Sights and Sounds from Big Easy

So a couple nights a go, a friend shocks me with a phone call. Another friend is sitting with me while I'm playing a SNG...and sees the caller ID on my cell phone when I answered it.

"Was that seriously Allie Prescott? How do YOU get Allie to call you? I call that asshole all the time and not only does he not answer, but he never calls me back. I heard he was holed up in a cabin somewhere in the woods in Arkansas!"

Yes, Maurice (Hawkins) that is correct. That WAS in fact, Allie Prescott, he DID in fact call me...and he HAS been isolated, alone, in a cabin in Arkansas, where he is (allegedly) writing a book. I have no verification of this. 

I simply texted Allie last week...as I do about once every two months to make sure he is still alive. Asked him...since he went to school (Tulane) in New Orleans, and it is one of his favorite cities, if he might...MIGHT...be making an appearance there this week. Well, he did respond, and was looking for a place to stay. Well, since him and Barth both know each other, and both played baseball at Tulane, it seemed like a natural scenario to invite him to come down and stay there. Barth was only too enthused to confirm the invitation.

So here comes Mr. Prescott waltzing into Harrah's the other night...while I was in the midst of another agonizing 3rd place finish in a SNG. He looked healthy, and groomed, which is way better than the last time I saw him. We made sure to alert a cocktail waitress to his arrival...and found him his favorite beverage!

The night would turn very bizarre. We ended up at Ernst Cafe...with a bunch of dealers. This was after I almost put a kids face through the wall at Harrah's. I won't go too into detail on that one...other than to say he was about half a foot shorter than me, 100 lbs lighter, and thought because he had two girls who he would NEVER in a million years get to sleep with...that he had the right to say whatever he wanted to me. I was wearing a 'Bama shirt..and if I recall right, he started by saying shit about Alabama...which I could live with. Just another annoying LSU clown. So when I go over to the bar to talk to my other friends who were there...about 8 of them...he makes some quip about something. I look at both girls and tell them they can do a lot better. They laugh. He says something about them being hotter than anything I could get. Blah blah blah...something something something...and he decides to say I'm probably married to a 'fucking elephant' since I like Bama. Okay punk. I grab him by the throat and throw him against the wall.

Luckily all my friends were there to keep it from going any further...granted, I was done with him. I wasn't going to punch him. Was really just trying to scare the shit out of him. But when security showed up, my friends painted a perfect picture. Everything was cool. But we were ready to leave anyway...so we left shortly after that to go to eat.

We go to Ernst. There are about 10 dealers and 4 other players. A handful of them leave. We ask for food. The creepy looking guy tells me the kitchen is closed. That it had just closed. Damn. I ask him if there is ANYTHING at all still left in the kitchen? If he can find ANYTHING at all? So what does this idiot do?

First...I wish I had taken his picture. It's hard to explain how he looked, and I've searched images all over Google trying to find something...and there just isn't anything. He had one of those ugly red chin beards...that hang way too low. Beady little eyes. Tattoos all over him. Very real possibility that he might have been out on work-release. So...with females at our table, he announces:

"Let me dig in here and see what I can find you to eat...." and proceeds to dig into his shorts and pull his cock out and act like he is about to plop it down on the table. Gasps ensue. He packs it away...and giggling, leaves our table. The four of us who saw it sat there with our jaws open. Did we really just witness that? Yes. We did. I went inside to ask the guy what the hell he was thinking? Instead he got in my face, tried to grab me, and was intercepted by a co-worker. When I told the guy what had occurred, he asked the maniac if he had done that. He admitted it. Now, on a normal planet, in a normal city...this is typically where the employee would be fired, right? Sent packing? Asked to leave ASAP? Well...kids...this IS New Orleans. The guy told him to just go finish whatever he was doing and stay away from us.

