To those loyal readers who have been starved for a poker story--today I accommodate you. Everyone else--move along, there is nothing to see here. (For the non-poker players, who read on, simultaneous translation is available on the Jargon Channel)
I have made it as far as Arizona on the final quarter of my trip and I am hunkered down for a couple of days in Scottsdale near Casino Arizona. So, yes there is some poker playin' goin' on Lucy. It's been nearly three weeks since the Boyz were in Mississippi. Amy, Randy & I sorely missed an Omaha fix in Biloxi, but I was determined to play some four card poker before the trip was over.
This is not a bad beat story, although there was one terrible decision on my part. Early saturday afternoon the poker room had over 30 tables in action with two Omaha8's going. But the list was long, so long that I was sure they would open a third table. I hopped on the O8 list and, just in case, the even longer 4/8 hold'em as well.
Sure enough, they called the Omaha interest list but couldn't get nine takers, shortly they did open a new hold'em table and I took a seat. This was a typical no-fold'em table with 3 to 7 players seeing the flop. The elderly gentleman two to my left saw the first nine flops and all nine rivers as well; then he rebought for his second $100. This had all the signs of a juicy table with a monster fish and several dull toothed carp chasing him.
For a full hour I played only one hand, my un-raised big blind in the first round. I won nothing but was only down the $12 for the blinds. Our fish was bleeding chips and had just taking out his 4th c-note, when they called my Omaha table. I was torn, he was down three hundred in an hour, but he said as he pulled out his cash: "This is my last chance today." So I moved to the O8 table, which was immediately behind the 4/8 table and I happened to take a seat where I could see the generous gentleman who immediately runner-runnered a big pot, which meant he would be around longer. Hmm, maybe I should have stayed. Remember, I got exactly none of his first $300 and was card dead and just not having any fun.
The Omaha table was lively, way more fun than getting rotten cards in the hold'em game. Over on my abandoned first table, the "last chance today" gentleman proceeded to lose all chips he had won in that one suck-out pot and then went on to pull a grand total of $1200 out of his wallet in a little under four and a half hours. The player who took my seat, bought in for a single rack of whites and was up nearly five hundred bucks when Old Faithful finally left the table.
Oh, I had a lot of fun at the Omaha table and managed just over a one big blind an hour profit. Sometimes it's not about how you play your cards or how you play your opponents but simply where you sit down and when you stand up.
I would just like to say: Doh!
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promotional photo of me and Mikey at '09 WSOP
photo credit to MeanGene
It's a real, live, exact, calendariacly significant day. I officially began my trip on July 31st last year, I even blogged about it. That's the "when" of the story. Back then I imagined I would be extending my undomiciled existence for "five months or longer", well as of an hour ago I am back in the Bay Area (Oakland to be exact) and since this is where I will be staying for some unforeseeable time into the future, I guess it is time to declare the wandering aspect of this journey to be complete. There is still more to write, both here and in one of several stories I am working on. But for now the "Where Am I?" updates can abate. In the next couple of weeks I will be settling into an apartment in Berkeley and perhaps even clearing out my storage closet, perhaps.
For all of you flat-landers that is a picture of the San Andreas Fault, upon which I am resting tonight and which I have crossed and will recross several more times in the next 24 hours. I am putting all of that L.A. nonsense behind me as I have passed through the maws of the City of Angles and am now firmly pointed towards the City by the Bay.
I have written before about the strange, quirky and upsetting film "Welcome to L.A.". My review and recommendation remains the same:
To those loyal readers who have been starved for a poker story--today I accommodate you. Everyone else--move along, there is nothing to see here. (For the non-poker players, who read on, simultaneous translation is available on the Jargon Channel)
I have run before the weather several times on my current journey. I ducked ahead of a Rockies early fall storm in October, hunkered down during a three day inundation in Indiana, raced south before DC was hit with a pre-holiday snow storm. But this morning I faced a due westerly course into the massive east-moving storm that is drenching the entire southwest U.S.
There are simply some movies that should be seen on a big screen. Then there are a few films that must be seen on IMAX. I mean is there a single Woody Allen movie that doesn't play just fine at 31 inches diagonally? But Avatar is at the other end of the spectrum, so the consensus review from down here in Austin is:
There is a huge difference between writing a book and writing a screenplay. I am not sure if the difficulties are decreased or increased if one is attempting to create the script from a book they have already written. What I can say for sure is that the "play" in screenplay is a lot more fun than the book was at any point. 
Before I forget, on our recent Poker Boyz excursion to the cardrooms of Biloxi some of us were able to reconnect with a long lost member of the group. Zipman had not been seen in over four years. Zippy lives in Slidell, Louisiana and we have been ragging on him pretty good about missing the last half-a-dozen outings. Because he lives so close to Biloxi, he drove up for several tournaments and lots of laughs. At one point, the question was raised as to why we had seen so little of him since '05. His answer reminded me and I would like to remind you.
