From: "James Kittock"
Date: Fri, 1 Sep 2006 15:51:44 -0700
Subject: [BARGE] LIKE A VIRGIN: James' BARGE 2006 trip report

LIKE A VIRGIN: James' BARGE 2006 trip report

Prologue

   I went to BARGE 2000, part of Scottro's "Virgin Vanguard" and
a member of CHORSE team Virgins.com.  I busted out of the NLHE
pretty quickly, in part because it was one of the first NLHE
tourneys I ever played in (I was a solid low-limit hold'em cash
game player, so you can guess how that worked out for me).  My
major accomplishment that year was winning a $200+ jackpot on a
cool nickel slot machine that had a pinball game in it; I was
bummed that Binion's refused my request to pay me in nickels.
Anyhow, I've been playing in a home game hosted by fellow
Virgins.com teammate Patrick Milligan over the ensuing years and
hearing stories of other BARGEs.  My financial situation has been
pretty shaky for most of that time (for example, I was a starving
grad student from 2002-2004), so BARGE hasn't really been an
option.  This year when the subject of BARGE came up in the
Patrick's Friday night game, a totally unexpected thing happened:
my poker-playing (and non-nerdy but nerd-friendly) wife, Leslie,
said, "that sounds like fun, let's do it" (ding!).


Thursday, August 10

   Leslie drops me off at Oakland Int'l for my flight to Vegas on
No Liquids Day #1.  The airport is FUBAR; I overhear a news
cameraman telling a story about a woman who burst into tears when
they took her shampoo away.  I have some exotic hootch in my bag,
so I grudgingly check it.  Aiport loses power while I'm in the
checkout line -- good thing I'm really early.  Power comes back,
I get through security, flight is uneventful.  Dad meets me at
baggage claim, bags don't.  SWA baggage agent gives me $100
voucher (ding!) to wait for next flight, still no bags.  Dad and
I eat lunch at Terrible's (aptly named -- his idea, not mine); I
call SWA, still no bag.  We leave Vegas for a brief father & son
trip into the wilds.  We're already to the raceway when they call
to say they have my bag.  Screw that, they can send it to my
parents' house.  They're giving me another $100 voucher.  Ding!,
except I only have the clothes on my back for two days.  That
evening, I win $30 playing $2 blackjack against a shoe at the
Hotel Nevada in Ely.


Friday, August 11 to Monday August 14

   I spend spent with family.  I try to teach a teenaged cousin
how to play Hold'Em; I hope she never plays for money, for her
own sake.  My sister and I bartend at our parents' dinner party
and get many of their friends rip-roading drunk.  Lightweights.


Tuesday, August 15

   Mom, dad, and I leave St. George about 6am Pacific Time, ugh.
I drop the parents at McCarran (they're off to Hawaii), drive to
the Nugget about 9am.  It's way too early to check in, so I get
Starbucks (crowded and 25% more expensive than normal, FYI) and
go to the poker room.  The room is new (3 weeks?), small (10
tables?), but nicely appointed.  I play 2-4 LHE with rocky locals
and a few tourists for about 2hrs and lose about $15.  I sign up
for 11am $65+$40RB NLHE tourney; we have four tables.  I can't
get any hands.  I jam with 77 over the top of tough-talking
old-school cowboy when he jams UTG (I read him for tilted: he had
KK cracked on the previous hand).  He turns up AJo, I win the
coin-toss and bust him.  As he leaves the table, he pats me on
the shoulder; it means either "nice hand" or "you're dead", I'm
not sure which.  We're down to two tables when I catch KK and go
all-in for about 5xBB; nobody calls.  WTF?!?  Next orbit, I catch
33 in mid-position and go all-in for about 3xBB (stupid antes),
two callers.  I fail to suck out on QQ and GHN.  Or rather, I go
to the check-in desk now.  I get my room key (after promising to
not slip and fall on the bathroom floor, which may still be wet;
gotta love liability), go up, call Leslie, crash out for a bit.
I wake up starving, have painfully slow service and a mediocre
salad at the Nugget diner.  Get the car and drive to the
Venetian.

