A week ago, I was in my office with my co-workers at a special lunch held for a co-worker’s birthday when everyone was discussing their upcoming weekend plans. Someone asked me and I explained that I was going away with wifey Kim for her birthday. Where?, they asked next. “Atlantic City,” I replied, and the entire room snickered.

Yes, I was taking wifey Kim, a non-poker player, to a gambling den for her birthday, but it was not like I bought her a bowling ball with the initials HoP. I sincerely wanted to show her a great time, and I realized that the best solution would be to give her a mini-vacation geared specifically to her likes. Surprisingly, AC had it all.

Our plan was to come in Friday night, but by Thursday, it was clear that we would be wiped from a long work week. We settled on canceling Friday and leaving early in the morning Saturday.

Saturday morning, wifey Kim and I woke up around 7am and quickly got ready before heading to the Port Authority Bus Terminal for two $35 roundtrip bus tickets to AC. We arrived shortly before 8:30 and were able to get seats in the half-empty bus without issue.

At approximately 11am, we arrived at Bally’s, one of the two stops for the bus. Neither stop was particularly convenient for us; we were staying at Harrah’s, which is located off the Boardwalk, so we’d need to find our own transportation to our eventual destination.

We disembarked and waited for two $25 freeplay slot coupons, which came with the $35 bus ticket. Once we had those in hand, we walked to the casino to run through the play-through as quickly as possible. We found a bank of 50 cent Wheel of Fortune slots and went to work, eventually cashing out $53.50. In the ten or so trips I’ve made to AC by bus, this was the first time I actually walked away with money from a slots play through. Ka ching!

Wifey Kim and I then made our way to the taxi stand and headed to Harrah’s, where we checked in early with nary an issue. We were placed in the Bayview Tower, which is actually attached to the newest tower, the Waterfront Tower. I had considered upgrading to the Waterfront, but I didn’t know much about it and I got a great rate for the  Bayview. Now, I’ve never been in a Waterfront room, but I can say that if you were to walk on any given Waterfront Tower floor and transition over to the  Bayview Tower, you wouldn’t even realize you changed towers. The connecting area is simply another hallway, so it feels like one tower instead of two. Of course, the Waterfront rooms might be amazing for all I know. The Bayview rooms were great, though, with a huge, well-appointed bathroom, a comfortable couch, and a great view of the indoor pool dome.

Once we had settled in, I started phase 1 of wifey Kim’s birthday weekend. We changed into bathing suits and returned to the first floor before making the short walk to the pool’s entrance.

The Harrah’s pool scene is like no other in Atlantic City (hell, maybe the North East). The pool is enclosed in a 9-story glass dome, and is temperature controlled at 82 degrees. The scene feels like something out of a Vegas pool, with oversized lounge chairs around the pool for “tanning’” (more on that later), a bunch of private cabanas with couches and TVs, multiple hot tubs all around the pool area (at least 5, of varying sizes), fake palm trees for ambiance and a bar for drinks and food, complete with high tables for eating. Cocktail waitresses in bikini tops and small wraps around their bikini bottoms served drinks poolside and in the restaurant area of the bar.

It was probably around noon and we were able to find one available lounge chair. We dumped off our stuff and made our way to the bar area, securing a table so that we could get some food. I went with a chicken caesar wrap and a beer; wifey Kim went with a salad. Both were very good.

Surprisingly, the bar staff was filled with 6s and 7s. It was so obvious, I even pointed it out to wifey Kim. “Wouldn’t you think that Saturday afternoon would be prime time to be a poolside cocktail waitress?” “Yeah, I guess.” “Then why aren’t they bringing in all the attractive waitresses! This is like bringing in the weekday girls to work the weekend night shifts at a strip club!” Amazingly, wifey Kim didn’t flinch at the analogy and actually agreed.

After eating, we returned to the lounge chair and annexed another one nearby that had just become available.

