Life as a Las Vegas Poker Dealer

Stories and such from a poker dealer in Las Vegas, NV

Bowl of Fire -or - Conversation With a Madman

Stop. Remove backpack and set on ground. Open backpack and remove camera bag. Open camera bag and remove camera. Compose and take photos. Put camera into protective bag and close. Put camera bag into backpack and close. Hoist backpack up onto shoulders, fasten and adjust straps, reorient to surroundings.

That procedure would play out repeatedly, as it does whenever I hike...

I drove up Calville Wash Rd until I reached a point where it looked like I might be able to clamber up the slope on the edge of the wash. As it turns out, I should have driven farther up the wash but the map made it look impassable not far from where I stopped. Had I driven farther, the hike would have started out a bit easier. Go figure.

After slipping and sliding up the slick slope, I found myself looking up at a hill labeled as 821T on the map I had. I was in the general area where I wanted to start. Someone who had hiked this area before had told me of a natural arch and I wanted to find it. I started out towards the red rocks in the distance. In the morning sun, the Bowl of Fire was living up to its name.

Unfortunately, the map didn't show the dozens of washes on the north side of that hill so I spent the first part of the morning climbing down one side of a wash and up the other side, hoping each time that it might be the last.

Voice: You should spend more time than fifteen minutes studying your route before you take off and go.
Me: Shut up.
Voice: Try not to be so impulsive next time, will you?
Me: I said, Shut. Up.

On the third time into a wash, I decided to follow the wash down the hill to the larger wash I could see at the bottom. Upon getting to the spot where the two joined, however, I found myself looking at a downclimb of nearly fifty feet down a sandstone face with questionable hand or foot holds. No, thank you. I turned around and climbed back up the way I had come and turned back towards the red rocks that were my target.

Voice: Maybe you should quit being a miser and spend the $100 on the topo maps for that GPS thingy you carry around.
Me: Not worth it. Not detailed enough on a 1½ inch screen.
Voice: You've never seen them loaded on that device. You don't know shit.
Me: I know I don't like you.

I eventually found a wash that took me down in the general direction I wanted to go. Thankfully, it joined a wash headed up into the red hills I wanted to explore. First, however, I had to take my pack off and make my way through a very narrow slit in the red rock to avoid climbing up and around it. I almost didn't fit.

Voice: Lose some weight, fat ass.
Me: Who invited you on this hike, anyway?

I found the arch without too much trouble. Talk about an anticlimatic end to a search. I had pictured in my head a grand majestic arch one could walk under, over, around. Instead, I found the type of arch common in that area of the desert thanks to the super soft sandstone that gets shaped by the blowing winds and sands, easily forming small arches, caves, and holes. No matter - the surrounding area provided plenty of eye candy. The rocks in this area were striped and curved much as they are in Utah at The Wave but on a lesser scale.

I pressed on, searching for a spot that overlooked the valley below. The spot I found was worth the trip all by itself. The view stretched out across the bottom of the Bowl of Fire and on towards the area around the Anniversary Mine. I briefly thought about trying to find a route over to the Anniversary Narrows Peak but decided I really didn't want to walk that far - I had to work that night.

I took off my pack, fished out the camera, took the shots, and repacked everything to continue on.

Voice: You really should get one of those chest packs or something for the camera.
Me: I don't think I'd like it, having something on my chest while hiking, especially while climbing.
Voice: It'd be easier to get at your camera, though.
Me: Shut up.

After some exploration of the area I was in, I decided that I really wanted to find a way down to the bottom. I headed in a somewhat westerly path until I can to the major canyon that splits the northern part of the Bowl of Fire. From where I first encountered the canyon, it looked as it I could find a way down fairly easily.

Voice: You know those friends who tell you repeatedly that you are insane, that your brain doesn't work right?
Me: This is going to be easy. Just a little hike down to the bottom of a canyon.
Voice: I think I've heard this before.

