How I Lost $2,500 on Every Wager in a Week.
By Slappy1NYC, 2nd Dec 2011 | Follow this author
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Posted in WikinutGamblingSports BettingSporting Events
Travel story of my worst gambling trip to vegas with funny moments.
Why do I even leave Atlantic City?
The Superbowl in Vegas 2009: How I lost $2500 on EVERY wager in a week.
I’m a strong believer in karma. I believe everything happens to us for a reason. All of our past deeds, no matter how magnanimous they may be, come speeding back at us on that big karmic boomerang we call life. That being said, I believe I now have a clean slate. Not that I deserve any serious form of misfortune…but I do enjoy fucking with strangers. It’s my kink; the only reason I continue to work for the silly outfit I do. Interacting with society’s dimmest bulbs and odd characters in general, encourages a degree of calm and comfort at any given poker table (especially among our poker cohorts here).
I should have anticipated my eight day streak of poor luck, bad beats and unfathomable suck outs in sin city. Maybe I deserved it. Maybe the boomerang needed to strike back at me in Vegas. After all, I’d hate to imagine the tragic forms it can bring to me in NYC. So, in a way, I’m glad the bad luck only involved money. I can get over that. But I can’t get over the fact that NOTHING went my way. Eight days of wagering, mostly 10-12 hour days at the table and I didn’t win a single wager or poker session. That fact alone is worth a story. And it all begins at JFK airport enroute to Vegas…
Frank Gags and I are flying in late January ’09. The day before the Superbowl and less than 2 weeks after the heroic crash landing of US Air flight 347 into the Hudson. The event is still fresh in everyone’s mind. The Metaphysical boomerang began here I guess, cause I nearly peed myself at the plane full of gasps as we waited for takeoff. Glancing onto the marshland of Gateway Park in the long afternoon sky, I screamed to Frank a few rows away, “Look at the beautiful flocks of birds…there must be hundreds of them.” That created a smile from ear to ear for the whole flight.
Upon landing in the desert we are greeted with the chill of a winter’s night. Frank remarks stepping off the plane how it feels refreshingly warmer than the climate we left in NYC. Then I propose my first in a historic line of lost wagers. I encourage Frank to bet me its still under 40 degrees out. He gladly accepts, and we wager the cost of the cab ride to the hotel.
In the cab, we’re greeted by a happy border crossing driver who has all the same silly cliché cabbie questions in broken english. He’s quickly silenced by our total interest in Las Vegas news, but he doesn’t know what AM channel the news is broadcast on.
“Sir, that’s a sports talk channel. I need a news channel.”
“A news channel, not health talk” I bark as he fumbles around the dial.
“Me no have one” he says.
“There’s never any news in this town” I think aloud as I search the internet on my phone. After all, everyone is here to forget about life and live the fairy tale in the devil’s playground. At 49 degrees I lose my first $20 bet. I thank the driver for his efforts and tell him to say goodbye to the Jesus glued to the dashboard.
The big game brings thousands of raging sports nuts to town. Everywhere you turn there’s a banquet room with food and drink specials. Frank and I opt for McCullen’s, a large local Irish pub behind the Orleans casino. It offers the cozier pub atmosphere where the locals hang. But first we stop into the Caesars sports book to place a litany of crazy prop bets…all of which I lost. I was eager to get action on the 2 minute under/over on the national anthem. No house would take it. There was talk about it but no takers. It didn’t matter cause in the ten pages of superbowl bets available I was able to come up with $200 worth of other interesting wagers. Here’s the list.