   I find the Venentian poker room, locate some BARGErs from my
home game (Patrick Milligan, Tim Showalter, ...), and join in a
$6-12 LHE game with Tim on my left.  Meet a very friendly Bob
Ogus and some other BARGErs.  I try very hard to tilt Tim; I
intentionally draw to backdoor flush and hit it -- haha!  I and
others are used to playing $6-12 with $2 chips, so the Venetian's
$3 chips confuse us; we keep cutting off too many chips when
calling or raising.  I finish +$55; now it's time for Lazy
Pineapple.  First few rounds, I'm on fire; I have approx double
average stack at the first break.  I have a prophetic
conversation with Mickdog about how it's better to go on a tear
in the middle of a tournament than the beginning.  Next three
rounds I play approx two hands.  I chop a pot with Fich; we both
have A74.  I can't work in a steal, so I'm blinded off.  I go
all-in with first pair I get, chop the pot.  Our table breaks, I
go all-in with next pair I get (some crap like K77?), IGHN.  I
had foolishly offered "double or nothing" to Scottro on the $10
last longer that I lost in the online warmups, so I give him the
$20 (remind me to bring jars of pennies for this purpose next
year! :P). I'm pooped from getting up at 5am, so I go back to the
Nugget and try to sleep.


Wednesday, August 16

   I haven't seen Leslie for almost a week, and she's arriving
today, so after finding a locals' Starbucks on Maryland Parkway
(MUCH better), I find a nice florist ("English Garden Florist",
highly recommended BTW).  I buy a small bouquet to take to the
airport; I also go to Lee's Discount Liquours and buy a bottle of
White Star, which I have to hide from her until our anniversary
on Monday.  I meet Leslie at the airport, she loves the flowers;
her bags arrive fine.  We go out for lunch, I eat something that
gives me indigestion for about two days (never did figure out
what, exactly).  We go back to the Nugget for a while, then head
down to the Venetian.

   Leslie plays $3-6 LHE while I play in the Lowbah tournament.
I build up a decent stack early on.  At some point, Michael
Maurer moves to our table and I bust him on some schmengie draw;
that would be the only bustout I gave for for all of BARGE.
After the break, it becomes apparent that whatever vague
knowledge I have of Lowbah, I definitely don't know how to play
it in a tournament, especially against semi-desperate short
stacks.  Bob "Blues" Herlien gets all in against me and raps pat;
I break a ten to draw to a 7 with a joker but catch a jack.  He
shows a worse ten than I started with, you're welcome Bob.
Obviously, I learn nothing from this, because when Steve BIA, on
my left tries a similar move, I panic and break again (I think a
97 this time).  Now I've doubled up two people; a few hands
later, I bust out on a pat 8 against BIA's pat 7.  Grrr.  I'm
tilted and angry at myself for playing like a n00b.  We head back
to the Nugget and get in a typically st00pid $3-6 LHE game; we
finish up a few free drinks and $11 each.  w00tz.