I'm not sure what happened after that, but somehow, we got invited to the bar...6 of us, for free shots with the bartender. One of the dealers got into a weird conversation with the bartender...and before I knew what had happened, they were challenging each other to a 'Fight Club'-like battle. Huh? About this time...Allie whispers in my ear that he is almost positive he saw the bartender give a sign to the two guys by the doors to close and lock the doors. This was starting to look like one of those things you hear about on the 11 o'clock news. 

"Gang breaks into Ernst Cafe...threatens staff...staff shoots gang members in self defense, called 'heroes' by local authorities." 

Yeah...I have been around this effed up planet long enough to know how these situations can get out of control. I whispered this same thing to the dealer who was engaging in the 'conversation' with the equally maniacal bartender...and hinted to him that, though I enjoy a fun little fist fight once in awhile with assholes who deserve a solid beat down...I am not very fast, certainly not fast enough to outrun a bullet...and that taking the high road, and getting the fuck out of there, might be the best decision on this occasion.  After all...I had only come to this place looking for food. I finally got him to put his fur down...and we all left that place. 

Next stop: Barth's house. We walk in...and there are naked people running around. Huh? Oh! It was one of the bartender's birthday, from Barth's place, Out of Bounds. I guess he was having a good party. Along with his naked butt running around was a hefty girl and her almost equally hefty friend, who he was about to be engaging in a threesome with that would make most of us want to kill ourselves the next day. Or at the very least, track down Will Smith and Tommy Lee Jones and have them zap me with that memory thing they carried around in 'Men In Black.' 

While they got into the booze....I found some leftover sushi...and made that my bitch. Allie would end up drinking himself dead. Now for those of you who know Allie...you know that this is nothing to worry about.

Mr Prescott...and his new friend. This picture really should be used for a 'Caption Contest' I think!

I woke up the next morning, well..afternoon, to one of the dealers needing my keys, telling me he'd been fired for not showing up for work. Whoops. Walked out to the pool...and found a couple guys, one passed out on an air mattress IN the pool, another on a lounge chair. Found another guy on the couch, one on the floor, and one in a recliner in Barth's theater. It was 2pm. I hooked up Barth's router and got it working...did some shit online...then him, me and Allie took off for the city...and their favorite place, Port of Call. They have famous hamburgers and big huge drinks that Allie couldn't wait to get coursing through his veins. We were about to be playing the $1k tourney at 5pm. So I stuck with soda. 

Went and played the 1k after that. Details of that lurid affair appear either on the blog post AFTER this one...or before...not sure which order I posted. Allie chose not to play, but instead to enjoy some more of the New Orleans 'flavor.' Upon losing the 1k event, I made the decision to drive home and be with my family, resisting the temptation to hang out with my old buddy on Bourbon Street and do unspeakable things to my mind and body. I was texted this photo of Allie later from Barth...I guess the night before he did the backyard...so he decided to mix it up and go with the front yard the following night.

In his defense, I have laid down on that front yard...and it IS very plush and soft, and were it not for what I'm sure were conditions of 85-90 degrees and humid the next morning, would not be such a terrible place to sleep.

Allie is a piece of work. One of (without a doubt) the most entertaining people I know. Intelligent, articulate, funny...and just really a good guy. I have had issues with him in the past...not 'issues' that you have with most people, but issues where I am just flummoxed by the mysteriousness of what the hell he is all about. I will have people ask me questions about him...and I just simply never know how to answer them. It's awkward being good friends with someone you seemingly know so little about. And I think he likes it that way. I don't think it's not intentional by any stretch that he keeps a certain amount of distance between himself and others. Why is he down here? I have no idea. Thought maybe he was coming to play some poker. But he hasn't played a hand...and doesn't seem interested in doing so. But for some reason...I just have a feeling that he  will end up playing the Main Event...and probably get deep like he always does. 

