From: "Michael Patterson" Subject: [ESCARGOT] ESCARGOT Noir (a trip report of sorts) Date: Mon, 03 Feb 2003 11:54:58 -0800 {Note: Extremely long with very little poker content. Buyer Beware.} ESCARGOT Noir by Michael Patterson Rain blanketed Portland heavier than the tears of a thousand bad beat stories, and I was glad to be leaving it all behind. As the jet climbed out of the clouds I knew I was heading toward the angels. The city of Angels, of course. Los Angeles. LA. LaLa Land. The city of hope. The city of shattered dreams. How would the Grand Dame treat me this time around? The nameās mickdog, and Iām a private eye. I was working on a job that required me to play the part of a hapless poker amateur, in order to infiltrate a group of shady characters who go under the code name: ESCARGOT. I wore the disguise well. Iād spent two previous years trying to figure out what this cartel dealt in other than a few Chowaha games. This year I was bound and determined to solve the case. Touchdown in LAX. Through my many connections in the underworld, Iād arranged a limo to pick me up and take me straight to the Bicycle Casino. This was where the cartel centered its activities this time of the year. How such an upstanding business could allow such riff-raff to amass there I wasnāt sure. However, before the car pulled away from the terminal, my driver said he had another pickup. This was unexpected, and I began to wonder if the driver going to be taking me for a long drive along Mulholland. Moments later, a man entered the limo and identified himself as a poker dealer/player Ron Nutt. The fake name seemed a little obvious, but I said nothing. He said he was from a foreign land called Vancouver, and despite the obvious language barrier, we made the usual chitchat all the way to the Bike. First, I went across the street and checked into my hotel. It was a place to sleep, nothing more, nothing less. And I knew I wouldnāt be there much with all the undercover work Iād be doing across at the Bike. The card room looked as welcoming as an oasis in the dessert, and I was one thirsty camel. I knew that in order to learn about these ESCARGOTers I must do two things: assimilate into the group, and to make the final tables of their tournaments. The latter was especially important because informants had told me that that was where the ćdealsä were made. I knew Iād find my answers there. So I immediately entered one of the Bikeās Nooner tourneys to attempt to hone my skills for the ESCARGOT events. Only a few of the cartel members had entered this NL tournament, so once it became clear that none of them would be at the final table, I pissed off my chips (purposely, of course) to finish one out of the money. Why I suddenly felt like sipping glass of champagne, I wasnāt sure, but I went to the bar to drown my sorrows. Things started picking up a few hours later when a number of the group began filtering in. I tried to mingle and blend in, but it was extremely hard to follow the conversations. Strange code language was being used. Words and phrases like: ćPresto!ä ćNi Hanä ćAiyahä and ćCHORSE-L.ä I wrote them all down in hopes of breaking the code later that night. A satellite tournament was starting and I luckily got the last seat. I tried my best to promote my image as a clueless, but lucky player, and did a pretty good job with a couple of timely suckouts. I somehow made it to the final two players and thought Iād try to trap one the chip leader, Pete, by trying to get him to agree to one of these mysterious ćdeals,ä but he coolly saw through my ploy and refused. I was packing my bags with nothing to show for it one hand later. But another satellite was about to start so I tried again. Once more I made it to the final two, and this time a doll by the name Beth Even was my mark. I suggested a deal, and she agreed, but all I got was a slip of paper worth a C-note for Saturdayās NLHE shoot-out. A shootout? I was confused but hoped Iād survive it alive. Another unsuccessful bid at a Bike tournament later, I found myself back at the hotel, trying to crack the ESCARGOT codes. All of the sudden my door opened and as I ducked behind my bed expecting bullets to fly, a man entered the room with only some luggage in his hands. He introduced himself as North Shore Mike, and I then remembered that in a drunken stupor I had got the bright idea to get him as my roommate. It was all part of my deep cover plan. North Shore was such a likeable guy that no one would suspect I was not a legit member of the group if I roomed with him. I worked until the wee hours of the night on the code words to no avail. Frustrated I drifted off to sleep mouthing the words ćPresto gOOt! Presto gOOt....