For 82 degrees it wasn’t quite “hot” in the pool area. I would’ve guessed it was closer to 75 or so, but without a breeze, it was pleasant enough.  Wifey Kim and I both read poolside until she and eventually I fell asleep. We were only asleep for about 30 mins, but we woke up refreshed.

As for the tanning, well, no luck there. While the room is designed to feel like you are outside in a tropical environment, the windows are actually designed to block UV rays. So, while my goal was to allow wifey Kim to tan in the winter (she loves the sun), instead we got the equivalent of a O’Doul’s tan! All the flavor of the son, with none of the fun effects!

After some time in a hot tub, we laid out some more. Our plan was to go to one of wifey Kim’s favorite restaurants, Ruth’s Chris Steak House, for dinner, but we hadn’t gotten reservations and wifey Kim was curious about other options. The fine dining options at Harrah’s didn’t appeal to her, so we checked out the nearest hotel, the Borgata. After seeing what they had to offer, we settled on reservations at Bobby Flay’s Steakhouse. We were aiming for 7:30 reservations, but could only get 6pm or 8:30. We went with the latter.

After lounging some more, we returned to the room to shower and get ready for the evening.

Our first stop were the table games, which were incredibly busy. We eventually made our way to a bar in the middle of the casino floor. Wifey Kim was thirsty, so we got her a seltzer (no booze just yet) and sat at one of the high tables that had a touchscreen free videogame system in it. Why the hell would a casino offer a free videogame in the middle of its floor? Likely the drink minimum for the table, which I suppose is easy profit too. Incidentally, we never hit the drink minimum, nor were we asked.

We got up from there and moved to an electronic roulette setup, where twenty or so touchscreens are set up around a pit with a single roulette wheel. I usually dislike these machines, but the place was packed and the birthday girl wanted to play roulette. The game was a lot better than I expected, though, once I got a handle on the betting system. The benefits are obvious. There are no fat people taking up the entire rail around the betting area. There are no crazy Asian squeezing in between players (always leading with their elbows, somehow) to drop $100 on Red. The stakes can be lower (you can bet increments of 50 cents, if you like) and the minimum total bets was lower as well ($5 instead of the $10 or higher at the normal tables). Wifey Kim ended up even. I ended up busto on a $100 buy-in. All was well.

From there, I had wifey Kim join me for some Pai Gow Poker, where I lost another $100. By then, it was getting late, so we headed to the cab stand and made our way to the Borgata.

We were actually more than 30 mins early for our reservation, so we decided to walk the casino floor and scope out the scene at the Borgata. Its a beautiful hotel with a great selection of restaurants, but the higher minimum stakes and air of eliticism is a real turn off for me.

At about 8:10, we returned to Bobby Flay’s Steakhouse and announced our appearance to the woman checking the reservations. We then grabbed a couple of drinks (alcoholic) and killed some time in the bar area.

We were seated about 5 minutes after our reservation time, which was impressive since the place was packed. While those around us were ordering appetizers and the like, we decided to cut right to the chase. We both went with NY strip steaks. I went with the “Philadelphia” style steak, served with Provolone sauce and sauteed onions. Wifey Kim got some spicy steak thing that was originally a T-bone (she downgraded to NY strip because she wanted to avoid a cut that had a lot of fat – - not fat calories, but actual fat on the steak).  For sides, we went with two potato dishes, a smashed baked potato with goat cheese and a sweet potato gratin. The smashed baked potato was delicious, reminding me of a side dish I stole and adapted from Astin’s blog. The sweet potato gratin tasted more like a sweet maple dessert than anything else; it surely wasn’t cheesy. The steaks were the highlight of the meal. Both had a perfect char and tender inside, and the sauces, served underneath the steaks instead of atop, were delicious and not overbearing on the meaty steak flavor.

For dessert, wifey Kim got the key lime pie, which was too liquidy to me. She liked it though. Me? I skipped dessert. I was too full from steak.

After dinner, we returned to our hotel. Later that evening, wifey Kim had already fallen asleep, so it was time for my time.