My first obstacle was a 5-foot face. It looked simple to climb up but I couldn't see a good way to go down, so I took the simplest way - I jumped. I next found myself buried shin-deep in some of the softest sand I have ever encountered.

Voice: Do you think they'll find your body when you get stuck one of these days?
Me: It's just sand. Give me a break.
Voice: It's just sand...this time. Besides, not a very good way to start this climb down, is it?
Me: I don't believe in omens. Shut up.

I spent a few minutes digging my feet out so that I could move, and a few minutes more removing the sand from my boots before pressing on. I made my way down the cut in the rock until I was stopped at the edge of a cliff looking 500 feet or so down into the bottom of the canyon. My chosen path suddenly didn't look too good, but I wasn't ready to give up yet. After scouting around, I found a ledge than ran along the face of the cliff down towards another area that looked easily descendable.

Voice: Remember that ledge that broke free a couple weeks ago?

For once, I was thankful for the voices. I dropped my pack and slid on my stomach out to get a better look at the ledge. Only about a foot thick in most places, I decided that my fat ass didn't need to test its stability without backup. I climbed my way back up to where I had started.

Voice: Most normal people would turn around and go home now. There's no way down.
Me: I will get down.
Voice: This is why people call you insane.
Me: What the hell do you know?

I made my way north along the edge of the canyon, constantly looking for a way down. My second attempt was a bit shorter than the first in that it took far less of a descent before I found the edge of the cliff again, and still no way to make it down. This time, however, I was sure I could see a way down from the head of the canyon further up the hill.

After climbing back up, I made my way around to the top of the canyon. I stared down towards the floor some two or so miles away. I could see no obstacles in my way. This was going to work. Third time's a charm, right?

I made it about half way down before I came to a twenty-foot wall that I didn't like the looks of. A survey of the surrounding environment showed me a way down, but not one I was willing to take being alone. The move would have involved swinging my body around an obstacle and (hopefully) landing in a cave. On the other side of the cave was a very easy downslope. If I did slip and not make the cave though, it was twenty feet down.

Voice: You can't see in that cave.
Me: Like I care.
Voice: The big horn sheep in the back of that cave, the one you can't see, is going to be pissed when you drop in on him.
Me: You're an idiot.

Given that the strength of my knees is questionable on any given day, I decided I would be better off waiting to try that move when there was someone with me who could go get help when I missed. I headed back up towards the top of the canyon. Of course, halfway up, I decided I wanted out quicker than I was going to get out by climbing to the mouth of the canyon.

I saw a chute that looked like I could make it up. It was steep. OK, it was nearly straight up and was more of an actual climb, but it wasn't something I hadn't done before. I started up. The climb found me hugging the face of the rock quite a bit while reaching for the next handhold.

Voice: Sure glad you didn't buy that chest pack thingy for the camera...
Me: I would kill you if you were real.

About a quarter of the way up, I came to an overhanging lip I couldn't see from below, and I started back down.

Voice: You know why the books say you should always hike with someone?
Me: For safety.
Voice: No. It's so there is someone with you to tell you how much of an idiot you are when you get these stupid ideas.
Me: I'm still going to find a way down.

At the top of the canyon, I made my way along the eastern rim before finally deciding that if there was a way down, it wasn't through that particular canyon - at least not without a rope.

After a walk towards the east, I found another canyon that was not nearly as deep or as daunting looking. I started down. I hadn't gone very far down before I came to a rocky area and heard a very distinctive noise I haven't heard too often. Rattlesnake! I set my pack down and fished out the camera, looking around to figure out where he might be.

Voice: You're going to go poking around looking for a snake - why?
Me: Pictures. People like pictures.
Voice: How will you make it back to the car when you get bit?
Me: I'm not going to go near him. I just want a picture.
Voice: You don't even know where he is.
Me: He's close.

