Running Count
Well-Known Member
I spend most of the 9 hour car ride back to the Bay Area in the back seat trying to catch up on lost sleep, but whenever I closed my eyes, I saw bad cards and stained felt. I'm getting too old (at 25) for cramped backseats on long road trips. So instead I tried to mentally reconstruct my trip my first to Vegas. Much will be forever lost to the vagaries of intoxication and fatigue, but this is what I could remember:
Sun. 5:35 am
Blood alcohol content: 0.00
Bankroll: even
Blinked stupidly in the mirror and quizzed myself on some index numbers for Hi-Lo 6D in my head while I shaved. Bags packed. Ponce, KG, and Baumer arriving any minute to start the drive. I hadn't slept more than 2 hours, max. I was up most of the night practicing the shoe game on a simulator program - too excited to sleep.
Sun 12:30 pm
BAC: 0.00
Bankroll: even
Our excitement level was growing minute by minute: at least mine and Ponce's. Baumer and KG snore in the back. I was driving now: pushing Santiago to 90+ in my impatience. Santiago is Ponce's Subaru. Ponce is called Ponce because of some long-forgotten link to Ponce de Leon, the explorer. At some point, Baumer learned that the real de Leon's ship was called the Santiago, and thus there we were, a stalwart band of sea-swarthies, pushing Santiago at full sail for the neon harbor ahead. I-15 was a straight shot through the valleys, twisting ever slightly to the North at each range. We pass Primm. 30 miles to go.
Sun 2:30 pm
BAC: 0.03
Bankroll: -2 units
I prop my feet up on the table in the Casino bar. My first 2 units wagered on college bball. The ice in my g&t tinkles in the glass. Ponce and Baumer bet on the favorite to beat the spread. I bet for the underdog. We realize soon after that we could have bet each other and cut the casino's vig out completely, but oh well. This casino, one of the newest, is my first impression of Vegas. It shines in cream and gold from the outside, and is filled with soaring ceilings and a tropical theme. I get up at halftime to walk around and eat my $5 burger. I spot KG at a nearby sucker machine. He is already at plus $75 (the bastard) after hitting something good on a nickel machine. In the car, I tried to explain to him about full-pay VP, but he likes the true slots. I'm sure he'll lose it back and much more in time. I check out the legendary pool this place has. They won't let me go look (for the first of many times, I hear the words: "Hotel guests only") but I scam my way in after talking-up a couple nice spring-breakers from Ohio. The scene is marvelous. The wave pool is extraordinary, the women more so.
Back inside, I look over the blackjack tables. This place is bigger by several times than any place I've seen in Northern NV. All shoe games, H17. Many tables are CSM. In the high-roller pit, a man bets several yellow chips. I wonder aloud how much yellow is worth, and the roller turns around (Yikes! Good hearing) and says, "a thousand per." I'm duly impressed. In the commoner pits, lots of crowds to blend in with (I look like a college student), so I watch the new shuffles for a good count. Nothing gets higher than +1 TC in 20 minutes, so back to basketball. The favorite beats the spread by 3.
Sun 4:30 pm
BAC: 0.01
Bankroll: -2 units
We've picked up Special K from the airport (he was too good for Santiago) and are heading up to our hotel on the North Strip. We pass the sleek Luxor, the breathtakingly tacky NYNY, the unapologetically ugly MGM, the glimmering fountains of the Bellagio and Venetian. After several acres of construction we pass the Reno-esque North strip places, and cruise into the desert-themed oasis that is to be our home for a couple nights.
Even this far from the wealth of the lower Strip, I notice one happy difference between Northern NV and Vegas: the place is crawling with attractive women. This was a theme that developed as the night went on. In general, our hotel crowd was young and low-rolling with a Midwestern flavor. We checked into our room, frowned at the small beds we would be sharing in our cheapness, and changed into our Vegas duds. Baumer wanted the full gangster suit style, but we convinced him to go with the shiny shirt and black pants only. Special K, Ponce and I went for the upscale dot-com look, and KG wore the ugliest and brightest Hawaiian shirt I've ever seen.
