TR Snippet - Bus routes and rides

Well, I'm playing poker across from Joe at the El Cortez and the Orleans poker room comes up in the conversation. Joe says he just does not want to drive there, so I tell him about the bus.

"I never take the bus," he says, "too many degenerates."

And then he goes into a mini rant about guys who are disheveled and pee on the bus seats.

And he seems to really like the term, "Degenerates,"  because he uses it over and over like a chorus in a song.

Because he senses I am not sympathetic, he really stops talking directly to me and talks to the dealer. Joe is a fine and friendly fellow, but he is one of those locals who just is not much interested in these tourists.

When I tell him I have the senior citizen bus pass, he adds sarcastically,

"It must be nice to be retired," 
so I joke with him,

"Oh, I get it... everything the matter with the world is because of those bus degenerates and those old, retired people."

Joe is older than I am, perhaps over seventy. He laughs and in a small way I feel more included.

Inside, I am laughing my head off. 
We are playing, after all, at the El Cortez. This is the casino avoided by many folks for the same reasons that Joe avoids the buses. 
I have read the same sort of rants often on discussion board threads, although as the El Cortez and Fremont East in general embraces a new renaissance, the talk about this casino and the neighborhood of Fremont East is changing.  Something is happening there and no one is quite sure what it might be.

In the conversation, I mention some of the new bus routes, explain the advantages of the bus for me, but Joe has his mind made up, so he does not want to be confused with facts.

It isn't that we have different tastes and needs.

Joe is just sure that I'm wrong.

The contrast between my going easily from my home in upstate NY to the Orleans with my luggage by bus while Local Joe is unable to give himself permission to go to the Orleans poker room, because he does not want to drive there, is just amazing to me.  
So often we cripple ourselves with attitude.

Next to me is another local poker player who is handicapped. He quietly tells me that he loves having his $30 a month bus pass and how it just seems nuts to spend money on gas. 
I guess Joe overhears, but he ignores this fellow.

I mention to my neighbor that I am more worried about the Vegas car drivers than the bus degenerates. I can avoid the degenerates. 
I tell him about the one day this trip that I rented a car to go to Red Rock Canyon and go hiking, and how close two cars came to crashing right in front of me in a way that easily would have included me as well.

As much of a bus advocate as I have become, I have not taken as many Vegas bus trips this time as I might have taken. Most of these trips were just to move from one hotel to another.

Fifteen nights in Vegas would be pretty expensive were I to stay at the same place for the entire trip. I also think I would get bored. What I have tried recently to do is to patch together free rooms and discovered deals.

This moving from place to place strategy lets me build a trip of 15 nights (including two weekends) that on average costs a mere $7.60 per night for hotel. But to realize any real savings by chasing freebies, I have to move with little moving expense.  
As I age, I also find I need more naps and I can't predict when I need them. So my old inexpensive pattern of staying downtown and just taking off with a small bag for a day and night of travel on the bus is impractical.
So I arrange my play to match the places or area around where I stay and ride the bus less.

Generally, this means I try to plan my trip using Flamingo as my "strip" because I can take my luggage on that bus.

It also means some hassle. There is the packing and repacking. There is the repetitive bedbug inspections and the worry that since I am in so many different places, my odds of discovering the buggers are increased.

And there is the problem of moving luggage from place to place, when I generally do not rent a car and never take a cab unless I am ill.

This time I was also burdened by having packed too much. My suitcases were just too heavy for a comfortable roll.

I had left Albany, flown to Chicago for a first birthday party of a grandchild, then to Denver for a son's thirtieth birthday party and finally went on to Vegas. That meant I carried more than I usually carry. I also added to my journey a small coffee maker and an electric hot plate. 
 The hot plate was unnecessary. I thought it would let me warm up some leftovers along the journey. I never used it. It will be great for camping, but it does not offer much convenience in the room.

The little coffee maker was a great investment.

http://vegasbirthdaybash.blogspot.com/2011/05/tr-snippet-no-wonder-my-bag-is-so-heavy.html

Add to the heavy luggage my feeling of age. I turn 65 this year, and I'm surprised to feel it. I guess I expected to just keep going along pretty capable of lifting the suitcase of 85 pounds or so, complete with sleep apnea machine and computer. I am not looking forward to the time when I have to stay in one place because I just can't carry like I once could.

Matt "The Bucket" helped me out on one journey. 
 We wanted to meet up while he was in town, and he had a car, so I suggested one way to meet was for him to drive me from Sam's Town to the Rio. I gave him other alternatives as well. He is a very generous fellow, and he chose that way.

I then rented a car to both enable a day at Red Rock and allow me to avoid a three bus travel with luggage from the Rio to the Four Queens. So some of the longer between hotel journeys were made more comfortable.

One problem in the past I have solved.

I used to pack out too early. Now I wait in the room or take an early morning swim or get breakfast or gamble, and I call to extend my checkout. Every casino will give me until one o'clock, and while I am often out well before the deadline, that extra hour gives me more flexibility and less anxiety. 
 It also means that I arrive at the next place when generally there is a room waiting for me. In all my shifting from place to place this trip, I did not had to store luggage with the Bellman until I stored it at the El Cortez after my last checkout while I was waiting for my 2 pm free shuttle to the airport.

The worst was the Fiesta Rancho in days past. They had a $10 early check in fee, so they would not put me in a room even if it was ready. I'd bring a book and sit in the lobby and take that time as my reading time. 
 But I hated the whole idea. 
 Why would I pay $10 for an hour when my average daily room rental charge is $7.60?

This is one reason I skip the Fiesta Rancho in my current travels.

The El Cortez is hard as well. I will often wait there. Perhaps paying for a Cabana room this time made it easier for me to get a room than when I use the ACG coupon for the Pavillion. I saw the woman in front of me have to check bags and wait for her room.

Most places want to get the guests gambling as quickly as possible, so perhaps they better serve those who rent better rooms.

Here are the details of my bus trips and my reflections:

Airport to NYNY on the WAX and then to the Orleans on the 201.

Getting on the WAX, I asked if my senior citizen $2 day pass was good on all the buses and the driver said that it was. I never did use a Deuce or SDX to try that out, but that is what he said. This is exactly what board friend Jimbo reported as well.

This was a great ride. I arrived at a time when the buses were fairly close together. I was tempted to take a 108 or a 109, but was glad I waited for the WAX.

Easy, uncrowded.

And yes, in spite of what the RTC told me on the phone, there is a stop at Koval, so that NYNY is the second stop for the WAX after leaving the airport.

This first stop could be a practical addition for future trips.  At the Koval stop we can pick up the luggage friendly 119 or walk across the street to Coco's for a meal before moving on if we like.

I told my driver that I was worried I'd miss the NYNY stop, and he remembered to remind me, but it could hardly be missed coming right after the light on the strip.

I waited a while for the 201. I don't think the schedule is coordinated so that the WAX folks quickly hit a 201, but so that the strip travelers hit one after they leave the strip bus.

Still, this is a very pleasant place to wait. 
It is out in the fresh air and right in front is the Excalibur, which I think of as a delightful study in color and shape and lighting and fantasy.  It is fast becoming the last of a certain style of casino construction, one that tried to attract families.
Folks pass on the overhead walkway. I was content.

I liked avoiding the pay airport shuttle which always drops me off last when I am going to the Orleans. I worry that my apnea machine or my computer will be joggled and broken as they move luggage around to get all the other folks off at earlier casino stops. 
I like having my hands on my own stuff. Even with my personal handling, before the end of the trip the apnea machine motor stopped working.

The 201 bus drops right at the edge of the Orleans parking lot. Listen for the "Arville" prompt. The stop is just past Arville.

It took me 46 minutes from airport to check in and cost me a senior citizen price of $2 for a 24 hour pass with added benefit. I later used that same pass to go to the MGM to play poker, and to get back to the Orleans in early morning hours, when I was again waiting and watching the Excalibur all lit up in the dark night.