I never did find the snake. There was a pile of rocks over a hole that I'm convinced is where he was hanging out. Whenever I was near that particular rock pile, the rattling intensified and when I would walk a decent way from said pile, it would stop. I gave up on the idea of a picture and continued down the canyon. An hour or so later, I found myself standing at the base of the red cliffs I had wanted to find a way down in the first place. Nice!

Voice: Just because you made it down doesn't mean anything.
Me: It means I won.
Voice: Really? How far is it to the car?
Me: What the hell does that matter? I made it down, didn't I?
Voice: Just because you can do something doesn't mean you should do something.

After pulling out the GPS, I checked on a couple of other interesting features I had marked as potential exploration targets. Some quick math showed me that if I did indeed explore those areas, I'd be looking at over ten miles by the time I got back to the Jeep. Given the fatigue I could feel in my arms and legs, I was sure I would never make that.

Voice: Back up from whence we came?
Me: Of course not.
Voice: Across the open desert? Really?
Me: Of course. The quickest way between two points is a straight line.
Voice: A straight line, huh? This ought to be good.

I climbed out of the wash I was in and oriented myself in the direction of the hill labeled as 821T. The car was in that direction. Of course, what also lay in that direction was 2½ miles of open desert. I started out, hoping against hope that the terrain was close to flat as opposed to being riddled with washes that I would have to climb in and out of all the way.

After about a quarter mile, though, I found myself wishing for a wash to follow. The red hills had been protecting me from a stiff breeze. After I cleared the cliffs, I found a 10mph or so wind beating into me. Lovely.

Voice: Straight line, huh?
Me: You didn't know it was windy down here. It wasn't windy up there.
Voice: You should have went back the way you came.
Me: For the last time, shut up.

I made it to the car in under an hour - 2½ miles in under an hour under those conditions was pretty good. My legs were screaming but I didn't care. I was already planning another visit to the same area. I was going to get down that canyon ;)

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Maybe some poker content soon. Nothing much has been happening in the room - at least nothing out of the ordinary worth writing about. It's the holidays. Maybe something interesting will happen between now and the new year...

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Nits

Very short post. This - You might be a nit if... - is absolutely hilarious. Recent nitty behavior I have witnessed:

Player sits down, plays one single hand, asks for a setup.

Player asks 6-handed table to draw cards for two open seats at other table and refuses to play another hand when they say no. Gets pissed when table elects to draw for seats ten minutes later.

Player announces the amount of time remaining in the promo at the end of every hand. "Fifteen minutes, dealer." "Eight minutes, dealer." Breaks game by telling everyone there is nothing left to play for once the promotion has ended.

I have to stop before I start obsessing ;)

Go read the post over at AVP and laugh. I guarantee if you have spent any time in a poker room that you can put a name to all of them - hopefully not your own...

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Shuffle up

I found something else that differentiates dealing off-strip in Vegas - the number of times I hand shuffle in a given day. Since the majority (not all, of course) of Vegas locals play a loose, passive style at the poker table, a good-sized bet will take down a pot fairly quickly. This leads to the hand finishing before the shuffle machine is done, and to me hand shuffling.

The other night, I'm not sure why I even bothered with the shuffler...

The game dwindled down to heads up play, with both players having between $200 - 300. Usually, my experiene with dealing heads-up is that it is a laid-back game with more conversation and socializing than actual poker playing. This game proved different.

Both players were paying attention, making bets and decisions quickly, and the game moved along at a blistering pace. The pace was quick enough that one of the players considered ordering a sandwich but decided against it because he didn't think he would have time enough to take a bite of his meal between hands. The pace was also quick enough that I was getting out three hands during the time in which the shuffle machine managed to shuffle a deck. Shuffling every two out of three hands that quickly can tire you out. I hadn't shuffled that many times in a dealing shift since I last worked the WSOP. I'm spoiled :)

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I think our pyramid promotion is going pretty well. We've run it for three weeks now, each week coming very close to hitting that (so far) elusive $7500 spot at the top of the pyramid. The first week, there were two spots remaining to be hit when the pyramid reset. Each week since, the only spot that wasn't reached was that top spot. Aces the second week, Sixes this week.

