Well, I've figured out the downside to wearing a watch... I drove off today and left my cell phone sitting on my bed. Actually, I drove off and left it under the covers--before I left the house, I did a 'bachelor style' bed-making, where you just shake out the covers and let them fall wherever, so the bed doesn't look exactly unmade, but it's not exactly neat, either. Well, I did that, and my cell phone and all of the tv remotes were under the covers when I left.
Since I don't use my cellphone to tell time anymore, I'm not constantly taking it out of my pocket and checking the clock. I just look at my wrist, like pretty much everyone else does. And unless I need to make a call, I forget that it's there until it rings. And I had a pocket full of stuff when I left the house--my camera, a lighter, a cigar cutter, my keys, a card protector, the change on my desk, and my phone (I thought).
But I didn't really have my phone. I just didn't know it for several hours.
Anyhow, around noon, I left the house, and the plan was to get some lunch and go play some poker. Of course I went to the Omelet House again, but this time I got a cheeseburger and fries, with a Coke. It was good, your average diner burger, but nothing to get too excited about. I think I'll just stick to breakfast from now on whenever I go there. And my favorite gal Marcie wasn't working either, so it was an uneventful meal.
Once I paid my tab, I headed over to Vegas proper, hoping to get into the afternoon tourney at Planet Hollywood. I was there about 45 minutes early, so I hit the $10 Pai Gow table again. After a half an hour, I was up one single dollar, so I gave it to the dealer and headed back over to the poker area.
That's when I suddenly felt naked. I went to text Eric and Dougie and give 'em the breakdown, like I normally do when I get into a tourney, because they like to follow my exploits. But I was freakin' out there for a few minutes, emptying my pockets all over the table (luckily there was nothing embarrassing in there), looking for my phone. I gave up after a bit, trying to convince myself that it'd fallen out of my overstuffed pocket and was sitting on the seat of my truck.
I don't know about the rest of you, but damn, I feel absolutely naked without my phone. I mean, I'm a slave to the poker room, on call 24/7 so I have to have it with me at all times, but it's just one of those things that I can't function without. Besides this computer, it's my only connection to the outside world.
So I was off to a rough start. I tried to convince myself that all was well and that I'd get my phone back, but it was tough to concentrate. A recipe for disaster in a poker tournament--if I were smart, I probably would've gotten a refund and gone to look for it. I was too preoccupied to play my best.
But I managed to do ok once we got started. There were about 45 players total, and I knocked a couple of people out early, so I had a good chip stack going. Of course, Ace-Queen and pocket Jacks made an appearance, taking me down a notch or two because neither hand could win, and at one point, when we were down to two tables, I thought I was the luckiest guy in the world because I looked down to see pocket Aces when the guy on my right pushed all-in preflop. Of course I made the call, and was happy to see his pocket Sevens. Before the flop even came out, the guy in the big blind said that he folded a Seven, also. So I liked my chances.
You all know how that hand ended--they guy caught the case Seven on the river and doubled up through me.
Even though I was crippled, I made it to the final table. Actually, the final table only had nine players, because once we went hand-for-hand, there was a three-way all in and the big stack won, knocking out two players at once.
But I was the short stack, and they were paying only six places. Of course I wanted a chop! Nobody wanted to do it, especially when they saw my lame excuse for a bankroll. I managed to avoid being the first one knocked out at the final table, though. A couple of other guys tangled, and the smaller stack lost, so I found myself two spots from the money with pocket Queens. Every chip I had went into the pot.
I got one caller--he had pocket Kings. And yeah, they held up. Ouch. So I guess the only thing worse than being the bubble boy is being the double-bubble boy.
Pissed off, and having forgotten about my phone, briefly, I stopped when I saw the rarest of creatures on the Strip, a $5 dice table. So I bought in for a hundy, thinking I'd make my tournament buy-in back. After all, it's the season of miracles!
No such luck--I was doing the come-bet thing, which I've decided is far superior to place betting, but I just couldn't get any repeats. I lasted about a half hour and gave up in disgust, leaving my last seven bucks for the dealers, mostly because I was too lazy to walk to the cage.
Once I got back down to the valet, my apprehension regarding my cellphone started to gnaw at me. And when my truck arrived, and it *wasn't* sitting on the seat, then I panicked. Nope, the valet guys hadn't seen it, either. I basically tore my truck apart right there at the hotel entrance looking for my phone, but I gave up in defeat after a few minutes and drove on home. Losing the phone wasn't so bad, I told myself, I've got the cash to replace it, but losing the Sim-card would be a real bitch.
When I got back home, I gathered up the mail and came upstairs. I sat down on my partially-made bed, and heard a tell-tale beep coming from under the covers.
Woo hoo!!! It wasn't lost, but then I had another brief panic--the beep was notifying me of missed calls, and when I checked, I had three missed calls and a couple of voicemails. Damn. I just *knew* that I missed a shift at work...
But no, that wasn't the case--it seems that a couple of my sisters decided to call me this afternoon, so no, I didn't miss out on anything at work. So I listened to my messages and then called 'em back, feeling much better about my day, even though it kinda sucked up to that point.
Now that I'm home, I'm home for the night. I've got me some cheese, fruit, and crackers for dinner, along with a bottle of the Pellegrino. And I'm just gonna chill here in front of the football game for a bit, then watch a little bit of stuff from the DVR before calling it a night. I've got to work the day shift tomorrow--a couple of easy hours doing the tournament, then an afternoon full of cash games.
Once I scoot out of work, I'm gonna stop and get some eggnog and a few other goodies so that my Christmas Eve isn't a complete waste, but then I'm gonna hole up in my hermit cave for 30 hours or so, with nothing but old movies and the three Christmas ghosts to keep me company until I go back to the casino.
I wish my Christmas were different this year, but this is the business we chose...
I may do some writing, I may not. I dunno. I'm feeling kind of hum-buggish about the whole thing right now.