Scene of the crime: MGM Grand Poker Room - Table 12, mixed game.
I'm not entirely certain, but I believe when I sat down, the game was O-8. I think Scott was on my left and on my right was a gangly young man who introduced himself as Matt - a reader. I instantly pegged him as Matt from Austin with whom I'd e-mailed a couple of times and who has been a long time reader. Matt was happy. Very happy. Very booze induced happy. Also at the table were Mr. Halverson, Al, -EV, someone I'm not sure (Halverson has it as CJ - but I think at this point he was raking in the dough at another table), and two other poor souls who hadn't a clue as to what was to come.
Scott and I commiserated and were in agreement we didn't know what the hell we were doing or how to play an intelligent hand of O-8. I believe I folded my way through that down (the button called the game which would be played for the course of the dealer's down) - I'm not sure what I did, to be truthful. The mayhem was gaining momentum.
Matt, dear Matt, was center stage and enjoying the hell out of being there. He even asked permission to hit on me which, I must note, no-one else did or even attempted... with or without permission (coff). So, in a very, very weird way, I was kinda flattered.
There was nothing sane about this particular table. At one point I looked up to see what appeared to be every member of the casino floor personnel hovering us. No doubt the eye-in-the-sky was doing double duty on Table 12, as well. Hands were capped, side bets were made, verbal bantering bantered - we were loud and bloggernoxious. Heh.
After O-8 came Razz. To play it meant on each deal, 2 people left of the button would sit out. While Matt and I sat out, he challenged me to a round of Roshambo - best 2 out of 3, for a bet of a buck. I won the buck. Matt was still hitting on me (hee).
After Razz, I believe I had the button and so, against all pleadings, I called Hold-em. And this is where the revelry went through the roof. After a few hands, Mr. Halverson wasn't satisfied to have a nice, sane round of Hold-Em. NooOOOOOoooo. He announced to the room, and the rest of Vegas, "Live 4 on Table 12" and plopped down a live straddle (a straddle is 2 x the BB and buys the button for the person to the left of the Big Blind).
He doesn't stop there. Lest we forget that he is, indeed, Chris Halverson Professional Poker Player™, he drops a chip on top of the hole cards and tells us he's not looked at them. I'll let Mr. H tell the rest of the story:
Al raises, a couple folds, another raise and it’s back to me. I, of course, raise it yelling, “GAMBOOOOOL!!”. Al caps and we’ve got 3 to a capped flop.
The flop is 5h Ac 8c and I say, “I’ve got two live cards!” and throw out a bet. Al raises and is called. I stare at him and say, “I no make cheap for you!” and pop it again. In true fashion he raises and the other guy calls too. I tell him I’ll be nice this time and save him a bet and just call.
The turn brings the Kh to the board and I announce, “I’m value betting my nuts!”. Al asks if I’ve looked at my cards yet, I point to them and say that I have not touched them yet. -EV and Drizz confirm this and he just says, “Raise”. I, of course, raise him back and he calls. We have lost the third person by now. Wuss.
The river is the mighty 3c for a final board of 5h Ac 8c Kh 3c. I look at the board, look at Al, then announce, “I’ve got to bet my flush”. Al sighs and has to call. The pot is huge now and I have not yet looked at my cards. Showdown time.
Al flips up A7 for a pair of aces.
I flip up the Jackhammer (J4).
Of clubs.
The table went absolutely bonkers. Someone yelled for a camera to take a picture of the proof for posterity. I was laughing so hard, I nearly peed. And that was it. There was no turning back. We'd crossed the threshold into the twilight zone and there was no hope for sanity to survive. -EV, not to be out-done, throws a "rock" into the game. I'd read about this somewhere, so knew sorta what that meant - when pot is won, that person gets the "rock" and will have to post a forced straddle the next time they are UTG.
My little "save yourself" alarm bells were tolling in my head and so I resolved to withdraw from the game after the next hand. I was down a bit by this time, and only saw it getting worse if I stayed. Fortunately, I won the next hand - and the rock - which put me up about $6 bucks. Time to go!
I hung out with folks at the bar - chatting and avoiding spit bombs from folks on the balcony above us in Felicia's game. That game eventually broke up and I was witness to Felicia knocking back some sort of shot of booze, holding her nose all the way. You go girl.
Eventually a group of us made our way back to the Plaza, although I have no recollection of how that was accomplished. I zipped upstairs to change out of my dinner duds and came back down to play some 2/4. I remember looking at Kent (aka Joe Speaker) at one point and thinking "he's playing in the WSOP tomorrow, he needs to get to bed" - he looked to be about to fall out of his chair. A moment or two later, he did just that. I mean he went to bed, not fall out of his chair. Whew.
I'm very fuzzy on details from this point forward. Exhaustion was taking over and eventually I gave in to it. I was losing at the table and so departed for some sleep. I was astounded that when I arrived at my lovely room, complete with esthetically placed cigarette burns in the carpet, that the light streaming through my window wasn't man made. Nature's full glory of the morning greeted me. It was dawn. Day one of Vegas Redux was complete.