I carefully left the bed, making sure not to wake my Sleeping Beauty. I had already laid out my poker clothes earlier in the evening. It was no surprise that I was sneaking out for poker. It was well known to wifey Kim. I wait for her to sleep mostly out of respect and love; also, it was her birthday.

Geared up, I left the room at about 11pm. Granted, it was early for sleep time, but we were up at the crack of dawn and had a long day behind us.

I made my way to the poker room and considered a 2/5 game, since I wouldn’t have much time and I was looking for an excuse to up the stakes. Alas, the 1/2 tables had no wait and 2/5 did, so I took a 1/2 spot and bought in for $200.

I didn’t record hands, but I do recall that I lost about $80 before reloading another $100, after I tried to bluff a hand away from a guy two seats to my left. The guy was in his 50s, and looked like a grayer Capt. Lou Albano.  In fact, the inset picture is a more recent pic of Albano that is fairly close to the the guy on my left.

Albano was wearing a Green Bay Packers jersey and was rocking a couple of face piercing, which was unexpected, given his age. He had a gravelly voice and liked to talk. Meanwhile, a cadre of other scummy-looking dudes kept stopping by to pilfer money or check on the status of their ride back to the rock they crawled out of.

The whole aire about this guy was odd. It was as though he were the Daddy to a clan of white trash degenerate hillbillies.

I was in the 7seat, and Albano was in the 9th. He was calling with a wide range preflop and took down my pot and about $80 when I thought I could push him off of a hand, when a couple of scare cards came. He ended up calling me down with top pair, low kicker, teaching me a lesson in the process about picking your spots.

Meanwhile, in the 2seat or 3seat, a round-faced dude was putting on a show. He was in his late 40s, most likely, and as I sat at the table, I learned more about him from the people around me and his own actions. The dude had tight graying hair, clearly balding atop to the point that it was just a smattering of bristles atop. He wore a blue pullover hoody that was not in the least stylish. He had a chipmunk’s mouth that was often slightly agape, allowing his two jacked up front teeth to get full display of the action. He looked perpetually confused and had to ask about the action repeatedly. He also took his dear sweet time with every decision. He was, to state it plainly, druink.

Supposedly, when he came to the table, he said that he never played before. Albano wasn’t buying it or the drunk routine, and since I was closer in proximity to Albano, I agreed with him verbally, and disagreed internally. I think Albano was just upset that he wasn’t able to get anything going against the Drunkard. It was actually quite annoying, because Albano at some points would even talk shit loud enough so the entire table could hear. I wanted him to shut the hell up, and even suggested once that we didn’t want to scare away the “fake” drunk because even with his “act” he still was a soft spot at the table. At one point, one of the dealers was fed up with the Drunkard’s slow play and antics, to the point that me and one other guy at the table had to remind the dealer to not scare away the players.

After being down around $100, I eventually made a comeback, leaving 2 and a half hours later with $156 in profit. It was a small sum, but good enough, so I decided to lock in the profit and call it a night early. I was initially willing to play to 3am, but the hours started to drag on me and I had grown exhausted.

With money in hand, I took the trip to the elevator, and rode up in a crowded car. I was the second-to-last floor, such that right before I got out, it was just me and five white dudes, who were clearly drunk. The entire ride up, I was joking with them, and when we were alone, one guy in particular, bald, tall and fat, turned around and made a joke to me about punching me in the face. It was out of nowhere and I was clearly outnumbered, so I did what I usually do in these situations: I talked my way out of it. In this case, I acted like it was all a joke. “Yeah, ha ha. I’d like to see that!” The elevator door opened, and I pushed the guy aside to get out. I still thought that we were all joking, but as I stepped out, I heard him say, “Douschebag.” WHAT? This was clearly out of nowhere, and lord knows I don’t have the ability to let anything slide, so I responded, “You’re calling me a douschebag? Fuck off,” as I walked from the elevator. I had rounded the corner when I heard the ding of the elevator door opening and heard him call out, “You are going to call me a douschebag?!” I guess he thought I was calling him a douschebag back, but it just as well could’ve been that I misheard in the first place and when I questioned him, he thought I was calling him the dousche. I had already rounded the corner, but I heard him call out, “Come back here and say that to my face.” My room was right around the corner, so I entered the key quietly as I said, “Alright asshole, I’m coming back,” as I quietly entered my room and closed the door. I knew once I was in the room they wouldn’t know where I had entered, so I was really just fucking with him in the end. But the whole interaction fucked with my head, and it was a good while before the adrenaline had passed and I was ready to sleep.