Security on bikes passes close to this stop.

I better like waiting with luggage there over those more remote bus stops out Tropicana where the 108/109 (Swenson or Maryland) would drop me. With luggage and my age I just feel vulnerable at those more remote places. There is probalby little actual danger, but I don't want to feel uncomfortable.

So I have experienced a fine new way to access the Orleans on a bus with luggage, and I liked it.

The WAX, as you might expect, is very luggage friendly with half the bus open in the middle, seats with backs to the window.

This 201 bus was the old style, so that was more difficult, as I had to lift my bag up three steps. No other bus this week had more than one step in or out and I think it is just the luck of the draw. Once in a while we draw the old style buses.

Orleans to Eastside Cannery, Boulder

I have in the past enjoyed rolling my luggage down Arville to the Flamingo bus stop. I just would skip using the tread mill that day, take what rests I wanted along the way, and thought I was getting some great time outside in the sun and air as well as needed exercise.
I plan trips in April and November partly because I can comfortably be outside walking, even with luggage in tow.

However, I had overpacked this trip.

I tried to repack for this roll, so that the bag was better balanced and easy to roll, but it just was not pleasant. 
It was heavy!

So I just went to the first bus stop on Arville and called the bus company to see how long my wait might be. Just as they were telling me a time, the bus arrived. At Flamingo Avenue, I then had to rush to catch the light and cross back over to get my connecting bus.

At Cannery East, the Flamingo bus is at the end of the 202 route line and will wait right by the Cannery East parking lot while the driver has a break, and then it will head on a long loop around Sam's Town and back down Flamingo.

It was piece of cake. I'll feel free to do that again.

However, next trip I will bring an Arville printed schedule and leave the Orleans at a time when I can catch the bus without much wait. My other trips I remember walking down Arville and getting to Flamingo before I ever saw a bus pass me. The walk is about a half hour.

Check the schedule to see when they come.

http://www.rtcsouthernnevada.com/transit/route/104/104(11-07-10).pdf

Cannery East to Sam's Town

I only had one free night at the Cannery East. It gave me a time to play poker late into the night and not have the walk back to Sam's Town along Boulder in the dark.  I also wanted a chance at those great corner rooms, but I was not so lucky this time.

Comments on walking Boulder are here:


http://vegasbirthdaybash.blogspot.com/2011/05/tr-snippet-wallking-boulder-highway.html

My play is here:

http://vegasbirthdaybash.blogspot.com/2011/05/poker-mgm-cannery-and-barbaras-rule.html

But it did mean I had to somehow roll my luggage to Sam's Town. 
 I found out the bus stops on the other side of Boulder across from Sam's Town.  So, the next day, I decided to take the parked Flamingo 202 with my luggage just to give me easier access, but the drop off was still a good walk to the Sam's Town door, so I probably won't do that again. I think the walk down Boulder is just as easy.
I am curious about the horse farm we passed along this loop, however. What is that? I know some place in Vegas there is a rodeo. I wondered if that is one spot, or if they have horse shows there.

I am left wondering too about crossing the street were I to go directly from the strip to Sam's Town with luggage. It might be better to take the long route around the loop than to have to roll back up to the light in order to safely and legally cross Boulder. 
I should have taken a more closer look at the logistics of that.

Hopefully, I will pack lighter next trip and not have the issue.

I had six nights at Sam's Town, so that gave me a good time to rest and also to repack my bags so things were better arranged where I wanted them.

Pre-packing for the airplane prioritizes weight over function.

I have to get the main bag down to 50 pounds and leave room for my carry-ons ( computer and apnea machine and small bag and camera) to be packed in after I arrive in Vegas. 
Then I repack in the luggage area for the ease of rolling all my luggage.

After checking into  Sam's, I repacked for my convenience because I knew that Matt "The Bucket"  was driving me to the Rio the next day as part of a meetup and as a generous act on his part.

Sam's Town to the Rio

Matt "The Bucket"  was actually staying at the Rio, so we pulled out my GPS and headed first to the Bighorn for a visit to a new spot and a couple free meals courtesy of American Casino Guide discussion board posting contest. Each month they give two free buffets by drawing the names of folks who have posted.
There are so few posters that I won twice.

Then we went back to the Rio, and I got checked in.

On my second day I took the 202 to Terrible's, stopped for a $2 breakfast at the Terrrible's buffet, played off a matchplay, and then headed out on the 108 to the airport, and then on the shuttle to pick up my Budget car.

I take the crash damage waiver for my peace of mind.

The day's rental cost me a total of $50 and $10 in gas for a Ford Fiesta which would take me to Red Rock one day and also get my luggage to the Four Queens the next. In between I used the car for my last visit at the Sahara.  They no longer honored the ACG matchplays; still I walked through and said good-bye.

​

I had planned a visit to the Bass Pro shop at Silverton or perhaps a show, but Red Rock and my all night gambling the night before had tired me out and given me a headache, so once again I was just ready for bed.  I did not even stay on the casino floor another half hour to see the Show in the Sky.  I am sorry not to have done that.

Rio to the Four Queens

The Four Queens let me park in the valet loop long enough to unload my luggage and check in to my room. It was early (before 9am,) but they found a room for me that was in the South Tower and quiet.

I love the service here.

I was booked by a host when I phoned from Florida, so I suppose I looked more important than I am.  I have to phone  a host because the postcards will not be forwarded to me, so I never know if they can comp me a couple nights of rooms.

I returned the car at the airport, took the shuttle to catch the WAX, and was amazed to see it pull right up as I arrived. I had not paid any attention to the schedule. I had brought a book for the wait.

One thing perhaps to say to the people who want to find Ground Zero is that there is an escalator with "ground zero" noted in a sign above the escalator. By that escalator is the elevator that goes down as well.

Confusing perhaps is that once on Ground Zero the only sign says, "Economy parking Terminal 2" So just know that is Ground Zero, and walk out and far to the right to see the bus stop area. 
 The WAX, 108 and 109 share the one and only airport stop.

Four Queens to El Cortez

This is not much of roll of luggage even when I am so overpacked. I use the main El Cortez entranceway which is usually empty and an easy luggage roll with no people to work around. 
There is pleasant piped in music, and generally I have the space to myself. 
I think there are security video cameras there as well. At any rate this roll went very easy, and my final journey with luggage was in the El Cortez free shuttle to the airport at 2 pm of my last day. It is a bit early, but I like it better than any other way of travel, and by then I am ready to say so long, Vegas, see you in a few months.

TR snippet Video Poker

VIDEO POKER

My new game this trip was Deuces Wild. I spent a good part of my winter working on the Dancer's tutor and improving my game. I am playing there at about 99% so I don't have the edge yet, but I am close.

I did like playing the Deuces at Sam's Town, and find it a delightful game. It seems easier and more comfortable than 10/7 DB. I thought I would get confused and all these many years I have only played one game with some JOB tossed in in some places. However, this game has a higher EV and does not seem to be so volatile, which is better for accumulating points for comps.

I like it.

There are full pay machines marked and easy to find right in front of Dunkin' Doughnuts. When the rock hard poker game broke Sunday morning I went to play there and in my session hit four Deuces twice.

It was incredible!

Ironically, I only hit a wild card royal once when it was dealt to me. I think I counted missing it by one card about twenty one times. But the Deuces paid and I left with $430 and some profit for the day. I was overjoyed.

I also think that it generates lots of points. I seem to get stuck in a place for a long while and so I run a good bit of money through the game.

There are these annoying dry runs of nothing at all. I hate throwing hands away. But the Deuces add some excitement as well. It is nice to have the Dancer software on my computer so I can check types of hands that get me wondering if I am playing correctly or not. I have not broken out the win-loss mathematics for Sam's, but I guess I must be close to even, even with a few losing sessions.

