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Didn't Their Moms Tell Them to Always Wear Clean Underwear?

New Year's Eve 2013 (Part 3)

(This is the third and final chapter of my New Year's Eve adventure.  You can find Part 1 here and Part 2 here.)

At one point in the session, Abe returned from the Men’s Room with an interesting tidbit of information.  He had witnessed a guy taking a girl in there with him.  He took her into an empty stall, closed the door and proceeded to do….well, we don’t know what.  But it is a safe bet that they did somethi ng that couldn’t be described in a family blog. 

I asked him if he looked at the bottom, below where the door covered, to see if he could better provide us with a guess as to what specifically they were doing.  He denied doing so.  I did point out that it was a shame that I hadn’t witnessed this myself.  After all, “Woman in the Men’s Room” is a label I have used on this blog quite a few times before.  This will be the 9^th such post with that designation.  Oh well, Abe’s reportage of this incident will suffice.

OK, Ok, I’ve stalled long enough.  I know you all come here expecting a serious poker blog, so let’s finally get to the actual poker, shall we?  I was pretty card dead the whole night.  The good thing was, when I played a hand, the flop missed me so completely that it didn’t cost me a lot of money.  After a couple of hours I had lost about a half of my buy-in but had never come close to putting my entire stack in play.   Down to $103, I added a $100 and immediately started getting the exact same cards I was getting before.

The best hand I had during this period was when I had nothing.  I had Ace-Queen in late position and raised to $12.  Three players called.  I totally whiffed on the flop, and it checked to me.   I bet $35 with air and had two caller.  Another miss on the turn.  I checked behind the other players.  Another complete miss on the river.  Both players checked.  I assumed that one of them had at least a small pair.  I decided to bet to see if I could steal it.  I put out $50 and they both folded.  Who says I can’t bluff?  (Of course, it’s possible I had the best hand there.)

A little while later I raised to $10 with Ace-Jack offsuit, and had four callers.  It was a King high flop, and totally missed me, but I took a chance and put out a $35 continuation bet (not always a good idea with so many in the hand).  But no one called.

Then there was a bad hand and I should have known better.  I limped in on the button with Ace-3 clubs.  That was strictly in a desperate attempt to hit a flush so I could get a ticket for the cash drawing.  The flop was Ace-3-2, two hearts.  I bet $10 and had two callers.  A five of clubs on the turn put four to a straight out there.  I checked, but called a $20 bet (just the two of us).  And when a Jack of spades hit the river, I checked and called a $25 bet.  Of course he had the straight.  In fact, he was playing the mighty deuce-four!  How could I fall for that?

This takes us to Brent’s 2AM down.  Recall I was ready to leave but was having too much fun discussing “genres”.  So I stayed.  I started his down with about $150 in front of me, so I was stuck for about $150.  And unfortunately, I didn’t take really good notes on the hands during this down because I was having too much fun discussing and watching those genres.  So I’ll do the best I can since this was also the best poker for me of the night (another reason why Brent’s down was so much fun).

In early position, Abe raised to $10.  I was in the Big Blind with King-Queen of clubs.  To me, that’s not a good hand to call a raise out of position with, especially a raise from a solid player like Abe, not some maniac.  It’s too easily dominated.  But almost everyone at the table called Abe’s raise.  I think a few players from the Wynn called.  At least one player from The Bike in L.A. called.

No, I guess four had called so it was pretty easy for me to call there as well, making the pot $60 preflop.  The flop was Queen high, one club.   I checked and Abe bet.  Now my best recollection is that he bet $20 although that seems awfully small for the size of the pot.  But one player called and so did I.  The turn was a club, so when Abe bet $30 (I think) and the other guy called, I called.  At this point I was thinking Abe might have Ace-Queen and I need to hit the flush to win.

So a low club hit the river giving me the second nut flush.  I bet $35.  Abe tanked for a good long while.  He couldn’t put me on any hand that made sense.  He didn’t think I would have called the flop with just a back-door flush draw.  He didn’t tell me afterwards, he was saying this while he was thinking about his action.  Finally he called and so did the other guy. 

He did indeed have Ace-Queen.  The other guy King-Queen, same as me (if you ignore the fact that I had the flush).  In that one hand, I went into the black from being the red. I won over $200 and was now up for the night.  And I had earned my very first drawing ticket (for the flush) after over 8 hours of poker!  Brent offered me the ticket and I declined.  There was no way I was gonna hang around until 6 in the morning!  I’m crazy, but not that crazy.  I later apologized to Abe for hitting the backdoor flush on him.  At least this time a lot of the money I won came from other players, not just him.  (Edited to add:  I've heard from Abe and he has a different recollection of the hand, see addendum below)*

The very next hand I won again.  I didn’t write down the details and couldn’t remember the next morning.  I know I had Ace-5 and presumably limped in from the small blind.  I hit two pair and this time it held.  It was a much smaller pot than the first.  But still nice to win.  Abe was shouting, “kill pot, kill pot.”

