Vegas TR 9/12-17: (I was bombed and eventually found hook... escorts.)

[Obfuscation]

I enjoy reading these so I might as well contribute. Kinda long so I’ll break it up and might start a little slow but I promise there will be stuff about hookers, Cheetah’s, hookers in Cheetah’s, hot links and Asian Massage Parlors so hang in there:

Tuesday 9/12/06: Kiss the gf goodbye as she leaves for work at 8:00am and fire up a little MVP while waiting for 212-777-7777 to come pick my butt up from my place in Manhattan and take it to Newark for my flight. Consider cracking open my last Sol, but decide to wait. Board the plane where a 30 something couple with obvious brain damage begins going wack-O about not sitting together. The cute girl sitting to my right starts motioning that she’ll change seats to shut them up. NOOOOOO!!!!!! *sigh* Of course the two crazies sit right next to me and proceed to tell me their life stories over the next 5 hours.

The chick was actually decent looking with a great rack and low cut shirt but clearly had about 400,000 city miles on the odometer as well. “I used to dance at Scores.” “Oh really? Well, my name’s Obfuscation.” *sigh * Anyway, turns out they actually DID have brain damage. Seriously. They were both in an apparently horrific car accident about 2 years ago and both had brain surgery. *blinking* Yeah. So. Unbelievable. I think I feel bad. With semi-mixed emotions (and a semi in general) I continue to glance down Scores’ shirt every chance I get as the jittery dude leaves his seat mid-flight for about the 50th time.

Arrive Vegas and wait about 3 years for my bags. I knew I shouldn’t have checked bags but I can’t live without my Issey and that’s final. The huge Lance Burton head starting down at me seems to sympathize. Thanks Lance. The slots in the airport crack me up every time I come here.

Arrive at Alladin to check in and the place is a freaking disaster. You actually enter through what looks like the employee entrance. There is no lobby and there are 40 foot temporary walls cutting off what must be more than 50% of the entire place. Incredibly formless. It looks like they just have zero idea of what they want to do with the place. But whatever, the room was 59 bucks a night and is otherwise nice, plus good strip location.

Apparently Mike Tyson is training this week at Aladdin and there is a full on boxing ring on the mezzanine. Heelarious. I’d so want him to eat my children if I had any. I actually checked this out on Thursday and sure enough, Iron Mike comes into the ring (90 minutes late of course) and slaps around his trainer wearing the padded gloves. (Can you tell I know little about boxing?) His power and speed were remarkable however I was most impressed with the sheer quantity of snot rockets the man fired out onto the canvas, eliciting groans from the general assemblage. It was spectacular. He was blasting snot a good 12 feet without even winding up. Amazing. Even more amazing was the fact that he pays some 20-year-old kid to run around with towels wiping it up. The Sweet Science indeed.

In any event, I shower up and change and head outside to walk up to the MGM where I plan on beginning the Drunken Poker Tour. My buddies don’t arrive until Thursday so I’m ready to put in some serious time solo until then.

Arrive MGM after almost boiling like an egg. How the hell did anyone decide to drop a city on what is basically the surface of the moon, except boiling hot? The MGM room is pretty dead at around 4pm on Tuesday but it sure looks pretty nice. I want to settle in with some limit to get started. (Read: Get bombed) But all they have open is 2/4. Ugh. Whatever, I add my name to an interest list for 4/8 and 6/12 and sit down. Play 3 hands, winning one and downing one Corona and they move me to 3/6. Play maybe 20 hands and down about 2 more Coronas. Then they get the 4/8 going and I grab my seat. Nice.

Play for maybe 3 hours winning and losing the same 100 bucks it seems. Come across the following hand when I look down on the button to find 8[img]/images/graemlins/heart.gif[/img]9[img]/images/graemlins/heart.gif[/img]. Call. BB raises and the 5 limpers call and so do I. Flop comes 5-6-7 rainbow and I’m ordering a pre-celebration Corona. “Oh, my action?” Call the flop bet with 3 players left. Turn comes a 4. Bet. Bet. “I raise!” The old grumpy-preflop-big-blind-raiser-dude raises and the young grumpy dude to my right raises. *blink* Er. Reexamine board. Nope. Still got the nuts. I cap with the very non-AC-like 4th raise. River comes an A. Rainbow board. BB checks. Young dude bets. “I raise!” BB calls. Young dude: “Looks like we’re gonna split this one.” And calls showing down his pocket 8’s while the BB shows….. A4? *dancing* Ship It.

Maybe 30 minutes later I cash out up maybe 10BB and head over to the Monte for the hell of it and decide I’m hungry. Grab a few beers at the Brew Pub over there and a steak. Not bad at all. Nothing outstanding but good solid food sitting at the bar watching a ballgame. Good times. Go check out the poker room and throw myself on the ½ NL list but there’s only one game going and looks like the most miserable bunch of slobs pretty much ever. After 5 minutes I take a pass and stroll down the Strip to make a series of nice drunk dials. I’m pretty schnookered after about a dozen or more bru-dogs and the air feels good as I ramble into the voicemails of at least 3 ex girlfriends like the baller I am. Who’s the man? This guy! *pointing thumbs at self*

Somehow the stroll takes me all the way past the Bellagio and half of Caesar’s. Planning on playing the Caesar’s tourney tomorrow, I skip them both and head for the (f***ing) Mirage. You can tell the Mirage is a few years old now but I kind of like how this casino resort is still 60% casino and 40% resort. Was sort of surprised to find only 3/6 going here and nothing higher so I buy into a 1/2NL game that winds up being a highlight. Absolutely crazy and drunken, shot-filled game. Seriously. This game had it all. Young internet sunglass dudes, middle eastern loudmouths, an Irish loudmouth (*whistling innocently*), a father and his son who was celebrating his 21st birthday and at least 3 crazy Asian dudes whose indifference to stakes was clearly the strongest part of their game. One of these dudes was multitabling Blackjack and No Limit at the same time. All 3 were literally bluff-pushing and getting snapped off left and right.

The shots of patron began to flow. The Middle Eastern dude who was pretty hilarious all around, orders all of us these huge (like 5-6oz, no joke) shots of Patron. The guy to his left claims that he can’t drink tequila and that even the smell makes him sick. So at one point when the anti-tequila guy was in a hand and deep in the tank, ME dude holds up his Patron and starts blowing over the surface of his glass at the guy. The guy’s like “AUGH!" And throws his hands over his face and it basically killed. Everyone was howling but luckily the poor dude had a sense of humor about the whole thing and laughed as well.

It was just such a great and fun game despite having the floor actually tell the ENTIRE TABLE to “Keep it down. Keep it down.” That particular experience has led me to the conclusion that bad floor decisions should definitely be met by loud BOOOOOS as they were here. But really it was fun. ME Guy facing a huge turn bet: “Whoa. Time.” *half a second later* “CLOCK!” *general howling* Pissy floorman. Wealthy cocktail waitress.

Notable hand. I limp in with treys, and then call a small raise to 7 and flop a set on a ragged board with a K. 21 year old bets out 20 with what seemed like a clear TPGK (given his pretty basic play thusfar) and crazy Blackjack multi-tabling Asian dude pushes for literally the 8th time. I call instantaneously (21 folds) and drag a monster as Asian shows… nothing. Like Q-8. “You got me. Lock it up.” As he heads back to BJ to rebuild his roll. What a great game. Somehow cash up about 380 and stumble into a cab to sleep it off. More later if you guys are still awake….