What I find amazing is that a hundred will last a long, long, long while with little variation. Eventually if no big hands are hit, it will drain away but I get an amazing amount of play on the losses.

EL CORTEZ

I played one Deuces game at the El Cortez and some 10/7 DB as well. Compared to past years they have more full pay quarters now than they used to have. The are coin droppers which are fun but sometimes a bit of a hassle. Hand pays also expect a tip, so that subtracts from the EV. Since I hit no royals there this was not a problem for me.

It was nice to see more full pay available there as I like playing the live poker and some VP play might generate some rooms. It should for my next trip because I lost a good bit of my bankroll at the El Cortez VP.

I made a mistake and played dollars for a while before I realized it. I was down to about $40, so I put in another hundred and managed to quit even at least on the dollar machine.

FOUR QUEENS

The Four Queens has the best 10-7 DB in all of Vegas. Once the progressive royal EV exceeds the EV on Main Street Station scratch cards, this is the absolute best.

Go to the back end of the casino and find Magnolia's Cafe. Facing it look to the right and along the back wall are the full pay 10/7 Double Bonus Progressive which is the best of its kind in Vegas. On top of the full pay and the progressive you still earn points and get cash back and generate room offers.
One tip on starting is that you discipline yourself to use the menu carefully and see that you are on the right game. The other games offered are not part of the progressive.
Another way to find the machines is simply look for the money that was in my wallet a week ago.
I had the most bizarre session. I actually pumped in a fourth hundred before I started to get positive. Then, in the course of a long session, I managed three times to get Aces. Twice they were dealt to me. But nothing else developed of any value. Full houses seemed out of the question. No royal either, although it was hit twice while I was playing. I left down $179 which I think should generate a few mailers.

They also had a well marked 9/6 JOB, that is clearly marked at machines in front of the cashier cage. There is a little paper sign on top of the machines.

I played off my freeplay on this and again hit four Aces for a nice profit of $40 after the freeplay was run through once.
I came home to two offers from the Four Queens. One is a keen looking three free day and free VP tournament in June. Wish I could go to that. Extra nights are only $24 a night.
My cashback at the end was $38. So that reduced my losses.
I talked to a very informative woman (perhaps a manager) at the Player's Club, and she took time with me and told me that when they award comped rooms they take a look at all the play rather than just do a mathematical average. I was wondering if I should play a small amount on my last morning or skip it. Most of the time I try to concentrate my play in one day. Her take was that it did not matter. Of course, that might not be the way it works.

I played quite a bit, but not one royal came my way. Maybe next time.

REFLECTIONS:

I set stop levels generally on the winning and losing side of my play. These are long to meet in Deuces where I found myself stuck at the same dollar amount for a long period of time. This is great for getting comp points as every play generates points.

I don't like inside straight draws. K-Q-J-A rainbow in games that pay the jacks or better seem logical because there are so many consolation hits. In Deuces it feels illogical. I still do it.

In DB the hand I least like is drawing to the wheel straight. That seems illogical and rarely hit. I still do that as well.

Deuces play meant I had to wean my own emotions from the prejudice for high cards. It is hard to think of a poker game in which one can get the same odds by throwing away two aces and playing small pairs.

At first I got a somewhat warped pleasure from choosing the smaller pair. Then I began to play a gut game where I was trying to psyche out the machine. That is when I realized one other advantage of Deuces. The thing we give up when we play the mathematics of most games is the fun of guessing. There is always a right play. We might decided to eliminate small penalty card decisions, but one play in JOB or DB is never exactly the same mathematically as another. Here is Deuces, when dealt two pair, only one is to be chosen and the odds are the same. So we can make the decision by using our psychic inner connections. What a great subjective game is then added to the usual mathematics. As mathematical as we might like to be, we are mentally programed to make leaps of instinct. Gamblers especially have this part of their beings well developed. In live poker we know that instinct is important, but there the randomness is not total. There is this human element which may well be read subconsciously. In the book Blink http://www.gladwell.com/blink/index.html

Malcolm Gladwell suggests that in many expert calls, the experts may in a second arrive at a correct analysis, but not be able to "show the proof" as they say in the math class.

In Deuces there is no valid subjective element, but we can enjoy imagining that it is here as well when deciding on what to do with two pairs, since it costs us nothing in EV.

I lost pretty big at the El Cortez this trip. They had more coin droppers that were full pay in nickles. 10/7 DB was there and one Deuces that looked playable, although it was not the same pay table as I found in Sam's. Both ate me up.

The only one I made a profit on was a short pay Deuces that allowed my freeplay. I hit on that, just running the money through once, and ended up with $32 extra on $70 freeplay. the $70 was not profit but tied into the room charge of $120.

I had a good time playing more video poker than I have in recent trips.

Where I lost, I seeded for free room offers. I pretty much restrict my play to where I am staying now, so the the consolation of losing is perhaps staying for free next trip.

TR Snippet - A Walk Along Fremont

The only really sad part of this Saturday night of walking Fremont and into the Vegas Streats festival is that I do it because I am again too exhausted to gamble, and when I get back to the room it feels like it is two am but it is only eleven thirty.

I had a nap. Why am I so tired?

I hate this aging. 

Perhaps I should just value that being tired caused me to choose a late night walk into this wild party rather than a stalk of the Saturday night poor poker players. I know that I am gambling too much time away and missing these other sensual wonders of Vegas.

I had also thought that I wanted to be on the strip on weekend nights to take advantage of the soft tourist poker games. Well, I have decided very differently. This new Downtown is really a blast on Saturday night.

I was smart on this walk. I brought my camera. But I left my wallet in the room and just took twenty bucks in case I wanted something. That way in these shoulder to shoulder crowds I did not have to keep my hand on my wallet, and I did not worry that my pocket might get picked while I had both hands on the camera.

I worked my way up toward El Cortez on the Gold Spike street. It was full of people and a safe walk and not the sketchy walk I remembered from other trips. Just delightful to see people taking back the streets. Imagine how fine it will be if this back street becomes easy to visit.

Inside the Gold Spike I saw the action. The dealers were young and dressed in casual but delightfully revealing outfits that made when fun to watch. Young girls out and about are often dressed in outfits that resemble the hooker clothes of decades back, but these dealers had other more interesting looks. I don't mind watching the lacy, sexy hooker look, but wholesome sensuality is just delightful. I can't be young again, but I move in and around crowds of young people. Unlike many of my generation I like young crowds very much.

I saw a line for the eating area, and felt that this new Gold Spike is becoming a success. 
 Most of the players at the blackjack tables were a young, upscale looking group. It is so different from the old days when the players would be derelicts and I might be the only one playing blackjack who had all his own teeth.

Vegas Streats was in the El Cortez main entrance corridor where the next day it would be quiet except for the soft sounds of piped in music.  This is right across the street from the main El Cortez entrance.

It collected a few hundred young people drawn by the party atmosphere, the great truck food, the free music, and the displays of art.

It is not as large or complex as a street festival in one of our Northern cities, but I found it interesting and delightful.

The art was almost cartoonish. Full of bright colors and wierd shapes.

 Much of it depicted horror fantasy, but in a colorful attractive way.

However my favorite piece was of a beautiful naked woman viewed from the side with no erotic quality, just grace and beauty. She had long flowing hair that was three times the size of her body, and in her hair were small colorful owls. I loved this and almost bought the print. Perhaps I will yet.

This piece and others might easily have been at a grateful dead concert in the sixties. Here were colors and a new art style. It was clear everything was in the same genre and that I knew nothing about it. It seemed a blending of hippie art and the art of horror comics. I much prefer art that celebrates sensual beauty to that which warps realityh in cool but disturbing ways, but none of this was turnoff.

The music too intrigued me. There was a band with a huge young Black rapper who rapped messages I could not understand, but that did not seem angry. 

