Jackson Fives, Baby

I arrived at the Golden Nugget at 10:00 AM with my Oakleys wrapped around my neck and clasping a can of 'Sobe Energy Rush' in my right hand. I was determined to leave Vegas with at least one winning poker session under my belt.

'You should have bought wake up drinks for everybody!'; enthused the cardroom manager as I strode purpousefully into the cardroom. He sat Karl and myself at the same table, I was sat next to a middle aged Asian woman and Karl was to my left, sat next to what appeared to be a member of the Pouges circa 1980. The first hand saw me aggressively betting my Ace high on a low board, only to be called down by the Asian on my right who showed a pair of 3's to scoop the pot. Yet again, you can't bluff a beginner. $10 down already.

The cocktail waitress came to take our order, and Ireland steriotypically ordered an Irish Coffee with Baileys. 10:15 was obviously too early for a Guinness, and this was his wake up drink. Karl ordered a blackcurrant juice, only to be looked at in complete bewilderment by the waitress and informed by Ireland that they don't have blackcurrant juice in the US. The concept that you could make juice out of blackcurrants looked to have fried the waitresses' brain, and she walked back over to the bar to get Karl a mineral water.

I asked Ireland if he was on vacation, and he snapped at me telling me that he was a gypsy and had no house. I decided silence was the best policy from here on in. Ireland luckily busted out before his coffee was served, and his seat was taken by a genial Vegas native who was in his sixties. He told us that he now played poker for a living, and had a $400,000 apartment off the strip. He also let us know that dealers are paid minimum wage, $5 an hour (£2.50!) but earn approximately $100,000 per year through tips! It is always etiquette to throw the dealer a chip if you win a pot. It is also etiquette to tip the waitress a few bucks for fetching your complementary drinks, and our old pal told us these girls can earn in excess of $100,000. 'You boys want to find yourself a cocktail waitress and live here'.

The guy was a good player, but he was subject to some horrific bad beats over the next hour. I was still about ten bucks down at this point, when I was dealt JK and hit top pair jacks on the flop. I had two callers and hit a further jack on the turn! Deja vu from day one, but this time it was me with the King kicker. I was going to play it slow but saw the old guy with chips in his hand ready to play, so I bet out. The river was no danger, and knowing he would bet I played a sly check raise and scooped a big pot to put me $25 up. The old guy had been holding two pair. Of all the people on the table, I didn't want to do it to him, but that's life. He had clearly had enough and walked off, leaving his phone and chips. We hope he didn't top himself. After a satisfying check raise with a straight on Karlos, I walked off in the black.

The rest of the day was spent sightseeing, with a final trip to the Bellagio buffet and a trip to the top of the Stratosphere thrown in for good measure. The Strat viewing tower is the tallest structure in Vegas, and although my non-existent head for hights prevented me from going on the rides like Karl, I took a few photos. The photo above is taken from ground level on the walk north from Circus Circus to the Strat, a walk littered with Hobos who obviously took one too many bad beats. My last poker playing experience of the tour ended in a disaster when beaten by a sharp talking 40 year old african-american who got two pair by playing his favourite hand, J5. 'Jackson fives, baby, Jackson fives', he proclaimed while scooping my loot. A handicap win on the Monday night football gave me enough to stock up on souvenirs (and afford breakfast) the following day, and for once we got an early night ahead of the long-haul flight back home.