The next morning, wifey Kim and I spent my $29 in comps and an additional $20 on the breakfast buffet, so that we could avoid any lines. The buffet at Harrah’s was fantastically appointed, and we both grabbed some items for later in the day.

We then made our way by cab to Caesar’s, where we left our  bags with the bellhop and walked to the outdoor outlet mall. Several hours and hundreds of dollars later, we were back at Caesars, grabbing our stuff and heading over to the bus depot for the 1:30 bus.

When we arrived at Caesar’s bus depot, we were confronted by an insanely long line. It was 1:06 pm, so we were 24 minutes early, but there were enough people on line to fill up the 1:30 and likely the 2:30 busses, meaning we’d have to wait for 3:30. We hopped on line while we discussed possibilities. Meanwhile, another couple ahead of us discussed the possibility of taking a cab back to NYC. We hit it off and found out that collectively, it’d cost $250 for a cab to NYC. We agreed on an even split, and were out by 1:45pm in a cab. Several hours later, we were home.

The trip was an amazing success.  Wifey Kim got to enjoy some summer-like weather, a good steak, and some shopping. I got to enjoy some poker and seeing my one and only happy.

I have a renewed appreciation for AC. Here was a trip where gambling was secondary, and yet we had an amazing time. After a brief overnight trip, we both felt refreshed and relaxed.

Until next time, make mine poker!

I was seated at a game near the rail of the raised portion of the room. I took the only available seat, the 1 seat, and looked across the table at the 4 seat, an Asian guy, maybe in his mid-20s, with his Caucasian new bride sitting behind him. How did I know that they were newly wed? She was still wearing her veil and they both wore “Just Married” sweat suits. It was ridiculously cheesy and more than mildly trashy, but apparently it worked for them, since he was up several hundred dollars at least, based on his stack.

To his immediate left was Dan Michalski of Pokerati fame. Dan is an interesting guy. Pokerati is probably one of the premiere poker blogs out there and with good cause. But its clear that Dan is a humble guy and easy to get along with, which I suppose should not be a surprise, but is. At first, Dan and I (intentionally or not) acted like strangers, barely acknowledging each other. I don’t mind this at a poker table. If people knew that we knew each other, it would simply be more information from them. But eventually, it became clear that we knew each other, mostly because we kept getting into pots together where we would show no mercy and then joke about it immediately after.

The happy couple got up and I took his lucky seat, mostly glad to leave the shitty seat I was in. I was now immediately on Dan’s right, which probably was not an ideal position, but the 1 seat was cold-decking me, so I was happy for a change of scenery.

A new player sat to my immediate right. He was a clean-cut guy, Caucasian in his late 20s to mid 30s. He was from the North East, like me, and he had a pleasant demeanor, so we hit it off quick. I essentially made my buddy at the table. That’s a more important thing than some people realize. As you get to know your “buddy”, you can pick up more from their game; but more importantly, with familiarity breeds passivity, and that is something you can often exploit.

While chatting with my newfound friend, I overheard something in the distance. “Did you bet on the fight?” My ears perked up. I remembered hearing about a Manny Pacquiao fight that was recently announced, but I wasn’t sure what the overheard voices were discussing. I asked the table, “Does anyone know of any upcoming fights?” Someone mentioned the UFC, and I immediately knew that I had to speak with my height-challenged compadre.

I took a walk from the game. I was probably up about $50-100 by that time, just playing as solid poker as possible.

