AimlesslyChasingAmy

I’m playing a little catch up on the blog.  Starting at the beginning of the latest Vegas odyssey…

I usually wait until the last minute to pack for Vegas, but I have to admit I pushed it to the limits this time.  The day before my scheduled departure, I still had not colored my hair, done laundry, bought cat food, packed, or hit the bank.  I was apparently a little frazzled as I drove down my street with my emergency break on, got on the highway (when there was no need), and spent most of my drive to the bank trying to remember my pin number.  I hadn’t used my ATM card in months.  I guess the poker player’s way of life had finally caught up with me as I had been living off my cash roll since Vegas.  By the time I reached the bank, I had it narrowed down to a manageable set of four possible combinations.  The machine finally spit out cash in my general direction.  When I left the next morning for the airport, I was wearing a damp shirt; the last dryer load cycle cut short by my departure. 

Luckily there was nothing but smooth sailing once I hit the airport.  For one thing, we had had a wet summer this year, which means I didn’t have to hear the same conversation in the waiting area as I had the previous Vegas bound flights in December.  December in Vegas means one thing to Texans: Rodeo.  For each of the previous December flights I’ve listened to in depth conversations on the price of hay.  After my flight I could quote prices for both sqaure and round bales.  With the end of our drought, the only conversations I heard were people talking about the good old days when their daddies were still alive and remembering that time they went hunting behind what is probably a Walmart today.

I dumped my stuff at Casa Debonair and headed to the Venetian for the bloggers tournament.  I realized I had missed the all important pre-tournament bonding period as most of the bloggers had gotten in at least a full day ahead of me.  I was prepared for stripper tales (although I was not fully prepared for Grubby’s squirter experience - nor was he I imagine).  I knew I had missed out on at least one “storm the castle” crusade - although these now usually are at the MGM vs. the Excaliber.  There was only one silver lining to my late arrival; many of my tournament mates would be nursing hangovers.  I acknowledged that this was likely my only edge in a NLHE event. 

Although I got to the Venetian a full hour before the event, I barely got all my hugs in.  I was lucky that one of the first people I bumped into was Al Can’t Hang (who looked mahvelous btw).  Once we got our hugs in, Al spirited a group of us away for a little pre-game activity at the sports book bar.  Although a little under the weather, Joe Speaker was at peak dapperness - and sporting a cravat (well it may have just been a scarf) for the occaision.  Back at the poker room I crammed in some more hugs before the event.  I was able to get quality gropes from Falstaff (great job darlin’), Gracie, sweet sweet Pablo, Maudie, Pauly, Change100, Iggy, Jen, Schecky, Derek, Shronk (thinking of you buddy), Jennifer, Otis, Leigh and Brian, Katitude, Carmen, Texas April, and more. 

When I found my table, I was tucked in between Mean Gene and Kyle and across from Jordan (btw this boy can talk).  “The (lovely and talented) Wife” made a presentation of a flag flown over Camp Cropper in Iraq, sent by Dr. Chacko, to be awarded to the winner.  And with her “shuffle up and deal” we were off.