Monday, December 06, 2004
My Brush With Greatness
I came ever-so-close to gambling greatness this past weekend. In the global sense, I really wasn't that close, but I certainly almost bested a personal record. Here's how it all went down:
Kevin planned a trip to Atlantic City for his birthday. Of course, his birthday was in November, but hey, do you really need an excuse to go to AC? At any rate, I drove Kevin and Seth "Tight Pants" Tardiff up on Saturday. The drive was smooth. Fred "Good Pull" Gao and Justin "Schmidt-Faced" Schmidt" were planning to us there. We had a good group.
I always set a limit on my losses. This time I brought 500 dollars, not willing to lose more than that. Atlantic City is usually pretty crowded on the weekends, and this time was no exception, although it certainly wasn't any more crowded than usual. We found a 10 dollar blackjack table, which is about as good as couple be expected.
I was up and down, but won about 30 bucks. I then dropped about 70 bucks somewhere else. Justin and Fred arrived, and threw their bags in my car. We then all proceeded over to Trump Plaza and found a 15 dollar table that had 5 seats open, and made ourselves comfortable.
Right off the bat, things started going well. Most of us were counting cards (a few of us are decent card counters, although it's still work for us), and just having a good time. The dealer (Angela) wasn't too friendly, but we were still goofing around. Justin, in particular, was acting like a big idiot, which ended up paying off.
The count got really good, and we started increasing our bets to around 25 bucks. At some point, both Justin and I got deal 20s against a dealer 5 or 6. I told him that I'd split them if he would. The count was fantastic, and while I'm not sure exactly what it's supposed to be to warrant such a strange move, we went for it, trying to appear that we were just being goofy. I think I won my split, and he lost. The dealer looked at us strangely, and the pit boss came over.
We just played it up, and the pit boss wondered what the hell we were thinking, saying "Why would you give up a sure winner?". We explained that we thought she'd bust, and he couldn't quite see the logic in it. Of course one might expect an experienced pit boss to immediately tell that we were counting, but either he wasn't as experienced as he looked, or he just had seen so many legitimate idiots in his time that our behavior wasn't really that uncommon. We were happy to have him think us fools.
I ended the shoe up around 200 bucks, and everyone else was around even, except for Fred, who had been slowly accumulating his stack. After another great shoe went by, I was back down to even, and everyone else was up a couple hundred. I was a bit frustrated by this point.
The game progressed, and I started betting 20 or 30 bucks. Seth and Fred had been steadily increasing their bets, and were up to 40 or 50 bucks. I usually bet 25 bucks, and for a whole shoe, I couldn't lose. I'd double-down and win 50 bucks at a time. I ended that shoe up around 400 bucks. We did some crazy counting maneuvers in there too, and no one batted an eye, as Justin played up his goofiness, and we all fooled around with the dealer, who had finally been replaced by this point.
The luck continued. Up a few hundred, I now started betting 50 bucks a hand. At one point, on a good count, Justin bet 100 dollars, and split it and doubled down, winning 300 bucks in one fell swoop. There were some huge hands, and some back and forth. Fred, in particular, kept getting stuck with 13s, 14s, and 15s that he had to hit, and always managed to get a soft card that put him around 19 or 20 - hence the name "Good Pull" Gao.
At around 8:00 (we started around 6), the pit boss came over and asked us if we wanted to be rated. We gave him our IDs, and it was pretty opportune, as we all looked like much higher rollers with big stack of chips in front of us and 50 dollar bets on the table.
We finally stopped at 9:30. The pit boss asked us what we wanted, and we requested dinner for 5. He gave us each 20 dollar vouchers. Of course, this was pittance compared to the aggregate $3000 we had one. I ended up being the big winner, cashing out up $900 dollars. Since I had bought in for $100, I really wanted to take my $1000 total and get an orange $1000 chip, but they didn't have any, so I settled for two purple $500 chips. Hey, life's rough sometimes.
On Sunday, we headed over to the Borgata. I played some poker, and a couple other games, and lost a couple hundred. Then, I went over to 3 Card Poker and played for a couple hours. I hit a $600 dollar hand, putting me at $1050 for the trip. Unfortunately, I continued to play a little longer, and by early evening, I was back to up $900. I did fare better than most everyone else, as they had lost a decent amount back to the house, and only a couple of them were still up.
