From: "Mike McManus" Date: Sat, 15 Feb 2003 11:02:06 -0800 Subject: [BARGE] PART 1 (LONG): It was the best of times; it was...the best of times (North Shore Mike at ESCARGOT) After threatening for 2 years to attend the Extraordinary Southern California Rec.Gambling Outing and Tournament (ESCARGOT), I finally took the plunge headlong into the murky air of Bell Gardens, CA. Just as I thought when I returned from my first BARGE in 2001: What the hell took me so long? Flew Air Canada on Wednesday night, Feb. 29. Flight unremarkable, other than trying to refrain from vomiting due to extended going-away party the night before with fellow rgp'er Murray Logan. I had pre-arranged a pickup by the Bicycle Casino's Lincoln Town Car, and the driver called me as I was exiting the plane to arrange a meeting. Great service, which served to foreshadow the royal treatment I received from the staff of the Bike for my entire stay. After dropping off my bags at the Ramada Limited across the street from the Bike (or, rather, the Ramada EXTREMELY Limited), I set out to find my roommate, Michael "Mickdog" Patterson. I first met Mickdog at BARGE 2001, and we've remained good friends ever since. Boy, I sure have *him* fooled. Note to Bike ownership: The Ramada (extremely) Limited is a shithole. If you are considering building a hotel on site, a la the Commerce, DO IT! Had I known what the Ramada was gonna be like, I would have stayed elsewhere, paying more money and requiring a rental car in the process. Even a Spartan, but clean, motel would be a vast improvement over the dump in which we stayed. Went to the Welcome Center at the Bike to pick up my ESCARGOT badge and sundry other items. The s00per seekrit welcome gift turned out to be a shot glass, emblazoned with the Bike and ESCARGOT logos. The shot glass is blue. Cobalt blue. That's right, folks, Russ Fox gave us cobalt blue glasses. Way kewl. The Bike's art department's hard work was evident throughout the package, it all looks great. If you're thinking of attending ESCARGOT, how's this for encouragement: For your $30 registration fee, you get 6 meal coupons from the Bike (value: $36), a s00per kewl, s00per seekrit welcome gift, and a banquet dinner. And, at no extra charge, you get the undying love of the outstanding Bike staff. What's not to like? You can't go wrong. I love LA. Over to the tournament area, where I meet Mickdog, Jerrod Ankenman, Beth Even, Shauna Madrigal, Russ Fox, and various other ESCAR-go'ers. Ron Cramer, who I met when he was working the Pot of Gold at the Reno Hilton in September 2002, was working the tourney. Nice to see Ron again, who remembered the st00pid Canadian from Reno. Back to the welcome desk to get rid of my convention paraphernalia, where I run into Chic "Garnischmensch" Natkins, and we promptly get seated side-by-each in a rockin' 6/12 HE game. Chic is on *fire*, steaming the locals by having the deck give him a concussion, playing all kinds of crap. Chic gained extra implied tilt odds by giggling whenever he dragged yet another pot with unsuited rags. I believe he took $500 or more out of that game, in about 2 hours. I made forty bucks by playing my cheesy premium hands; thanks for leaving some chips behind for me, Chic. Finally exhausted, I head back to the Extremely Limited at about 1:30 am. I love LA. I should have slept late, but woke up at 6:30 am and couldn't go back to sleep. I let Mickdog keep snoring, and walked over to the Try 'N Save to get some bottled water and beer for the room, went back and collected Mick, and we wandered over to the Bike, which was deader than Michael Jackson's career. So, over to the IHOP for some comfort food. Suitably stuffed (but not mounted), we decide to go back to the Extremely Limited for a headsup $5 NLHE freezeout, where I summarily dispatched him two straight for a nice $10 profit. (Actually, they were good matches, and I needed to hit a 2-outer to beat him in the 2nd match.) I love LA. Over to the Bike for the Nooner Stud/8. The Nooners are great value, low buy-ins and rebuys, and usually 50 or 60 runners. Of course, with the ESCARGOT army in town, that ballooned to 80. I have a nice soft table to start, with JP Massar on my right, and Mickdog on my left. (For those who don't know these gentlemen, this is sarcasm.) The next 90 minutes serve to remind me, like a poke in the eye with a sharp stick, that I suck at stud/8. Actually, I was quite card dead, and busted out in a rather unglorious 38th position. I hate LA. Back to yet another rockin' 6/12 HE game, where I spy Stevan "Goldiefish" Goldman at an adjacent table. After exchanging some barbs, Goldie, who knows a fish when he sees one, came over and sat to my immediate right. We had a ball, lots of tilt inducing banter and Michelobs. ESCARGOT Golden Moment Number One Grumpy old bitch sits down and promptly gets a set cracked by a rivered straight. Immediately asks for a deck change. Dealer informs her that the deck was changed three hands prior, and she'll have to wait for the round to finish. GOB