The drive out was easy and took under four hours, even with a stop for gas. There was a Taco Bell attached to the Chevron station in Baker where we stopped to re-fuel and Pauly recoiled in horror as I devoured a taco supreme.
"You're eating an E. coli taco!" he squealed as I doused it in hot sauce.
Thankfully I woke up this morning free from disease.
After checking into the IP and taking a quick power nap, we headed across the street to grab a bite at the Mirage and play some cards. While Pauly took a $1-2 NL seat, I settled for a $3-6 limit table populated by a few local rocks and a couple of clueless cowboys. The one directly to my right didn't understand limit betting structure and I had to remind him on more than one occasion that he could not lead out for $12 on the turn. He lost his whole buyin inside the four hours I spent there, but unfortunately very little of it was shipped my way. Though I flopped a set of queens at one point and turned a boat, that's the only decent hand I remember playing. I do recall the old half-asleep Asian lady who cracked my J-J with 2d-5d when she turned two pair and the clueless cowboy's grandma whose Q-J made two pair to river my K-J. Mainly I was just card-dead and folded a lot.
Pauly joined me after his NL game turned decidedly less juicy and took the seat to my left. He tried to drop the hammer on one of the rocks, who gave him a look that said "are you an escaped mental patient or what?" as he tabled his 2-7 at showdown. Pauly paired his 7 on the flop and the guy called him all the way down with K-Q high which unfortunately improved on the river when a red king fell.
"Hey, at least I raised with it!" Pauly muttered as the confused old man stacked the pot.
We went back to the IP around 1 AM and played Pai Gow for a couple of hours. Pauly won about $75 after a rush of cards and I squeaked out an $11 win. Combined with my 3-6 losses at the Mirage, I'm only down $58 in my first 24 hours in Vegas. It could (and has been) a fuck of a lot worse.
We're about to head out to McCarran to pick up Derek, who is presently zipping his way to Vegas from NYC via flying death tube. There have been promises of breakfast at Green Valley Ranch where I almost always indulge in their decadent chocolate chip pancakes. Ship it!