Goin' to California

[Cactus Jack]

Road trip?

If Bob Hope, Bing Crosby and Dorothy Lamour had a road trip like this their first time out, that would have been the end of the road. Do Not Enter? Last Chance to turn back? One Way, to Hell.

Well, it wasn't that bad. It was worse.

This trip came about after my future daughter-in-law won an all expense-paid trip to Disney World at a circus. So far, so good. Trip for 4. So, girlfriend, daughter and son make three. Future sister-in-law make four. Guess who's five?

I've never driven to LA, but I'm prepared. Buffett CDs, Mapquest print-outs, a monster go-cup from 7-11 full of iced tea. I'm good to go. Four-and-a-half hours later, I finally find the Disneyland Hotel. Get up to the room and learn I've been left a fold out couch that would have been heaven to prisoners at Guantanemo, but not for me. Thing had more lumps than a club-fighter coming off a beating by the Champ. One short step above the floor. I got no sleep.

So, being completely disoriented, I went to Commerce and Bicycle for a look-see, and back to the hotel for some much-appreciated sleep in a real bed. I got to the Hustler at 1pm and found a brand-new $4/$8 game starting and took my seat.

The Hustler is decent, in a seedy kinda way. It reminds me of some of the secondary places in Vegas. The type of place you go to if you're local, but wouldn't take a date. I expected a much nicer place. I should have thought, what would Larry Flynt's second cousin think was high class? I suppose this would be it.

The game, however, was a dream. Loose/passive players are wonderful. I love them. They are especially good over rice with a side salad. You never fill up on them, unless it's your chipstack, which can be built on their bones. The table had exactly zero TAGs, no LAGs, nothing but six seeing the flop and no raising.

The difference between LA and Vegas, at this point, is these folks didn't mind if I raised it up. No dirty looks. They just happily tossed in another small bet and off we'd go. They did me the courtesy of paying me off when I was good, and letting me off when I didn't hit. God Bless 'em.

I was still pretty zonked out from the lack of rest, but after two hours and 23 BBs to the good, I said goodbye and found my way to the Bike.

Now, this is a card room, I thought. This was after I pulled into the parking lot and got the premier spot in the whole lot. First row, first space. If this had been Vegas, I might have left my car there for a month. Unfortunately, my good fortune was used up.

I again played a two hour session, and ended up right where I started. The game was a little tighter-like one fewer caller?--and a little more aggro. There was a chance someone would raise, but it wasn't much of a chance. I got fewer callers when I raised, but I didn't have much luck catching cards. At one point, I worked my way up to 9BBs, but card-dead and cold-decked, I gave it back and left with $5 profit.

Rather than going back to the Disney Torture Chamber, I took some of my profits and paid for a room all my own at a local establishment. Not much of an improvement, honestly, as the mattress was made of concrete and the foam pillows were three sheets of Kleenex folded twice. I got some sleep, and managed to avoid the agony of my future in-laws. I'd rather die in a grease fire and have my body lost in the desert where my family would never know what happened, than spend any amount of time with them.

Friday, I spent the day with the Marvelous Miss M at Disney, where I calculated it cost me $18/ride. Unsurprisingly, there is very little for a middle-aged poker degenerate to do at the Mouse House. Some of the rides were great, and the lines on Friday were very short, which offset the fact that the place is amazingly small and not a whole helluva lot of fun.

I had a decision to make. I could go to Commerce, but be forced to spend the night with the gruesome twosome, or take the easy way out and drive back to Vegas, get a good night sleep in my own bed, play online on my own computer, and go see Yellow Brick Road at Boulder Station with a friend who's moving back to Miami on Monday.

Not even close.

I knew a guy once who worked for ten straight years without a vacation. I might not take another until retirement. If it's anything like this one, I'd rather work the salt mines in a Soviet gulag, wearing barbed-wire underwear and a salt belt.

I'll be back to LA someday, but it won't be with THEM!

By the way, not sure if I get a $1 drop to use the cards, and no free drinks. I guess like all things LA, everything costs more.

CJ