I found my midget friend, Iggy, who incidentally has a little website called MMAJunkie.com. “So, I heard there is a UFC fight tonight. Any picks on who you think is going to win? Just curious. I won’t hold you to anything.” He rifled through some names, Penn, Mir and Florian. They were all favorites, and Iggy thought they’d win their matches with relative ease. I thanked him and walked off, or more accurately ran to the sportsbook. “Three pick parlay on the UFC fights tongiht: Penn, Mir and Florian.” I got my ticket, $40 to win $116, and returned to the poker table.

The only major hand that I can recall was actually a misplayed but profitable one. I held 33 preflop and called the $3 blinds. Dan, immediately on my left, raised. I don’t have the exact raise amount, but it was probably $12 or $15. There were several callers and when it got back to me, I called as well.

We saw a beautiful 663 flop with two spades. I flopped a nearly unbeatable boat. An EP player bet $20, which was uncharacteristic for the player. I was happy to just call, hoping that someone would turn their nut flush and pay me off. Dan then raised to $60. A player in MP/LP called. He seemed like a fairly loose player, but definitely knowledgeable. He only had about $80+ though in front of him. It folded back to me (the original $20 bettor folded) and I re-raised all-in. I had at least $400 in front of me at the time. Dan folded his QQ (if he is to be believed; given the action, I believe him) and the player with $80+ called.

The turn was a 3; the river was a blank. I showed my Quad 3s and took down the pot. I also got a $100 bonus for my Quads.

In hindsight, I should have flat-called Dan’s raise to $60 or perhaps re-raised to $120, but not all-in. So, it was a misplayed hand overall, but a profitable one nonetheless.

I played for several more orbits before taking a walk to check on the final table of the blogger tournament. As an aside, by that time, everyone knew that Dan and I knew each other at the poker table. We were chatting about the blogger tournament and random bloggers would stop by to start a conversation.

I went back to the sportsbook and decided to check the fight times. According to the sheets I saw, the last fight was to start at 8pm, but it was already past 8 and all the book knew was that Florian had won his fight. I was officially 1 for 1 in my 3-fight parlay.

I was fairly starving at this point and I had reached my poker saturation. Excuse this, as I’ve said this before, but poker really feels like a “need.” As I had once heard, a “want” is something that cannot be satisfied, like money. You always want more money. A “need” is something that can be satisfied for a time, like hunger. You can eat, but only to a point, after which you must stop eating until you are eventually hungry again and the process repeats. Poker felt like food moreso than money. I had enough, and I think I was officially stuffed on poker.

I cashed out after playing another orbit and decided to send out some text messages. Peaker was at MGM playing poker, so I told him I’d meet him after stopping at the IP. I also texted Kat, who was supposed to be at the IP, but I don’t think we got back in touch. I may have texted Schaubs as well, but I don’t recall.

I walked back to the IP and decided to use some of my well-earned comp dollars at their burger joint. I ordered a philly cheesesteak, which I had had shortly after arriving at the IP on Friday. It was actually pretty decent for what it was. I returned to my room and sat down on the bed for a moment. I was just so exhausted. I considered my options and decided to relax before heading to the MGM. I had to be up around 8am the next morning for my flight home.

After a while, I realized that I was not getting out of bed. I was busy refreshing my ipod Touch to get updates on the UFC fight. Frank Mir had won as well. 2 for 2, with only the BJ Penn fight left. I texted Peaker, thanked him for a good trip and apologized for being such a puss. About 3 minutes later, I got a text. I thought it’d be Peaker giving me shit or, more likely, saying goodbye. It wasn’t. It was Schaubs.

I called Schaubs and he mentioned that he was coming to the IP to hang with Pauly for some late night in depth discussions of the horticulture situation in Southern California in Pauly’s hotel room. I like horticulture as much as the next guy, so I agreed to meet up. But first, I had to take care of some business. Some news had just come in. Penn had won. 3 for 3 on my parlay picks, thanks to my diminutive friend. “I’m heading to the Caesars sportsbook. Call me when you get here.”