I like the promotion because by the middle of the week, we're already at the $1000 level, and by the weekend we are reaching the $1500+ levels so business is good Friday and Saturday night as people stick around in hopes of hitting one of the last four or five hands before the weekend is finished and we reset.

Of course, the downside is that at 1:00am Monday morning, the room clears out quick. Personally, I think I would stay around and play then because you have thirteen potential hands that could net you $500 as opposed to just a single hand that would put $7500 in your pocket. It seems to me the odds would be better to snag some free money early in the week, and $500 is pretty decent money.

Everybody loves the draw of the big money payout, though. I have to admit that if I wasn't a lazy ass, I'd probably drive down and play on Saturdays or Sundays to chase the bigger jackpots as well. Like I said, though, I'm too lazy to bother.

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Speaking of lazy, I think I'll take my lazy ass to the couch for some quality napping. Parts of my brain are telling me things happened this weekend I should write about, but my advancing age seems to be preventing me from remembering what they were.

Sure signs of old age: excessive forgetfulness and excessive napping. Sign me up!

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Getting there

Last week, I headed out to Lake Mead one morning intent on climbing the first major hill I came across. As I drove out Northshore Dr, I finally decided on Hamblin Mountain. Not really a mountain per se, this peak is actually half of a volcano that was cut in two along a fault line - the two "peaks" now lie about 11 miles or so apart.

Still, the peak stands out as you drive towards Echo Bay so I wanted to climb it...

I started up Cottonwood Wash in the direction of the Pinto Valley as marked on the map. Actually, the map had the wash marked as having a 4wd-only road along the bottom. That would have made the hike a lot shorter!

At Cottonwood Spring, I searched for any sign of water I could find. The only thing that gave any indication of a water supply, however, was a lone (good-sized) Cottonwood tree that was the only thing around that looked healthy. Giving up the search for water, I climbed the eight or so foot dryfall behind the tree and continued down the wash.

Eventually, the wash split, and I turned southwest towards the mountain. At two-and-a-half miles in, the terrain got steep. The lungs and thighs were screaming by the time I crested the saddle, only to find...a descent into another wash. Maddening, and not very clearly shown on the map either.

Down I went before starting another ascent, this time with the peak in view. The climb wasn't too bad until the last three-quarters of a mile. The last section proved to be a bit steeper than the steep climb earlier.

The effort proved worthwhile, though, as I reached a saddle and had a gorgeous view of the sun rising above the mountains on the east side of Lake Mead. I turned west and walked along a ridge towards my goal.

Of course, when I passed a smallish rise to a sub-peak along the way, I couldn't help myself but to climb that as well. After all, it was there, right? The descent down from that peak back to the trail was a fun little class 3 climb that I hadn't expected - a little exposure but nothing major.

Once I finally made the peak on Hamblin, I could see into Arizona, Utah, and Nevada - great views of the Narrows section of Lake Mead, Calville Bay, the Vegas Strip, Valley of Fire - so I spent about thirty minutes on the ridge taking photos before heading down.

Headed down, I really wanted to pursue a different route. I could see about three-quarters of the way along the route I wanted to take but a hill blocked a view of an area that I knew had some steep faces that might prove impassable without a rope, so I gave in and went back the way I came.

No perilous slides down hills, no grabbing of cacti or hanging off of cliff faces on this trip. Just a nice leisurely walk in the desert ;)

The next day, a group of four of us headed back out to Lake Mead to hike the Anniversary Narrows, a slot canyon in Lovell Wash. Both Eeyore and Minnesota Bob joined Monkey Boy and myself - the Old Man called off after working too much the night before - for an easy hike up the wash and back.

The photos from that hike are amazing. They came out really good. One of these days, I'll get off my lazy ass and upload them to share. Sorry.