calls for the floor. Floor backs up the dealer, and she mutters some shit and sulks. The first hand allowable, she asks for, and receives, a deck change. First hand with the new deck, she gets two pair cracked by a rivered flush. Much loud bitching ensues. Goldie then says: "Hey, sweetheart, how's that deck change working out for ya?" I promptly spit a mouthful of beer on the floor. Grumpy old bitch promptly racks up and leaves. Goldie, you're a gem. I love LA. On to the 1st ESCARGOT exclusive event, the 1/2 Pot Limit Omaha 1/2 Pot Limit Holdem event. I love this format, as pot limit is my favorite form of poker. Our tournaments, I'm told, are normally held in a private banquet room, but this being Chinese New Year, the banquet room is otherwise engaged. So they've moved us over beyond the pit games in a rather cramped area. No matter, the mood is light, and I'm having a blast. I manage to keep an average stack through the first break. At various times, I'm playing with Patti Beadles, Mickdog, "Allknight" Adam Bachrach, Chuck Humphrey, Beth Even, "Mad" Mary Massey, Pete Stephenson, Rick Nebiolo, Kirk Oshiro, and Russ Fox. Another weak field. Sheesh. I manage to last quite a while, before Adam busts me out 13th, 4 from the dough. He's playing *very* tough; I learned a lot by watching his play. I'm not surprised to learn later that he won the damned thing, beating Peter "ADB foldem" Secor for the title. I was disappointed not to make the money, but reasoned that 13th in this field ain't too bad. Some consolation, at least I got busted by the eventual winner. Also, I win $5 last longer bets with Ron "Happy Raiser" Nutt, Ed "Pizzaman" Pizzarello, and Mickdog, losing only to foldem. I only semi-hate LA. ESCARGOT Golden Moment Number two: Sometime near the 2nd break, the Chinese New Year celebration begins, with the traditional two dragons and loud drums and cymbals. Very loud drums and cymbals. I mean, really fookin' loud. As the dragons snake their way through the casino, much to the delight of the Chinese gamb00lers, it gets even louder. And, of course, the parade stops and continues drumming and crashing *right next to our tournament area*. Did I mention they were really loud? And it went on for, like fifteen minutes. I found it quite entertaining, but we *were* trying to play cards, and it was tilting some of our group quite badly. One player (I don't want to mention any names, but her initials are Beth Even) was literally shaking with rage. I now know how I can get an edge in these tournaments: I just have to show up wearing a dragon costume. Over to the poker room, I drunkenly jump into a 4/8 HE game, and do everything I can to make it a fun place to be. First thing I do is buy a round for the table. Second thing I do is drag a freakin' monster pot when I post behind the button and flop two pair to my KJo. They love me here. I meet a beautiful and talented prop named Tricia, and a local named Hector. I talk Hector into playing "beer pots": the first of the two of us to win a pot buys the next round. Much laughter. The table gets a little testy when Hector gets into it with another player, so I cash out, up $120. I love LA. Much too drunk (and stupid) to go to bed, I move to an 8/16 HE game that looks pretty good. I try the "start the party" routine, but no go, everybody's pissed for some reason. I'm down about $80 when the table begins to break, but I manage to talk the two biggest fish at the table to play shorthanded "for the jackpot", which was topped out at $45,000. Incredibly, they buy it. We play four handed, with the fourth player, Pearl, not a bad player. It was the juiciest situation I'd be in all weekend. How much did I lose, you say? ;-) About $400. Note to self: Learn how to play shorthanded where *nobody* will lay down a hand to any amount of pressure. I stumble back to the Extremely Limited in a grumpy state. I hate LA. End of part one. Stay tuned for highlights from next week's episode. - One word: suckouts (or is that two words?) - Head Hunting! - The Wonderful Wizard of ADB Oz - Know when to hold 'em, know when to beat ADB foldem - Hee. Hee. Fookin' Hee. And I'm not laughing. And much, much more! North Shore Mike From: "Mike McManus" Date: Mon, 17 Feb 2003 11:32:50 -0800 Subject: [ESCARGOT] PART 2 (LONG): It was the best of times; it was...the best of times (North Shore Mike at ESCARGOT) With pounding heart and heavy head (or was that pounding head and heavy heart?), I awoke on Friday morning wishing I'd stop finding such juicy games, because they were costing me too much money. Eager to forget about the bloodbath of the night before, I slinked over to the Bike for the Nooner Headhunter Limit Hold'em tourney. I really liked this format. Along with your entry fee and juice, each player pays an extra five dollars to serve as a "bounty" on their heads, and receives an orange plastic disc as a marker for the bounty. For each player you bust out, you receive their bounty disc, each one being worth $5 to you once you are knocked out. The locals and