I walked over solo, happy to collect my moneys. I also took some time to admire all of the hot chicks in the Pussy Cat Dolls section of Caesars. Each dealer was a hot chick wearing a skimpy outfit. Behind them were two chicks dancing in go go cages wearing lingerie. Amazingly, the entire group of girls (dealers and dancers) had made a costume change in the brief time between leaving Caesars and returning. That takes commitment.

I collected my money and was outside the casino when I got a text from Schaubs. He also won a sports bet at Caesars, so I decided to wait for him there, sitting outside in the brisk air. He arrived a short while later and I got another pass of the Pussy Cat Dolls gambling area. “Las Vegas is filled with hot girls whose only marketable skill is that they have nice tits. It’s a magical place.” Schaubs didn’t argue. I continued, “Just think of all those neglectful parents.”

We returned to the IP and hung at the Geisha Bar with a large crew. The One Man Party, AlCantHang, was there, just off of his 2nd place loss to Astin in the Blogger Tourney. I was shocked for three reasons: (1) AlCantHang is a partier, so I expected more party and less poker winnings. (2) Astin was a super shortstack with me when were were down to 18 or less players. God damn that man! I was just glad to hear that a friend won. (3) Even with 2nd place money, Al was pissed. I was shocked. I expected him to be celebrating, but he really seemed irked that he didn’t win. I think I bought him a shot to ease his pain. From the look in his eyes, though, he didn’t need my drink to deaden the senses.

Eventually, Pauly, Schaubs and I headed upstairs. Over our horticulture appreciation, I had the exact same conversation with Pauly as I had the night before. I mean, it was new to me, since I didn’t remember much of the last night, but I’m pretty sure Pauly thought he was watching a rerun.

I was still exhausted and I considered calling it a night, but Schaubs had yet to ever play Pai Gow. We hit the casino floor, both of us well shitfaced now, and stumbled our way to a Pai Gow table with two empty seats side by side. A third seat opened up just as CK arrived, so she joined us. It was around 12am.

Schaubs did something I had never before done: make a plan. He suggested a stop-loss and also a hard end time. Both seemed to make sense. We bought in for $200 apiece, but agreed only to play with $100 as our stoploss. (Quick casino tip: If you only plan to play for a certain sum and you have self control, always buy in for more. The casino notices how much you buy in for and considers that when they work out your comp dollars. The More You Know… du-dee du dee!). We also agreed to walk at 12:30, which was essentially 30 minutes.

An odd thing happened on the way to 12:30. CK kept chopping. Schaubs got like 5 Pai Gows to start (i.e., no pair hands, which is pretty bad). And I was on a tear. I have a simple strategy:

1. No Fortune Bonus.

2. Start with an amount, usually the table minimum.

3. If I win, add an extra $5. If I push, don’t change the bet size. If I lose, go back to the initial bet. If you keep winning, keep adding those $5.

12:30 came around and Schaubs was down maybe $50, CK was near even, and I was up $60 or so. That’s when Schaubs, the Commissioner of our Pai Gow rules, added an amendment. “Ok. At 12:30, we can both play for two losses. Not back to back. Two losses total. If I lose a hand, win 3 and then lose 1, I’m out.” Ok, I thought. It caps losses and we were having fun, drinking more heavily then ever, because in Pai Gow, a push is a win, but only if booze is involved.

It wasn’t until about 1:10 that Schaubs had finally lost two hands. He had made back most of his money, but now that he was done, as per our rules, that was it for him. I could keep playing, though, since I still had “one life”. CK had moved on when we added our extension. The dealer was changing decks, which she saw as a bad omen. She was right, too. Her replacement player was losing steadily. Good for CK.

“Hey, I have an idea,” this time it was me with the suggestion. “We can share my 1 life. If either of us lose, we both leave.” Schaubs one-upped me, “And if we win three in a row, we can get a new life!” This was the most complicated problem gambling rationale ever, but it made sorta sense. I even offered, “And I will pay your losses. I wouldn’t even be playing if not for you.” Ironically, that meant my exposure was tiny. After all, Schaubs was only down $20 or so at this point and could only lose one more hand before he had to quit. I was up over $100, so I could afford to make that offer.