Thursday, August 17

   We're slow getting up and moving; just as we're arriving in at
the Venetian, team captain Tim ends up calling to ask where the
heck I am.  Our CHORSE team, "High Variance", has the coolest
hats, what with our "sigma^2 >> 0" logo and all.  Leslie ordered
the hats for us, and during CHORSE she gets us a pizza; we
definitely have the prettiest fan club. ;) I play the stud/8 leg
against such total amateurs as Gavin, Patti, etc.; I totally r00l
them and triple up repeatedly.  Ok, that didn't happen.  First
orbit, I play zero hands.  Second orbit, I spew on a hand with a
made low on 5th that has redraws including a flush for high; my
flush misses (just as well, Chuck Weinstock boated on 5th) and
someone hits a better low.  Ouchies.  Third orbit, there's a
pretty funny pot involving Chuck Weinstock and Gavin: Chuck bets
on 7th, Gavin correctly reads him for basically nothing, calls,
and loses with AQ-high against Chuck's AK-high.  A couple hands
later, I let Gavin outplay himself against me: he tries to blow
me off my decent drawing hand by betting into me on every street
with a fugly board.  My low draw bricks on 7th and I scoop with a
pair of 7's.  This gives me at leats one slighltly positive
orbit.  When the dust settles, we cash out for $40 each, after
buying in for $80 each (including toke chips); at least we didn't
bust.  I get back in a $6-12 LHE game while Leslie plays $3-6.
Tim is clearly on tilt, but I can't make any headway; I get up
exactly even and leave my rack of $3 with Tim so he doesn't have
to make the Walk of Shame to the ATM.

   I have the tournament itch, so I recruit Leslie and Bob
Thomson to walk with me to the Paris for the $50 NLHE afternoon
tourney.  The walk is longer than it seems, it's hot, and the
sidewalk is annoyingly crowded, but Bob has fun collecting
stripper cards and it's nice to stretch our legs.  The Paris
"poker room" sux; it is just a cordoned off area surrounded by
slots and such.  With our arrival, the tourney grows to four
tables, and Leslie, Bob, and I get adjacent seats, which is fun.
As usual, I can't catch cards, and there's no stealing against
these callbots (the tourists, not Leslie and Bob).  We're still
at three tables when I jam with 77 and get doubled up by ATo.  A
few hands later, I jam UTG with TT and the tourist in the SB goes
into the tank for a couple minutes before calling with A6o --
nice call, ma'am.  Bob says "ace on the river" and he's right.  I
am majorly tilted and wanting to hurt people; I try to walk it
off pacing around the Paris, but the vibe there is just pissing
me off, so I walk back to the Venetian, ostensibly to get the
car.  The long, hot, crowded walk doesn't improve my mood.  I
pick up Leslie, who has busted out, and say bye to Bob, who goes
on to money.

   Leslie and I head back to the Nugget and dress up a little
bit.  The prospect of going out for a drink and some limit poker
detilts me a bit.  We head to Okada at the Wynn to meet Russ Fan,
a poker friend from the Bay Area (in town for a family event) for
a drink.  I get to have a nice glass of Urakasumi "Misty Bay"
junmai sake, and Leslie has a fancy mojito-esque cocktail
recommended by Asya.  Then it's off to the poker room at the
Wynn, where we find Tim on tilt in an $8-16 LHE game ("Tim on
tilt" seems to be a theme here).  Russ has played a lot of home
poker and some online poker, but tonight he's "popping his
cherry" for cardroom poker (his analogy, not mine).  Leslie,
Russ, and I get adjacent seats in a $4-8 LHE game and we have a
good time.  I don't like the room at the Wynn quite as much as I
did the first time; I think the Venetian's open room and comfy
chairs have ruined me.  I finish even, Leslie finishes +$90
(ding), and Russ is still in the game when Leslie and I head back
to the Nugget.  He looked entranced, I hope he remembered to go
home eventually.


Friday, August 18

   I'm excited that today is TOC day; I am not playing in it, but
Leslie is -- I need a break from tournament suckage, and it will
be fun to cheer her on.  As I'm walking around, folks keep asking
me "you out already?".  Yeah, I sux so bad I can bust out of a
limit tournament in 10 minutes, thanks people. ;) I get in a
nearby $3-6 LHE game, where I meet Lynne Higgs, who is very nice.
She tells me she won the SO Stud tourney; she would go on to win
the SO NLHE too, WTG Lynne. :) The day wears on and I help start
a $6-12 LHE table; when the symposium break comes, I finish +$125
(ding).  Meanwhile, Leslie not only hangs in there, she builds a
much-more-than-average stack.  Early in the afternoon, she starts
getting nervous about the previously unthinkable prospect of
moneying, so she starts drinking.  This turns out to work
marvelously.