dealers call the discs "pizzas", because they're close to the size of a small Dominoe's #17. Note to the Bike: Do they really have to be so big? Anyway, this tourney was run by Reuben, another of the Bike's crack team of tourney directors. Seated next to a nice young local fella named Tom, who was a pleasure to play with. Also at the table were ESCAR-goers Scott and Steve Pearce, and a bunch of nutbar locals. I played extremely tightly the first 3 levels, but the locals were rammin' and jammin' with all sorts of cheese. Couldn't find a hand for the first 2 hours with which to increase my stack size, but managed to rob enough to keep the stack from dwindling too far down. Survived 3 all-ins, one of which I rivered a third 2 to piss somebody off something fierce. Interesting hand: I'm in the BB with Presto. Scott raised from the cutoff, I 3 bet. He calls. Flop is K-4-x, 2 spades. I bet. He calls. We check down the turn and river. He has 6-4 of spades. Lots of laughter about the big ringer ESCAR-goers playing such powerhouses. When they combine to two tables, foldem and Jan Pearce are added to our table. Foldem is running on fumes, with a very small stack, but dodges bullets left and right, even surviving the two times that I had him all in, the rat bastard. I manage to survive and make it to the final table with a small-to-medium stack, along with fellow ESCAR-goers foldem, Jan, Ron The Happy Raiser, Andrew "Andrew" Prock, and ADB Oz. Also at the table is Pleasant Local Tom, and the most annoying man I've ever played with. He's an Asian guy with a Wallace Shawn-type spitting lisp, and he never shuts up. Let me be clear: He. Never. Shuts. Up. Talks about hands that happened twenty minutes ago. Talks about hands that happened 2 years ago. Talks about what he had for breakfast. You get the idea. I wanted to choke the living shit out of him. And that doesn't happen to me very often. ESCARGOT Golden Moment Number Two A controversy erupts right before play starts. 10th place pays $40, which is what 11th through 18th paid, and 9th place pays $80. Reuben informs the table that a player has asked if $40 could be taken off the top and given to 10th place, so 9th and 10th would pay the same, and so 10th would get at least a small premium for actually making it to the final table. A vote is called for. Everyone votes yes. Except for me, who, in typical polite Canadian fashion, abstained (actually, I just said I'd go with the flow). And except for Prock, who has a large stack and says, no way. The ESCARGOT contingent just shrugs its' collective shoulders. The locals, specifically The Most Annoying Man I've Every Played With (heretofore known as TMAMIEPW), who not coincidentally is the short stack, is fucking livid. Bad blood is spewing from his venomous, spit-lisp-soaked lips. He's pissed, and makes sure Prock knows it. Prock, to put it delicately, makes it apparent he doesn't give a flying fuck what TMAMIEPW thinks. I love LA. So, you know what's gonna happen, right? Well, you were close. About 5 hands in, a pre-flop raising war breaks out between Prock and Foldem, who by now has Prock slightly outchipped. Knowing what I know about these two guys, there is no way in hell that either would get involved with the other big stack unless they had a big hand. I think they went 5 or 6 bets pre-flop. Flop comes J-9-3, suits unimportant. The rest of the money goes in. Prock shows a set of 9's. Foldem has Siegried and Roy. Turn: Rag River: One of Foldem's two outs, a third queen. The classic suck/resuck. Prock, who now looks whiter than Michael Jackson's ass, stands up, dazed and confused, and wanders off to collect his forty dollars. I score big comedy points the rest of the weekend doing my impression of Prock leaving the table and stammering, wandering aimlessly, not sure what to do next. Soon down to 6 players. I'm 3rd biggest stack. Foldem has a fucking king's ransom in chips, and ADB Oz has about twice mine. TMAMIEPW, Jan Pearce and Pleasant Local Tom have shorter stacks than I. Pleasant Local Tom asks for a deal. Foldem, who has entered the Southern California Annual TARGET Satellite (SCATS) and is being blinded off in that tourney for the past 40 minutes, is anxious to move on. He offers $200 off the top to be haggled over by the remaining five. Everyone agrees. Except me. Now I'm the bad guy. I just thought it was a little too early for a deal, as I was playing well and wanted at least 1 more bustout (and probably 2) before making one. Fortunately, no one threatened my life, and we played on. So, you know what's gonna happen, right? This time, you were right. I was next out, as that bastard Mike "ADB Oz" Osborne killed me in two straight hands. First Hand: I'm on the button, folded to me, I have A9s, and about 8 small bets left. I rai. Oz rerai. I ponder, and feel he has a hand. I fold. (Oz later confided that he had pocket tens.) Very Next Hand: I'm in the cutoff, and rai with KhQh. Oz rerai. I think. Mostly what I'm thinking is what a prick this Oz character is. I look down