 He was backed up with guitars and when his rap portion of a song ended there would be a section of mellow song by Rusty. Rusty sang in a sweet voice and played an old acoustic guitar. He might have been playing in an old Donovan style. It was great musical collage and absolutely fun to watch.

The crowds were shoulder to shoulder. I only saw one other old guy and had was clearly taking professional photographs.

I liked seeing this new truck cuisine. 

The snowcones looked luscious, but I had already eaten my fill of stuff for the day.

This gourmet truck food is sweeping the nation.

On my walk back to Fremont, I passed the new video game bar and the lines were a block long to get inside.

Again these are all very young people. Next to it the coffee house was a mellow island of quiet in the middle of the party. One older fellow had his computer out and was working on some project. At the bar young people were having coffee and talking.
And on the next corner was the new Hookah Lounge.  I looked in.  It looked like something from a Coleridge hangout.

Just down the street Hennysee's and all those places were hopping. A band played and a wholesome but shapely young girl danced in a hopping sort of fashion. She was fun to watch. The music was older rock.

Neonopolis is very sad except I can't help thinking it will not be too long before that is hopping as well. Fremont East is a new and youth focused invention. It is very exciting and hopeful.

The lines for the zip ride were long. I guess it is a success. I don't think I like it much. I find the metal structure taking up too much of the Experience room even if it is places now in an unused section.

Still, I can't really evaluate it fairly. My one zip ride was through the Costa Rican canopy of trees with ten places to land and hook up again. It cost about what this one little ride costs.

Down another block was a country band on one of the Fremont stages.

 A pretty young blond girl sang, "Bobby McGee" in perfect Janice Joplin voice. 

The lead man was dressed in jeans with lots of rips.

He called all the birthday and anniversary people to the front for free Hawaiian lai and beads. Here is Bob who was 62 today.

Farther down another band played music I remember in a folky rock manner.

http://www.jaybolan.com/Resume/JayBolan2009.pdf

Folks were dancing and one young girl invited me out to dance a bit. She was being sweet to this old guy. It felt great to be moving easily to music and be in the midst of crowds of people in party mood.

I loved this mix of music. I liked that none of it was so hard rock that it turned me off. I also could not help comparing it to the music of the Rio pool where what I guess they think represents Brazilian drums blasts out very uninteresting rhythms in two areas and does not coordinate them so that swimming in the middle was so incredibly unpleasant that I'd have gone for an earlier nap if I did not know that the basic beat could be heard in my room, over and over, like jungle drums in old Tarzan movies.

I know that by now I am supposed to want to go home again. I have been on the road now for almost a month and in Vegas for thirteen of my fifteen days. Still, I wish I could stay a while longer. There are some things at home I am primed to enjoy, but I will miss the fun of this place.

downtown fish

TR Snippet - Wallking the Boulder Highway

I stayed last trip one free night at Eastside Cannery and then six at Sam's Town.  I wondered how it would be walking the Boulder highway, especially at night.  So, here is what I experienced:

THE BUS.
The 202 Flamingo bus stops right across the street on Boulder from Sam's Town and in spite of the confusing notes from the November bus changes on the reduction of service in the early morning hours, the drivers assured me that this was 24 hours.  So it drops very close to Sam's, although it might be necessary to go back to the intersection to cross Boulder safely.
Even better bus access is offered for the CANNERY EAST. This is at the end of the 202 route and the bus has a layover right along side the Cannery East parking lot. So it drops very close to the casino, just steps from where we would park our car. It also picks up there and there so no waiting at a lonely bus stop to ride all the way to the strip.
The bus is there, and any waiting is done on the bus.
When it heads back to the strip, it makes a large circle around Sam's Town.
I did take that bus just around a few blocks to Sam's Town and saved myself a few steps with my luggage, but it was not a really close dropoff. I probably would just walk to Sam's Town on another trip.

THE WALK FROM THE CANNERY

I walked about midnight from the Cannery to Sam's Town. One local at my poker table advised against it in early morning hours, but when I went no one was around. It was deserted. Also the same local said that one good thing is it was pretty well patrolled. My first trip I thought that crossing the street and walking on the Walmarts side is the safest idea. Along the RV park it is darker and there are bushes in front of the wall. Someone could lurk there. The West side was brighter and Walmarts had activity, including a security car blinking a caution light.
However, it was inconvenient crossing back to Sam's Town and the second night I walked the darker route just after midnight. Sprinklers were on all along that route to water the bushes, so it would not be a great spot for a few young drinking boys to hand out as they would get soaking wet.
I felt comfortable walking. I saw no one at night.
The hardest part was crossing the street to Sam's Town without walking quite a ways up to the light. I watched some folks walk directly across and they were not bothered, so I did the same thing. However, I think there is a huge fine for jay walking in Vegas, and I probably should have walked up to the light to cross. This may also mean that I should take a bus stop closer to the light if I arrived with luggage.
What I will hope to do next trip is start my stay at Cannery East and then roll luggage to Sam's Town.

THE BANK

I have been disturbed that the end of traveler's checks would mean the end of my usual system for carrying my money to Vegas.
I won't pay those fees they charge at ATMs.
Here I found a Bank of America drive-in ATM right across the street from the Cannery. Even from Sam's it was a convenient enough walk when I ran out of cash.
I'll save my traveler's checks for another trip when I am not out here.
There is supposed to be another Bank of America machine that does not charge a fee in Caesar's Palace, and I saw that the Bank of America was close to my hotel when I stayed downtown at the Four Queens.
I guess that will be my method of choice for replenishing lost funds.

I was tired this trip and did not end up leaving Sam's Town on the free shuttle to play on the strip or downtown. I'll try it next time. I can see that were I to go to the strip on the free shuttle and then come back on the RTC, I'd feel safe enough.
Downtown is more tricky. That 107 return bus in late night hours, picking up right near the Western is probably not a good idea and the safer routes, going first to the strip would be pretty long unless I played on the strip in between the bus ride.  Of course, I could bus it to the BTC and grab the 107 there.  That is probably what I will do.

Still, I could see that the Boulder area was very comfortable. There were little chain places to eat along Boulder and a huge Walmarts right across the street from Sam's Town that was open 24 hours a day. This trip I left from Denver with trailmix and snacks in my bag, so I did not need visit the Walmarts.

TR Snippet - One of Many fisherman at the poker tables

One interesting fellow I met at the Sam's Town poker tournament lived in Colorado, but traveled to Del Rio, Texas to fish. He told me all about the place and how I might go there and visit the coffee shop in the morning and perhaps connect with a fisherman who would take me fishing for the price of gasoline. There were no boats to rent, but trailers could be rented at the Holiday Travel Park. The bass fishing was very good.

One interesting program is the Texas lunker program. If a 13 pound fish is caught, the program will take it live, check its DNA and if it is of a particularly desirable Florida type, breed it and stock with its eggs. Is suppose it sends out into the water fish that have a good chance of growing big like their Momma Bass.

Sixty miles away there is also an Indian casino where they deal live poker. A good time to go is October-April as it is not too hot then.

I have forgotten this fellow's name, but he was fun to talk with before the tournament. He did better than I did for two days, getting to the final table. Otherwise he does not gamble much. His wife likes the slots and goes through hundreds. He tolerates a few free days at Sam's every now and again, but he'd rather be fishing.

Poker :MGM Cannery and Barbara's Rule Rant

I came into Vegas too tired to really get in the party mood easily. I've been much quieter than usual. Still, I enjoyed some characters:

MGM - A really huge, old Mexican with a huge bushy beard joined the table and joked through the games. I liked listening. I was just too tired to engage him.

Here I lost with pocket Aces three times. Twice it flopped two kings.