Sure enough, we then both went on tears, earning two “free lifes” before we lost three hands between the two of us and decided to stop adding rules. We packed up around 2:30, after intending to stay only until 12:30. I was up over $200 and Schaubs was up a few bucks too. That made it a +$300 Pai Gow run on my trip. So, look for my new blog High On Pai Gow.

I finally decided I needed some sleep, so I made my way to the Geisha Bar to say my goodnights. That’s an impossible task in this group. Just when I thought I was in the clear, I’d get into another conversation with a random blogger. This is not a complaint. Quite the opposite. It was awesome getting to chat with everyone.

A couple of highlights of that last minute Geisha Bar stop: I met BloodyP for the first time. He pulled the old, “Do you know who I am?” Now, I’ve always pictured BloodyP as a skinny tweaker, probably in a tattered, blood and snot stained shirt, with disheveled hair. Instead, he looked like a normal guy. A bit…too normal.

I also got into a conversation with Iggy. He had no idea I was actually going to use all of his picks for a parlay bet, and was pretty happy to see I had made some loot off of his well-seasoned brain. Now, I don’t know if it was the booze or what, but it was actually kinda flattering all the nice things Iggy had to say. It was like a freakin’ mutual admiration society. Ironically, Iggy is one of those characters in the bloggoverse who can come off as a bit intimidating, if for no other reason than his appropriate nickname as the Blogfather, not to mention those tiny midget hands. Tiny hands always unnerve me. But I probably feel more comfortable around him than most. He’s just such a generous guy, and even though he hates the Jews, he doesn’t seem to mind me much, probably because I’m a self-hating Jew.

The last notable conversation (that I can remember) was with Carter. Now, Carter, I have to admit that (a) I’m not sure if we ever met before…I feel like we have, but I’ve met other Carters and other guys who look like you in this group, but I’m terrible with names, faces and memory in general, so please take no offense. And (b) I don’t read your blog regularly, so if you see this, hit me up with a comment or email with your blog site.

The memorable part about my conversation with Carter was simply the fact that he had such nice things to say about the blog. I’ve been on the other side of the coin on this one many times. There are some blogs that you read and you can really get to know the writer to the extent that you feel that on some level, you know them. And you do. People write more honestly than they’d ever talk to a stranger or even some close friends and family members. It gets to the point that sometimes, you just want to introduce yourself to a fellow blogger because meeting them is like meeting someone you already know; and its also like meeting a celebrity in a way. Ironically,  on the very same trip, I had failed to work up the “courage” to speak with PokerGrump during the Blogger Tournament. I wasn’t sure if it was him, and even if it was, I wasn’t sure what to say. Well, Carter just wanted to say hi, and I was more than glad to chat. If I remember correctly, he may be in the NY area soon, so that’s another reason for you to hit me up with an email or comment.

I finally decided I had enough and returned upstairs. I packed up to make my morning easier and hit the sack.

My next morning and flight back were uneventful. I watched football on the JetBlue TVs, but my three team NFL parlay (timed intentionally with my flight) was lost in the second game, so instead, I just enjoyed football for the sake of football (and my pickem league).

This was probably the most fulfilling WPBT trip I have had. It really is one big family reunion, and whereas I used to feel like a newbie and then an outside looking in (neither of which were true, but that’s just how I felt), now I just feel like one of the family. I admit that I could’ve used more time in Vegas and maybe spent some more time with various people, but these trips have got to be played by ear.

Thanks to everyone for a great trip. That includes wifey Kim. There aren’t many women who would encourage their husbands to spend a weekend (their birthday weekend no less) in a city known for debauchery with a bunch of Invisible Internet Friends. She’s the real prize in all of this, even if you all will never ever get to meet her.

Until next time, make mine poker!