Early on in the planning for the Winter blogger gathering, there was talk of a cooking challenge.
Contestants would include BG, Otis and of course, @astinto. It was also decided that I would be the judge and cooking would happen at CK’s house. A few weeks after all this was decided, I was gently informed that all these plans existed merely in my own head.
“Yeah, you made all that up, sweetie. BG isn’t even coming to the Winter gathering!”
It’s my senior year protest prom all over again! I am always so SURE these conversations happened in real life with other people.
Cest la vie. With the cooking challenge out, so was I.
I shouldn’t really be travelling anyway, I had a job to be looking for. So it was I became a target for the #getdawntovegas movement. I was promised Tom Brady and Zac Efron and cats not eating my face. But I held firm.
Had. To. Work.
I was out.
And then Alceste decided he was going at the last minute. And since Alceste is my role model in all things, not involving holding a steady job, I thought I could figure out a way to do Vegas on a Saturday and get back to work by Monday morning.
The best I could swing was Monday afternoon and the price for that ticket was a hundred bucks more than I was willing to pay.
Sad panda strikes again.
So I gnashed my teeth at all the drunken happy tweets from the IP and the MGM. I shook my fist at the sky and wondered about a God that would let STB08 hit quads in a hand he played from the bar AND let him get paid!
What next, lord, Tony Romo wins a Superbowl?
Oh, the antics and the hijinx! I wanted in.
And then my boss announced on Friday afternoon that they were closing our project early. This would be the last day! I didn’t have anywhere to be Monday MORNING!
To say, I ran, not walked to the travelocity website, well…that would be a lie. I don’t run. (This will soon prove to be a lie too.) I found a flight rountrip for $210. What the what!
There were tons of seats on my Saturday morning flight, but only one middle seat left for the Monday night leg. I plugged in my credit card info, and hit purchase. It didn’t work.I tried it again five more times. Nothing.
I called travelocity directly because I figured it was a computer glitch and I didn’t want to lose that seat. I was informed it would be an extra $25 to book over the phone. Boo.
Fine, stupidfaces! But the operator couldn’t get my info to work either.
Blurgh. She suggested I try another card.The only other credit card I use was locked in my car glove compartment. In my basement garage!
Why won’t Mastercard let me be great? I hung up and ran all the way from my 12th floor apartment to the car AND BACK!
My final act before collapsing to the floor, was to drag my laptop to the hardwood with me. I logged back into travelocity. Not only were my flights still there, the price was now $180! Woo hoo.
(A week later, while trying to use my card at a gas station, the Mastercard was again declined. I threw a Naomi Campbell level fit and made he try it again: declined. I blamed his machine, left all the items on the counter and stormed out. And *then* I called my credit card company. Evidently someone has been using my card to purchase hundreds of dollars of itunes and Scottish currency, so Citibank put a hold on the card until I could be reached to confirm the purchases. They apparently don’t know about my not answering numbers I don’t recognize policy.)
I booked, packed, texted Alceste and tried to sleep. Ah, who could sleep! I would be in warm, sunny Las Vegas in a matter of hours!
Ha! It was like 40 degrees and raining when I landed at Mcarran. No need for my usual stripping off of coat and sweater layers. It was cold.
I managed to get comped rooms at the Rio for the weekend, so I went straight there to dump my luggage and stuff. Alceste said he was having breakfast with CK and Ftrain at the IP. Now, I love me some IP, however, after an…um…unsettling dining experience there last year, I will never eat there again! But I figured I’d swing by to say Hi, before heading over to Caesar’s to register for the tournament.Alceste had ordered some weird face sized chocolate chip pancake and once my mouth started the sentence “that looks…” I had no choice but to end with “gross.”
So I skipped dining with them and walked back to Caesar’s with Pauly, Derek and Chang100. The last longer team that edge out my own last longer squad by 8 points to take third! I was totally bouncing off the walls to see everyone, though I knew I’d missed the best night. I knew this because upon making my surprise appearance at Caesar’s I was informed that my late arrival made me one of two people in all of Vegas that the Rooster didn’t owe an apology to!
Damn it! Yet another year stuck on the D list for Dawn.
I am the absolute WORST when it comes to names and faces, but a few familiar ones jumped out right away:I saw Carter and Falstaff and @astinto, California April and CJ.
I ran into Katitude in the ladies room and I was all “Hi, Kat!”
But she was all *blank stare* why is the crazy lady talking to me in the bathroom? Then she did a double take and was like “I thought you weren’t coming!”
It was funny.
Then I ran into Drizzle and Al Can’t Hang and my absolute favorite, Iggy!
And then my phone rang and it was my mother. My mother who probably thought I was in my bed in Brooklyn.
“Um…Las Vegas. It was a last minute thing. Um…a couple of my friends are getting married.”
“Oh…you don’t know them…uhm…it’s starting. I gotta go.”