CANNERY EAST-

I love poker, but I am understanding that I don't play it well. My home game buddies tell me I am tough to beat, but they come to Vegas and seem to win while I seem lately to lose.
Generally, if I drink I do better because I lose often by playing too many hands. But sometimes I tighten up and still end up many dollars behind.
That was true in one session at the Cannery.
Jimmy, once a regular at El Cortez, and a great limit player joined the table.
He was very annoyed at Ben who was partially blind and took forever to look at cards, check the board, bet. Eventually, Jimmy would leave the table because he was impatient.
Jimmy mentioned that Action Jackson was back in town and I sent a message that I'd like to buy Jackson a prime rib when I hit the El Cortez.
Action used to be a wild player at the El Cortez before he was banned and then allowed back but not allowed to drink, and then banned again. I miss the old dramatic Jackson.
He deals sometimes if he can find work. He once substitute taught and had great rapport with troubled kids, seeing himself in their characters.
Jimmy is very tight and very impatient, so he plays or folds and gets up for a walk or a smoke or to play a nearby slot machine.
He is generally as tight as a drum. If he bets, he has the nuts. He reads players well.
Jimmy is in the big blind when I am on the button. So when I button raise, Jimmy usually folds his blind. Twice I pushed him off what would have won, and it annoyed him.
The first hand I raised and pushed him off, I had to subsequently fold.
After the hand is over,
"I win that hand," Jimmy says in an effort to let me know my raises are annoying him, thinking perhaps he can appeal for leniency. Actually, he merely convinces me that I can get the blind out if I raise the button.
The next time I raise, I have 6-7 offsuit. I just feel like playing and the raise at this table will give me a cheap free card if I catch a draw on the flop.
Jimmy folds his Q-6 big blind.
The flop gives me a set of sixes which my button raise has also now disguised. I can bet out and everyone will think I have a high pair. Of course, I am low kicked for anyone who has the other six, but I will at least bet until someone raises.
I don't know that Jimmy has folded the fourth six.
I get called to the river, and I win. So I have to show.
"You raised with that?" Jimmy exclaims.

With my finger to my lips I say, "Shhhhhhhh. Don't let it get out." And to myself I say that I guess that strategy won't work again.

Jimmy explains that he would have won. He is annoyed and unhappy, but not in any way nasty.

My very next button I have pocket kings on the river and now I raise and figure attentive players will take me for some junk once again, perhaps a guy who always raises the button.
In fact, I am a little afraid that players will give me little respect and stay with anything, but I have to raise with pocket kings on the button.
I want to be first to bet after the flop. If it flops an Ace, even a guy with pocket Aces will check the flop to me and hope to position for a reraise. At least I can then see the turn for free.

Jimmy sees his chance for revenge, calls, and warns me that he will go to the river this time. I understand the warning. He does not really have much or he would have reraised. Maybe he has a good draw.
Since he is rarely in a hand, I am impressed. Also, I am having a good time.
A king comes on the flop.
Now I am having a better time.
Each time I bet and each time Jimmy calls.
But he does not call the river when we are head to head.
AFter the river there are two sevens on the board, so I have a full house. No one has a seven.


I rake in the pot, and in one of my rare moments, decide to show my full house.
I hear the table groan.
I chose to show it because it will let me do my button bluff raise another time and be given some respect or at least elicit some confusion.

I don't want them to think I just pushed Jimmy out with junk. I want them at least conflicted the next time I raise a button.
I am sure Jimmy is happy he did not have a seven. He'd have raised the river if he had a seven.

The whole thing makes me very happy. I have played well against a fellow I consider a hard rock to beat, a guy who has beat me at the El Cortez.

This also says to me that it is not good to let players know what we have noticed about their play. Jimmy gave me information that helped me play the way I played.
I liked to say that this made me money in the end, but I lost heavily by the end of that poker session after Jimmy left, and the game changed in a way I could not figure.


Ben, who sat to my left, told no stories. He had a driver who came for him and was nice and accommodating. The driver came back twice and finally took him home. Ben was not a terrible player. Some said he had taken a good bit of money from a game at another casino earlier.
He was incredibly slow, however, and had to be reminded at each stage of the process. He also called way too many hands. Like a loose player at my weekly game at home, he called too often, but if he bet, he had the goods.
The table was patient.
I tried to help keep him aware of when it was his blind or remind him it was his turn. I did not mind waiting for him or helping him through his confusion, because he was donating a lot of money to the pots.
I had bad cards and took only one pot from him. I was the button and he had to act first. He got a little annoyed because in some way he thought I was tricking him by asking him to bet first, but in the end, he was fine.

Ben did not like to be bluffed. He saw I was just betting a good hand, and he was calling too long. I explained again that it had been his turn to act first, and he was fine then about it.

One of the most annoying players was Barbara who said she was a dealer from Caesar's. Ironically, she had an intense rules argument with another player and then with the floor when they made the ruling and then with anyone who tried to just explain the answer.
Here is the situation:
An older Asian fellow was playing with the last of his buy-in for that day, most of it in quarters. He went all-in on a hand and she called. He showed and won, but he asked her to show.

"I don't have to show," she snapped.

The dealer clarified by saying that the Asian could ask to see a called hand. So he asked.

Well, she argued with the dealer. She was adamant that she did not have to show because she had called him.
She called the floor.
The floor was the easiest tempered young fellow named Brian, and he explained that if someone asked to see her cards, she did have to show them.
She argued with him too.
He was very patient.
Brian explained that actually any player might ask to see any hand.
Well, that was really outrageous to Barbara. She was on the dark side of her bipolar personality.
But it was the rule here at the Cannery East.
Finally, after she had shouted again the reason she did not have to show, he just said,
"Well, in this house you do."
And she showed an Ace-Queen.
But she would not let it rest. She kept saying things to the Asian fellow and bringing it up over and over.
And after a few of her sarcastic comments, the fellow would make some comment.
So Brian was calmly but firmly saying to both of them,
"Okay, I don't want to hear anything more," the way a parent might talk to children.
I loved his attitude and manner very much.
Next Barbara started to create exaggerated false smile faces aimed at the fellow, like a nine year old girl might do.
She also started to talk and talk and talk about everything and Barbara was sure she knew everything.

Later, after the Asian fellow left, the rule was quietly revisited in talk, and she was still sure she was right. Brian calmly explained again, so there was no confusion, and I just added that this was a common rule in many casinos.
Well, that put her belligerent energy focused on me. She told me that she was a dealer and so on and so forth, and she knew what she knew.
I asked her where she dealt. I had to ask twice before she interrupted her rant to answer that question.
"I deal at Caesar's. It is a little casino along the strip," she answered with disdainful sarcasm.
"I know Caesar's," I answered. "That is the room where they won't give players any decent alcohol."
My tone told her that I had not appreciated her sarcasm.
I should have called her on her attitude or asked whether where she dealt, in Caesar's, after the floor had ruled, a loud and arrogant player's attitude would be tolerated.
I missed that chance.
But she agreed with my comment on bad alcohol at Caesar's, and she caught my change in tone, and perhaps knew she had riled me.
Later, it came up again, and I tried again in a calm way to just explain why this rule exists, but players rarely ask it to be enforced. It is a protection against the kind of collusion that might occur in a no limit game. It lets a squeezed player check to see if someone is raising on nothing just to build the pot for a partner who has signaled that he has the nuts.
It is poor poker etiquette to ask because is suggests the asker suspects cheating, but once in a while someone will ask just because they can.
I told Barbara I thought she should ask her supervisor when she went back to work and see what he said.
She was calmer then for a minute and not so personally attacking, and I had a chance to mention places where the rule existed and I had seen it used.
Somehow for my own peace, I had to get a bit more said as the whole thing riled me inside. I realized that my agitation reflected the rules arguments we have in home games which have no easy way to be decided. And I realized how easily I get drawn into these arguments and want things to be clear and consistent.
For her the issue was that she had called the bet. The person who called was not required to show in her mind. She was still sure this was common in other casinos.
For me it taught me that I needed to get a grip on my own inner agitation. I need to read a bit more of the Tao of Poker and get my inner attitude under control.
I was happy when she left to play a tournament.