Has anyone heard of a guy called 'Wizard?' Well, if you are from Houston...you might have. He is about as eccentric a guy you will ever see at the poker table. I had him on my right for an event this week. Then Barth did...losing to the guy with a set of aces against some goofy hand like 47 that became a straight on the river. He makes plays like raising 2300 (first raiser) at 50/75...only to fold to a guy shoving all in for 9200. He has zero fear. None. Doesn't care. He is, I'm told, worth...uh...millions. He dresses like...well...I can't even describe it. It is 100% its own style. He has driven serious poker players crazy ALL week. But is secretly living out my dream...if these jerkoffs from Hess ever get a damn drill in the ground on our property in North Dakota and start pulling oil out of the ground. Get so much money that I can't spend it all...and just go play events like a complete idiot, just for shits and giggles. 

This is 'The Wizard' and I know...it's a bad picture. Kind of grainy, like those ones shot of Bigfoot walking through the woods. And yes...those shoes are purple! Every day he has a different 'look.' In the day I sat next to him...he was very nice to me. Granted I couldn't understand him a lot of the time. And he takes forever to act on his hand...but hey, whatever.

The thought that keeps creeping into my mind is how I would approach the guy and sell him on my 'Package for Summer 2012' that would see me play a complete schedule of about 20 events in WSOP and maybe another 10-15 events at Venetian...with $5k for travel and hotels....for a 70/30 split...total cost, about $55k. I'm guessing, were I to present the proper way, he might just say "How much? That's all? Sure...here ya go!" And bang...I'm off to fire away at millions all summer. I'm just not real good about those kind of 'conversations.' But if everything I have heard about this guy are true...he is certainly a good option if I were to go out knocking on doors.

But then...if you have a shred of common sense...you find yourself asking the question (of yourself) "if this person has millions of dollars of disposable income...why in the hell would they ever want or need to back a poker player who MIGHT win a million or two? What would winning that money mean to them?" The obvious answer is 'nothing.' And when you have a better chance of just losing whatever you invest in that person, then why bother? Backing poker players is a rough, unforgiving venture. If anyone decides to back a poker player...a certain amount of their decision to do it for that player, is because they have a special place for them in their heart. They WANT to help them, WANT to see them succeed. I mean, if I fall into millions someday, I can't say that I would be going around giving money to everyone who asked. But if I saw a couple guys that I KNEW had the ability, who I liked...but just didn't have access to the funds necessary to take shots at the huge prize pools, I would probably take a flyer on them. Without a doubt. 

Lets change topics.

The other day, I was standing in the theater around the place where the supervisors keep all the chips...and this overweight guy walked by me. I was immediately assaulted by a smell that almost knocked me over. Holy shit. "What the....." and as I turned to my right there was a man and a wife who both looked at me and claimed they were both equally floored by the smell. This was about my fourth experience with a smelly beast that day. One of them was with a dealer, who many players in the past have told me smelled horrendous. Well, that day I had the pleasure of being in the 1-seat and got to witness the nightmare for myself. I'd be lying if I told you that his breath and body odor didn't put me on temporary life tilt.

So yesterday....while playing in the Mega satellite, I look over to the table next to me...and OH MY GOD....this is what I see!

As I saw it...I turned to my right and saw the cocktail waitress, Shannon approaching...and saw her face as she saw it...and from the looks of it, she threw up in her mouth. I was just like..."Whoa...how is that massage girl dealing with that?" Then...I realized that it was stinky from the day before. And started wondering if he smelled today like he did yesterday. That massage girl should have been getting hazard pay.

And here is a question. Since they are SO damn fanatical about the 'exposed card' rule in New Orleans...and other venues actually, should it be some kind of penalty for 'exposing your ass' at the table? Maybe a full orbit? Which would allow him time to go put on some fucking underwear? And who the hell made that belt? And is that dealer picking his nose? Or pushing up his glasses? I prefer to think the latter. No massage girl should have to deal with this. Ever.

Any idea what a typical pipe fitting for this thing costs? Can't be much.

Translation: We don't like spending money on hand towels...so you can spend half an hour trying to dry your hands with our shitty hand dryers. Enjoy!