Today, the same four of us headed out to Red Rock to hike up to the miner's cabin above La Madre springs. This hike had some decent elevation gain that proved pretty strenuous for the non-hikers in the group. We did make it all the way to the springs dam and the little pond (which is actually a few hundred feet below the true springs according to the USGS map).

Again, a great walk. Nobody got hurt. I again got pictorial proof that Eeyore and Minnesota Bob joined in for some physical exertion. The Old Man was again a no show after setting his alarm wrong - old age sucks :)

I haven't looked at the photos from today's hike yet - maybe later. First, I have to take the wife out for a birthday dinner. She wants sushi so we're going to the M to dine at Veloce Cibo. Hopefully it lives up to what I've been told about it so far.

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Things I don't understand

Poker players are strange people. Even people who are relatively 'normal' outside the poker room can become complete weirdos once they take their seat at a poker game. Some things I understand...OK, I lie. I don't really understand any of it. I quit trying long ago and just try to roll with whatever the players roll my way.

Here are just a few examples...

First on my list are players who seemingly cannot see the betting line on the table. The betting line is generally printed in a color that provides a strong contrast with the main color of the felt, making it easily visible at a glance. Even in rooms where the betting line is not enforced, it still serves a purpose. Generally, a bet is not considered a bet until it has crossed the line. I will never understand players who cannot bring themselves to put their chips across said line. I have even seen experienced players cut out a bet behind the line and then stare at me as if I'm supposed to be psychic and know they are finished making their bet. One would think that after the umpteenth time of the dealer asking for the bet to be placed into the betting area, that said players would figure it out - one would be wrong, unfortunately.

The next type of player to make the list is the player who cannot force himself to part with those white chips. In a game with $1 and $2 blinds, the player generally needs some white chips. As a general rule, I don't think you need more than $20 worth but some people like to have more. Then there are those who simply will hoard them forever, amassing multiple stacks of white chips for no apparent reason. It's not as if they are keeping them for tipping purposes - all tips still come from whatever whites are in the raked pot. It's not as if they are keeping them to use for blinds - they still toss a red chip in for both the small and big blinds forcing the dealer to make change, and thereby increasing the player's hoard of white chips they are using for, well, nothing. There are dealers I call white chip nazis, and they are annoying in their own right. The players who hold onto those chips for no reason whatsoever are equally annoying and leave me completely at a loss to describe why they want to hoard those chips.

I do understand people with phobias or compulsive disorders such as one gentleman I used to deal to. I never learned the source of his behavior, but he was unable to put white chips into a pot for any reason. He would stack them as far away from his person as was permitted by his physical location - he loved to have an empty seat next to him. Once he had acquired a stack or more, he would ask to have them colored up to red. He would simply nod at them, unable to even force himself to push the stack towards me.

Next on the list would be the player who, in a structured limit game, acts as if he has never player before in his life. Every single time action gets to him, he asks "How much is it to me?" or "How much can I raise?" These players try to make it seem as if they are new to the game, and I suppose this might work on the Strip where they are playing against tourists they have never seen before and likely will never seen again. Playing against locals who they see quite frequently, however, results in this action being seen simply as ridiculous. Everyone else at the table is aware he plays these limits regularly and they are not fooled even when he announces to the table "I'm fairly new at this." They might have believed him the first time. Once again, it's a behavior I do not understand.

I used to have a regular local when I dealt on the Strip who would go so far as to carry a bag from a casino stuffed with flyers, etc. that casinos tend to give out, in order to try and look like a tourist and not be pegged a local. I don't think it ever worked.

Another thing I will never understand is someone who works in a service industry, who works for tips (or, if retired, made their living working for tips), and will not tip. To me, this is borderline hypocritical at best. It is especially frustrating if I have been to your workplace and tipped you, and you have acknowledged that fact when I have dealt to you, and yet you still don't tip. It boggles my mind that you fully expect me to pay your salary when you do not want to reciprocate. I never get upset when I don't receive a tip. I prefer to smile, knowing that karma will catch up to you eventually, such as when your deep stack is pushed across the table to someone who paid their karma tax. I only bring this up because I struggle to understand how these people justify to themselves that it is OK to not tip.