*Total distance of the longest field goal completed will be over 45 yards: LOST
*Total combined sacks in the game, over 4: LOST
*Team to commit the first penalty: LOST
*Total rushing yards by Kurt Warner, over 1 ½ yards: LOST
*Jersey number of first player in game to score will be over 33: LOST
*Arizona will score exactly 24 points in game. 10 to 1 odds. They scored 23. LOST
As it turned out, I met Dennis at the bar when he saw us with our superbowl box numbers and wager tickets. He loved my enthusiasm of Jennifer Hudson’s wonderful two minute and eleven second national anthem and saddled up next to us with his entourage. Within 30 minutes I have this weirdo figured out. He’s another type A personality. A Vegas stereotype; A 250 pound goatee sporting gambling junkie with no credible job and no future. He’s proud to tell me how he spent last evening blowing one thousand at the craps table. By kickoff he’s already wired. He’s thumbing his nose constantly with the textbook “coke jaw” addling back and forth. Sensing the city stereotype in me we bonded. He quickly tells me about the 2 pound burgers in the joint that are as big as one’s head. “I’ll bet you ten bucks you can’t finish just the burger alone in 30 minutes” he says as I glance at the cute waitress with the big Irish ass serving one at the tables. I tell him I’ll finish the Burger, mashed potatoes and the garnish in 30 minutes. He suggests I go out back with him first as he whips out an ounce of weed at the crowded bar. More than the munchies I needed another double vodka on the rocks to help wash it all down. The burger was indeed great! At 21 minutes I handed Dennis a squeaky clean plate and the bill. It was the only wager I would win the entire week.
The Venetian hotel holds three deep stack events each year. The event draws a huge crowd for Vegas and brings between four and five hundred players out for each two day event. Most buy in’s are $340 with 10k in chips (A great deal when looking at the totality of horrible tourneys held up and down the strip daily.) After 3 attempts though, I’m down a grand alone. Here’s how I’m eliminated after 3 attempts:
1) On the button with 5 limpers I raise all in with pocket kings. The worst player on the table calls with pocket 6’s and flopped quads.
2) Again with pocket kings and a $7500 raise with the blinds at 1 and 2 thousand, the board flops a rainbow A, K, 10. I push all in and get called with K, J off suit and he rivers a Queen.
3) On the button with 5 callers and two softees in the blinds I limp in with the 9, 10 of clubs. Flop comes 10d, Jc, 3C. Checked to me, I make a 5k bet into a 7k pot. with 500/1000 blinds. The turn is an 8d. I bet my remaining 16k and get called by a big stack with 9, K offsuit who rivered the gut-shot! He called 60 percent of his chips with the king of clubs only, and post flop without much improvement, and with me representing the made straight.
Playing at an 11pm tourney at Binion’s, (which has the best tourneys, promotionals, and overlays anywhere in town!) I make the final table. It’s hysterical cause every final table tourney is moved to their featured table. It’s a platform table railed off and close to the hotel front desk area and a nearby bathroom. You feel like a celebrity…even with a cheesy $70 buy in with 5 tables of players. I felt more like a celebrity knowing that poker hall of famer Suzie Isaacs was at my table and I outlasted her. It was sad to see her eliminated. She was the most charismatic player at my table. The rest of the final table were all rubbas. By 1am and a good five hours of drinking tumblers of straight vodka on the rocks the nearby bathroom was a pleasure.
We’re down to 8 players up at the platform table. Five of us were making money and at 2am there were only a few spectators. My buddy Frank was one of them and some big leather clad biker dude was watching his equally dirty friend sitting in the ten seat and on the button in a great hand.
With the blinds at 700/1400 the under the gun player goes all in for 1600. The nerd next to him calls as does the biker. In the small blind, I look down at A, 7 of diamonds and call. The BB calls too and we see the flop 5 handed. I wonder aloud to Frank (intentionally) on the rails, “I wonder who’s gonna screw this one up.” Flop comes 10, 7, 5 with 2 diamonds. Im doing my patented “check in the dark” singing gesture pre flop for the table. The nerd now goes all in for 1400. I shoot him a look, and utter something displeasing. Biker dude calls, and I look at the over 8k pot, wave my hand above it counting and say “that was ridiculous, of course I call!” The turn brings a black deuce. It’s now the bikers turn for something stupid. He bets something like 5k into the pot. The table looks at me and I’m trying to stare at the leather clad dummy but the dealer obscures my sight. I know I cannot call anymore. I only have like 6k in chips left and cannot risk it on a hand I’m beat with.
“I knew it Frank” I say aloud as I looked toward the 10 seat. “You better have both of them beat to push me out of the pot, or else I’m gonna make you my bitch the rest of the game!”
“What!” the biker screams. “What did you say?”
