Saturday, December 18, 2004

A brief interruption 

As I sat down to finish up my trip report with my favorite part, after hours of hanging at the bar with BigMike on the odd Friday amateur night at the bar, and more hours after enjoying my new digital cable / DVR box....

I decided to surf a little.

This is better than anything I could write at the moment

Otis my man. The man.

Congrats from us.


Thursday, December 16, 2004

The Tourney 

6am is one of the other few timeframes I have. It's not that often you're woken up by your wife beating you with the phone. At least for me.

I hopped immediately out of bed. Then sat right back down. God bless the head spins.

Sitting there, I only had one thought. Where the heck is Sherwood Forrest?

Flush with adrenaline from my beating, the wifey decided to join us.

We found the bar easily enough since it was the first one off the elevator. I find BigMike hanging out with Otis and G-Rob, but no Iggy. Mike orders my first double of the day and the downward spiral begins.

Soon, we have the blogfather himself pull around the corner and the weekend is official. This was one of the highlights of my weekend. It was Iggy who started me on all this blogging non-sense that has led me to bare my drunken soul to complete strangers, many of whom I now consider friends.

We continue where the crew left off. BigMike ordering from Ricardo. Double Soco's, car bombs, Yager bombs (denied on account of no red bull), greyhounds, buds, and Tequila para mi esposa!

My friends Phil and JDub pop over to the bar after an all-nighter at the poker table. JDub does that passout at the bar. All kinds of poker blogger royalty begin showing up. Maudie the Courageous!

Bare with me. Things really start to get spotty right around.....


I turn to BigMike and mention the super duper stretch SUV that we had discussed earlier. Was it available? Did he call? BigMike did was he does best.

"If you want the stretch SUV, you have to give me at least 10 minutes notice so I can make the arrangements!"

Welp, arrangements were made, people were gathered, drinks were finished. BadBlood made the final call which would make the trip a little more 'memorable'. He brought along three gifts for me. Two CD's and a Slayer DVD. He mentions that we need to have a listening party so we can properly enjoy our shared love of all things metal and tip one back to Dimebag.

Wouldn't a stretch SUV generally have a CD player, Al?

Why yes, yes they do. Thanks for asking.

Here should have been the first clue that I had stepped across that line I didn't want to cross before playing in a tourney full of pro's and top notch bloggers. I was halfway to snooker-dom and it was naught yet 10am. We have some fine, ear bleeding, mind numbing metal blaring from the speakers with me, your hero de jour, hanging out of the limo window throwing the horns (or throwing the goat, as some would say) at every grandma in the back seat of a cab riding down the strip.

And that's a long damn ride from the Excalibur to Sam's Town. When your head is out of the window most of the time. Luckily the driver wouldn't let me open the sunroof.

Which leads to another highlight of the trip.

As we pull up to Sam's Town in this monstrosity (which had to do something like a 7 point turn just to get IN the driveway), the speakers ramming, there are a bunch of younger kids standing in or near the cab stand. Everyone exits the limo via the right door and I'm waiting for everyone to unload. Just as the last of the passengers are disembarking, the kids run over and open the left hand door.

"Is there anyone famous in here!"

There I am. On my knees, trying to slide over to get out of this beast. I turned to them, surely looking rather disheveled. I DO have a lot of hair and I WAS hanging out of a limo.

"Yeah, how you doin' kids. My name's Al. I'm the lead singer of the Al Can't Hang Experiment. You wanna autograph?"

At that point I pull out my trusty notepad and pen (which have barely been used for NOTES) and started signing AlCan'tHang. I wrote out four of the them and then apologized.

"Sorry kids, but I've really gotta go. There are some important people upstairs waiting for me."


Now I promised myself and others that I wasn't going to be anywhere near looped for tourney day. I wanted to make a proper showing at the tourney and enjoy the presence of the pro players.


I walked around meeting and greeting (and the wife was shoving the occasional coffee cake down my throat). I enjoyed a nice conversation with Charlie but I wasn't able to chat with any of the other pros. It seems from Glenn's post that he was taking up all of Marcel's time.

Soon though, that odd feeling starts creeping back in. It's been almost 30 minutes since your last shot. Time's a tickin' big guy.

So I did what any poker playing, booze hound would do. I located someone with a similar outlook (cough, Iggy) and went in search of the nearest bar. After getting lost, again, the cashier pointed us to a little room that housed a crypt-like bar.

Shots were downed, more acquaintances were made, and there was joy in Mudville.

Somewhere around this time the pros spoke, money exchanged hands, books were signed. If I'm not mistaken, and I just might be, the PokerProf was trying to figure out how to get everyone out of the conference room and down to the poker room. Easy enough, I tell him. I grabbed my shot(s), told my table to follow me, and off we went. Sure enough, the PokerProf and I turn around, there's the rest of the crew following him like the Pied Piper.

