WPBT.062005.3

17 Jun 2005

First off, be sure to send your karma toward Cinncinati, Ohio and the blogfather. He and the family need it at the moment.

Second, as long as I wait, these trip reports don’t seem to be writing themselves. Guess I’ll have to continue manually. I thought computers were supposed to take the work out of all this…

Previously: I can name more obscure poker players than you, doo-da, doo-da.

When we left off, it was around midnight on Friday and Hank’s phone had just gone off while we were sitting around sherwood forest. Before you could say “wild goose chase”, 6 of us were two-cabbing it to Caesars to find some night club. it was called Pure and we were looking to be guests of the Full Tilt honchos who had called Hank and invited us to come hang out in some private area. Or something.

We found our way to the front of the place and see a line of200+ carefully put together youngsters waiting in line. The guys in the black suits with the earpieces are guarding the entrance and selectively admitting the young and hip, the beautiful and bare-midriffed. We were none of the above, dressed in baseball caps, shorts and tshirts - in other words, poker playing clothes. We soon realize that help from the inside is the only way we’re getting in. Hank works the cell phone, repeatedly calling anyone and everyone we know from FTP that might be in the club, but to no avail. The music is so loud and obnoxious - its obvious that a cell phone is not going to be heard inside. we stand around for a few minutes while Hank redials. We watch the hipsters try to work their way in past the secret service wannabes. Hank redials. Like research scientists out in the field, we observe the mating ritual of young adult homo sapien. The females parading back and forth with their colorful displays and chests puffed up, competing for the attention of the young males. The males puffing up their chests right back. National Geographic Channel would have been proud. Hank redials and redials some more. Nothing.

We eventually gave up and headed back outside. We were six bloggers of various size (ahem) and sobriety (ahem) waiting in line at the cab stand to get back to the Plaza. The cab monkey in front of Caesars offers to hook us up with a lincoln towncar that will “fit us all” and would only cost $35 to get downtown. We accepted and got out of line.

Lets just say that 5 of the 6 of us had either played football in recent years, or had eaten quite a bit while watching football in recent years. I’ll let you who were there decide who fits in which category. Before we are out of the driveway and onto the strip, the driver suggested that a strip club might be of interest to such a masculine group. We politely declined. By the time we reached the plaza, the price had inched its way to $40. Ah, the monetary fluctuations that can happen so quickly in Vegas. It was 2:30am and my hangover was getting a head start. lkim sat down at a no limit table and I had to admit to myself that I’m old and out of practice. How does Al do this shit? I’m going to bed - I need to be up early in the morning for something or other.

Next: Wait, wasn’t there some sort of a tournament or something?

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Franklin Henderson