Sun 9:30 pm
BAC: 0.10
Bankroll: +4 units
Stomach full of awful buffet dinner at our hotel, wallet slightly lighter from playing their cheap shoe game (6D, H17, cut card at 1.5-2.5 decks), and my liver working hard on several bottles of Bud, we made our way into the Vegas night. The Northern-most casino has the best game early on (6D, H17, LSR, cut card at 1-1.5) and I repaired the losses suffered earlier. Tried to scam our way up to the observation tower, but several clever gambits all failed. The four of us (KG was asleep in the room with a raging headache) made our way South. Picked up the best funbook on the Strip (arguably) at the first casino (big-top theme, 6D, H17, cut card at 2) and turned the coupons into a +4 unit gain. Began to see the awful 6-5 SD game everywhere and wanted to tell the ploppies they were being scammed, but refrained. We were to have the last laugh on the 6-5 game later, though.
At this point, I should point out that only Special K and I were counting. Of the others, KG was a notoriously awful gambler, Ponce was a solid BJ basic strategy player and Baumer was only along for free drinks (playing a hand at the min when cocktail waitress came by). Ponce and KG provided great cover for the whole trip, bless their hearts.
Mon 4 am
BAC: 0.3 at least
Bankroll: +10 units
Special K and I collapse in the back of the cab in front of the fake Eiffel Tower and tell the driver our hotel. After convincing him to take the Strip instead of the freeway (we may be dunk, but not stupid; at 4 am the Strip would be substantially faster) we dissolved in laughter at our last six hours. After ditching the Slots-a-Fun and the 'Ho, we had played for a couple hours at the somewhat nicer places just South. I had printed out over a dozen copies of the $5 match play Internet coupon for the western-themed joint, and between Ponce, me, and Special K, we distributed them around the large pit unnoticed. Nice profit there, but the only dealer who gave good pen on their shoe game (H17, LSR) was the world's slowest human being. Onto the next generic place, where I gave back all that I won and more on a similar shoe game.
We crossed Sands Ave. and began to explore the majesty of the mega resorts. The pirate-themed resort reminded me of Disneyland, and the ubiquitous CSM machines kept us from playing any BJ. What we did notice was that that perhaps half of the entire population of the casino at 1 am was hot women. Special K first proposes The Theorem: As refined, the Theorem proposes that
X = M-squared
Where X equals hot women and M equals the amount of the average table bet. Or, as Special K said it, "God damn. Hot women stick to big money like dog shit to my shoe."
Then came our shining moment. The hole-in-the-wall casino next the $1.7 billion disaster with the canals offered a stellar funbook to new signups, which included a 2 for 1 BJ payout coupon and some match-plays. Their games at first looked awful: a couple shoes with bad pen and worse rules, and some of those ever-present 6-5 SD games. Then the epiphany: we could play the SD game until we got one blackjack paid at 2 to 1 (or suited BJ at 3-1) and then leave. It would be the best odds we would play in Vegas. We settled in, and at first our gambit looked awful: SK and I were down combined $350 dollars in a half-hour. But we were determined, and drunk. We spread from 10-25 ($25 was the most the BJ coupon paid off) and made no attempt to hide it. The pit boss became our buddy, and if he knew our ploy, he didn't care. An hour passed, and 7 BJs for the dealer and none for us. Another hour passes, and though I cut my losses, we are still down. And still no BJ. Baumer and Ponce are tired and go home. SK and I push on, and finally our losses are gone. Other than the 6-5 payout for the (nonexistent) BJ, this game has great rules (DA2, DAS, dealt to near bottom). SK and I spread identically at the same table, and even cajole the dealer into shuffling up after the Aces come out early (our very own pref. shuffle). Once on a high count, max bets out, I get twenty and Special K gets two aces. Still no BJ. Then, after 2.5 hours and both of us having climbed back up to a profit, there it is. The most beautiful ace-king I've ever seen, even if it was only on a $10 bet. SK and I cash in our winnings, smile at the critter, and leave laughing.
In the middle of the night, too jazzed to sleep, we explore the heart-stoppingly gorgeous Bellagio and the still-impressive Caesar's. The Theorem proved time and time again. My legs are beginning to lose function, and dawn is beginning to show at the horizon, so we decided to turn in. We stumble into our hotel room, and I stare at the glittering Strip in the pre-dawn hour laid out in front of our hotel window, trying to sober up and wipe the smile off my face. Vegas, baby.