Delaware Joe was also at the Cannery. He did not tell too many stories, but he had been surfing the net and found my Vegas blog. He recognized me from the photo. It was funny. He is on no discussion boards, but he might put a comment on the blog.

I met a retired woman who had just bought a place in Vegas after ten years of living from a mobile home and traveling the country. Her husband was retired from the Army, so they had the resources of any Army base, but I could see that she was very happy to be settled again in a real house.


One of the most interesting characters was a Polish fellow who was perpetually mixed up about the bonus for cracked Aces and when to bet 2 or 4, but played his cards well. He said that he hosts games in Chicago, the kind where the dealer calls the game and wild cards or whatever are common.
He has played with some of the guys there for many years and seen them sell their jewelry and watches cheaply when they ran out of bankroll.
He rakes two dollars a pot for food and makes good roast beef sandwiches and serves beer and wine.
They start on Friday night and play until Monday morning.
I asked if he wasn't worried because I thought that raking a home game in Illinois was illegal.
"In Chicago, everything is legal." he told me.
He was not popular at the table, but I liked him. His English was heavily accented.
We talked a bit of kielbasa and bigos kapusta and other good tastes. In his opinion Chicago had the best Polish food, but he had not shopped at Wally's market where I have seen a dozen varieties of kielbasa on the wall and been faced with half a dozen great looking blond Polish clerks who did not speak enough English to help me decide which to get for a cookout.


When this fellow was eight, he and his mother were in a Dresden German concentration camp. I asked him about the bombing, and he said that there were so many bombs that they did not know night from day. He laughed that the Germans ran when the Americans arrived.
They all had been living for the most part on potatoes. The Germans ate the potatoes and gave the concentration camp prisoners just the skins. When the Americans came the officer in charge told them to throw away all those skins and served steak and salad and all sorts of good food. He still remembered how happy he was that day.
It was an amazing story because he really told it from the point of view of an eight year old child.
I tired out that night at midnight and started racking my chips to head back to the hotel.
"Why you sleep?" he asked. " After you dead, you can sleep. Now....play poker!"

I played morning tournaments at Sam's Town and met a few of the locals who come here. Hoppy, a Texan who made his life owning and running transmission shops, was very friendly to me. I liked him. He played this tournament every day. First he would open up the shop near there because his son was not an early riser. Then the son would come and Hoppy would play the tournament. Afterward he would go back and work a while, but the son was doing most of it.

riding the 107 from Sam's to downtown you can see the sign for Hoppy's on the right.

In the game Hoppy got down to one 25 dollar chip. He went all in dark and won. He did that a few times, once when I had Ace-Queen and he had Ace -6 and flopped two pair. It was quite a comeback, and he did manage to accumulate enough to really begin to play again, but eventually he lost.

I won the first tournament. I was very high chipped when they asked if the four of us wanted to chop, and I apologized, but I said I wanted to play.

A fellow at the El Cortez reported that he had played when they limited the end of the play to just four hands.

The two I knew I could eliminate were husband and wife. They did not play together, but they did not play against each other either. That made it hard for them to compete. They also did not play very well. So when they got unlucky, they were eliminated.

I ended up head to head with an older woman who had played excellent poker all the while she was at my table, but for some reason she called me when I bluffed an all-in to push her out. I had 9-4 with a pair of 4's. She had a pair of 3's.

Did she put me on that bluff?

That defeated her. She had just a few chips left, and it was not hard then to take her out because the high blinds made it impossible for her to do more than play each hand.

The tournament cost $23. I tipped $20, so I ended with $242 in profit. They have these every day. The first hour is limit and then the no limit starts.

I had annoyed one old player by just beating him twice by a little bit. Once I had the queen of spades and four spades were on board, including a turned king. I bet into him. He called me. Another time I beat him with a higher kicked.

My best hand however, was when I held K-J, flopped two pair, and then rivered another king. There were four people all in for that hand and two of them were eliminated. I was very lucky. l got good cards and never lost a big hand. By the end I just could wait while the others tried to eliminate.

My second tournament was less promising. I did well in the limit and then had some defeats and lost chips.

After the break, when the no limit started, I went all-in with pockets twice and stole the blinds. I needed to build some chips to play with.

Later, I went all in with A-7 spades and lost to an Ace with a higher kicker.

Hoppy had a huge stack of chips after the limit game and if he did not win, I am surprised.

My third try was not very memorable. I was down even in the limit section and could not do much at all.

My other play has not been good. I played at the Cannery twice because Sam's did not have the 3-6 game, just Omaha. This seems to be the popular game now. Folks said that Boulder is so wild a player needs a bankroll of $500 just to have a shot and the pots are capped preflop. I guess I'll skip Boulder.

Sam's 3-6 on a Saturday was not well attended and the players who were there were regulars, rocks, and very good. I lost a lot of money.

I won't chose that game again.

I'll walk down to the Cannery or take a bus into the strip.

I love 3-6 but this was the toughest poker I have seen and I did not get cards.

There was one fish who just went through rack after rack. He had no idea he was the fish. I made a push bet and everyone folded except him. In the end, I had nothing. He had played 2-3 offsuit and not folded his pair of 2's.

Later I had a blind hand of 4-7 and two pair on the flop. Again he was the only one to call me to the river when his K-3 gave him trip 3's.

I folded to him enough to suspect that I was not always beat, but generally there were others acting after me. I did not have the cards to raise.

They paid cracked Aces here as well, but my only pair flopped trips and everyone folded to the river.

Twice my A-K was beat with Aces that made two pair. I was pretty visible on those hands because I raised them and bet them. I called the river.

That may have been a mistake, but I did call. Perhaps the mistake was betting just the Ace on the turn and allowing a raise there, but it can't have been better to give a free card. I don't know.

A-2 beat me as well as A-7.

I left down almost $300 after eight hours of play. It is very discouraging. Luckily, that night I got it back at Deuces VP.

I went back on Sunday and pretty much determined that it is not the game for me. It does lack maniacs, but the guys all know one another and play at the same table all the time.

Also, the tone is serious. They are friendly enough but little is said and no one is interested in me. No one asks where I live or what brings me here.

It is not much different than the El Cortez or Cannery East, even different than Turning Stone or Foxwoods here at home.

For a party community and more interesting characters, I like the 2-4 at the Cannery, the El Cortez, and the strip places. Too bad, because I have really pumped money in the Deuces Wild here and I expect I'll get some room offers.

PS:  Some commentary on a part of the snippet can be read here:
http://www.vegasmessageboard.com/forums/showthread.php?p=517794#post517794

TR Snippet - Poker at the Flamingo

Playing at the Flamingo:

Most in party mood at the table were:
• Vanessa from Austin
• a shapely Asian woman visiting her sister and trying not to play too much craps
• Colton who had died his hair blue but for some reason it had drifted into green whose wife had not let him get the beard matching either color
• James in a pony tail who said he had always been prejudiced against folks who dyed their hair but liked Colton. I told him I was always been prejudiced against guys with pony tails, but he perhaps he made the exception. James and I easily hit it off in the humor department.

This was my only real night of poker when I played late with party people, got drunk, and made money. That is the model I want to follow, but to do it I have to play more at the Flamingo and less at places like Sam's Town.

I was my talkative self and folks here to party were ready to spice up the poker with a bit of banter.

For the first time this trip, I bought in for $60 and was never below that number.

My winnings went up and down but never below my buy in.

The Asian woman was a fine player and her winnings just went up. We had great banter about the game and luck and worried if we were in a pot together.

A young fellow from Reno joined the table and told me many of his friends had gone to the my home area to go to college or settle in upstate New York. I have never heard of that migration pattern.