ä Thursday brought another Nooner tournament (Stud/8) and this time I fared much better, and made the final two tables. But alas, the final table again was unreachable. I did get $40 for my troubles though. The first ESCARGOT tourney was occurring that night, a half PLO/half HE event. I figured I was dead money and this would be a good opportunity to create my fish image, but the cards were good to me and made the final two tables again. So plan B went into effect. In order to make it seem that it was pure luck that I made the final table in this event, I had arranged for a Chinese New Year Celebration to be held right next to the tournament. All the noise and clatter would confuse the group, and Iād slip into the final table unnoticed. However my plans were dashed because I could only afford to pay the parade participants for a half-hourās work, when I needed at least an hour of their time to rattle these wily combatants. As the Chinese dragon left the building, I quickly followed when my AAxx single-suited hand lost to ćLuckyä Lou Kriegerās QQxx hand as one of the remaining to Ladies fell on the flop. Two out of the money, I felt like having some champagne once again, and went off to find a sympathetic ear and a cold bottle of the bubbly. Friday brought the dragnet ever closer. The morning was spent taking a long walk with my informant from Berkeley, who goes by the initials of JP. He filled me in on his reconnaissance work in the NorCal cartel, and we compared notes as we walked through the beautiful streets of Bell Gardens and Commerce. The Nooner tourney was a headhunter format, and not wishing to lose my head, I quickly exited from the tournament. I heard them setting up a CHORSE game and I knew I had to play to find out what CHORSE meant. Among all the yelling, laughing, and throwing dollars at the dealers, I never did find out what it was a front for, and when it turned into a CLOSuRE game (with a silent ćhä stuck in there somewhere) I began to feel completely bewildered, but in a wonderful sort of way. However, one of the ringleaders, a mister Jerrod ć[0,1] gameä Ankenman said that there was a SCATs game forming. Now Iām not normally into that kind of stuff, but deep cover is deep cover, and I figured Iād be covered in it soon enough. However upon arriving at the location, I discovered it was just another tournament. I started playing and made it about halfway through before I realized that if you won would just become a TARGET in Las Vegas in April. Knowing how tough the mafia in Vegas was, and how I didnāt want to be a target, I bowed out gracefully, allowing some Creep to put on a show and take the game in a multi-player deal that I was not party to. This time I barely had enough time to drown my sorrows before the Limit HE tourney got underway. I started off well, with some key hands against a guy named Ploink who I think was an undercover agent himself, based on the clothes he wore. And then went on to dispatch my earlier nemesis Beth, who threatened me with bodily harm if I didnāt take her chips to the final table. So in order to escape unscathed, I played tighter than a fox (Russ Fox that is) and woke up with pocket Aces, which helped me finally make the last table! Now Iād know what these deals were all about! However, I busted out in 9th and didnāt get to be party to any deal. There was some talk about screwing the IRS, but nothing else illegal that I could see. I stuck around in hopes one would be made, but Mr. Fox took out Mr. Nutt and some guy named Foldem (very quiet and boring guy, you might not even know he was at ESCARGOT) in one fell swoop and it was over. No deals. Iād have to wait until the Shoot-out tomorrow. Saturday morning, I woke up my roomie North Shore, who Iād now recruited to take the night shift. Iād go to bed around 1-2am, while heād stay up until 5-8am trying to get the now drunk ESCARGOTers to spill the beans. We traded information and figured today was the day to blow the cover off this cartel. I headed off to the tourney and he got another another half-hour of much needed sleep. The Shoot-out was going to be a tough one with Ploink and a woman Iād dubbed ćthe Lady in Redä the night before, but went by the name Sharon Neely at my table. It ended up with only the three of us left, and a mistake by me left the Lady in Red with all my chips. I was out. The jig was up. The fat lady sang. I was an Ex-Parrot. I decided to stop my investigation right now. All of my investigation had only turned up some harmless fun and no real dastardly deeds. I knew that these ESCARGOTers just needed a few days to be crazy and play crazy. So I decided to follow suit. Pizza, /david, Creepshow, North Shore and I all headed to the big house, the Commerce Casino that is, for a three hour tour. The 4-8 HE game that we all got into was fun (but not very profitable of course with a $4 drop) and soon we had to head back to the Bike for the Banquet, which went very well especially the nice talk by poker pro Barry Tanenbaum. Last but certainly not least was the World Chowaha Championships, which, to me was one of the most fun events of weekend. Back in Foldemās hotel room the tourney was well run by Ploink despite all the participants never listening to him, and I made the final table for the first time. But eighth place was the highest I could get, and left to get a few hours of sleep before heading back to the land of rain. As the morning came and I watched the city of Angels fall away, I knew that Iād never return to ESCARGOT as an uncover agent again, but as a rOOler instead! While luck hadnāt been a lady every night, the Dame had indeed treated me well. {P.S.: I wish to thank all the Bike Staff for making us all feel like the high rollers we arenāt, and to the ESCARGOT organizers who did another fabulous job with everything. I hope to see you all next year.}