A few hands later I raised pre with Ace-King and only one player called, an older gentleman.  He led out on a board that was Ace high.  I just called.  I really suspected he had two pair. I kept calling and I think we both checked the river.  He mucked when I showed my hand.  Note:  I guess I should have insisted he show first, even though there was no bet on the river.  But at this point I knew I was almost done playing and didn’t really care what he had if I could drag the pot.

I managed to lose some money on a few other hands but when Brent was pushed out, it was 2:30 AM and I had gone from down $150 to up nearly $200 in less than 30 minutes.  And had a blast checking out ladies and joking about genres.  It was a great fun.  So, since I couldn’t imagine the next dealer (I can’t recall who it was) making “genre” jokes, I picked up and cashed out. Playing 8-1/2 hours of poker over two days, two months, and two years was enough.

I went people watching.  And you can easily guess the type of people I was watching for.  As I’ve implied, there were plenty of really attractive, minimally dressed ladies walking by the poker room all night.  And when I had taken a dinner break, I walked by the night club and was surprised to see they were already lining up to get in.  This was around 8-8:30, whereas they usually don’t start queuing up until 10-10:30. 

But at a quarter the three, there were still plenty of people near the club, either trying to get in, or leaving, or somewhere in between.  Generally speaking, the outfits the club-goers were wearing were no different than what I’ve described in the past.  Just more of the same.  But really, it never gets old. 

And then, and then….well, I saw this girl who was so drunk she could not walk under her own power.  Apparently she was leaving the club after a night of a few too many adult beverages.  Holding her up on one side of her was her girlfriend.  Holding her up on the other side of her was some guy.  Her friend too?  Someone she met in the club?  I have no idea.  But the two of them were practically carrying her as they headed toward the parking area.  They had a long way to go.

My eyes were scanning the whole place (there were so many wonderful things to see, you couldn’t take it all in) and I was already more or less passed this trio when I noticed them.  I saw the girl could barely walked and I turned around to see if she was going to fall.  I saw her wobble from the back and I couldn’t help noticing that her very, very, very short dress was hiked up quite a bit and I could see, well, at least 1/3 of her bare butt cheeks from this angle, totally uncovered by the dress.  Ahem.  And since the girl was a bit on the heavy side, there was a lot of butt cheek to see.

Just then, the trio stopped and the two sober folks bent down and tried to get her heels off. It was tough enough for her to walk in this condition.  Trying to walk totally smashed and on heels was asking way too much.

Now I after to interject here that my pal Woody, upon hearing and reading about the Slut Parade, has often wondered what percentage of these club-going ladies go “commando.”  Of course, I have no way of knowing.  But ever since he brought it up, I have on occasion tried to determine if I could ascertain if any particular girl I saw might indeed be lacking in the panty-department.  This woman here seemed to be an excellent potential candidate for my research.  Of course, she could have been wearing a thong.

So purely for the benefit of science, and for the benefit of my pal Woody—and not for any prurient interest of my own, I assure you—I doubled back and moved in front of the young lady.

As I did this, her friends were making half-hearted efforts to pull down her dress from either side.  But I couldn’t help noticing several guys—at least four or five—who were parked in front in front of her enjoying the view.  And her friends didn’t seem to care about this.

I didn’t get the best look, but I’m here to tell you that this was the first vagina I saw in 2014.  But then, the year was less than three hours old.  Ok, so I know what you’re all saying.  I can hear you. “Pics or it didn’t happen.”

Fair enough. I couldn’t imagine actually whipping out my camera phone and trying to snatch a picture of this poor inebriated woman at her most vulnerable.  Sorry.  But not all guys have my sense of morality.  In fact, one of the guys parked in front of her did indeed snap a few pics of her.  His camera was pointed right below her belt (if she had been wearing one), make no mistake.

Shocking, really shocking.

Again, her two friends couldn’t seem to care less that he was taking pictures of her like that.  They were too busy trying to prevent her from falling over (which would have given everyone one hell of a view) while they desperately tried to get her heels off.

So I can’t prove it with pics.  I’m not that sleazy.  But I bet, I just bet, that the guy who did take the pics posted them online somewhere.  Somewhere there must be a website of drunk girls inadvertently flashing the beav.  I bet this girl is on it.

