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April 18, 2006
Bellagio, Day 2.5
Our story left off on Tuesday. After my second tournament I was on the fence about playing any more. The structure was miserable, the fields were gradually getting tougher as the increasing buy-ins caused fewer donkeys to play satellites and more pros to buy in, and the prospect of a 15 hour day, which I would have to complete just to make the money, didn't sit well with me. Everyone always talks about how great Jack McClelland is at running tournaments, but my experience has been the exact opposite. I guess I just need to stick to the bigger buy-ins.
I had dinner at Olives with Matt K, Chris F, and Chris Taylor, a friend of mine who had flown in from Seattle that day on a last minute whim and was a little late due to winning some money in a $50 tournament over at Imperial Palace. It would turn out to be the first in a series of them that he would destroy that week, earning him the title "the $50 tournament master". Dinner was typical Olives, good food, good wine, good atmosphere, good service, good ambience. Good everything. I still say that dollar for dollar that is the best restaurant in Vegas. I've not yet found a restaurant I like better for less than twice the price.
After dinner Chris F had to get back to his rotation game so Chris T and I decided to go out drinking. We both had some sorrows to drown, mine poker related, his female. If forced to choose I guess I'd take mine any day. Both of us were feeling the other's pain, though that, along with all other feeling, ended quickly.
I started with a couple Chopin martinis and a God awful shot of tequila (so bad it nearly makes me sick thinking about it. Why do bars only have anejo? Is a good reposado so much to ask for?) at Fix. That's a trendy little bar/restaurant by the Via Bellagio shopping area that plays mostly 90's rock music which, prior to this trip, I had never been to before. I've always been curious about it though, since I've been walking by it for years and hearing music by Weezer, Cracker, and all of the other bands I've liked since high school. I know I'm a fossil but, at the risk of sounding like my father circa 1996, I have to say this new rock music sucks. What can I say? I'm just not into the emo.
Anyhow, after Fix we stopped to talk to my friend Daniel in the poker room and then worked our way over to Caesars. We checked out the poker room there, which was brand new and very, very large by Vegas standards. We greased a floor guy for VIP passes to Pure, the ultra-popular club next door, to avoid the line that stretched past the blackjack and roulette tables and out of sight. Neither of us are really club people, but we had to see what all of the buzz was about. One of my last non-fuzzy memories of the evening was a bouncer rejecting my $20 bribe to let me in despite my shoes, which apparently weren't "designer" enough. The bouncer asked me what brand they were and I told him the truth (Cole Haan). I should have just told him Zegna and hoped he fell for it. I don't even know if Zegna makes shoes, but most likely neither does a bouncer.
They weren't really tennis shoes (I don’t even own any of those) but unfortunately they still weren't up to snuff and I hadn't brought any others, so I decided to see if my buddy Andrew Jackson could get me into the club. He's helped bend rules in my favor many times before, but this time it didn't work. That boucner must have been turning down two hours of pay, which is both admirable and stupid in my opinion.
I managed to hang on to the $20 bill though, at least until we got to the Seahorse, the name of which, as it turns out, is not coincidentally homophonous to "see whores". We saw plenty of them (and I'm not talking about all of the club girls) and even a few pimps. No joke, I saw my first real-life pimp, and it was everything HBO made it out to be, lavender suit, matching feathered hat, cane, shoes, and all.
The Seahorse was the bar closest to Pure and the poker room, and most of the people there had either come from or were going to Pure. I went around the bar and questioned everyone about my shoes. Most of them seemed to think they were fine for a club and that the bouncer was just trying to be a hardass. I saw the guy a couple days later and while the verdict is still out on the shoes it turns out they were right about the bouncer.
At the Seewhores we met a few people there, one of whom was a young girl referred to by us for the rest of the trip as "the goalie" or "the cockblocker" for her fantastic job of keeping numerous men away from her much more attractive friend. Any time one got too close old Martin Brodeur suddenly needed to use the bathroom and drag her friend with her, later returning to a different part of the bar.