In hindsight, I should have noted which escalator we went down because just before the tourney started, the wifey informed that I left my wallet and passport sitting on the bar. Imagine, if you will, a fat hairy man running up and down escalators trying to find a hole-in-the-wall bar to get back his wallet before the start of the tourney.


On with the tourney.

I'm sure you'll find much better writeups for others at my table. Going into the tournament, I knew it was going to be a crapshoot and I was going to have to win some coin flips to negate my extremely below average play.

As a result, I knocked out the first blogger (and I still feel bad about it). Early in the tourney, in late position, I see several limpers before action gets to me. Now anyone who's played with me knows that I hardly ever limp in, and won't abide limpers ahead of me.


Bing, $250, 5xBB, one eighth of my starting stack, or a pot sized bet. However you want to look at it. I was only holding AQo. I would have been happy picking up all the limpers or see what happens on the flop. A Queen on the flop gave me TPTK and Bill checked it to me.

I may have slightly overbet the pot by pushing in (don't look at me that way, I told you I suck). Bill called after making the mistake of trying to analyze an idiot (both hands up) and my AQ held up against his QJ.

The first big pot at my table was pushed in my direction. Here's where a problem occurred.

I'm partially color blind. It rarely causes me problems at the poker table. $1 and $5 chips are easy to tell apart. In the tourney, the $25 and $100 chips looked exactly the same to me. Many thanks to Otis on my right (and the good samaritan on my left. I can't remember who it was. A blogger friend. Somebody please remind me.) who helped me separate and stack so I didn't completely look like a toolbag.

Even with their help, Otis would still have to lean over every once in awhile and whisper, "There's a green in with the gray." This, my friends, has absolutely nothing to do with my liquor intake. It's just bad genes.

I would call upon their assistance in a big way a little while later when I bust out Linda and cripple BadBlood. Here, I'll just let Glenn tell the hand...

Al took me off of a chopper. Linda, finding really no good hands, shoved
all-in with 66 UTG. Al debated and debated and finally went all-in over the top
with AQo. Not really wanting to battle two all-in's, I mucked AKs. Badblood then
goes over the top of both with KK. WOW, what a hand. Then Al about triples
through when he spikes one of the two remaining Aces. I would have chopped, as
the final board was TTATx; we both would have had T's full of A's.

I said I needed to win some coin flips, right? Well AQ vs 66 is a coin flip. Cracking BadBlood's KK was just bad juju.

Remember, I'm not good at this. :)

More shots and I'm soon moved to the table of death. I stayed out of the way of Felicia and Max but Pauly doubled up on me with AA when I tried a silly steal with KJ. To my amazement, I soon find myself amazed when Dick announces that we're down to the final table. This is RIGHT after I was nearly knocked out by Julie with an outkicked Ace but survived when we had to chop thanks to a rivered straight for both of us.


Wow, this is a big rambling mess.


Long story short. Final table, I have around 3 times the BB and find KJ UTG. I pushed in and Max the Italian Pirate just happened to have AA. I don't no professional poker player-type person to play that hand.

AlCan'tHang out at number 10. Way better than I deserved.


Since I was freed from the tables, Pauly and I hit the bar. With a vengeance. That Dr. Pauly is a good guy, did you know that?

Drink drink drink smoke smoke smoke. Somehow BigMike and I come across a craps table and find HDub, Bob, and the BoyGenius.

hhhmmm. I'm loaded to the tits on booze, can hardly breathe 'cause I'm two packs in for the day (the sun is STILL up), and I've never played craps in my life.

Sounds like the perfect time to learn!

BigMike, myself, and Tony (a little later) ponied up to the table on off we went. What started off as a fun education session quickly degenerated into another drunken mess.

I had shots lined up on the rail of the vacant craps table behind me. Bob started a trend with the innocent statement after a roll, "Press it Kenneth".

It soon turned into our entire side of the table yelling, "Press it KenNETH!". Even when Kenneth wasn't there. Tony gets bonus points for not smacking me everytime I asked, "Was that a bad roll?" as they were raking all the chips off the table.

And then we all busted.


I wish to holy hell I could properly describe how much fun we had at the craps table. The six of us were just standing there, playing craps, BSing, drinking, and generally having a blast.

Definitely one of the highlights of the trip.

Thanks guys.

"Press it KenNETH!"


After the bust out, it was time to load up into a taxi and get BigMike to the airport for his red-eye flight east, drop BG off at the Hard Rock, and head back to the Excal.

This would also be the last time I saw Mrs. CantHang for the next 12 hours.


I could take the time to go back to proof read and spell check this crapfest or I could just post it with this disclaimer. I wrote this as my brain remembers it. Disjointed and all over the place. This should be a proper glimpse into my psychosis.