(Episode 2, downtown and the lower strip, coming soon)
Running Count
Sun. 5:35 am
Blood alcohol content: 0.00
Bankroll: even
Blinked stupidly in the mirror and quizzed myself on some index numbers for Hi-Lo 6D in my head while I shaved. Bags packed. Ponce, KG, and Baumer arriving any minute to start the drive. I hadn't slept more than 2 hours, max. I was up most of the night practicing the shoe game on a simulator program - too excited to sleep.
Sun 12:30 pm
BAC: 0.00
Bankroll: even
Our excitement level was growing minute by minute: at least mine and Ponce's. Baumer and KG snore in the back. I was driving now: pushing Santiago to 90+ in my impatience. Santiago is Ponce's Subaru. Ponce is called Ponce because of some long-forgotten link to Ponce de Leon, the explorer. At some point, Baumer learned that the real de Leon's ship was called the Santiago, and thus there we were, a stalwart band of sea-swarthies, pushing Santiago at full sail for the neon harbor ahead. I-15 was a straight shot through the valleys, twisting ever slightly to the North at each range. We pass Primm. 30 miles to go.
Sun 2:30 pm
BAC: 0.03
Bankroll: -2 units
I prop my feet up on the table in the Casino bar. My first 2 units wagered on college bball. The ice in my g&t tinkles in the glass. Ponce and Baumer bet on the favorite to beat the spread. I bet for the underdog. We realize soon after that we could have bet each other and cut the casino's vig out completely, but oh well. This casino, one of the newest, is my first impression of Vegas. It shines in cream and gold from the outside, and is filled with soaring ceilings and a tropical theme. I get up at halftime to walk around and eat my $5 burger. I spot KG at a nearby sucker machine. He is already at plus $75 (the bastard) after hitting something good on a nickel machine. In the car, I tried to explain to him about full-pay VP, but he likes the true slots. I'm sure he'll lose it back and much more in time. I check out the legendary pool this place has. They won't let me go look (for the first of many times, I hear the words: "Hotel guests only") but I scam my way in after talking-up a couple nice spring-breakers from Ohio. The scene is marvelous. The wave pool is extraordinary, the women more so.
Back inside, I look over the blackjack tables. This place is bigger by several times than any place I've seen in Northern NV. All shoe games, H17. Many tables are CSM. In the high-roller pit, a man bets several yellow chips. I wonder aloud how much yellow is worth, and the roller turns around (Yikes! Good hearing) and says, "a thousand per." I'm duly impressed. In the commoner pits, lots of crowds to blend in with (I look like a college student), so I watch the new shuffles for a good count. Nothing gets higher than +1 TC in 20 minutes, so back to basketball. The favorite beats the spread by 3.
Sun 4:30 pm
BAC: 0.01
Bankroll: -2 units
We've picked up Special K from the airport (he was too good for Santiago) and are heading up to our hotel on the North Strip. We pass the sleek Luxor, the breathtakingly tacky NYNY, the unapologetically ugly MGM, the glimmering fountains of the Bellagio and Venetian. After several acres of construction we pass the Reno-esque North strip places, and cruise into the desert-themed oasis that is to be our home for a couple nights.
Even this far from the wealth of the lower Strip, I notice one happy difference between Northern NV and Vegas: the place is crawling with attractive women. This was a theme that developed as the night went on. In general, our hotel crowd was young and low-rolling with a Midwestern flavor. We checked into our room, frowned at the small beds we would be sharing in our cheapness, and changed into our Vegas duds. Baumer wanted the full gangster suit style, but we convinced him to go with the shiny shirt and black pants only. Special K, Ponce and I went for the upscale dot-com look, and KG wore the ugliest and brightest Hawaiian shirt I've ever seen.