We also met an events coordinator from the Rio named Khaleel who said he is working on this year's WSOP, and a guy who I thought was a dead ringer for Kevin Federline. Of course I had only ever seen one picture of Kevin Federline, minutes earlier on a poster outside of Pure as coincidence would have it, and my vision and memory were both probably a tad unreliable by that point, but that didn't stop me from calling him "K-Fed". Neither did his saying that his name was Nate and that he was from Wisconsin. He must have looked at least a little like Kevin since everyone else around started calling him K-Fed too. That or everyone was as drunk as me, which is more than possible. Fortunately for me Nate from Wisconsin took it with good humor, since I'm not much of a fighter and probably couldn't have ran ten steps without falling over.
After that we stumbled back to Bellagio, where I drank a Fiji that I'm not sure I remembered to pay for and talked to some friends in the poker room before heading back to the room and nodding off. All in all it was a pretty fun evening, though I drank way too much. I mean waaaaaaaaay too much. I woke up in the middle of the evening, nearly getting sick (which I haven't done in over 5 years), but managed to drink some more water and get back to sleep without incident. I woke up the next morning with a totally deserved headache an hour too late to jump in the tournament, which made my decision for me.
Posted by themaroon at April 18, 2006 12:52 AM
Comments
Fiji water has saved me from many a hangover. That stuff is a God send.
Posted by: Jorgen at April 18, 2006 3:31 AM
Matt posting about drinking and bars? What's next, will I have to start posting about poker?
Posted by: AlCantHang at April 18, 2006 9:11 AM
Zegna makes shoes...and they're fabulous.
I have a very odd Vegas tradition. When I'm well up after the first night, I buy an expensive pair of shoes ("booking" my win, as it were). Last trip, hard-to-find Taryn Rose loafers at the Mirage after a killer 10/20 session. Time before, Tod's boots at the Bellagio when I couldn't lose at craps. Ah, the good ol' days.
My friends say this tradition is "slightly gay," but WTF...at least I don't get bucked out of clubs for inappropriate footwear!
Posted by: mkpoker at April 18, 2006 12:55 PM
"When I'm well up after the first night, I buy an expensive pair of shoes."
I'm glad someone pays retail so I can pay pennies on the dollar for the same stuff on eBay.
Posted by: fun160 at April 18, 2006 1:25 PM
that tourney at imperial sucks. It's nice to see you guys still hit some lowroller tourneys too.
Posted by: cauwel3 at April 18, 2006 2:06 PM
I was really surprised to see how they rape the lower limit players with the rake. Yet another reason cash games are better.
Posted by: Matt at April 18, 2006 2:28 PM
Oh, they rape the cash game players too...just not as hard.
Posted by: Jorgen at April 19, 2006 2:01 AM
The whole club scene out in Vegas is pretty much the most pretentious scene I've ever encountered. I've heard Shaq couldn't get into Light because he had sneakers on, when the bouncers told him to get nice shoes he replied "who sells size twenties?" I've heard a similar story about Madonna.
While I'm a very unassuming person, I do enjoy being pretentious every now and then and going to the clubs.
They usually are reluctant to just let in a couple of guys in the VIP line. I go to Pure whenever I'm in Vegas with my one friend who's college roommate is a bartender there. The bouncers aren't supposed to take any money from friends of employees, but even with that connection it takes 30 minutes of cramming to try to get to the front of the line, and even when at the front of the line they dick you around for 10 minutes or so until they let you in. Nothing is more ridiculous than telling the bouncers who you are, and then for no reason whatsoever they just stand there and make you wait before they let you in. From what I've heard it takes $100 to get you in the door, so the $20 might not have made him impressed. I suppose it makes sense, act as exclusive as possible and it becomes exclusive then they can drive up the price of what it costs to get in there. If they just let everyone in then they wouldn't see $10 let alone $100.
Posted by: andy at April 19, 2006 7:41 PM