Main Event eve

I am now safely ensconced at Bally's after an uneventful flight from Houston.

When I told my cab driver at McCarron Airport that I was a retired lawyer, she volunteered that she was an ex-con with two children in the penitentiary.  I recommended Keri Blakinger's memoir, Corrections in Ink, to her as I got out of the cab - I hope she reads it.

I then moved into my room, changed out of my suit and went down to buy my ticket to the tournament.  The registration line was long, so I started a conversation with an Israeli guy rebuying his way into the Bounty tournament.  I asked him how he had gotten bounced from the tournament.

"I had a set of sixes.  I thought I was good when I called his all-in," he said, grimacing.  "But he had a set of sevens.  That was better." 

"What did you think the guy had?" I asked.

"I don't know," he said.  "But I knew he didn't have a set of sevens."

"Why?"

"Because I had quad sevens the hand before."

Poker logic.

Another guy in line was from France (or Quebec, I guess).  I usually think of French as one of those accents that I can suss out if I'm patient enough, but this guy's accent was thicker than road tar on an August afternoon.  He was emphatic about doing something twice, but what that was, I had no idea.  I just nodded a lot and he seemed satisfied.

I then texted my poker buddy Mark and found out he was in my line, just around the corner.  I hadn't seen him because the registration line is worse than a Disney ride - just as you think you're at the front of the line, there's another set of switchback cordons.  

Mark D. in Paris's bespoke registration room

He was trying to buy into a 1:00 satellite, but it looked like he was going to be too late since it was now 3:30.  Lucky him, a WSOP guy came into the registration room and asked if anyone was looking to enter the 1:00 tournament.  Mark raised his hand and got moved to the front of the line.  After paying his entry, he raced off to join the game.  I'll let Mark describe what happened next:

Well, that was short and not so sweet.  Started with $10k, on my first BB someone min raised and I called with 79 suited.  Flop comes and I have two pair, he goes all in with AJ and I called.  Four hearts flopped on the board and he beat me with his j of hearts.  Drats I say!

Mark took a second crack at it:

Well, strike two.  Was in $500 satellite, three of us all in.  I had QQ, other guys had AJ and A7.  I'm feeling pretty content at that point until one of the remaining As flops.  Man, I love this game.😫

Meanwhile, I got to the front of the registration line.  The lady in the booth was really nice, and completely unimpressed by the stack of $10,000 I passed to her.

 

As she updated my profile in the WSOP database, she asked me what my profession was.  When I told her I was a retired lawyer, she lit up.

"I had to do jury duty once," she said.  "I hated it."

I gave her the secret to getting out of serving on a jury.  "When they question you, let them know what you think!  If you have strong opinions, one side or the other isn't going to like them.  They'll strike you off the jury every time," I said.

She nodded.  "That makes sense," she said.  She then printed out my ticket.

Oh my.  I am in Seat 1 at Table 666.  How weird is that?

This number has some strange mojo.  My friend Yonny pointed out to me, "All the numbers on a roulette wheel add up to your table number."  Yikes.

I am not going to worry about this.  As the Israeli guy told me, "Don't be superstitious.  Poker is math."  Of course, this is coming from a guy who thought the deck was out of sevens because he had all four of them the hand before.

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After getting my ticket, I went back to my room and put it in the hotel safe and then went to the Luxor for the Blue Man Group show with my friend Art and his family.

I was a little nervous about Art's kids, 2 and 3 years old, being entertained by the Blue Men, but I didn't have to worry.  That show is made for small kids - lots of lights and noise, no dialogue, and humor that even three-year-olds get.  At one point, a Blue Man ate a Twinkie and then spewed Twinkie goo out of a hole in his chest.

"Gross!" Art's older daughter said, but she was laughing while she said it.  The kids danced and tried to catch the smoke rings and laser beams flying from the stage.  Art enjoyed the show too from his seat in the Poncho Section.

We had dinner and then I caught a cab back to my hotel.  I'm going to watch the new episode of "Westworld" and then go to bed.

It's nearly midnight in Houston right now, but not yet 10:00 here in Vegas.  Time to start adjusting my body clock.

Good night all!