Player's Stories

Bill & Arty's Excellent Gulf Coast Adventure, Part 2:
A MARGE III And N'Awlins Trip Report
By Bill Alan

Saturday, November 17

Well today will be my last opportunity to have a winning session at MARGE.

Yeh. Right.

The major event, $100 buy-in No-Limit-Holdem was to take place today. Unfortunately, Fold'em & I were to stay up until 4 AM on Friday night to consume the remaining Wild Turkey I had carefully stashed in Room 310. (Arty, who was present, displayed an unsettling side of his usual self for such, refusing even to take a small helping of the Vodka I had procured especially for his pleasure. We may find it necessary, if this keeps up, to re-assess Arty's fundamental qualifications for membership in the ADBs.

Always vigilant, I poured my own Turkey and let Fold'em pour his own. He kept coming up with the arcane measurement of "just a finger" as he proceeded to pour whatever "a finger" amounts to in his jolly world.

In the interim we managed, between us, to leave just enough of the bottle for me to rinse my toothpaste in the fast-approaching AM.

And, with Arty occasionally farting, Peter & I managed to solve most of the world's more serious problems B4 this delightful evening (dawn?) came to a close.

Hence to the tournament.

I have long held a theory that an engine cannot operate without fuel. Thus, given last night's conditioning, I approached today's tournament with great confidence.

Without a lot of detail (presented in these pages by those who, more admirably than I, do such things) I managed to do quite well. But I was destroyed, in about middle place, by a full house on the river which caused me, with my flopped nut flush, to put all my checks into the pot. God, it had become unpleasantly apparent, had not intended for me to win this tournament.

Never mind.

I went on to be enthralled by the prospect that a player who had only played one live tournament B4 might win this thing. Sherri Brabek, Nut-Z's, most attractive Wife, played brilliantly and ended up taking 2nd place money...much of which, I believe, was handed to the casino at the ensuing and mandatory craps run.

So, following the excitement of Sherri's fine showing, the fun seekers proceeded to the N/E games which make it possible for the Biloxi Grand to make poker there a very worthwhile loss-leader.

All of us bled heavily at the crap table, including the Brabeks. 10X odds, which should make the N/E a figure close to P/E, only make money when the dice are "right". And, tonite, they were very "wrong". Except for David Huberman, playing the darkside, we all stuck out big time.

No matter.

When, finally, we had given The Grand enough of our hard-earned poker winnings (or, in my case, cash) we opted to sample the best (read only) of the hedonistic delights available to us at that late hour.

You guessed it...The Island View Café.

We all had standard $8 comps from the poker room, except for the Brabeks...who had earned the right to a $50 comp at the crap table.

What to do?

It is functionally impossible to spend $90 at the I.V.C. So we were in a "See what the boys in the back room will have" mode. Problem was Sherri could not get what she wanted from the misrepresented 24/7 menu. Ordinary choices (For just one example, a "Reuben"...sorry, no sauerkraut) were denied to our 2nd Place Finisher.

And so was a simple salad (Sorry...no lettuce.)

Should I, then, test their larder by ordering a cheeseburger?

The answer, my friends, is written by those who compose, and/or purchase ingredients for, the most important menu in any casino's dining options.

(BTW "Roxie's", which unfortunately is not a 24/7 choice, is excellent. But gamblers require simple food service at all hours. And I strongly urge those who decide such things to upgrade your I.V. operation. And while I, hopefully, have your ear please consider 24/7 Room Service as well.)

Sunday, November 10, 2001

Following a misunderstanding about wakening hours, the ever-patient Fold'em was ready to transport Arty & me to the questionable hotel Arty had arranged for the two of us in N'Awlins. Peter, understandably, was more concerned about meeting his lady/wife, Stephanie, when her plane arrived at MSY from California.

It turned out that Arty's choice (as was his choice for just about everything on our trip) was fine. We spent two nights in a clean & decent room at "Days Inn - Canal" for $100 a night. It was a $6 cab ride from Harrah's Casino or the Vieux Carre, and perfectly suited to our modest needs.

Of course we had to check out Harrahs.

My main impression of this (might have been) elegant place was that they had obscured its elegance with bank after bank of slot machines. It was laid out by (probably optimistic) interior designers around a number of "courts" which, I suppose, were intended to suggest the majesty of greater New Orleans.

Guess what?