   At the break, Leslie is kinda tweaking and commands me to get
her a drink, so we go to the casino bar and I order her the most
expensive cosmo I've ever bought ($15 friggin' bucks!  it turns
out to be a double, but still).  We head down to the symposium,
and Tim (now both tilted and drunk?) has a great plan for
investing some of the $300 he owes me in the calcutta.  I say
"Yeah, ok, whatever, I'll take half of whatever you buy."  The
bartender makes me a damn good "wet" martini (that's 2:1 for you
anti-Vermouth pansies).  We quickly get bored and are worried
about Leslie crashing after the symposium, so we go over to the
bar at Pinot Brasserie and have their rawbar sampler and some
bread.  I convince Leslie to slow down on the drinking, but I
don't.  We have a semi-coherent conversation with a couple of
guys sitting at the bar, and I decide that the bartender, a proud
new dad, is my new best friend.  I tip him some silly amount "for
the college fund", and we head back.  I'm now a bit past tipsy,
so I sit in a $6-12 game mostly with tourists and try to r00l it.
I fail at that, but I do succeed at dumping my winnings from
earlier.  Drunk as I am, I'm pretty sure those donkeys aren't
supposed to hit their 2-outers all the time.  Whine whine whine.

   I watch Leslie's progress, but from a distance, so I don't
make her nervous.  She's on a roll!  Instead of nervous, she
actually looks relaxed and happy; I think she's relieved to be
done with LHE, O8, and Stud.  When the final table is formed,
she's there! (ding) I take her picture and give her a good-luck
kiss and go back to dumping chips at $6-12.  It doesn't take long
for 9th, 8th, and 7th place to bust, and with each bustout I
cheer and brag to my table about my wife and how rich she is
making me.  Leslie finally busts out 6th for $910 (ding ding ding
ding ding!) and we decide that she has morally won the event.  We
take the chips to the cage and her eyes get all big when she sees
the cashier lay out the money.  We make good use of about half of
that money during the "anniversary phase" of our trip.  I manage
to finish down $30 for the day.  Dammit!

   After Leslie cashes, we head back to the Nugget to get dressed
for the Craps Crawl and Karaoke Wedding.  We meet up with the
Crawl just as it is leaving Binion's and help lead the way to the
Fitz.  I play $5 craps with Ken Kubey and Kenny Shei while Leslie
goes off to play blackjack.  I think Tim has a hot roll from the
other end of the table.  Leslie and I both break about even; I
can't be bothered to go to the cage right then, so I stuff about
$200 worth of red and green chips in my pocket.  This turns out
to be important.  The wedding is really nice, and I even get a
little misty-eyed.  Leslie and I had decided to do Anne Murray's
"Could I have this dance?"  as our romantic karaoke offering to
the newlyweds.  To ward of stage fright, I go to the bar and
order a Bombay Sapphire, tonic back; the bartender gives me a
double shot and a little casino class of tonic.  This also turns
out to be important.  Leslie and I take the stage and, despite
standing in front of people talking for a living, I find myself
totally disoriented by the lights.  I can't remember the tune to
save my life, but I give it my all.  My double shot of Sapphire
is empty, so I get another, but I'm still nursing the same tiny
glass of tonic.  This happens many times -- refill the double
shot, nurse the same tiny glass of tonic.  Sometimes people are
buying rounds for me (I know Kenny Shei bought one round, thanks
Kenny!) and sometimes I go out to the bar myself (the bartender
becomes my newest best friend).  Eventually, I manage to get the
drunkest I've been in many years, at which point several funny
things happen:

1. I get Patti to spank Leslie.  Apparently I gave her $30 to do
this, but I don't remember if I offered her $30 up front or if
she negotiated for it.