“You heard me!” I say as I muck my hand. The entire table feels the chill as the dealer tries to control the conversation and the hand. The river blanks me and my diamond draw but doesn’t help Harley boy’s A, J hand either. He wins his dry side pot and the nerd takes down the hand with the top pair. The first all in player leaves the table with his pocket sixes turned up.
“Congratulations, you suck” I say across the table as I order another cocktail. The biker is getting stirred. His friend on the rail is not liking me much either. The dealer says something to calm me down, though I’m not the one getting heated.
“I think you suck!” is the only statement my 6 foot 2 and 300 pound dude utters as I hear his voice getting angrier…exactly what I want to do down to 7 players.
“Sir, you’re probably a great guy.” I lean forward stating. “I’d probably wanna buy you a beer off the poker table, but at this point were playing ELIMINATION style poker. And you don’t get it! Indeed you really and truly suck! You have no business at the final table and you’re counterproductive to the cause!” I swallow a big swill from my glass and the game continues. Frank shoots me that “shut the f—k up” look as the outside biker on the rails whispers to Frank, “Your friend don’t know what he’s getting into.”
A few hands later everyone folds to biker boy in the small blind and me in the big blind. As expected he puts in a raise 3x’s the blinds. I look at my pocket 10’s. chuckle at him and the table and call. Sure enough, the board comes, J, 10, 4 rainbow. He continuation bets. I take a deep sigh tap my cards on the felt and say “ok…one time.” The turn card is some rag that pairs a suit. He checks. I immediately go all in, but not for much more. Maybe six thousand into an 8k pot. He has me covered.
“a pocket pair?” he says aloud and you can believe EVERYONE is paying close attention.
“No. I say to him. Just better cards than yours cause you’re horrible!” Man, I was trying every trick in the book to hook this rubba. Instead he just folded.
The very next hand we take a 10 minute break. Now I’m expecting fireworks. I gotta pee first, but I know the bathroom break should be a doozie.
I’m the third player into the bathroom and I hurry to the urinal. The other players shuffle in and you can cut the tension with a knife. I see the shadow I anticipated moving toward me. Everyone is looking at him as he approaches me and leans his big forearm onto the urinal partition and stands behind me to my right. I’m thinking two thoughts at this point. First, I’m trying to brace for the punch to the back of my head but wondering if this big dude is punk enough to strike another man while actively using a urinal. My second though puts a smirk on my face. I remember telling everyone that I was bringing extra bail money on my first week-long stay in the town I’ve visited a dozen times.
“Hey you fat fuck! You wanna step outside?” he says from behind.
“Well I can’t right this second” I say looking down at my zipper…”but I’ll tell you what…I’d hate to fight over a poker game. I’d like to think I have the mental acuity to realize that poker is not worth fighting for. So how’s this sound?” as I zipper my pants and walk to the sink still expecting a punch to the head. “First I’m gonna take all your chips from you. THEN if you want to fight we can fight. But I’d rather fight for charity, or even just for shits and giggles but not over a silly game.” How’s that sound?”
I throw my paper towel in the trash and walk out. It was perfect! It couldn’t have been scripted better! Every jaw in the room had hit the floor and I walked out with a big grin on my face and look to tell Frank of my greatest moment in Vegas before I might get my ass kicked. It was worth a beating just to see the expressions on every players face in the bathroom.
The biker storms outside for a smoke telling the other smoking players about his disapproval of my methods. Sadly I don’t know what he said but upon returning, the nerd whispers to my ear, “That guy is really pissed at you. You better watch out!”
Sadly my story ends there, cause of course I raise a pot and some other weak player comes over the top on me. I knew I had to call him and double up to take the last tourney down of my stay in sin city. He shows K, J off suit to my A, 9 of diamonds. And sure enough he rivered a jack. The boomerang hit me once again! With that I stood up and shook the winners hand, thanked every player at the table including my friend in the ten seat. He was quick to call me a fat fuck as I walked away. I blew him a kiss and walked with Frank out the door. Fortunately or not, he never followed me.
It sucked losing two and a half grand on bad beats for a week…but I never did get to use that bail money!
Comments
2nd Dec 2011 (#)
Woow... Nice, interesting, enlightening but scary, all at the same time.
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23rd Dec 2011 (#)
You should have been there...
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