to my puny stack, and shove it in. Oz shows A9o. No improvement, IGHN. I collect $160, plus $25 for bounties, plus $5 last longers from Pizzaman, Mickdog, and The Happy Raiser. I lose yet another $5 LL to Foldem. It is becoming clear that you must win the goddam tournament to collect a last longer bet from Foldem. Media Advisory: Andrew Prock and I have been asked to appear on a poster advising the dangers of refusing deals in the Bike's Nooner tournaments. So I sweat the final table for a while, grabbing a couple Michelobs for myself and Oz's brother Darrel, The Mini Oz (if you've seen the Oz brothers, there's nothing mini about either of them....). Not long after my exit, Pleasant Local Tom and Jan Pearce are busted out, leaving Oz, Foldem, and TMAMIEPW. Foldem has a stack the size of the Yankees payroll, followed by TMAMIEPW, and Oz is holding on for dear life. TMAMIEPW has not disappointed, he continues to yap incessantly. Oz looks as if he'd like to squish the guy's head like a pimple, but wisely restrains himself. Finally, Oz makes a stand with KQo, tossing his last few chips in. TMAMIEPW calls and shows down A8o. Board comes J-T-8 rainbow. Oz stands up. Turn is a rag. Oz pushes his chair in. River is an ace. Oz begins to dejectedly walk away. Dealer pushes pot to TMAMIEPW and begins to muck board. "WHOA!! WAIT!!" I yell. Oz has a straight, which I point out to the dealer. 3 players, a tourney director, a dealer, and about 15 spectators are watching, and no one sees it. I have visions of Oz coming back to win the tournament, and giving me half of his prize money. Visions? More like hallucinations. But anyway, Oz thanks me profusely, and plays on, but alas, only lasted about another 5 hands. Foldem and TMAMIEPW make a deal for the rest. While I'm not unhappy with my 6th place finish, it sure grates on me watching TMAMIEPW laughing it up while taking home 2nd place money plus. Grrrr. Anybody noticed that Foldem is having a Phil-Ivey-2002-WSOP kind of weekend? It ain't over yet. Foldem sprints to the SCATS satellite, where his stack has blinded down to about half of its' original size. He then proceeds to get to three handed, where a deal is made, and he gets the seat. Unreal. Great poker, Peter, well done. A quick meal of some greasy fast food chicken with Mickdog, and it's off to the ESCARGOT Limit Hold'em tournament. As the Chinese New Year celebrations have come and gone, the tournament is now held in its' rightful location: a private banquet room. I wistfully long for a loud dragon parade to storm through the room and tilt the entire field, but alas, it is not to be. Once again, I felt I played pretty well. Managed to limp through the first few rounds without winning any major pots, but not losing any, either. At my opening table, amongst others, are Dan Goldman, John Reeves, Fern Chamberlain, Dan Loncarcic, and MrBob. MrBob has been getting hit pretty hard with the deck, and that, combined with his very strong play, has allowed him to dominate the table somewhat. Others who have been moved to the table at various times are Russ (Crazy Like A) Fox, David Huberman, Kirk Oshiro, and my nemesis, Mike Osborne. I go card dead for a while, and short stacked, I have to start gambling a bit. Two huge suckouts of note keep me in it. Suckout #1: I go all in with 22, MrBob has AK, king on flop, 2 on river. Much Michelob-fueled fist pumping ensues. Suckout #2: Kirk rai, I rerai all-in from button with ATo. He calls. He has KK. Flop no help, turn and river are both aces. More fist pumping. (Side note to both Kirk and Bob: Sorry if my, um, enthusiasm was a little over the top.) Later, now desperately short stacked, I open-rai with A9s from mid position, Russ Fox rerai from BB, which would put me all in. Russ has a (not necessarily deserved) reputation for being the rock's rock. After thinking for a while, I opt for survival, and fold. Russ later tells me he had an ace, too, and that his kicker was an ace. I'm still not sure if I believe him. A few hands later, I bust out with my last 3 or 4 chips, and can't even recall the hands, so it wasn't anything special. I finish 13th, just out of the money again. Only this time, I lose ALL my last longer bets. How can you finish 13th out of 70, and lose 5 last longers? Apparently, I need to seek out weaker players with whom to make these wagers. I move to the main card room and get into a 6/12 HE game. Seated on my right is Tricia the Beautiful and Talented Prop, and we have a nice chat, during which we discover we have some mutual friends. After she is moved to another table, I realize my head's just not in the game, so I cash out -40 and go watch the last few hands of the LHE tourney. They're down to three: Ron The Happy Raiser, Russ Fox, and, of course, Foldem, who must be having the best weekend of his life. Ron finishes third, and Russ knocks out Foldem to take the title. I go back to watch a few minutes of the 1/2 PL mixed game, which is a very happy place populated by all well-oiled ESCAR-goers. Ploink, Jerrod, Steve