I made it back to my seat in time to see Onafolddraw awarded the Gigli for busting out first. Frankly, I was glad. I never want to bust first, so with that particular honor already bestowed, I could play poker. Or try to anyway. I was pretty aggressive with a couple of Le Dawns and some suited connectors, then stupid Otis had to stupid raise my continuation bet and I had to stupid fold. So sad. And lonely.I logged in to twitter to cry about it, when I saw a tweet from poker grump saying Dawn Summers was at his table. Heey, *I’m* Dawn Summers. I look around, but didn’t see the signature brown sweatshirt. Yes, I do imagine everyone to look exactly like their twitter avatars at all times. I can’t wait to meet Tae the talking jeep! I finally spotted the most likely Poker Grumpish guy and asked if he was him. (Huh? What? English, woman, do you speak it?) He said he was him and I waved! But then I realized that with BadBlood to the left of me, Otis to the right of me, Stupid Asian Alan button raising all my big blinds, Luckbox, the lady that takes the pictures AND PokerGrump at my table, I didn’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell of surviving this table.
I outlasted a number of people though, thanks mostly to PokerGrump going on a player busting heater, the likes of which would make Darvin Moon proud! (Except Darvin would be confused about PokerGrump having the best hand when all the chips hit the middle.)
Haha the one hand I remember besides, the back to back pairs which lead to my demise, involved Luckbox shoving with maybe four big blinds with J3 and Pokergrump calling him with A3. Luckbox pretty immediately flopped a jack. He sprinkled a bit more luck powder and managed to river himself a jack too! The core of my starting table lasted to the second break. Otis’ bounty: a Flavor Flav sized clock which hung from his neck, announcing “Hammer Time,” did not.
It evidently fell from its string right into the urinal.And he fished it out! AND AWARDED IT TO THE POOR SAP THAT BUSTED.
From the Gigli to the Peepee!
After I busted, I went back to my hotel room to nap and charge my phone. This quickly turned into play poker and charge my phone. Nothing of note happened during the session, maybe I made $6 over my $100 buy-in, but mostly I was just biding time and drinking Jameson’s.
The Rio is not on the strip. So, I had to take a shuttle bus back and forth. The shuttle to the strip was full of these well dressed, white, what I thought were, businessmen.
Turns out they were college students celebrating the 21st birthday of one of their merry band! Whoa! They looked OLD! The bus driver got into the party spirit and put on “Play that funky music white boy” while the birthday boy and some chick grinded upon one another in the aisle. Then she put on that “Midnight train going anywhere” song and we all sang along until we reached the strip.I got back to Caesar’s in time to see the final table: Talk about a Poker blogging All-Star team! Al Can’t Hang, F-train, Alceste, @Astinto, Obie, some kid with hippie hair and a chick I didn’t know!
“Maaaan, what the hell? F-train’s still in this? I’m WAY better than him! I want to rebuy” I said, pouting.
This was met with AlCan’t Hang’s
“The rail says what?”
I hung out on the rail with CK watching and tweeting when the kid with the long hair said something and I was like “wait a minute…I know that voice…”It was JOE SPEAKER!!
DUUDE!I immediately tweeted “DUDE Joe Speaker has hippie hair and is aging backwards!! WTF??!!!!” I assume his deal with the devil is coming along nicely.
Later he goes “how did you not know it was me? You said hi to me earlier!”
This is where I point out that decades ago, when I realized how much I suck at the faces/names thing, I quickly learned to pick up on signs that someone knows me, and can totally fake my way through entire interactions with them. It’s a gift. But wow! Joe Speaker’s at the final too!??
Blogger tournaments are SO Rigged!
I took a seat in a cash game. I was sitting to Carter’s right. Then I noticed Metsfan getting up with racks and racks and racks. I asked if it was a 1/3 game, he said yes, I called lucky seat and switched. I won at the game, but really I was railing the final table.
F-train got picked off bluffing by @astinto and busted from the table in 7th. Al had the chip lead and after Alceste busted out 4th, the three remaining: Astin, Speaker and Al talked about chopping. Al had the chiplead and so wanted first and the trophy. The other two were willing to give him first, but insisted on playing it out for the trophy.
“Don’t you think you can win it?” Astin asked. Leading to my patented “Oh Snap!” and a tweet that said “@astinto’s mouth is writing checks that his chip stack can’t cash!”
Al then threw his arms in the air and said “no chop!”
He then lost all his chips but the ante. But those ante chips were just enough for him to outlast Speaker and go heads with with Astin for the Golden Hammer and all the marbles.
In the end, Astin proved me wrong for the second time! (Earlier, he had gone all-in on a three way hand and I tweeted he’d busted, but nope he had survived with a few chips left) The Golden Hammer was going abroad!
Au revoir, Hammare. (Which I assume, is the proper Queen’s French.)
Early on in the planning for the Winter blogger gathering, there was talk of a cooking challenge.