I was up early and in the writing zone when there was a knock on the door. I was in my boxers and wearing a PokerStars t-shirt when I looked through the peep hole and saw a woman wearing aqua-colored scrubs. I opened the door and said, "What's up?"
"Here's your parking pass," she said as she handed me a sticker with the letters BV on it.
She introduced herself as the owner of the apartment and I invited her to come in. Nicky was sitting on the couch and they spoke about the internet problems that we were having. Within a few hours, our biggest headache since arriving in Las Vegas was solved.
We headed down to the Strip to meet The Poker Prof, Flipchip, and Mrs. Flipchip for dinner. I picked Carnegie Deli since the Mirage is one of the few casinos we can get to without having to navigate the awful traffic on the Strip. Flipchip loves Carnegie so it was a goo pick. I went with a bacon cheeseburger and a knish.
We talked a little about work and the upcoming WSOP. We joked how we haven't done as much prep as we did in recent years because the groundwork has already been laid down by us. By now, everyone in the poker industry knows that we cover the WSOP and that we own the two of the better sites on the web where you can get top notch WSOP coverage.
After lunch we headed back to the apartment to do some work when I got a call from Filipe. he flew in town the night before from Portugal. He was staying at an extended stay hotel and suites behind the Wynn's golf course. I promised him that I would take him to a camera store to pick up supplies. We first met in Monte Carlo and worked together covering the European Poker Tour Championship. He took photos while I wrote.
I drove across the Strip three times for Filipe. he was shocked to see all the traffic and the same time was totally in awe. He had been all over Europe covering tournaments but had never been to America before. His first stop was... Las Vegas.
We drove to a camera store near where I live and talked to the German lady who was surly at first but eventually warmed up when we said that we worked with Flipchip. Filipe picked up a new lens and a tri-pod and I drove him back across the Strip. I had to drive back over the third time to come home. Traffic blows donkey cock in Las Vegas and unfortunately, Nicky was at home writing and pulling tubes so I had to navigate the late afternoon Strip jam.
We headed over to Friedman's to see his new place and hang out for a bit. He had the Waking Life on in the background and JW and Spaceman were there at some point. After that, Nicky and I drove up to red Rock for dinner and poker. We ate dessert at the Grand Cafe and got a chocolate cream pie. Our waitress said, "It tastes like silk."
I thought it tasted like heaven.
After the pie, we wandered over to the poker room to play for a couple of hours. I lost a monster pot when my four of a kind (3s) lost to a higher four of a kind (5s). Mathematically speaking that rarely happens. If we had a better hand (like four 8s beating four 7s) then we would have won a bad beat jackpot worth six figures. Alas, I didn't qualify and lost a big hand.
I called out one guy for being an asshole at the table. I loathe dealer abuse. There's no need for that in poker when player berate the dealers for losing at poker. I also noticed he stiffed the dealer twice on hands he won when you usually tip $1 when you win a pot. He had been sitting next to me in Seat 2 and bitched and moaned after taking a couple of beats. There was one legit suckout while the other two times he played his hand so poorly that he should have been self-mutilating his own genitals after his atrocious play. He switched seats thinking that would change his luck. It didn't happen. Instead, he lost a big pot and busted out. When he saw that he lost, he intentionally threw his cards at the dealer.
"Hey, that was rude," I said in my tough-guy New Yorker voice. "You owe that lady an apology."
He didn't say anything to the dealer and muttered something about the suckout.
"Take the beat like a man. A real man would have not thrown his cards like a baby."
He slithered away from the table in silence and the dealer leaned over to me and whispered, "Thank you."
"So do you guys think he wasn't hugged enough as a child or has a two inch penis?"
After polling the table, we decided that he suffered from a case of minuscule genitals.