2. I have numerous disoriented conversations with people
including Kubey, Patrick Milligan, Zbigniew...

3. I start toking random people red chips, including some lady
outside the karaoke room who I bumped into ("sorry ma'am"), the
bartender, the cocktail waitresses, etc.  (BARGERs -- if I toked
any of you, please let me know so I can add that to my story!).

4. I turn into a complete attention whore, joining in uninvited
on other peoples' karaoke numbers (sorry if I screwed anyone up
too bad).  Patrick kindly describes this the next day as
"releasing my inner performer."

5. I decide to see what's backstage and dart past the karaoke
setup through the curtains.  The KJ comes to get me, and with
Leslie's help convinces me to come back to the front.

6. In the grand climax of my evening, I sing "Come Sail Away" ala
Cartman with Asya and Ben (I'll pay $20 for a tape of this!).
Apparently, I'd been refusing to go to bed until I got to do
this, so Leslie begged them to sing with me.  I lost use of the
"Cartman" register of my voice for a week.

Eventually, Leslie recruits Patrick to get me home.  As we're
leaving, we run in to Gavin at the casino bar, and I hit up him
up for a drink using a plea guaranteed to work with another man:
"my wife doesn't think I should have another one."  (The next
day, Gavin has no memory of this.)  Patrick basically had to push
and/or pull me to the Nugget, thus proving that it's good to have
a friend who is both larger and less drunk than you.  At some
point, Leslie gets frustrated with her shoes and takes them off;
some random drunk girl yells at her that people pee on Fremont
street.  We somehow find our room and collapse.


Saturday, August 19

   I wake up feeling less bad than I deserve to.  I notice that I
am burping up gin (mmm, junipery), and realize that I am still a
bit drunk.  I tell Leslie that she'll have to drive the Venetian
this morning.  If I'd been coherent enough the night before to
set a line on our arrival time, it would've been 10:45; the
virtual unders win when we arrive at 10:30, just as the first
round of the NLHE tourney is ending.  For the next couple of
rounds, I seriously contemplate shoving my chips until I double
up or bust out so that I can go take a nap in the corner.

  At my starting table, I'm in seat 1; seat 4 is empty, and that
seems important somehow, but my brain is way too fuzzy to
remember why.  Finally, about 10:45, seat 4 shows up -- it's Tim!
I can't tell if he's on tilt yet or not, but I sure hope he is,
since I remember making vague drunken threats about his blinds.
Meanwhile, I've started chain-drinking Cokes hoping to wake up
and ward off the worst of the hangover; I toke the cocktail
waitress several chips in advance and ask her to make sure I have
a Coke in front of me all the time.  Our table is fairly loose,
especially the young guy in seat 3 (mockturtle).  I spew off a
few chips on pointless confrontations with Tim and the woman in
seat 2 (Barb Smith).  The entertainment is being provided by
Murray, who claims to be sober due to a cold.  We're not too far
in when Barb busts out on a flop of AK3; she has A3, someone else
has AK (Nick Christenson maybe?).  I know that sux for her, but
think about how I feel -- it really bugs me when people misuse
things I loan them, especially my chips.  I "steal" the blinds
with presto and show it because it's BARGE; otherwise I play
pretty damn tight.  Tim tells me he bought Frank and Sheri Brabec
for $150 and they bought their half back, so I now have 1/4 of
Frank and 1/4 of Sheri for the paltry price of $37.50.  This
turns out to be important.

   I'm starting to feel a bit better.  I switch to Diet Coke to
ward off the impending sugar overload.  Leslie's tournament gets
off to an interesting start, with Gavin on her right.  It's not
too long before all hell breaks loose at their table -- Leslie
has busted Gavin!  Bill Chen and Sharon Goldman give her a total
of $150 in bounties, so she's already up for the tourney (ding).
Eventually, my table breaks.