One such gentleman recently won a huge pot off a very generous player. Said generous player watched and waited, and when it became obvious that no tip was forthcoming, he chided the winning player to tip. "But I'm stuck." Three people at the table chimed in nearly simultaneously, "You always claim to be stuck even when you aren't. You never tip. You're an embarrassment for someone who used to be in the industry. Tip the flippin' dealer already!" He tossed the dealer a tip for the first time I can remember.

I also don't understand players who play only for whatever jackpot or promotion the room is offering. They do not play to win money from other players. Most mistakenly play under the assumption that the jackpot money is casino money (generally the same people that think whenever a floorperson or dealer plays on the clock that they are playing with casino money). I don't think anyone can provide me with an explanation that would make me understand why someone would risk their own money in a game without the desire to win said game. It makes no sense to me to not try and win the money on the table - the odds of hitting a jackpot of any kind are fairly long, especially when compared to the odds of winning a few pots off the other people at the table.

Oh well, I guess there are tons of things that are beyond my comprehension, things like why I continue to bet on football games when I no longer put in the effort to actually study and find good bets. Actually, that is something I do understand - action for action's sake ;)

Speaking of...back to watching football!

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Just schtuff

While I lived in Denver, I talked to a lot of people about the Broncos. If I wanted to talk football, it was the only topic I could speak about - they really do have fans that are into their team unlike some places I've been.

To those whom I mentioned things about the Broncos preseason, I am going on record to admit I was partially wrong...

When the Cutler trade was first announced, I immediately sent a text to all my friends who are Chargers fans congratulating them on winning their division this year. Even though I still think the Chargers have the wrong choice for a coach and will never win an AFC championship the way things are, I figured they had a walk in their division. Even discounting that pure-luck win the Broncos stole from the Bengals in week 1, the Broncos didn't play too badly the first third of the season. Orton was better than I expected.

As to those who said in Denver who said I was nuts when I said the Broncos were better off without Cutler, errr....told you so?

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The quad pyramid promo seems to be going fairly well. Only two weeks into it, I think it basically brings the $1000 flopped quads thing into play the majority of the week instead of just three certain days. So far, I still like the idea and think it will work out well in the long run.

In my opinion, the best thing that could have happened would have been for us to pay the entire pyramid the first week (we were two hands short). That would have gotten people talking about someone hitting quads for $7500. Maybe this week...

I walked into the room last night to see that there were only two hands left - quad Jacks and quad Aces. Between now and Monday morning at 1am, I think there is a decent chance of both of those hitting.

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Speaking of hitting jackpots, one day last month a 9-table room I know of hit every set of quads and every straight flush (not to include the royal flushes) in a mere nineteen hours. Before hearing of that, I would have said it was so unlikely as to be nearly impossible. Apparently not!

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Unsubstantiated rumor: GVR laid off a good number of poker dealers and the remaining dealers have to rebid for their shifts. I don't have any details and haven't talked to anyone from there yet (not even sure anyone I used to know still works there).

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Grimaldi's still has the best pizza in Vegas. For something different, though, I still really like Settebello as well.

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I've got nothing else. Hiked twice this week so I need to write those up, maybe edit some photos (finally got a decent night shot of the Hoover Dam even). If only I wasn't so lazy... ;)

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More short stories

Dismal week from a dealing perspective. Worked a single hour on Monday morning - no big deal as I volunteered to go home so one of the full-timers could bulk up on hours and keep qualifying for his benefits. When I only worked a single hour the next morning, though, I was on tilt. I walked in at midnight to find that they had just broken another game - from nine games running at 11:30 to a single game running in just 30 minutes time. Ouch.

At least the last game was fun...