Finally they got her shoes off and proceeded to more or less carry her towards the parking area.  I don’t know if they made it or not.  In hindsight (so-to-speak), I probably should have followed them.  No, no….that would have been taking things too far.

Besides, just a few minutes later I saw a group of especially attractive young ladies hanging out together, just talking.  One of them was sitting on the ledge of a pillar.  She had on an incredibly short dress.  She was not especially drunk, and she was holding her purse in her lap.  But one of her girlfriends with her, standing up, caught my eye.  There was something about her outfit I found interesting.  I’m guessing it had to do the area between her neck and her belly button.  Just a hunch.  As I was noticing the girl standing, the girl sitting down suddenly stood up, and before, she had a chance to pull down her dress she convinced me that she too had neglected to put on her undies before going out for the evening.  Hoo-ha #2.

If I may philosophize for a moment, I have to wonder how much—if at all—these women really care about accidentally flashing total strangers like this.  Back in my day, it would have quite scandalous and humiliating.  A woman might be forced to leave town and even get a whole new identity.  Now, I’m not so sure.  Surely a woman who puts on a ridiculously short skirt and leaves the panties at home knows she’s at great risk of this happening.  Does she care that someone she’s never gonna see again gets a quick look at her like that?  I mean, as long as nobody got a picture of it….oh wait.

Besides, according to the article here, 2013 was the year of the very visible vagina.  Which leaves me wondering what 2014 will be the year of?  The very visible cervix?

By around 3:30 in the morning, I figured the traffic would have died down enough for it to be ok to get on the streets.  I had observed that the roadblocks were no longer on the strip and that cars were coming and going on it.  Time to put New Year’s Eve 2013 to bed. 

I’m definitely glad I decided to spend my first ever New Year’s Eve in Vegas.

*-Addendum:  According to Abe, it was a limped pot, he didn't raise pre and he was in the big blind, not me.  I limped from the button.  He only bet $10 on the flop and $30 on the turn. He agreed that I bet $35 on the river and both called.  My problem with his recollection is that I would have won quite a bit less money if he is right, and I'm pretty sure I won over $200, which wouldn't be the case if he's right.  I guess next time in town, I'll ask to look at the surveillance tape.  :) )

Also, for another look at NY's Eve in Vegas, and a great trip report from a reader from England, check out Ben's report here.

What's Your Genre?

New Year's Eve 2013 (Part 2)

(Be sure to read part 1 here first.  Part 2 continues right where we left off)

So I played poker for about 9 hours.  Amazingly enough, that wasn’t even my longest session of this trip.  I didn’t play any differently knowing that I was going to play for so long.  I didn’t play extra nitty—just my usual level of nittiness.  I was prepared to invest a few buy-ins if necessary.  I was hoping that the occasion would bring out the drunk, wild, crazy, extremely bad players who to lose money like crazy, but it really wasn’t any different from a normal crowd.  Perhaps I just didn’t stay long enough to see the crazies come out.  After all, I left around 2:30 AM.

I’ve mentioned before that MGM now has these cash drawings.  Every four hours they pick a ticket out of a drum and if the person called is there playing in a game, they get to pick an envelope that is worth between $100 and $3,000.  In order to get a ticket, you have to make a flush or better.  They dump the tickets and start over after every drawing.

So there were three drawings while I was playing, 6PM, 10PM and 2AM.  And I didn’t have a single ticket in for any of the drawings.  No flushes.  No full houses.  No quads.  Zilch, zipp, nada.  Considering I never busted out, and only had to do a ½ rebuy ($100) only once, it’s pretty remarkable that I could play so long and never hit a flush or better, isn’t it?

Anyway, this being the end of the month, the drawings were a bit odd.  They start over at the beginning of every month.  So for December, there were exactly two envelopes left when I started playing.  One was $500 and the other was $100.  So the person picked at 6PM had a 50/50 chance of getting either the minimum or five times that.  And then whatever that person got, the 10PM winner was assured of getting the other prize.

Now I had been in the room on the last night of November as well.  At that time, the last two envelopes were worth $100 and $2,500.  So the 6PM winner had a 50/50 chance of getting a really nice score, or getting really disappointed with a measly $100.  The 6PM winner in November missed and got the $100 prize.  When it was announced, the entire poker room let out a loud cheer, as we all knew that if we were picked for 10PM we’d be guaranteed $2,500.  But what happened was, the first person picked for the 10PM drawing—and a guaranteed $2,500—wasn’t there.  They picked another ticket. And picked the exact same guy!  He had his name drawn twice, and was screwed because he was no longer playing in the room.  Talk about a bad beat!