BIA, and others are having a ball, with chips flying. Beth, who is seated in a 10/20 game across the aisle, says that Foldem has extended an open invitation to his suite for beers. Now I've found my game, best intentions to get some sleep be damned. So, at 1:30 am, I head across to the Extremely Limited. On hand in Foldem's suite are Scott, Sabyl, Foldem, and The Happy Raiser. Stumbling in shortly after I arrive are Jerrod and Ploink. A Chinese Poker tournament breaks out, which I decide to only observe. Foldem and I trade lies and stories over several beers. Believe it or not, the funniest stories that came out of that conversation were about bowling. He also invites me to his house to a barbecue this summer. I am drunk enough to accept, and say I'll get on a plane and be there. I may just do it, too. I stagger upstairs to my room, careful not to wake Mickdog. I find out the next day he's been sleeping with earplugs, and wouldn't wake up to a nuclear blast. As I enter the bathroom to brush my beer-soaked teeth, I notice a peculiar form of wildlife on the toilet seat lid. It looks like a cross between a millipede, a silverfish, and a cockroach. The last thing I recall doing before sleep is squishing it with some toilet paper, and muttering, "Die, pig!" Stay tuned for episode 3. From: "Mike McManus" Date: Fri, 21 Feb 2003 16:13:31 -0800 Subject: [ESCARGOT] PART 3 (LONG): It was the best of times; it was...the best of times (North Shore Mike at ESCARGOT) Third, and final installment of the heart-warming saga of one man's journey into the bowels of the Los Angeles poker world. Mickdog, with his incessant quiet rustling, woke me Saturday at the ungodly hour of 10:15 am. I ask you, just how in hell is a degenerate boozer/gambler supposed to get any rest? He toddles off to the Bike, while I bagged another twenty minutes of much needed shuteye. Onward to the ESCARGOT No Limit Hold'em Shootout. Another interesting and enjoyable format, we started with 8 tables of 5 or 6 players each. Each table plays down to a winner, and the first and second place players from each table advance into a headsup matchplay bracketed tournament; the first place players onto one side of the brackets, and the second place players onto the other side. The bracket tournament is a "double knockout" style; the first place players are considered to be undefeated, and the second place players are considered to have one loss. For the final match, the loser's side bracket winner must beat the winner's side bracket winner twice to win the tournament, while the winner's side winner only needs to win one match to be crowned Shootout Champion. I start at a table that includes Ed "Pizzaman" Pizzarello, "Allknight" Adam Bachrach, "Dawgmann" Colorado Pete, and a breathless Nolan Hee, who has rushed in late because he couldn't find the casino. I love it when locals can't find there way around their own city. I know Pizzaman and Adam are strong players from previous encounters; Nolan, although I've never played with him before, has a reputation as a tough, aggressive player that precedes him: he's been very successful in previous ESCARGOT events. But, despite the intense competition, it's a friendly table with plenty of banter and laughter. Note to prospective ESCARGOT attendees: Banter and laughter are hallmarks of not only ESCARGOT, but all rec.gambling events. Come along and see for yourself. Around the 4th or 5th hand, I win an odd one that doubles me up. I have about T1400, Dawgmann has me slightly outchipped. Dawgmann open-limps from the button, Adam folds in the small blind. I check from the big blind with T4o. Flop comes down A-2-5, with the ace and deuce being spades. I check, fully intending to fold my gutshot draw to any action; this just ain't the kind of hand to lose any money on. Dawgmann checks behind me. Now I'm thinking about the possibility of making a steal on the turn. Turn is the 3 of spades, making my wheel but putting 3 spades on board. I figure that Dawgmann probably would have bet a spade draw after my check on the flop, so I figure a bet is in order, to try and look like I'm stealing. I am fairly confident he doesn't have the flush; if he's slowplayed an ace I've got him. I bet out T300. Dawgmann comes over the top all in. I spill coffee all over myself trying to get my chips in. He shows A-3 offsuit for two pair. No ace or three (or four, for the chop) arrives on the river, and I've double through. Dawgmann has about T80 left, and is steaming that he got beat by T4o. He's out soon after. It becomes apparent that the word "aggressive" is appropriately used when describing the play of Nolan Hee. He's been raising/reraising 60 to 70 percent of hands since we got to four handed, and has built a nice stack, leading our table. I've lost a couple of small-to-medium pots, and have about T2200 to Nolan's T3000 or so when the following hand comes down. No one is short stacked at this point. I played the player, and got crushed. On the button with 88, and it's folded to me. Blinds are T50/75. I