More to come.


Wednesday, December 15, 2004

The Beginning 

This post was originally started bright and early Tuesday morning. The around noon, Mr. Super Duper Post Vacation Sinus Infection showed up and completely knocked me on my ass. I've been in a self-prescribed drug-induced coma.


9am, Monday December 13, 2004, McCarran Airport

I sat down at the gate waiting for my flight out and I began thinking about how I could possibly write the weekend up and have it make any sense.

Time was a muddled mess.

I could try to piece together a timeline. I was one of those with a notepad and pen in the their back pocket. Here's the problem. There are only three things written down. The first time I sit down at the bar, the first time I sit at the poker table in the Excalibur, and the fact that I was dealt the Hammer twice in the first 3 hands. And I lost to the wife's Hilton Sisters.

So how do I write up a trip report without a time frame other than, sometime around 9am on Saturday I was hanging out with the window of a stretch Escalade headbanging to BadBlood's Best of Old School Metal CD.


Looking around the airport lounge, I see the same look on many people that I'm used to seeing at the airport in NewOrleans after a successful MardiGras. You've got the guy who looks like he can't see further than 12 inches past his nose. The poor girl with her head down on her backpack and looks like she's going to projectile vomit at the slightest touch. The older lady with her skin leathered from too many trips to the tanning saloon and big, fake breastessess as big as a man's head.

With my head following the irregular beat of my heart (ever feel your heartbeat in your eyeballs), I could have sworn this was the day after MardiGras. But then again, the NewOrleans airport doesn't have the screaming slot machines 10 yards from your head.

So I decided at that time there was only one way I was going to accomplish the writeup, brain dump. I can't do much of a day by day recounting either. Who knew I played at the Luxor? Not me until I found a handful of chips from the Luxor in my pocket Sunday morning.


The trip started off well enough. We were able to get on the 8:30 flight out of Philly since we arrived early giving us 2 extra hours in SinCity. As we exited our rental car at the Excal, there's Dr.Pauly and Derek getting out of there taxi.

A fine, SOBER, start to the weekend. Of course, that ended shortly with big ol' shots at the bar waiting for Pauly and Derek. They showed with BG, Bob, and Daddy in tow.



Pauly quickly talked them into opening a low limit spread game for us and the party was on. Shots for the willing and the bloggers started rolling in.

Quick poker summary (since it WAS a poker blogger gathering.). Lost most of my buy-in at the 1-3 spread. Lost all of my buy-in at the $100 min/max NLHE. But.....

After busting in the NL ring game, Felicia asked me if I was ready for the grand tour of the Excal. Only meaning one thing. Krispy Kreme.

Ask Pauly, there are fewer happier moments in my pathetic existence then when I wake up with a hangover only to discover that my lovely bride picked up Krispy Kreme on the way home.

After limiting myself to two dozen of the finest glazed donuts in the world, thanks Glenn for limiting me, we cruised back to the poker room where I played Donut Man (complete with the little hat Felicia grabbed for me) and started handing them out.

Glenn, Felicia's poker-playing husband Yin to Mrs. CantHang's booze-soaked husband Yang, talked to the poker room into opening up a 2/4 O8 table just for us. I'm pretty sure they only had two dealers in the entire casino that knew how to deal it, so it was pretty cool. My man Otis to my right, BadBlood two seat to my left, Felicia and Glenn at the end. Anyone else there, I apologize. This is where is starts getting fuzzy.

The best moment at that table. BadBlood, Otis, and myself are knocking back the Soco as fast as the waitress could or would bring them. A polite lady had taken the seat immediately to my left. I knew something was wrong was Glenn looked over and pointed. The poor thing had picked up my double Soco instead of whatever she was drinking. Quite a shock for her I'm sure. Nothing a big gulp of water couldn't fix up.

hehehe, but her play definitely loosened up after that.

Felicia then mentions the all-you-can-eat sushi place she knows about and I flashback to the last time I ate. Somewhere in the neighborhood of 16hours and nothing but booze. This would be a theme of the weekend.

BigMike, the wifey, and myself headed off for a very nice dinner and had a great time. We did our best to eat the place out of sushi. Felicia already wrote about this, but the end of the dinner came around when a group of octo's were causing a ruckus and began christmas karaoke.

What kind of crazy world is it when the old ladies in the corner are out partying me?

So we head back to the casino.......

and nothing.


Blackout city.

The last thing I remember was walking around trying to find who was still playing and, more importantly, who was drinking.


6am and the wifey is beating me with the hotel room phone. All I hear is BigMike screaming into the phone....

"Get your ass down here. I'm with Iggy and Hank and Otis and everyone. Get your ass down to Sherwood Forrest now!"