BHK and RSK were back for some $1/2 fun along with a couple other friends, so the game was entertaining. Boss-man was playing when I first got there along with a lady he seemed to know well. She sat with around $1700 in front of her, played up the inebriated coquette quite well, and seemed to be a fairly decent poker player to round it all out. It was another fun game to deal - just didn't last long enough.

Plans for the weekend include at least one hike. It will be the first hike with Monkey Boy and the Old Man, the two guys I used to hike with regularly, since my return to Vegas. Minnesota Bob and Eeyore are considering joining us, though I think it far more likely to see MN Bob on Wednesday morning than I do to see Eeyore ;)

I really do need to work on getting some photos up. Thinking about restarting the photo-a-day challenge for myself. Not sure if I will or not, especially since I did so well the first time I tried it...

Stories!

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The 5-seat tosses me a toke after I push him a decent pot. As I'm about halfway through dealing the next hand, he inquires, "Did I tip you yet?"

My only answer has always been "Yes, sir. Thank you." It doesn't matter whether or not the player did tip me. I think, in the long run, simply answering yes with appropriate thanks is the best course of action.

In this case, however, I was apparently wrong. After listening to my answer, he shook his head and lectured, "I'm going to give you a good piece of advice. It will make you an extra $700-800 a year. No, I'm serious. Listen. When a customer asks if they have tipped you yet, you should always reply 'It doesn't hurt to make sure.' Most of them will tip you again."

I smiled politely, knowing that I would never hustle like that - I make decent money as it is. I really see no reason to potentially make someone uncomfortable.

Mr. advice giver? After doling out his advice, I can only guess he decided that it was worth as much as he said it was. He then went on to stiff me the rest of the night :)

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The game is $1/2 NL. The 1-seat is a lady whom I will guess is somewhere in her 40s. Dressed to kill in the tightest-fitting dress she could possibly put on, she draws attention. That being said, there is something about her I find unattractive. She doesn't come across as pretty, at least to me, and I doubt I would have given her a second look if I had come across her anywhere.

The 7-seat is a guy, also in his 40s by my guess, who does not seem to share my opinion of the 1-seat. From the moment she sits down, he seems completely enamored with her. For the rest of the night, he acts like a teenager. He begs to switch seats with the gentleman in the 2-seat, offering increasingly larger amounts of money for the favor. He takes every opportunity to talk about how gorgeous she looks, etc., etc. He admits he is married but says that it isn't important because his wife has cheated before. On and on through the night, he is relentless in his pursuit of this woman.

The time comes when she decides to cash out. He makes a few last pleas for her attention before giving up as she walks away. He goes back to paying attention to the game. He is $125 into the current hand when she walks back, having cashed out, and leans down to kiss him on the cheek.

"Thank you for trying so hard."

He nearly comes unglued. He finally decides the pursuit is worth more than the $125 in the pot. He mucks, cashes out as fast as he can and sprints off in the direction she is walking. They were last seen kissing and groping as the elevator doors closed.

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I'm dealing a 4-handed $1/2 NL game. The 9-seat is the big blind. He checks his option and calls out, "Lots of Nines and Twos, please!"

The flop is Q-9-9. He laughs, bets, and gets called.

The river is a deuce. The entire table laughs. The 9-seat checks and the 8-seat eventually bets into him. He asks incredulously, "Didn't you hear me before the flop?" He raises and the 8-seat folds.

The 9-seat shows his 9-2 offsuit and takes down the pot.

Very next hand...

"Lots of tens and fours this time!" The flop is 3-10-10. He and I both start laughing as he checks. The 6-seat bets. I laugh harder. The 9-seat says, "You understand that the only hands I cannot beat right now are pocket threes or a better ten than I have, right?" He calls.

The turn is a 4. He turns his cards face up, his 10-4 (suited this time, though) and tosses some chips into the center of the table.

Three more times that down, he calls for a card on the turn or the river, and it comes. He finally says, "OK. I'm not calling cards anymore tonight. I'm afraid these guys are going to think you and I are up to something nefarious."