We were gearing up to leave, but I wanted to make one big bet before leaving. On my previous trips, I've waited until I was ready to go, and made one single hundred dollar blackjack bet. The first time I tried it, it was really nerve-wracking, but I won, so I couldn't complain. Then, the second and third times I tried it, it worked as well. It's kind of an unhealthy habit to have, but I figured as long as I did it when I was up, there was very little harm to it.
Now, my only worry is that, like any drug (my choice is apparently adrenaline), I was developing a tolerance. Having played 50 dollar blackjack the previous night, and having had up to 150 dollars on the table for a couple of bets, one single hundred dollar bet didn't seem so exciting any more. Seth suggested that I take 400 of my 900 and either turn it into a grand, or lose it. In the worst case, I'd walk home up 500 dollars, which was not too shabby of a haul. I figured this was my shot for greatness, and for my thousand dollar chip.
I strolled over to the high-limit tables, with Fred and Kevin at my side. I was nervous this time, because I knew that every hand was significant. I sat down at a 100 dollar table between two guys who had stacks of around two thousand dollars. Let me tell you, the high-limit area in the Borgata is pretty nice. I thought I saw one guy sneer at me when I just pulled out four 100 dollar bills from my wallet and lay them on the felt.
The first shoe went kind of quickly. I won one, I lost one. I lost one, then I won one. I never really got above 600 or below 400. The second shoe started, and I was on a roll. I hit a blackjack, winning 150 bucks. I doubled down and one, and that was 200 dollars. Before I knew it, I was up to 850.
They brought in a new dealer, one that dealt as fast as I had ever seen. I briefly considered betting 150 on one hand, so I could just get to my goal and be done. But then I was worried about having to split or double, or not having any money to tip with. In retrospect, that was pretty dumb. So I played another 100 dollar hand and won again! 950! I was almost there! I was going to walk home up 1500 bucks! That would be an impressive haul!
And then the avalanche of pain began. I lost, and lost again. I hit a blackjack, and then lost eight straight hands. 950 dollars disappeared faster than I could sneeze. The dealer hit three blackjacks, and hit 21 a couple times as well. Poof! It was gone!
So, that was it. I was close to greatness. Some of my more cynical readers might note that I actually lost 950 dollars that was mine, but I prefer not to look at it that way. I won 500 dollars over a weekend, and will reach my goal one day soon. I will achieve gambling Greatness.
Kevin planned a trip to Atlantic City for his birthday. Of course, his birthday was in November, but hey, do you really need an excuse to go to AC? At any rate, I drove Kevin and Seth "Tight Pants" Tardiff up on Saturday. The drive was smooth. Fred "Good Pull" Gao and Justin "Schmidt-Faced" Schmidt" were planning to us there. We had a good group.
I always set a limit on my losses. This time I brought 500 dollars, not willing to lose more than that. Atlantic City is usually pretty crowded on the weekends, and this time was no exception, although it certainly wasn't any more crowded than usual. We found a 10 dollar blackjack table, which is about as good as couple be expected.
I was up and down, but won about 30 bucks. I then dropped about 70 bucks somewhere else. Justin and Fred arrived, and threw their bags in my car. We then all proceeded over to Trump Plaza and found a 15 dollar table that had 5 seats open, and made ourselves comfortable.
Right off the bat, things started going well. Most of us were counting cards (a few of us are decent card counters, although it's still work for us), and just having a good time. The dealer (Angela) wasn't too friendly, but we were still goofing around. Justin, in particular, was acting like a big idiot, which ended up paying off.
The count got really good, and we started increasing our bets to around 25 bucks. At some point, both Justin and I got deal 20s against a dealer 5 or 6. I told him that I'd split them if he would. The count was fantastic, and while I'm not sure exactly what it's supposed to be to warrant such a strange move, we went for it, trying to appear that we were just being goofy. I think I won my split, and he lost. The dealer looked at us strangely, and the pit boss came over.
We just played it up, and the pit boss wondered what the hell we were thinking, saying "Why would you give up a sure winner?". We explained that we thought she'd bust, and he couldn't quite see the logic in it. Of course one might expect an experienced pit boss to immediately tell that we were counting, but either he wasn't as experienced as he looked, or he just had seen so many legitimate idiots in his time that our behavior wasn't really that uncommon. We were happy to have him think us fools.
I ended the shoe up around 200 bucks, and everyone else was around even, except for Fred, who had been slowly accumulating his stack. After another great shoe went by, I was back down to even, and everyone else was up a couple hundred. I was a bit frustrated by this point.