raise to T300, Pizzaman folds in the SB, Nolan reraised another T500 from the BB. I think (perhaps not long enough, in retrospect) that this may be a resteal attempt with an ace. It's the classice "either-I'm-a-small-favorite-or-big-dog" scenario, and I decided that, given Nolan's very aggressive play to this point, that there's a very good chance I'm a favorite, and should take the small edge given the tough field and jam. Which I do. Nolan, of course, has pocket kings. AARGH! No 8 on board, I go home now. I stewed the rest of the day about this hand. If Adam or Pizzaman makes this play, I probably lay it down. When I asked others in a straw poll, the responses were split on whether I should jam or lay down. I'm still not sure. After grabbing some lunch, and picking up $80 in a 3/6 Hold'em game, I run into Pizzaman, David Huberman, Mickdog, and Gary "Creepshow" Furness, and we pile into a car and head to the Commerce to check out the gamb00ling action. The place is jammed, and chips are flying in the 4/8 in which we all get seated. Lots of laughs again. One of the porters comes by, notices that I'm wearing a Molson Breweries "I. Am. Canadian." t-shirt, and says "C'est Le But!" Once I figure out what he's saying, I give him the s00per seekrit complete phrase, nice and loud: "Il lance...Il compte! C'est le BOOOOOOOOOO!" (To the unrefined: this is French-Canadian hockey announcer-speak for "He shoots....he scores! It's a GOOOOOOAAAAAAAALLLLL!". Great game, so of course, the beating continues. I lose $91 in about 2 hours, rivered a ouple of times. I was beginning to get a little low; I mean, my previous trips to LA have been very profitable. As near as I'm able to tell, I've been getting my money in with the best of it a high percentage of the time; something's gotta give, don't it? Back to the Extremely Limited, with an hour and a half to kill before the ESCARGOT banquet, I crack a Michelob and put on my finest Dogs Playing Poker necktie (wanting to look my best for the big event), then Mickdog and I stroll over to the Bike's banquet room. Seated with Mickdog, The Osborne brothers, Marc "The Occupant" Gilutin, Chuck Humphrey, Russ Fox, Lou Krieger and noted mid-limit pro and Poker Pages contributor Barry Tannenbaum, who is to be our guest speaker for the evening. The conversation and the food were both excellent, highlighted by a lively discussion on the current troubles of Binion's Horseshoe. Barry then presented an extremely entertaining and insightful speech on the pleasures, perils, and pitfalls of becoming a professional poker player, peppered with great advice and caveats for the rest of us mopes, followed by a Q&A period. Not like I have any delusions on turning pro, mind you...Also, special thanks to Donna from the Bike, who graciously passed around the Bike's "No Abuse" buttons to one and all. It was not without some trepidation that I then walked across the street to the Foldem Suite of the Extremely Limited. Peter "Foldem" Secor's room hosted the 2003 World Chowaha Championship, and electricity was in the air. For the uninitiated, Chowaha was invented by Mike Chow, a Bay Area poker player who I have yet to meet; when I do, I will buy him a drink. This game is a blast. As played for the championship, the game is not spread using the original rules, but the spirit, I'm told, is unspoiled. Here's the rub: Each player is dealt two cards, a la hold'em. After preflop betting, the dealer then spreads not one, not two, but THREE flops. Then a round of betting. Then TWO river cards, a round of bettting, followed by a single river card, and a final round of betting. So, the board winds up looking like a pyramid on it's side, like this: X X X X X X X X X X X X To complete your hand, you MUST use BOTH your hole cards, a la Omaha, and you can use any of the four continuous 5 card boards as your board, to make the best five card poker hand. The top flop can be used only with the top turn and the river (one board), the middle flop can be used with either of the two turn cards plus the river (2 more boards), and the bottom flop can be used only with the bottom turn and the river (one board). Sound complicated? Or sound like fun? Trust me: it's both. It's the greatest invention since shampoo and conditioner in a single bottle. Calling foldem's room a suite was rather generous, as it was about the size of a regular hotel room, only divided into two rooms. Play began with 22 players on 2 tables, each paying $40 in entry fees, all going to the prize pool. There was a cheering throng of about 10 spectators, too. Imagine 30 people in a hotel room, most boozing, and you may have an idea of the organized chaos that ensued. Chris "Ploink" Straghalis was the tournament director, and did a wonderful job of herding this group of cats. I particularly enjoyed Ploink's opening statement: after stating the rules, he said: "The winner of tonight's tournmant has not the option, but the OBLIGATION, to add the title '2003 World Chowaha Champion' to every email for the coming year." Well