Sun 9:30 pm
BAC: 0.10
Bankroll: +4 units
Stomach full of awful buffet dinner at our hotel, wallet slightly lighter from playing their cheap shoe game (6D, H17, cut card at 1.5-2.5 decks), and my liver working hard on several bottles of Bud, we made our way into the Vegas night. The Northern-most casino has the best game early on (6D, H17, LSR, cut card at 1-1.5) and I repaired the losses suffered earlier. Tried to scam our way up to the observation tower, but several clever gambits all failed. The four of us (KG was asleep in the room with a raging headache) made our way South. Picked up the best funbook on the Strip (arguably) at the first casino (big-top theme, 6D, H17, cut card at 2) and turned the coupons into a +4 unit gain. Began to see the awful 6-5 SD game everywhere and wanted to tell the ploppies they were being scammed, but refrained. We were to have the last laugh on the 6-5 game later, though.
At this point, I should point out that only Special K and I were counting. Of the others, KG was a notoriously awful gambler, Ponce was a solid BJ basic strategy player and Baumer was only along for free drinks (playing a hand at the min when cocktail waitress came by). Ponce and KG provided great cover for the whole trip, bless their hearts.
Mon 4 am
BAC: 0.3 at least
Bankroll: +10 units
Special K and I collapse in the back of the cab in front of the fake Eiffel Tower and tell the driver our hotel. After convincing him to take the Strip instead of the freeway (we may be dunk, but not stupid; at 4 am the Strip would be substantially faster) we dissolved in laughter at our last six hours. After ditching the Slots-a-Fun and the 'Ho, we had played for a couple hours at the somewhat nicer places just South. I had printed out over a dozen copies of the $5 match play Internet coupon for the western-themed joint, and between Ponce, me, and Special K, we distributed them around the large pit unnoticed. Nice profit there, but the only dealer who gave good pen on their shoe game (H17, LSR) was the world's slowest human being. Onto the next generic place, where I gave back all that I won and more on a similar shoe game.
We crossed Sands Ave. and began to explore the majesty of the mega resorts. The pirate-themed resort reminded me of Disneyland, and the ubiquitous CSM machines kept us from playing any BJ. What we did notice was that that perhaps half of the entire population of the casino at 1 am was hot women. Special K first proposes The Theorem: As refined, the Theorem proposes that
X = M-squared
Where X equals hot women and M equals the amount of the average table bet. Or, as Special K said it, "God damn. Hot women stick to big money like dog shit to my shoe."
Then came our shining moment. The hole-in-the-wall casino next the $1.7 billion disaster with the canals offered a stellar funbook to new signups, which included a 2 for 1 BJ payout coupon and some match-plays. Their games at first looked awful: a couple shoes with bad pen and worse rules, and some of those ever-present 6-5 SD games. Then the epiphany: we could play the SD game until we got one blackjack paid at 2 to 1 (or suited BJ at 3-1) and then leave. It would be the best odds we would play in Vegas. We settled in, and at first our gambit looked awful: SK and I were down combined $350 dollars in a half-hour. But we were determined, and drunk. We spread from 10-25 ($25 was the most the BJ coupon paid off) and made no attempt to hide it. The pit boss became our buddy, and if he knew our ploy, he didn't care. An hour passed, and 7 BJs for the dealer and none for us. Another hour passes, and though I cut my losses, we are still down. And still no BJ. Baumer and Ponce are tired and go home. SK and I push on, and finally our losses are gone. Other than the 6-5 payout for the (nonexistent) BJ, this game has great rules (DA2, DAS, dealt to near bottom). SK and I spread identically at the same table, and even cajole the dealer into shuffling up after the Aces come out early (our very own pref. shuffle). Once on a high count, max bets out, I get twenty and Special K gets two aces. Still no BJ. Then, after 2.5 hours and both of us having climbed back up to a profit, there it is. The most beautiful ace-king I've ever seen, even if it was only on a $10 bet. SK and I cash in our winnings, smile at the critter, and leave laughing.
In the middle of the night, too jazzed to sleep, we explore the heart-stoppingly gorgeous Bellagio and the still-impressive Caesar's. The Theorem proved time and time again. My legs are beginning to lose function, and dawn is beginning to show at the horizon, so we decided to turn in. We stumble into our hotel room, and I stare at the glittering Strip in the pre-dawn hour laid out in front of our hotel window, trying to sober up and wipe the smile off my face. Vegas, baby.
(Episode 2, downtown and the lower strip, coming soon)
Running Count
!!!!!