   My second table is pretty intimidating: I'm in seat 2 with
Heldar, Fruchter, Frank Brabec, and Jester on my left; later
Sheri also got moved to my table (I make a concerted effort to
ignore the fact that Frank and Sheri are my horses).  I don't
remember the right side as well; think DP Condit was on my right
for part of the time.  Paul Zuzelo, from my local home game, is
in seat 9 towards the end of my time at the table.  Physically,
I'm crashing and things are kinda blurry.  I'm also severely
short-stacked and can't catch a hand.  I put on the 'phones,
queue up some mesmerizing music, and go into super-observant
mode.  This serves me well, as I manage to pick the right times
to jam and am able to avoid getting blinded off.  This is made
more challenging by Fruchter, who seems to be entering the pot
for a raise almost every time it is folded to him (this is a
situations where I was glad to have the aggro player on my
*left*, so I could jam first!).

   I get presto twice; one time I jam with it and take down the
blinds, the other time I fold it after a medium stack puts in a
big raise and an alarm goes off in my head (turns out presto no
g00t -- yay me).  I get looked up once when I jam into Nut-Z's
big blind; I have A9, he has A3 (IIRC), nothing bad happens and I
double up.  However, I'm still short-stacked (I think my peak was
just under T4000).  While I'm in my survival shell, weird shit is
happening on the table.  I see JJ get all-in against QQ multiple
times; JJ wins one of them.  Then Fruchter's Amazing River Quads
(already covered in Heldar's trip report) happen, and I feel a
bit better about being short-stacked.  Jester looks like someone
hit him in the nuts with golf club.  A few times it is folded to
me in the SB and I jam into Heldar's BB and he thinks and thinks,
but never looks me up.  At some point, my loving wife (who has
already busted) gets me some food -- thanks, sweets!

   During the 10th round (400/200 blinds, 50 ante), I get my
biggest two cards of the entire tournament, AQo.  I jam from
middle position for about 2000; Heldar thinks briefly, then
raises over the top for about 5000; nobody calls.  I turn over my
cards; Paul says "nice hand, sir".  Heldar observes "that's a lot
more than you needed to have there" and turns over A7o.  The flop
comes with a 7 and three clubs to match his ace; I fail to suck
out and that's the end for me.  I look at the clock and it says
79 players left, but they aren't updating it regularly, so I
guesstimate I busted out 75th.  Aside from some minor spewage
early on, I think I did everything I could with the cards I had:
I had presto three times, 44 once, AJo and AJs a few times, a few
random "20" hands, the AQo that I busted out with, and that's it.
I'm tired, but not particularly tilted.

   Leslie and I head back to the Nugget to rest so we can return
for the banquet and reindeer games.  In addition to a hangover of
her own, she has the closest thing to a caffeine overdose I've
ever seen (she's physically ill from it), and I'm a bit worried
about her.  Eventually, she recovers a bit and we nap.  The
banquet is nice and Tim gives me the good news: Frank Brabec is
in the money and still playing.  Phil's talk is fun; I basically
force Leslie to take a "media whore" photo with Phil.  He is less
impressed with the guess-who-busted-Gavin story than I had hoped;
well guess what, Phil, we both outlasted you in the NLHE, ya
overratted donkey. ;)

   To maximize fun and randomness we choose $2/4 Chowaha as our
reindeer game -- it's a rollicking good time.  At one point,
Regis punishes Ben with some "only in Chowaha" beat, and I say,
"now THAT'S a cockpunch".  Soon we have Regis offering "free
cockpunches" to all the men who walk by.  We, at least, find this
incredibly hilarious, but some of the "customers" look slightly
worried.  During one deal, one of Ben's cards gets flipped, so I
order everyone to blindly role one hole card.  This isn't as much
fun as I had hoped, so I proceed to invent "Half-Indian Chowaha",
in which you put one hole card on your head without looking (ala
"Indian" poker) and keep the other hole card secret.  We play a
couple hands of this and I lose way too many chips chasing
unknown hands ("but I might have a good second hole card!!!!").
Meanwhile, Frank Brabec finishes 4th in the NLHE; WTG Frank!  Tim
comes by after the calcutta money is settled and pays me about
$340 (ding!) plus the $300 he owed me since Thursday afternoon.
About 1am, I'm down a rack and starting to crap out, so I go get
some pizza; the table wants some, so I go back for more, but the
pizza guy will only sell me three slices.  Asya shames me by
coming back with like 20 slices.  About 2am, Leslie cashes out of
Chowaha up $40 (ding!); we say goodbye to people and head back
downtown, providing taxi services for Bob Thomson and
midnightmagician.