The game progressed, and I started betting 20 or 30 bucks. Seth and Fred had been steadily increasing their bets, and were up to 40 or 50 bucks. I usually bet 25 bucks, and for a whole shoe, I couldn't lose. I'd double-down and win 50 bucks at a time. I ended that shoe up around 400 bucks. We did some crazy counting maneuvers in there too, and no one batted an eye, as Justin played up his goofiness, and we all fooled around with the dealer, who had finally been replaced by this point.
The luck continued. Up a few hundred, I now started betting 50 bucks a hand. At one point, on a good count, Justin bet 100 dollars, and split it and doubled down, winning 300 bucks in one fell swoop. There were some huge hands, and some back and forth. Fred, in particular, kept getting stuck with 13s, 14s, and 15s that he had to hit, and always managed to get a soft card that put him around 19 or 20 - hence the name "Good Pull" Gao.
At around 8:00 (we started around 6), the pit boss came over and asked us if we wanted to be rated. We gave him our IDs, and it was pretty opportune, as we all looked like much higher rollers with big stack of chips in front of us and 50 dollar bets on the table.
We finally stopped at 9:30. The pit boss asked us what we wanted, and we requested dinner for 5. He gave us each 20 dollar vouchers. Of course, this was pittance compared to the aggregate $3000 we had one. I ended up being the big winner, cashing out up $900 dollars. Since I had bought in for $100, I really wanted to take my $1000 total and get an orange $1000 chip, but they didn't have any, so I settled for two purple $500 chips. Hey, life's rough sometimes.
On Sunday, we headed over to the Borgata. I played some poker, and a couple other games, and lost a couple hundred. Then, I went over to 3 Card Poker and played for a couple hours. I hit a $600 dollar hand, putting me at $1050 for the trip. Unfortunately, I continued to play a little longer, and by early evening, I was back to up $900. I did fare better than most everyone else, as they had lost a decent amount back to the house, and only a couple of them were still up.
We were gearing up to leave, but I wanted to make one big bet before leaving. On my previous trips, I've waited until I was ready to go, and made one single hundred dollar blackjack bet. The first time I tried it, it was really nerve-wracking, but I won, so I couldn't complain. Then, the second and third times I tried it, it worked as well. It's kind of an unhealthy habit to have, but I figured as long as I did it when I was up, there was very little harm to it.
Now, my only worry is that, like any drug (my choice is apparently adrenaline), I was developing a tolerance. Having played 50 dollar blackjack the previous night, and having had up to 150 dollars on the table for a couple of bets, one single hundred dollar bet didn't seem so exciting any more. Seth suggested that I take 400 of my 900 and either turn it into a grand, or lose it. In the worst case, I'd walk home up 500 dollars, which was not too shabby of a haul. I figured this was my shot for greatness, and for my thousand dollar chip.
I strolled over to the high-limit tables, with Fred and Kevin at my side. I was nervous this time, because I knew that every hand was significant. I sat down at a 100 dollar table between two guys who had stacks of around two thousand dollars. Let me tell you, the high-limit area in the Borgata is pretty nice. I thought I saw one guy sneer at me when I just pulled out four 100 dollar bills from my wallet and lay them on the felt.
The first shoe went kind of quickly. I won one, I lost one. I lost one, then I won one. I never really got above 600 or below 400. The second shoe started, and I was on a roll. I hit a blackjack, winning 150 bucks. I doubled down and one, and that was 200 dollars. Before I knew it, I was up to 850.
They brought in a new dealer, one that dealt as fast as I had ever seen. I briefly considered betting 150 on one hand, so I could just get to my goal and be done. But then I was worried about having to split or double, or not having any money to tip with. In retrospect, that was pretty dumb. So I played another 100 dollar hand and won again! 950! I was almost there! I was going to walk home up 1500 bucks! That would be an impressive haul!
And then the avalanche of pain began. I lost, and lost again. I hit a blackjack, and then lost eight straight hands. 950 dollars disappeared faster than I could sneeze. The dealer hit three blackjacks, and hit 21 a couple times as well. Poof! It was gone!
So, that was it. I was close to greatness. Some of my more cynical readers might note that I actually lost 950 dollars that was mine, but I prefer not to look at it that way. I won 500 dollars over a weekend, and will reach my goal one day soon. I will achieve gambling Greatness.
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