The (necessary, I suppose) slot machines were encroaching on every other area we once took for granted in a casino. It was difficult to find a crap table, let alone anything resembling food service. (I understand that N'Awlins zoning people allowed a casino there only if it did not encroach upon established hotels & restaurants in the area.)

Finally, Arty & I found the Poker Room. It was quite beautiful, but we found it to be a "southern" poker room, featuring small-stakes Omaha (or half-Omaha, half- Hold'em) as much the most popular games. (The game changes with every orbit of the table; pay attention.)

Important Playing Hint at Harrahs

If you are primarily a Hold'em player, play super-tight on the Omaha orbit. You will find that the players tend to carry an Omaha mindset over to the Hold'em orbit, and it can give you a big advantage.

Arty & I spent not more than an hour here. (We can play poker anywhere; this is N'Awlins!)

So we left Harrahs and set out, on foot, for the French Quarter (Vieux Carre), the Southwest Corner of which was right across the street.

We wandered, more or less aimlessly, as I strived to reconnect with an area I had not visited for a very long time. My only goal was to find a suitable antique cameo for Peg (Marcelle) and, in due course, I found what I knew she would like on Rue Chartres in one of the many shops there specializing in such things. I asked about price and was told "eighty five", which seemed quite reasonable to me. After looking at others I decided on my original choice and Arty chimed in with "You're gonna pay eighty five bucks for that?"

The matter was quickly settled when the salesperson, not being at all haughty, said "Sir, this lovely piece is eighty five hundred."

We then struck out, without any plan, in the general direction of Bourbon Street...a few blocks north.

Mind you, I had not been in the Vieux Carre for exactly 50 years when, as an ardent young fan of authentic New Orleans Jazz (as opposed to "Dixieland") I had spent many a weekend there while in training at NAS Pensacola, about 120 miles East, to make the world safe for Democracy. In those days, to put a time frame to it, Louis Armstrong was still in his '40s. Louis had long since left N'Awlins for Chicago & New York, but many of his compatriots were still holding forth, mainly on Bourbon Street. I was in authentic Early Jazz heaven back then and had wandered in and out of saloons paying very little money (25 cent beers) for a chance to hear people like Johnny & Baby Dodds, Kid Ory, and Jimmy Noone blowing their hearts out with my music. There were, of course, strip clubs. But in 1951 they were described as "occasional"; today they are "inevitable" on Bourbon Street. You might see a nipple in 1951; I expect that laparoscopy will soon be the big attraction as we enter the 21st century. And any semblance of original N'Awlins Jazz has largely died away...as, of course, has its pioneers.

Ah Wilderness.

We had an early supper at one of the venerable and dependable Cajun restaurants on Bourbon Street -- PaPa Joes, on the corner of Bourbon & Iberville -- where Jambalaya (Arty) and a Po'Boy (Bill), washed down with two beers each, cost less than $25 for both of us.

Recommended.

When we got back on Bourbon Street, Arty made the best use yet of his trusty cell phone. He dialed Fold'em and, lo & behold, Peter & Stephanie were only a couple of blocks away. So we walked toward each other.

Hence serendipity.

I had only met Peter's wife twice B4...ships passing in the night. But tonight we were to cement what I trust will be a lasting friendship.

We all wandered together, to & fro, mostly on Bourbon Street, until we all felt the need of a frosty drink. We popped into anybar and, having been denied the use of a table (as we weren't eating) we sat at the bar. Beers for the boys; a white Zinfandel for the lady. Thus began one of the highlights of our brief time together. A fine Cajun band soon began to play and, gradually, we commenced to become part of their group.

Bill, Arty, and Stephanie performing with The Cajun Cowboys

Arty, "The One Man Party", quickly determined that he could out-play the elderly (80 +) woman who played washboard with what turned out to be "The Cajun Cowboys". Thus began the fun.

Bill, on triangle...an instrument on which he had excelled in 3rd Grade and was thus quite comfortable with, joined the group. Then Stephanie, on the spoons, soon joined in and we brought the house down. (Since there were no more 3rd grade level instruments available, Fold'em was reduced to drinking beer...an activity at which he is well known to excel.)

Suddenly free drinks were showing up both to and from the band, and the house. And all of this, mind you, from a restaurant from which we had earlier been denied a table!

En Francais: Quel Fun!

Since Peter & his Peg had not yet eaten, we stopped in at a side street café for simple food...since we had agreed months ago to dine elegantly the following night.

