15 in change, and I immediately object. "He put in 60 and said ‘raise’, the bet should stand at 60." Everyone looks perplexed. The dealer, sounding a bit uncertain, informs me that he CAN’T make it 60. It’s like she doesn’t understand English. I start to re-object, and in mid-sentence it dawns on me: I haven’t entered the Twilight Zone, I have entered a limit tournament.
Ugh. What followed was a tournament so boring that I will summarize it with a mere two sentences (a new record for me):
- 90% of the players out-and-out sucked.
- I made the final table and finished 9th.
Session Time: 1:30
Session Total: (-50) + (-20) + 10 (bounties) + 235 = +175
Cumulative Total: -873