Player's Stories

West Coast Poker Rooms
By Mr B

This is the first in a series of reviews of the sleeping accommodations of parking lots of casinos throughout our nation's western states. It is directed towards those amongst the cardplaying community who, like the author, are adventurous and poor. However, in the interest of incorporating a wider audience, I'll also include some description of the casino itself and maybe some amusing anecdotes. Why not?

Oceanside, CA. Ocean's 11 Casino.

Ocean's 11 is one of those establishments that, despite outdated, tasteless décor, odd clientele, and sometimes surly employees, manages to touch the most tender strings of one's heart.

The author recalls a bar from his college days named "Terry's Office Tavern." Not much to look at, Terry's forty-and-up crowd offered its barely-of-age patrons even less in the way of peer socialization. Still, cheap beer, pool, and food drew us in, and the place grew on ya. While a game of 'Golden Tee' with a drunken construction worker will never be as entertaining as attempting to lay a college co-ed, the former did gain a certain appeal after awhile.

It is in this same spirit that I, along with my esteemed partner in crime, Poker-buddy, make the drive up Interstate 5 on this warm summer San Diego night. For a long time, the freeway exit was marked by a large sign that said only, "Casino;" this has recently been replaced with a much more attractive landmark. Upon arrival at Ocean's, we find the main entryway as broad and inviting as ever. Just inside is a large (almost obscene in size) mural overlooking the hallway that features the stars of the original Ocean's film. Next to the mural is the "Rat Pack Lounge," from which jazz, blues, or rock tunes usually bellow on weekend nights. And across from the bar is the section that boasts blackjack, pai gow, and carribean stud. Music can often be heard from this section on any given evening - not from a live band, and not even from a speaker system. Instead, the patrons use a portable stereo, and the sounds are usually what can only be described as terrible, terrible rap.

For poker players, though, the path leads straight in from the front doors along a long foyer. The waiting-list board jumps at the far left, with a single chip cage in the far right and nothing but poker tables in between. For tonight, Poker-buddy and I have chosen the friendly confines of the $1-2 tables. Poker-buddy has only been playing the game for a short time; both of us are still picking up the game. We put our name down on a smaller whiteboard near the very-low-limit tables and shortly take our seats.

Now, the wonderful thing about these games is that its hard to lose. I mean, even one or two players in your average $3-6 hold 'em game fold before the flop. Not here. So when you somehow hit a hand, its bound to make you a little money. However, expect your aces to be routinely cracked.

In addition, the $1-2 crowd has a family atmosphere that you definitely won't find in the rest of the casino. Some of the $3-6 and $4-8 bunch seem a little depressed due to racks lost and beats taken. But you never get that sense at the beginner table, which is beautiful.

This visit to Ocean's would be special not only because it would be my last before hitting the road, but also because it included a visit from one of the casino's most colorful semi-regulars - and also my former high school wrestling coach. Now an officer of the law, Coach splits his free time between North County San Diego cardrooms and the training of his five-year-old son for a future in wrestling. Coach says "Hi," but spares little time before finding a $4-8 hold 'em game across the room. However, he passes by not twenty minutes later, saying, "You know its going to be a long night when its already time for a smoke break" (Ocean's is a non-smoking cardroom, a fact for which the author is most grateful). Poker-buddy and I laugh.

Upon his return, Coach stops to talk: "How are you?" etc. He informs us that he is "working out." Upon inspection, he is wearing a jumpsuit. I laugh. And the wedding rehearsal he must attend this weekend has been "moved up" three hours, as he was disappointed to inform his wife. Apparently the only thing keeping Coach in his wife's good graces is that he's been winning and sending a healthy portion her way. Coach takes off.

Ten minutes later, the 'workout' line is no less funny. I decide to provide Coach with some refreshment for said workout. You may've seen the commercials for Michelob Ultra Light? Boxer gets through with five rounds on the heavy bag and decides to quench himself with a lo-cal beer! Just the thing for our gym rat.

Calling the cocktail waitress over, I ask her if she has Ultra Light. "Indeed," she responds. "Well, then," says I, "one for the gentleman in the red and black jumpsuit top at table fourteen. And tell him 'For you workout,' please." Waitress agrees.

Poker-buddy and I continue to remain at around even in chips despite our clearly superior skills. We reminisce about an online hand in which I checkraised him with my river flush after he'd flopped four kings. Poker-buddy laughs.

Coach is surprised at the arrival of his workout brew. It takes a lot to surprise Coach. He shoots a glare at me from across the room - but smiles and tilts his head back for a few gulps before turning back to the game. I lean back and laugh.

After several more hours of uneventful play, Poker-buddy and I decide it is time for the ritual post-session meal and a drive home. Past patrons of Ocean's who haven't been in awhile will find that, while it has retained much of its character, it has disappointingly regressed in one vital area: the meal comp! While the menu prices are very cheap, that's still just a bit more expensive than free. The author issues a plea on behalf of all Ocean's regulars for the return of the yellow comp ticket.

Poker-buddy and I each scarf down a plate of tasty $2.00 chicken fried rice and head for the cage. Coach accompanies us out for another cigarette. Sammy, Dean, Frank and the gang beam at us as we walk up the stairs, past the bar, and out into the night.

Sleeping accommodations: As inviting as the cold bed of my as-yet-unfurnished camper truck seems, I opt for the thirty-minute drive home. Sorry readers. I assume this was the option Poker-buddy would've chosen as well. For those who are interested, however, the lot is enclosed and sparsely patrolled - perfect conditions for a good night's sleep. For the feint-of-heart, there's also an official casino motel and several campgrounds close by.