spoken, sir. Table #1 was the square glass coffee table in the "living room", while the king size bed in the other room served as table #2. Try to imagine 11 grown men squeezed around a coffee table, each trying not to reveal their hole cards to their neighbours. Combine that with the fact that the smooth glass surface of the table made it damned near impossible to keep the board cards from changing position; it was difficult at best to determine what the hell your hand was at any given point. Finally, mercifully, foldem gave us a blanket from the bed to serve as a tablecloth. Booze was flowing, too; dozens of beers, a bottle or two of Glenfiddich (thanks, Mr. Occupant) and some fine tequila made the rounds, all of which I sampled in moderate quantities. I was terrified of running into the nuts: on one hand I was soundly ridiculed when I checked down my fours full of nines as there were two higher pairs on board. It was a raucous good time. Ron the Happy Raiser comes in beaming. Seems he was playing 6/12 Holdem when the $45,000 jackpot hit. His table share was $1600. Loser of the hand got $22,500; winner of the hand got $11,250. Well done, Ron. I bubbled the final table (five places paid), and Dawgmann Colorado Pete was eventually crowned the 2003 World Chowaha Champion. I vaguely recollect that other players who cashed were Don Condit, Gary "Creepshow" Furness, and Marc "The Occupant" Gilutin. The fact that I have no clue who the other prize winner was should indicate how much fun I was having. ESCARGOT Golden Moment #4 While having a cigarette outside the room (don't start...), I was offered crack cocaine, for the first time in my life, by a fine young gentlemen named Fernando. Not for sale, mind you, he just offered me a hit off of his pipe. While I politely declined, the boundless generosity of Los Angelinos once again amazed me. Back in The Foldem Suite, in the aftermath of the Chowaha Championship, eight of us remained, nursing our (presumably) last beers of the night. It was about 3:30 am, and time for bed. Or was it? Sitting at the coffee table, and seeing a deck of cards and chips splayed all over it, my gut instinct took over: I yelled, "Twenty dollar no limit freezeout!" You never saw 8 twenty dollar bills move faster. The game included Ploink, Foldem, Sabyl, Ellis Starks, Nolan Hee, myself, and two others who I hope will forgive me for forgetting them (next trip, I purchase a Palm Pilot...). I can't recall the details of a single hand. I do recall that Nolan and I got headsup and chopped it 50/50. After helping Ploink to his car with chips, cards, and various other paraphernalia, Nolan and I, who were about as sober as Russell Crowe and Richard Burton at a Scotch tasting festival, decided to do the right thing: go over to the Bike and play "tilt the locals". What a fine idea. So, with Ron the Happy Raiser as our sober guide, we descended upon the unsuspecting locals grinding it out in a 3/6 Hold'em game. Some highlights: - Nolan and I were told not once, but TWICE by the floor to keep it down. The locals told us to pipe down about a thousand times. We, of course, grew louder. - I told a dealer I would tip $10 if he put out a 9 on the river completing my gutshot. He did. I did. - After I sucked out on the above hand, I told the suckee, a local woman, I'd give her a dollar for every pot she won while I was at the table. I did, to the tune of about five bucks. - I tipped apporoximately $30 in total in an hour. And: ESCARGOT Golden Moment #5 Folded to Nolan in the small blind, he raises. In the spirit of rec.gambling events everywhere, I 3-bet from the big blind with 7-2 offsuit. He 4 bets. I just call, planning to trap later. Flop comes J-2-3 rainbow. Nolan bets. I raise. He rerai. I just call, planning to trap later. Turn is a jack. Nolan bets. I just call, planning to crush him on the river. River is a blank. Nolan checks. I decide he's had enough, and check behind. He shows A-8o, I drag the pot. The table goes nuts. Of course, the next pot was about $175. I love LA. I cash out $100 of my original $120 buyin. I consider the $20 loss as cheap entertainment. I would imagine the locals in the game thought otherwise. Bidding Nolan good morrow, and promising to bear each other's children, we part, and I make my final stumble across the street to the Extremely Limited to pack and tilt the desk manager by not checking out on time. I run into Ron The Happy Raiser and Pete Stephenson, who are enjoying the Extremely Limited's fine gourmet continental breakfast spread, which consists of pre-packaged stale danishes, a couple of surprisingly fresh bananas, and coffee so vile that to call it coffee is an insult to Juan Valdez and his burro. I entertain them with a few stories and lies, and then see my roommate Mickdog loping around the corner with his suitcase, apparently on his way to the airport. (Actually, it's not fair to say that Mickdog roomed with me; he actually just roomed with my suitcase.) A sad parting, indeed. Mickdog has become a close friend, and I'm