   My net gambling results for the trip (including BARGE buy-ins
but not things like the banquet): $-235, and it's only that good
because I drunkenly entrusted Tim with a calcutta purchase.
Leslie's net gambling results: $+880.  I am so r00led, but I am
so proud.


Sunday, August 20 to Tuesday, August 22

   We punt on Jazz Brunch at Commander's Palace in the Aladdin
and take our time checking out of the Nugget.  We go to some
random local sit-down Mexican place (El Patron?) on Maryland
Parkway for brunch; it's fine.  I surprise Leslie by taking her
to English Garden Florist to pick out some flowers for our room
and try to keep her in suspense about where we are checking in
for the next two days.  When I finally pull into the Venetian,
she says, "hey, wait a minute...".  We have a very nice two-night
stay there for our anniversary (August 21).

   We end up blowing a lot of money on food those last couple of
days.  Saturday night dinner is a rawbar sampler, lobster bisque,
and drinkies at the bar at Aquaknox.  This was moderatly
expensive, but tasty; we decide it was worth it.  Monday
breakfast is pastries and coffee from Venetian room service, and
that works well.  Lunch is at the Canyon Ranch Spa Cafe; it's a
bit like being home in California, but tasty and reasonably
priced in any case.

   Our anniversary dinner at Delmonico turns out to be one of the
most overpriced meals I've ever eaten.  The Good: the atmosphere
is pleasant; the service is attentive (if a bit spastic); the
bartender a) knows what a Sazerac is and b) makes a really good
one; the half-bottle of Emeril's private-label zin is actually
pretty nice; the beef, beer, and cheese fondue is disgustingly
delicious (now that's MAN food); Leslie's dessert (some sort of
bread pudding sundae thing) is awesome.  The Mediocre: the
spinach, pecan, fig, and manchego salad is totally uninspired
(reminds me of something I'd whip up myself); my $42 filet is
good, but not $42 good (my main nit: since I asked for it medium
well, they butterflied it, which would be fine, except that one
"wing" ended up done well-to-very-well, which is annoying);
Leslie's $54 ribeye combo is not particularly good at all (it
desperately needed trimming, and why do they insist on slapping
it on *top* of the mashed potatoes? yech); and the final
disappointment for me is their "special" dessert, key lime pie.
The flavor is OK, but the texture is off -- it's too dense and it
almost seems like the filling might have curdled; I think I made
a better key lime pie in home ec in 8th grade.  Unless someone
else is paying, I won't dine at Delmonico again.

   Tuesday morning we have a quick breakfast at Bouchon.  Leslie
has some instant-diabetes french toast thing and I have a waffle
that is exactly what I ask for in a waffle: competently prepared.
The side order of bacon is a huge trough that no human should
consume at one sitting; I'd rather pay half as much for just two
strips.  The waiter gives Leslie a to-go cup of coffee gratis,
which was a nice touch.

   As for the rest of our time at the Venetian, just
remember... what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas!


Epilogue

   We get home and Leslie is all about teh p0cker.  She's won a
bit over $300 after sitting for a few hours in a local cardroom's
$100 buy-in, $1-3 blind, $3-100 spread limit game.  I just bought
all three of Harrington's books from Conjelco to help her get her
intuitively good tournament game on sound theoretical footing.
Look out world! :)

* * * The End * * *