I had a few card protectors in my pocket, brass rings that once enclosed silver strikes, and I had one from Reno, so I just gave it to him.

He treasured that ring and it felt good to gift it.

All the rest of the rings I brought along with me I ended up selling at the El Cortez when other players saw how nicely a Kennedy dollar fit in the ring and what a nice card protector it made.

The original silver strikes made good card protectors, but the plastic cases that protected the collector value put distance between the player and the protector. They were hard to spin for distraction. Also, if left or lost the originals might be an expensive lost item, while these rings were less of an investment.

Anyway this young fellow was pleased with the ring and I was happy I put a few in my pocket to just give away.

A young Asian fellow sat to my right. He did not play particularly well.

He was a useful opponent in my best hand:

My pocket sixes flopped quads. I was in early position. I bet $2 just to insure the $20 was in the pot for the high hand award. I had almost a full table of callers.

Then I just called and slow played until the river.

I had two opponents left after the river card.

The Asian fellow to my right bet and now I raised. Green haired Colton called.

The Asian fellow to my right re-raised.

It was unnerving because he was unsure of how to do that, and I was not certain that he would actually manage it.

The dealer helped him and he made the bet.

I reraised, and both players called.

It was a huge pot and the added $50 Bonus sweetened it more.

The Asian fellow was surprised and a bit disappointed, but he was not angry. No one seemed angry.

I liked it that there was no throwing of cards or underbreath cursing.

I guess some players think that if they get mad enough at randomness, it will give them the better cards to avoid hearing all that temper again.

I don't think that happens.

I also don't think randomness puts them in the corner for a time out either.

And that is a shame.

For me this was my best night, one with good cards, lots of drinking, and plenty of table banter that was not about the cards or poker.

I tried a Caesar's (bloody Mary with Clamato) only I had my second one with tequilla. Great drink!

Then Colton ordered a B52. So I talked "Texas" (Vanessa smiled and said, "I love it when you call me Texas," and I told her that was the best news I had heard all day, and I'd put it in the blog.)

I liked the B-52, but Vanessa did not. So there was more banter. Vanessa loved to banter with a sweet and delicate smile.

She was a a pretty long and long haired woman, with a plain and wholesome look and attitude and she knew how to entertain an old guy.

Around midnight all the joking women were replaced with serious poker playing men, and I called it a night. The fellows ask me where I am going and I told them I wanted to catch the steak special at Ellis Island.

They thought it was some place in NYNY.

"Can you walk there?" they asked.

I explained where it was and wondered if I should be cashing out.

I do walk there.

Wonderful night air, and I have $100 new dollars to offset my losses, enough alcohol to make me smile, good memories.

The steak is fine except they can't seem to leave the gravy off my mashed potatoes and just let me use au jus. The garlic beans are in tip top shape, full of fresh garlic and not overcooked like they were my last visit.

The Karaoke is awful, but remember I have plenty of alcohol in me, and I enjoy watching this quiet, older, African woman mouthing the words at the next table.

I missed the free shuttle back to the Rio, so I caught the 202. The 24 hour pass I bought also served me when I went to rent the car at the airport in the morning for the trip to Red Rock Canyon.

TR Snippet - Bluegill fisherman at El Cortez

There are few times at the poker table that I meet anyone who fishes for bluegill, or brim as they call them in the South.

Most fishermen are not about gathering up large batches of small fish like I do on the little lake I call home in upstate NY.

Tennessee, however, is an exception.

He is a regular at the El Cortez.

He is called Tennessee, but his name is Elvis. It is odd to find he has that name because he was born in 1944 long before the King of Rock and Roll had made his reputation. He was born and raised in Arkansas in a little town named Helena near Moon Lake not far from Tunica.

http://www.roadtripusa.com/routes/greatriver/mississippi/grr_helena_ark.html

I don't think he likes the name of Elvis.

Somehow he had Tennessee plates on his vehicle when he drove into Florida as a young man. So they all started to call him Tennessee, and it stuck.

He was a good looking young man in those old days. He brought in photos of the girls he knew then and these were deliciously hot young women. It was hard to see in this thin attractive fellow (standing on some Florida beach with his arm around a hot young bit of stuff) this now old and balding guy with a toothlessly sunken mouth.

But he remembered those old days.

And he remembered those hot young women.

He had lived with one for a while who had two young children. He said losing the children was the hardest part of breaking up with that girl.

He had a couple parrots to entertain the children and one day a parrot climbed under the couch. When Tennessee lifted the couch, the parrot's neck was caught and snapped in the fold-out mechanism.

I asked if the parrots had names, but he had not named them.

Seemed strange to me. Who doesn't name pets?

The rest of his pictures reflected his passion for fishing and hunting. In the photos were large batches of big crappie and brim (bluegill) scattered out on a blanket for the photograph. In others he might be holding a couple of squirrels or standing near a small deer.

His fishing stories included close brushes with water moccasins. One bit his boot. Others he encountered swimming under a dock to fish the brim with his short pole technique.

He used a two foot pole and hardly any line and just flicked the bait into small holes and brought up the brim by the dozens.

Other times he used a popper bug with two flies attached and might catch three brim at one time. Even after two were hooked, he might give the popper bug a bit of action and catch a third.

Other bait included gar tongue and larva from a wasps' nest. He had been stung often gathering the larva.

Once he caught seven brim on one cricket, skillfully dicing the cricket into small pieces. Dealer Karen said she has heard that story a million times.

I asked him about eating gar, but he claimed they were nasty, and just as he would never eat carp, he would never eat them. They were below his cuisine.

I told him that a fishing guide in Florida had said they were like lobster. Jerry to my right suggested that it had to do with the water temperature. If the water was cool, then the gar was fine. That would make sense. Homosassa gar would always be in 72 degree water, not cold but not the heated temperature of a summer Arkansas lake. It seemed odd that generations could live and fish for food in a place but not sample certain fish as below their quality.

I told Tennessee about the delicious taste of smoked carp and others agreed, but he was having none of that either.

He also was not buying that yellow perch were the better tasting fish. I did not make an argument for walleye, but Jerry had fished those in Lake Erie where my father had also fished them, and he knew the quality of those walleye tastes.

Tennessee was talkative and friendly, but he fit that category of people Yogi Berra referred to:

"Some people, if they don't already know, ya can't tell them."

Tennessee was not there to listen to stories, but to tell them.

Jerry, a regular who heard his fishing stories often agreed that he just did not listen to other people's experiences.

However, Tennessee's face did light up with envy when I mentioned my live well out under my dock for storing live fish until they were ready for the table.

His grandmother put the cleaned brim in plastic milk jugs with water and froze them in the freezer.

They were always cooked the same way, with a corn meal batter. He was not interested in hearing about the new cookbook I found in Florida or even about my mother's manner of frying them in just flour, and he really lost interest when I mentioned my new recipes for making pickled bluegill, one picked up in a magazine on the airplane.

Tennessee had known women and he had some fine stories, but his imagination in some ways was narrowly focused.

In Arkansas, Tennessee had gigged for frogs at night and eaten the legs. "Like chicken." he said as do all frog leg eaters.

He had once killed four mallards with one shot, but he did have to hit one with the gun barrel that was only wounded, so he did not know if he could honestly claim shooting four on one shot.

And he had killed two squirrel with one shot when they were "kissing."

His father had killed a rattle snake that had 26 rattles.

I saw a photo of his father with a squirrel. He talked about his father but never about his mother, only his grandmother.

Once when he was very young, Tennessee and a sibling collected all colors of paint and decided it would be a good idea to paint his father's car. Dad wasn't too pleased and the kids were severely punished so that they never tried that again.

To play poker and talk about bluegills has got to be perfect table selection for me even if I did tend to lose money this trip at the El Cortez poker room.