Arty & I had eaten earlier, as noted, so we opted for drinks and desert, only, as the Secors had their late supper. My problem began early on when I asked for a Mint Julep. I should have known I was in the wrong place when I was informed by the obviously Yankee-born waitress that she didn't know what that was. (Her actual response was "What the **** is a Mint Julep?) Next I was silly enough to ask for the quintessential N'Awlins cocktail...a Sazerac. Same blank stare. Finally, I settled on Wild Turkey.

In the meantime Arty, aka "The One Man Garbage Can", had proceeded to eat at least half of Stephanie's dinner. (I remark on this only because I knew, for certain, that I would be subjected to Arty's gastrointestinal complaints throughout the ensuing night in our close quarters at the Days Inn. Farts are a given on such occasions and are thus acceptable; moaning and groaning, however, seriously interrupts my need for peaceful slumber.)

Monday, November 12, 2001
N'Awlins and Antoines

By previous agreement Peter, Stephanie, Arty & I met at The Café Du Monde for the obligatory Café au Lait and Beignets at an early hour.

Peter, Bill, Stephanie, & Arty at The Café DuMonde

Following Arty's rather embarrassing cavil with a waitress over a bill which was, in his view, at least 40 cents too much, we went across the street to Jackson Square where we engaged a donkey carriage to show us the Vieux Carre, guided by its driver...who proved to be superbly fit for his calling.

Fifty bucks for the four of us for a half-hour tour. I was inclined to book a full hour, but the driver suggested not. Well we saw much, if not all, of the historic glory of the Quarter and were treated to a superb running commentary by our guide/driver. He ended up, back at Jackson Square, having given us a 55 minute tour for our half-hour fee. Needless to say he was generously toked for his largesse.

Not wanting to intrude on each others pursuits we agreed to meet at 8:30 that night for a pre-arranged Dinner At Antoines', which continues to stand in my memory as the most elegant restaurant I have ever known.

It more than lived up to those memories. (After all, Antoines' had been in business for 90 years prior to my earlier experiences there 50 years ago.)

They must be doing something right.

Following an aperitif' of Kir Royale, we all made our choices from the eight-page menu available to us. Peter was looking for a dinner partner to share a Chateaubriand ($80 pour deux), as was I. I believe Stephanie had Lamb and Arty had a chicken dish, although I am not certain. (In my expense-account days I often found that I could not recall what I had eaten at Lutece or "21". I much preferred back then eating alone where the food, not the client, was the focus of my attention at dinner. Tonight my focus was on my dining partners.)

Peter, who now lives on the fringe of the Napa Valley, is much more into fine wine than I am these days so he did the ordering. I believe we started with a Jadot Puille Fuse (sp?) with our appetizers and then a bottle from the vineyards of Mouton Rothschild (so fine, we had a second bottle) with our entrees. (A cute note here: Stephanie was not happy with the design of the label on the red wine. We solved the problem, to everyone's satisfaction, by asking our waiter to decant it.)

Then on to a memorable desert...mine being a Peche' Melba unlike any I have ever tasted, accompanied by an acceptable, but not pricey, glass of Port.

The tab? With a generous tip, it came to $480. Hopefully she won't read this, but Marcelle will remind me that both of us could eat & imbibe, quite elegantly, for a whole month on that amount.

As fine things always do, our week ended that night on Rue St. Louis, as we said goodbye to our friends on the steps of Antoines'.

Arty had to make one more run to Marie LaVeau's house of VooDoo, the purpose of which I prefer not to know, and the two of us cabbed back to the Days Inn.

Apart from a remaining half-bottle of Vodka, which we reduced to one-quarter, we left the rest for the chamber-maid and went to sleep.

Thus ended the best ARG vacation I have ever enjoyed and it would not be OK if I didn't thank all of those involved...

Tony Collins, for the excellence of his poker room.

Debbie (several Debbies, in fact) for doing their job so well.

Cincere' John Averill, and all the floorpersons, plus their excellent dealers.

It comes down, finally, to thanking Randy & Steve for putting it all together. Having organized four FARGOs I know how much serious work is involved. I must say...as I did two years ago at MARGE '99...that MARGE is the very best of all the ARG events (13 of them) I have ever attended.

Your Obedient Servant,

Bill Alan
(aka Bill Hafey)
(aka ADB VC61)

Addenda -

Upon proofreading the above it occurs to me that I have now offered to "kill for" at least ten women other than Stephanie Secor.

It remains an idle boast.