In the past, I had always played low limit hold 'em when I went out to Vegas. This was mostly due to a non-existant bankroll and a strong desire for free booze and ice...not to mention the drunken pleasure of playing hands like 5-3 off and hitting the second pair on the river.

This trip I brought a bankroll with me, so to start things off I bought into the $1-$2 NL game at the Flamingo. What resulted was a crash course in live NL cash games, during which I realized:

Apparently, I lacked sufficiently sized testicles for these games.

Roughly half the players at my table at any given time that night were locals.

Multi Table tournament strategy and cash game strategy are not even remotely similar.

Plus...

You will lose money if you don't bluff, if you only raise with top hands, if you don't C bet, if you always limp with suited connectors, if you don't value bet rivers, and if you aren't generally willing to take stabs at pots.

And so...

I slowly bled off my $200, finally losing it all when a player with the dummy end of my nut straight made a flush on the river.

While I paced the rail aimlessly I could realized a certain connection with the other tourists I saw at the poker tables. I locked eyes with one and we solemnly nodded at each other as our eyes welled with tears. Undoubtedly, each of us considering the tragic life of the lamb...and its inevitable appointment with The Slaughter.

I left the poker room and retired to my ugly little room at the Flamingo. I moaned to myself and marveled at what a fool I was to think that I could play winning cash poker. My ego ached. I hit menu on the remote and charged some smut to my room as I passed out naked, weeping, and alone at 5:00 am.

I woke the next morning and immediately turned down the volume. I was too ashamed to leave my room, so I ordered room service - breakfast plus a bloody mary to help strengthen my nerves.
The breakfast was terrible, which I felt was appropriate. Loser poker players deserve loser food.

Eventually I showered, dressed, and headed over to the Imperial Palace. The poker room only had a table or two with players, so I did a loop around the casino, took a nice long look at the dealertainers, and walked back onto the strip.

I began walking southbound...briefly considering and dismissing each casino I passed by. I knew where I was headed...southbound to the MGM Grand.

Now the MGM is where I used to play limit hold 'em in Vegas, so I had a certain comfort level already established there. That comfort level was soon broken after I entered the casino and recalled the 18 hour drunken poker binge I went on at the end of my last trip. I'm pretty sure I used the word "c*nt" repeatedly to describe a bitchy player at my table and quite clearly recall loudly remarking, "I know what a fucking string bet is," when a player offered to explain why the dealer wouldn't take my bet.

Luckily, the dealers didn't remember me (I was incognito during that trip) and after a few scotches, everything started coming up Milhouse...

More after the break.