TR Snippet - The Judge at El Cortez

It was a dark and stormy night.

Well, morning.

It was cold for Vegas.

Following my own uncanny ability to plan to go somewhere without a single look at the weather, I have decided to go to the Vegas zoo.

Furthermore, I have decided to wear shorts and a very light shirt.

It had been hot.

Now I am cold.

To complicate matters I walk up to the bus stop near the Cannery East because I have not noted that there is a stop right in front of Sam's Town.

The pavement is wet, and I certainly do not need my sunglasses.

As I wait for the 107, it starts again to rain.

I get on anyway, but halfway down Fremont it is raining at a pretty healthy pace, and I know I am not going to the zoo, not underdressed and with a camera that water will ruin.

Along the way I pass the Blue Angel, an old motel in the seedy part of Fremont that is all blue and white with a tall statue of an angel in white and blue with a halo and wings.  It is a wild view.  I could not get a photo of the Angel, but I think this photo captures the emotions of what it might feel like to stay there.

I really had decided to take a break from gambling for a day, but I am hungry, and I decide I'd like to have Sopa Sieta Mares and horchata at Mamita's Mexican, and then spend the rainy day in the dry and warm El Cortez where I can sit and play without much loss.
Again I am misplanned.

I am too early for food at Mamita's.

I am also too early for a game at El Cortez, but with my name on the list, I decide to play craps a while.
I have a good time, but I lose $25.
When the poker game starts, I have a breakfast of coffee and Sambuca. It is the best laced coffee with real Sambuca, so I enjoy about three of them.
I play practically nothing.
No one plays anything.
Pots are three dollars with a quarter tip.
The table fills up, and a guy they call The Judge sits on my right with Tom on his right and across from me in the first seat is an older guy who looks like a Kennedy with the classic teeth and the fancy hair. He could be Ted's brother and he laughs and tells us a number of people say that.
So, we are all talking and joking and waiting for cards and for some players who will play without cards.

It turns out Tom is from Albany, and so we share the details of our lives and find that we have places in common. He knows the schools where I taught. He has nostalgic things to say about Dan O'Connor and old Mayor Daley that reflect the Irish Catholic heritage of the political machine that ran Albany in the old days.
Tom tells me of Henderson where he lives now. He has come on the same bus I have come on, the 107, but he has come a longer way.
Tom is a bit hard of hearing, and so I must be a bit louder than usual.
I'll blame what happens next on Tom's being hard of hearing, but it might also be the coffee and Sambuca and no breakfast.

Suddenly the judge jumps up, pushing his chair back, stands and at the top of his voice shouts at me.
"Will you lower your voice! I have to push my chair back to get a break from you. Jesus Christ!"

I say nothing.

Without a word Tom takes his chips, cashes out, and gets ready to go.
He stops by on his way out to say he has enjoyed meeting me. At this point, the Judge suggests what he might have suggested earlier before going into his act. He suggests I might want to change seats seats with him, so I can talk to Tom.
It is too late for Tom, however. He is just going.

Then the Judge starts to chatter at me his justifications because he knows he over reacted and he knows he pushed away a fellow who was not a solid rock and who we needed to fill the empty chairs.
However, it is too late for me as well.
"Look, you made your point, and I think you got your way," I say to him, "Why not leave it at that."

And he is quiet.
And so am I.

Soon the seat to my left is open and the Judge moves there, and this lets me talk to the person who takes his old seat, a fine and friendly woman from Alberta who has never played in a casino. Her father sits to her left. This is the second table where I've played with folks from Alberta, and they just are so friendly that they make me want to visit.
We talk about the value of the dollar, and I tell her about Hull, Montreal, and Akwesasne. I also explain how the high hand award works and that she should ask about these bonuses if she plays in a casino, especially about "cracked aces," which is most missed bonus of all. I explain about counting the money in the pot. The El Cortez has only one bonus and pays two high hands every day.
She is not hard of hearing, so I can speak quietly.
I have another Sambucca in coffee.
She plays well. She does not understand the intricacies of this betting structure, so she misses some bets, but she is not a fish. She fills her tray while Dad empties his, and he jokes that it is all the same.
I like them.
And finally there is action at the table.
And I am no longer fuming inside about the judge, but it is still on my mind. I sometimes have trouble letting things go, and this morning my inner thoughts interrupt the mellowing of the Sambuca.

So I'd like to think that what I do next makes poker sense and is not simply a search for revenge.
I hold 9/7 off suit in the blind, and after the flop I have an open ended straight draw.
I check.
The judge now on my left bets $3 and there are a few callers, and when it gets around the table to me, I raise.
The next card gives me a pair of nines along with the straight draw.

I check again, and the judge says,
"Well, now you can check raise me again."
So this is the second inappropriate thing he has said to me this morning. This one borders on collusion. No one catches it. Talk is easy at the EC. But I am mad because that is just what I am going to do, but I don't want it to appear that we are playing together, with me building his pots and trapping other players when he tells me to.

His bet is called around by some, and I check raise again and still read that the judge does not yet have the straight because he does not reraise me. The check raise is a good way to find that out before I have to face the river with three 9's. The river can be a $6 bet. Double any of the other rounds.

The river gives me nothing.

I only have my pair of 9's with a 7 kicker and there are two players to act behind me, the judge and the Kennedy look alike.
One cool thing is that the $6 river bet in this game can seem huge.
I have check-raised twice, getting as much money in the pot as possible.
Now I quickly bet out $6.
This says to everyone that I have the best hand, that I have probably had the straight for a while.

The judge says, "Well, I guess you have that straight," and with Kennedy to act yet behind him, and a possible bet of $12 to call , he does what seems to be the sensible thing and folds his second best possible hand, but the winning hand.

I put the guy who looks like Kennedy on not very much. But he thinks, and wonders, and looks at his cards. I know he does not have the straight, and he should also fold, as I've now represented the best hand three separate times.
He should put me at least on two pair, certainly not on a 9 with a low kicker.

He calls.

"Good call!" I say as I turn over my cards to show my 9-7.
He does not turn his cards over, but just shows them to the dealer.
This is rude.

I say,
"Sir, I can't really see what you have."
The dealer points to my kicker which is higher than his and tells the fellow that it plays.
Kennedy has called two check raises and a $6 river bet with just a pair of nines and a 5 kicker.

"Wow!" I say. "You must have read that I was weak." And he likes it that I compliment his read. I would rather do that than embarrass him by mentioning that those cards demand a preflop fold.
Perhaps he did note something in my manner that indicated a bluff.

The judge is steaming inside, but he is not saying much.

As I rake in my chips, I remark to him,
"I did push you off the winner, right?"
He tells me that, yes, I did.
And whether I was motivated by revenge or not, at this point I can't resist my opportunity.

"You know, Judge, since you stopped me from talking so much, I have had more time to concentrate on my play. I'd never have been able to make that bluff if I had been still in a conversation wtih Tom."

He says he had to complain when he did.

"Not the way you did it," I comment, "With the jumping up, the chair pushing, and the cursing." Just letting me know quietly that I was making you uncomfortable would have been enough to solve the problem..

He has now nothing to say. And that speaks well for him.

And we left it at that.
I'd bluffed a judge.
I'd lectured a judge.
And I had quite a few more chips.
So it was enough for me as well.

I never got to Mamita's because the brush gave me a $5 voucher for the Cafe, and I took a break and ate prime rib.

I so liked this game that I considered just staying at the El Cortez until later in the evening, but soon the players who could be beaten left and the regular tough guys took their seats. So I decided to go back to the Cannery East and see how my one square was doing with the baseball pool.
I missed the first bus, so I went in the Western to play just a few minutes of craps.

I really thought I had more time, but when I arrived at the Cannery, I had missed the first drawing and payout. I had one square out of a hundred. Guess who won and had not been there to collect the hundred dollar prize?