truly sad to see him go. We promise to meet again at BARGE in Las Vegas in August 2003, a promise I have every intention of walking over burning coals to keep. The next few hours are a blur: Pack. Sleep. Get call from desk at 1:00 pm asking when the hell I plan to check out. Check out. Drag bag over to Bike for storage. I go over to the Try 'N Save and pick up some souvenirs for my children, and then back over to the Bike to try and salvage what's left of my game. I get into a great 4/8 game with Dave Croson two to my left, and a good guy/excellent local player named Sandy between us. The other 6 players were typical LA low-limit gamb00lers. I finally start to have some success; better late than never. I make some solid hands and get paid off multiway; Dave and Sandy are doing the same. Hand of note: Dealt Presto in early position, and raise after a loose-weak limper. Two callers, and the limper calls. The play of the two callers can be best described as, uh, loose as Jarett the Subway Guy's skin. Flop comes T-5-J, two hearts. Early limper checks, I bet, called by all three. Turn is a ten....DING! Loose limper checks, I bet, reasoning that the weakies wouldn't bet anyway. Called by all three. I begin to salivate. River is a jack. UN-DING! Check, I check, bet, call, fold, I fold. I tell this tale not as a bad beat story, but I found it unusual in hold'em to have the best-by-a-mile hand on the turn, and can't call the river: that's usually an Omaha phenomenon, n'est ce pas? At any rate, I cash out +$260 in 3 hours, and Dave is up at least that much as I bid him goodbye and cash out. Time to get ready to head to the airport. After cashing out, I wander the room saying goodbye to the ESCAR-goers I can track down. When I left Andrew Prock the night before, he was stuck for the day for sessions at both the Bike and the Commerce. Now, he's seated at the 30/60 Stud/8 table, and he has the gross national product of Latin America in front of him. I mention that things seem to have improved for him. He gets up from the table, and motions for me to follow him out of earshot of the rest of the table. The woman to his immediate right, he tells me, is the winner of the $12,250 in the jackpot game the night before, and from there she jumped headlong into the 30/60 game, apparently never having played higher than 8/16 at any game in her life. Prock says she's in to the game for at least $6k, and there is another fish in the game too. Life is g00t. I watched the game for 15 minutes or so, and saw the woman chase high-only hands repeatedly, occasionally getting there to further reinforce bad playing habits. The list for the game appears to be 8 deep, with good reason. Also in that game was David James, the producer of the soon-to-be-released motion picture "The Big Blind". I introduced myself to him, and we had a nice chat about his film and the movie business in general. Good luck with the film, David. Drained, I slumped happily into the Bike's complimentary limo, and headed for the airport with many more happy memories tucked away in the deep, dark recesses of my tiny brain. Upon arriving home, I promptly slept for 3 days, dreaming of gold bracelets and Las Vegas in August. ---------------------- While I thouroughly enjoyed everyone, I met at my inaugural ESCARGOT exprience, special thanks must be bestowed upon the following people: - To the ESCARGOT Organizing Committee of Russ Fox, Marc Gilutin, Chris Straghalis, Lou Krieger, Steve Nissman and Jerrod Ankenman: Thanks for putting together such a marvelous event, and making it so easy for new attendees to get involved. You guys are the nuts. And, you're nuts, too. - Extra special thanks to Russ Fox for somehow managing to get Halle Berry to be our cocktail waitress at the banquet. (you had to be there...) - To all the Bike management, dealers, floor staff, and various service personnel: Many thanks for putting up with all our crap and foolishness for the week. Your support, and understanding of the spirit of this event, made it a joy to attend. Special thanks to Rick Nebiolo; manager Donna (sorry, never knew your last name); floorman Sam, tourney directors Ron, Ron, and Reuben; prop The Beautiful and Talented Tricia; and The Card Scanner Guy, who was always a pleasure to talk with, and always had a smile on his face. - To the good friends I met again, and whose company I thoroughly enjoyed: Pizzaman, David Huberman, Russ Fox, Allknight Adam, Foldem, Andrew Prock, Sabyl, Jerrod, Ploink, Creepshow, Beth Even, Lou Krieger, Goldiefish, Chic, and everyone else I originally met at BARGE 2001. Thanks for making my first ESCARGOT so memorable. - To all the new friends I made on this trip, who are too numerous to mention: You all uphold the *ARGE event spirit to the letter, and I'm glad to have met each and every one of you. - And finally, to Michael "Mickdog" Patterson, whose tolerance and level-headed common sense were the perfect foils for my wild and wacky ways. My suitcase says you were a great roommate. See you all at ESCARGOT 2004!