Ramming & jamming with Al Capone, Jr: A Vegas trip report.

[BigBaitsim (milo)]

Less than 48 hours after arriving in Vegas for the first time, I had met up with respectable fellow psychologist and Psychology of Poker Guru Al Schoonmaker, who introduced me to fellow 2+2er and all around good guy, Al Capone, Jr. My wife and I now find ourselves careening up the strip in a largely dysfunctional pickup truck with fellow degenerate gambler Capone, who we met only an hour before. Capone is wearing a shirt deemed inappropriate for a Vegas poker room, which allows the viewer to focus on the Ace of Spades tattooed on his upper arm (later that day he gained admission to the Bellagio and Mirage poker rooms, but only after buying a touristy t-shirt). To that point I had played the Mirage, and found the daytime low-limit games filled with rocks, and the nighttime games soft and squishy, with a delightful creamy center. Unfortunately, cards were not running my way and I had monster after monster cracked, leaving me even for the first two days and frustrated (no more whining after this, I promise).

After much frustration at the $6/12 the night before, which featured three Brazilian (I’m guessing) sisters who were bleeding chips onto the table, while I folded for 2 consecutive hours, I sat down at the $10/20 around 4:00 am. Mistake. Everyone at the table knew each other and the house. Clearly all had trumped my 25 hours of casino time by thousands. They salivated at Tourist Boy, but I folded for an hour, before the legendary 5:00 am pastry and finger sandwich platters showed up. Starved and bleary, I dove at the food, along with my fellow poker players, who descended upon the platters like a swarm of locusts. Now sleepy and with belly full, I sat to the immediate left of the one maniac at the table (again, well known to everyone as a regular, and doing well despite apparently maniacal play). He posted a live straddle and I looked at 33 UTG+1. This was to be my next to last hand, as I had drowsed off a few hands earlier. For some reason, I chose to call 33, rather than go the hell to bed. MP raised, Maniac called, and foolish Tourist with 33 called. The flop came 35K, with two clubs. I checked, with the plan to call the inevitable bet and pop the turn. The bet came, Maniac folded and I called. The turn brought third club, and I check-raised anyway. The river brought the fourth club. I checked and made a crying call with my set. I told him his flush was good, and he showed me JcKc. I went to muck, and threw my cards face up instead. The table saw that the last club had been a 5, and that my set was a full house. I went to bed, much to the disappointment of the entire table, who encouraged me to stay, stay, stay, Not the kind of thing you want to hear as a poker player. Don’t know if I was a fish, or they just pegged me as one, but I’d had enough.

Tuesday, after meeting Capone, I decided to take a crack at Excalibur. WOW! While waiting for a $4/8 to start up, I sat in on a $1/3 spread game, with one $1 blind. 7 or 8 to the flop and even the Vegas Retiree at the table was pathetic (albeit a rock compared to the loonies at the table, after all, he folded almost 60% of the time). After 20 minutes where I was often one of two or three folders preflop, I was the established table captain and up about $40. The $4/8 opened (blinds of $1/2) and I sat down. The game was a mix of decent, but not great players, and utter Magoos. Capone shows up 15 minutes later, having shucked the high class tourist t-shirt for his other shirt, as Excalibur has somewhat more relaxed standards of dress. Some new guy, I’ll call him Fishy McFish (FMF) in honor of Capone’s nickname on some site or another, is soon joined by a hyper-aggressive 20-something WPT wannabe. Wannabe has clearly practiced fancy chip moves at home, and has perfected everything about the appearance of skill, aside from skill itself. He has one move, the Fancy Raise, and it works for a bit, until the table (well several of us) realize he bets anything, and start calling the two of them down. Meanwhile FMF is seeing 80% of flops and Capone and I can barely restrain our exuberance.

Now Capone bought $300, but was given three racks of blues, so he has them stacked on the table in front of him like a castle wall. FMF comments repeatedly about how this scares him, so Capone buys in for another two racks and builds a fortress. FMF notices 30 minutes later and is amazed at how the wall has grown, but seems to not know how. He sucks out on a few people (including cracking Capone’s AA with crap-crap offsuit), and so he stays in for quite a while, before he inevitably bleeds off all his chips at about 4:00 am. Fortunately for me, he passes most along to me, as did another guy who decides to cap holding QTo on the turn, with the board showing 67TQ. I held the 89, and the river brought a sweet 3. FMF eventually busted out, going all-in with his last 7 blues with 55, after the flop came 9Qrag. I held 89s, and that was that for the poor fellow, who dropped about $400. FMF leaves the table, which breaks one hand later. Everyone left looked around, shrugged and one guy uttered the thought we all had, “what’s the point now?” I left up $409, and Capone and I walked to Luxor to get the aforementioned largely dysfunctional pickup truck, which failed to start. A cab ride later, I am back to Mirage and wake the wife to tell her about the night. The sun comes up moments later, and I crash for a quick three hours’ sleep so I can be “refreshed” for the plane ride home at noon.

Final tally of my bankroll, showed I was up almost exactly $400, so thanks to Dr. Al and Mr. Capone for steering me to Excalibur. The wife also found she enjoyed the game, and played about 12 hours, emulating the Vegas Retiree style, but tipping at the tourist rate. She broke even. On one memorable hand, she held 6To in the BB and tried to fold when four limped in. The dealer reminded her that she had a free play (she was clearly a newbie), and she held her cards. The flop came 789r, and she started to fold again, stopped and looked at the board. You could see her look at her hand, read the board, count and suddenly jump in her chair. She then threw out a bet, and the table folded almost in unison, with much fairly good natured laughter.

Final Tally: Days in Vegas – 3; Money made - $400; Shows seen – 0; Time at the pool – 0; Sunrises seen – 2; Hours of poker played – A whole f*cking lot.

Can’t wait to go back. I hear that they have some really cool shows and attractions in Vegas.