Nice word - nefarious. At any rate, if I could produce cards at will when someone called for them, I'd be the richest dealer in Vegas. Trust me when I say I'm not ;)

******************************

Football note:

Eeyore showed me a parlay ticket early in the week that consisted of all money-line bets on dogs. I thought about it for days and decided that he was 3/4 of the way to a winning ticket. One game he had included - Denver - I didn't feel as good about.

I went and made nearly the same bet:

• Bengals (easy pick in my opinion)


• Cardinals (in Chicago might be tough, but I have never been impressed with Cutler or the Bears - Cardinals had a good chance in my opinion)


• Titans (against the 49ers, I didn't have a clue but the Titans looked decent the week before so I thought they had an outside chance - weakest pick on the ticket)


• Cowboys (felt good that they would beat the Eagles simply because they were in big divisional trouble if they didn't)

First winning ticket of the year ;)

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Lava Butte

The first time I tried to scale this little hill, I approached the hill from the south. I started trying to find a route up the hill as I neared. I finally decided on the approach that looked the easiest from the bottom. It turns out that I chose badly, but I wouldn't know that until a week later.

My second trip up the hill went much easier...

I approached the hill from the north. Fron this angle, I easily spotted a route that looked like I might be able to make it to the top - without all of the unwanted sledding on loose rock. It still looked steep but not nearly as bad as the way up I had chosen the previous week. Looking at both routes as I neared the hill, I was dumbfounded that I had even attempted the route from last week.

It reminded me of a conversation I had recently with the wife:

Her: Be safe.
Me (with a smirk): When would I do anything unsafe? When am I anything but?
Her: Anytime you're awake.

Touche! Back to my second attempt at the hill.

I parked a little south of the hill, and headed towards a saddle between my objective and a smaller hill to its north. My idea was to gain the saddle and then scramble up a ridge towards the peak. From the car, I descended into a wash and followed it up the hill. Once I reached the saddle, I could see that I had a few choices so far as which route to take.

My first choice involved the ridge I thought I would take up. From the vantage of the saddle, it looked as if I had three options: climb a short but steep embankment and then boulder hop along the top of the ridge, descend into the wash on the east side of the saddle and follow it up the side of the hill, or cut a more direct path across the middle of the slope between the two. All three options would get me to the same point, or so it seemed.

I chose the more direct approach, one I would not recommend to anyone else. The rock and gravel on every slope near that hill is loose and slippery. Walking across one of those slopes is an exercise in balance and perserverance. It felt as if I slid down one foot with every step I took. The wash looked more inviting the farther along I got, but I stayed the course and reached the point where the wash and ridge joined each other on the north slope of my objective.

At that point, it was a matter of boulder hopping my way up the hill. There were moments of actual rock climbing as I made my way up and over some of the bigger obstacles. Sure, I could have walked around them, but where's the fun in that? At one point, my foot lost purchase on the rock I stood on. This resulted in my grabbing hold of a cactus - the only option I could see - to keep from falling ten feet. My arms now have interesting markings up and down them. Nice.

I finally made it to the peak without further problem, following a very faint herd trail that faded in and out of existence on the way up the hill. The views were amazing - Lake Las Vegas and Lake Mead to the east, the Strip and Red Rock to the west, the Muddy mountains to the north, Rainbow Gardens and the Wetlands park to the south. 360° views worth the climb (photos to come if I ever get around to edit them).

On my descent, I opted to follow the ridge - best choice I made all day. When next I ascend this particular hill, it will be via the ridge as opposed to the more direct "shortcut" across the face of the slope. I much prefer boulder hopping to slipping and sliding on loose rock!

This route was still steep and served as another reminder of how out of hiking shape I really am, but I can live with that. It's just a matter of time before I'm pushing my limits once again!

ps: I really want to do that hike again. In retrospect, it was a lot of fun. Scared my parental unit to death, but I made it ;)

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