I've had a lot of bad bathroom experiences on this current trip/event. Toilet liners are always out. Hand towels are either out...or they have replaced them with hand dryers that take forever to dry your hands. The pipe fittings on all the urinals are rusty and gross looking. I mean, how much could it possibly cost to replace those? I'm sorry, but I'm big on keeping things sanitary. The hand soap is constantly empty...or barely comes out. Cold water seems to be the preference or warm or hot water. Often times, despite doing contortionist exercises to get the water to come out...it just wont. Remember the days when we just had good old fashioned water faucet handles where we could turn the water off and on? I miss those. And I can't tell you how many times I am standing there waiting to use a stall, with urinals available...and there is some idiot standing there pissing ON THE SEAT...of a stall toilet...then walks out, doesn't wash his hands...and just leaves the bathroom.

These guys, I really, honestly think...deserve to spend a day or two in jail. You're rude. You're inconsiderate. You're dirty. You're just a pig. It disgusts me. But by all means, let me play Mommy and clean up after you, dickface!

I have absolutely NOTHING mean to say about this guy. Surprised? No, actually, he was a very pleasant guy. But I just thought he looked so hilarious with that big, fat cigar hanging out of his mouth...that I had to post his picture. I even told him I took his picture and would probably use it. "No problem!" I like it!

No...I did not get this lady's permission...but she is a blackjack player...doesn't enter our world, and should be safe in her anonymity. I think if you saw this outfit in person...it would be funnier. In fact, I know it would. And she was even funnier from the front. But that is a filthy dirty pink skirt. Worn with pink and white, beat-to-shit boots...and she has a funky tattoo going up the side of her leg. She is in her late 50's from what I could tell. And had a drink in one hand and smoke in another. If I'm a Hollywood director here in town scouting locations, I grab her and make her an extra on the spot!

This lady is hilarious. I was calling her Mrs. Costanza. Kept asking her how George and Frank were doing. Asked if she was still living in Queens. In fact, she USED to live in the Bronx...when she came to our country from...not sure, I would guess Hungary maybe. And she just was oblivious to what I was referring to (Seinfeld, obviously). The rest of the players were howling. And to her credit...she isn't a bad player, at all. She made a play with AA against a guy that was very crafty. So she knows her way around the poker table. But she alternates between glasses on and glasses off...and its comical. She was definitely one of my favorite 'characters' this week!

Moving on to other topics:

I have been officially named the Co-Host of a Poker Radio Show with Scotty Clark. It kicks off this Sunday...and I will be there, from 3pm to 4:30pm Central Time...unless I am at the Final Table of the Main Event. I am already lining up guests, and am pretty sure it's going to be a LOT of fun! I've been unable to figure out how to post this logo for the show...but I will when I figure it out.

I've also signed on with VERVE!  (click the link to go to my VERVE website!) energy products to endorse and market/sell their exciting energy drinks and energy 5oz. shots. The guy, Kevin Cooper...literally approached me about it during a tourney, gave me the whole pitch...and let me sample the product. I was really impressed! And here were a couple of other players who had tried it and were ALL singing it's praises. He send me a couple cases to my house and has signed me on. Now I just need to do the follow up work on my end, which I will do when this event is over and I have a few hours to get all my ducks in a row. VERVE! is a great alternative to Red Bull. I've tried a lot of the others...and HATED them. This one actually tastes great...and (unlike Red Bull, which I just drink for the flavor) GAVE ME a boost...and also doesn't contain all the horrendous ingredients that are slowly killing your insides like Red Bull. But the only way to get it...is on a private purchase. Consider me YOUR GUY! And yeah...of course, I get a little something when you order a product through my site. Not anything major...but with a new baby on board, I will take whatever I can get!

Okay...I have to get ready to go play this Main Event....please please please Poker Gods....let me enjoy one tourney of unprecedented 'run good!'

Monkey