So now we were at the end of December and the stakes were a little lower.  The woman picked for the 6PM was playing in the 2/6 game.  In fact, I had been watching her and had noticed her husband coming by to take her away.  This was about ½ hour before the drawing.  But she said no, she had to stay, she was going to win the big prize at 6PM.  Well, she was right.  She was picked and she got the $500.  The 10PM winner was guaranteed to win $100 and no more.  There was a small groan murmured in the room when it was announced she had won the bigger prize.

When the 10PM drawing was held, the first, second, and third players picked weren’t there.  Neither were the fourth, fifth or sixth players called.  In fact, they called eight names before finally picking someone who was still in the room playing.  I guess $100 wasn’t that much of an incentive.  Or maybe a lot of people left because they had other plans for the celebration.

Once I got seated, there were 8 tables in use, and never any more than that.  I think it stayed at 8 almost the entire time I was there, except around midnight.  

Abe showed up to the room around 10:30 PM and said the traffic getting there the back way wasn’t too bad.  So I guess maybe I didn’t need to get there at 3PM!  But I wanted the full Vegas New Years Eve experience anyway.  Abe was originally assigned to a different table from mine.  But I believe his was one of the first tables that broke as midnight neared.  By around 11:45PM, all but two games had completely broken, and the two left (including mine) were about 5-6 handed tops.  Virtually all the players who left around this time just wanted to go out on the Strip and see the fireworks, and/or be with the huge mob as the year changed.  As I said, I saw no point in doing that, I figured playing poker was as good a way as any to celebrate the new year.  Interestingly, very few of the players left their chips at the table, they picked them up, even though most came back to play after enjoying the fireworks.

But that brought Abe to my table, which is a key part of this tale.  We played short-handed for for quite awhile and although we couldn’t see the fireworks from inside, we definitely heard them (and even felt them) when midnight struck.  As people filed back in, it wasn’t long before the room filled up to its previous capacity, but with a lot of players being reassigned to different tables and different seats.

One couple who came back to our table (they hadn’t picked up their chips) was severely disappointed.  We had been teasing them about their plan to go outside into the crowd to see the fireworks.  Someone said the best view would be on the TV, which could be seen in the poker room.  But no, they said they came every year and spent $500 a night for a room specifically to see this show.

They came back while we could still hear the fireworks going on. They said it was the worst show they’d ever seen—or didn’t see.  For some reason, they were actually unable to find a spot outside to get a good view—or any view—of the fireworks. 

Now, the whole casino was just packed leading up to midnight.  There was a non-stop parade of people walking past the aisle in front of the poker room.  Just a giant mass of humanity.  Across the aisle, the slot machine area was packed with people.  It was quite a challenge navigating from the poker room to the restrooms when nature inevitably called. 

But suddenly, almost everyone was gone.  Ten minutes before midnight, the inside of the MGM was almost like a morgue.  It wasn’t just the poker room that was suddenly filled with more employees than players.  No one was walking past us in that aisle.  No one was playing slots.  No one was in the slot area.  For about 20 minutes or so, the entire MGM casino was like what I can only imagine it to be on a Tuesday morning of non-holiday week at 8AM.  Or quieter.  It was kind of eerie.

But they all returned, and by 12:30 or so things were back to “normal.”  And sometime after this, I noticed Abe having a brief conversation with my dealer pal Brent (see here for a story featuring him).  I need to give a little background first. Now Abe is a healthy, red-blooded male who is a lot younger than I am (that wouldn’t be hard).  Although I never heard him admit it, it’s safe to say he enjoys viewing the Slut Parade as much as anyone.

I recently surmised from a conversation he was having with Mike, the dealer buddy of mine who always gripes about how long my posts are (see here) that Abe had a certain, specific taste in women.  By the way, I only mentioned Mike because I know Abe will tell him that he’s mentioned, forcing Mike to read this ultra-long post! (And Abe...insist he read all three chapters!)    That will teach him to crack my Kings.  Anyway, Abe, like a large number of the male population of Las Vegas, likes Asian women.  I mean he really, really likes them. 

This predilection is known as “Yellow Fever.”  No, that’s not an ethnic slur.  I learned the term from Prudence, who is Asian herself—and very much a beneficiary of this particular affliction.  A lot of guys who have it end up in Vegas, some by accident, some on purpose.  Some guys only find out they have it after moving to Vegas and noticing all the hot Asian girls that are there.

I wasn’t sure I was right about Abe until this very night.  Brent was brushing and a group of extremely attractive young Asian ladies—dressed appropriately for the night club (which means they weren’t dressed “appropriately” at all)—came over to Brent to ask him where something in the casino was.  Brent dutifully gave them directions.  Abe was nearby watching.  When they left, Abe expressed his displeasure at Brent.  “Why didn’t you refer those girls to me? I could have helped them.  I would have personally taken them there!”

Brent laughed and admitted he blew it, especially since he knew Abe was right there.  “Yeah, I should have taken them to you and told him that you would have been happy to escort them there.  Sorry.  I was just too eager to please them myself.”  You see, Brent also has a bit of the Yellow Fever himself.  I’ve since learned that in the poker room, Brent (who is spoken for) sometimes acts as Abe’s wing-man.  

Brent had dealt at my table much earlier in the evening, and returned to that table, now with Abe there, at 2AM.  I was really planning on quitting at 2AM.  Not that I was ready to leave the MGM. I just that I thought I was done with poker.  Yes, I will discuss some poker eventually, but not yet.  I figured I could easily kill another hour or so (and thus wait for traffic to ease up) just walking around the casino and doing some “people watching.”  Yeah, that’s what I’m calling it.

And you see, at 2AM, they had the first cash drawing of the new month.  And they had filled the drum back with over 180 new envelopes, 10 of which were worth $3,000, 10 worth $2,000, 10 worth $1,000 and a bunch worth smaller prizes ($100 again being the most common).  So those previous four hours, I had a nice incentive to hit a flush or better and get a chance to claim a nice prize.  But as I already revealed, I struck out in that regard, and had no tickets for the 2AM drawing.

But when Brent pushed in, and I could see he and Abe were continuing the conversation they had been having about the lovely ladies that were walking before us, I thought it just might be fun to stick around a little longer.

By this time there was an almost constant parade of club-goers walking to and from the club on display.  All shapes, all sizes, all ethnicities.  Whatever your “type” is, it was never more than three minutes away. Some of these girls were dressed in a respectable fashion, but they were in the minority.  Thank goodness.

Now poor Abe had been stuck in seat 3, which meant he didn’t have an unobstructed view of the parade.  He complained about getting neck strain to keep up with all the nice scenery walking by.  I don’t know if it was because I was more aware of them due to the conversation I’d heard between him and Brent, but it did seem that there was a higher than average percentage of Asian girls (most of them exceedingly attractive) on this night.

Since Abe didn’t have the best view, and Brent did (as did I), Brent was at least performing his duty of tipping off Abe whenever a gaggle of hot ladies were walking by.  Especially if they were in his preferred category.

Abe is from the Midwest, from a state not known to be overly inhabited by Asians.  In keeping with my practice, I will give this Midwestern state a pseudonym, something ridiculous, something no one could confuse with a real state.  Let’s call Abe’s home “West Dakota.”  So, as I saw him admire one Asian girl after another, I finally asked him, “So tell me, Abe, how did a guy from West Dakota become so enamored with Asian girls?”

He didn’t really answer.  I’m not sure there is an answer to that question.  But he did reveal that back in West Dakota, he actually lived with a Korean girl for awhile.  So I said to him, “The very first Asian to ever set foot in West Dakota, and she ended up with you?  Awesome.  That’s like hitting your one-outer.”  (I actually only came up with the “one-outer” joke when I was writing this post just now.)

Somehow, Abe missed a particularly nice group of Asian girls (I guess he was actually playing a hand) so Brent described them for him.  Abe was disappointed he missed them.  A few minutes later, a lone Asian woman, not at all dressed for clubbing, walking by and Brent said, “Oh, there’s another one.”

Abe looked up and was disappointed.  “In the velour? Her?”

Brent realized that the woman was not really worth pointing out.  “Oh sorry.  It wasn’t so much the dress or the look, but at least she was in the right genre.”

Brent’s use of the word “genre” amused both Abe and myself.  “Genre?  Like a movie genre?”  I think I said that, but honestly, it might have been Abe. By now the three of us were all cracking up.  It was actually damn clever, using the word “genre” instead of “ethnicity,” which is what he meant.  “Ethnicity” might have offended somebody and everyone at the table could hear us.

“So genre, as in horror, or comedy, or drama…like that?”  I think that came from me.

And then Abe said, “Yeah, you know, sometimes you’re willing to watch a B-movie.  Because, you know it’s been a really long time since you’ve seen a movie.  And maybe you haven’t had a TV for a long time. “

For the entire time Brent was dealing, the three of us were commenting and joking about all the passersby, and noting what “genre” they belonged in.  It was one of the most enjoyable downs I can recall.

(And we'll leave it there for now.  Coming in Part 3--the third and final chapter--we'll actually talk about some poker that was played this night.  And also, your humble scribe runs into a couple of poor ladies who had done so badly at the tables that they couldn't afford underwear.  Or something like that.  The final chapter is now posted and can be found here.)