Grubby at PokerWorks

One day I’ll wake up and realize slot machines are just not fun anymore.

The day that happens I’ll be out of a job.

Contrary to what you might think, people who make slots don’t try to squeeze out every last penny from the player but instead make the game as fun and as exciting as possible to make your money last. And if you happen to come away winning a little or a lot, even better.

This was most heartening about the job and working with mathematicians who’d give the good news that we had some extra money to spend, which meant we could give back more to the player.

Arriving in Vegas on a Wednesday night, I was prepared to get lots of sleep before hooking up with the bloggers.

The plane ride was uneventful and because I’ve had the same damn two movies from Netflix for the past six months, I haven’t rented anything new, so all the movies onboard were new to me. From east to west we saw Breach, about traitor Robert Hansen who was arrested in my hometown. Liked it very much in a two-hander theatrical play sort of way until the end — him saying “pray for me” suddenly made him weak, and I think a better, more sinister choice would’ve been to keep him in the power position and tell the kid that he’s been mentoring, “I’ll pray for you.” As in, this job will suck the life out of you so much that you’ll have no choice but to become like me.

Next to me was a hot Russian girl reading a Russian gossip rag with a photo of Brad Pitt surrounded by text in Cyrillic.  Unfortunately, her boyfriend was next to her and they were cozying up so much I thought they’d go for the mile-high club, or клуб мили высокоеклуб мили высокое (I looked that one up).  A stole a few glances at her, and a few times I caught her staring at me, but she was really staring past me at the window and the above-cloud lightning show.

The plane contained about a dozen girls wearing t-shirts labeled Jenny’s Bachelorette Party, and I assumed Jenny was the one wearing the tiara. And contrary to the term “bachelorette party” that usually gets a rise out of me, these girls looked like they were celebrating Jenny’s Homely Party or Jenny’s Transvestite Party.

As usual, I rented a car to avoid the long cab lines. A little trick to getting a free car rental upgrade: reserve the cheapest model and pick up your car late at night (after midnight). The past several rentals, I’ve been upgraded to a Jeep Wrangler, a PT Cruiser, a Caliber, and a Sebring because they didn’t have my model in stock.

All rentals are now consolidated into one mammoth location, closer to the south side of the Strip than the airport.

Picked up the car (which was last rented by a woman from Alaska, her left behind receipt said), ran over some old ladies, and headed to Westin. I didn’t intend to, it’s just the car seemed to be programmed with that destination.

Had $50 (and an added $40 surprise) in freeplay and played it 1x through Super Jackpot Party on an old burned-in screen. Hit one bonus, including the Whack-a-Pooper, where I take a mallet and whack party guests on the noggin for credits or extra whacks — there’s something vaguely sexual in this game. After whacking the guests, I pooped out with the very next selection. Cashed out at $80, losing about 10 percent of the freeplay.

For some reason, Westin has removed their ticket machines, so I couldn’t immediately cash out. The cashier was open, but it was the same woman who had noticed the extra $40 in freeplay on my account, and loaded $90 in freeplay on my card. I didn’t want to cash out with her because I didn’t want to hear possible small talk about how fast I was in and out (I hear that enough, ahem).

There’s some damn twisted psychology there. Why should I care? Why not just nod, agree, and take the cash? Who’s to say she’d even remember me? What did it matter?

I looked at the ticket and saw it expired in 60 days. Knowing I’d be back in a few weeks, I considered walking out with the ticket and returning in July to use it alongside another $50 freeplay coupon.

Or I could just play some more.

Famous last words, and I spent the next hour on Pelican Pete chasing the bonus. Pelican Pete has a fun free spin bonus round where any WILD symbols that appear hold throughout the duration of the free spins. I hit the bonus three times (one time at max bet), but each instance returned little. Was up another $30 at one point, then gave it all back, including the freeplay winnings and another $80 of my own.

Tail between my legs, I slinked over to Harrah’s to check in.

My room was on the Health Club floor and the view was of dried vomit, but it’s closest to the elevator on a low floor.  Easy access!

It was 4 a.m. Chicago time and I could’ve gotten a good night’s sleep and gotten up early to play in a tournament. I was already in the room, for goodness sake.

Or I could just play some more.

Because, see, it’s multiplier day. For every point you earn, you get 2 points. Each point earned at Harrah’s is $5 coin-in, and every 100 points is $1 in comps.

And I’m a slave to comps.

Roamed around the slot floor and it looked like the new private equity owners are revamping — the lobby will be redone and the sports bar is being remodeled, with that construction taking the space of a dozen or so slots that used to be there. I thought Harrah’s would squeeze those games somewhere else, but it seemed they just removed them.

Ran $100 each through new slots Luau Loot and Gusher and had a horrible time. Never hit the bonus once, and hardly even hit any pays. The most was 10x my bet.

Next to them was the new Wrap Around Reels slots King of the Wild and Great Eagle. People were crowded around and having a good time on these, with many Big Wins, and I sat down when an opening came up.

The new concept here is that wins can start on any reel. In addition to regular paylines on reels 1, 2, 3, 4, and 5, you also get paylines from reels 2, 3, 4, 5, and 1. Then on reels 3, 4, 5, 1, 2, and so on.

Plus, all symbols are stacked, with many of the same symbols together in a row. Sort of like the CTA bus system when one doesn’t show up for 25 minutes and then you see a row of four back-to-back buses. Only in slots, it’s a positive thing.

So those formerly cock-blocking symbols that appear on reel 2 are no longer hated because you can still get paid with them acting as reel 1.

Had a good time on Great Eagle and hit the bonus a few times. A woman next to me noticed her long losing streaks and swore that the machines were connected so that if one paid well, the others wouldn’t.

Me, I was satisfied with the number of bonuses I hit and the small wins that kept me in the game, unlike Luau Loot and Gusher, both of which I would’ve spat on had my White Russian arrival not taken longer than my money lasted.

During one bonus, I hit for $150 on a $1 spin, cashed out, and moved on. In retrospect, I should’ve just left completely, rebooked my flight, and flown home, because that would be the most I’d win the whole trip.

It was all downhill from there.

Played the new G+ games Zeus (hit 30x my bet), Brazilian Beauty, and Jungle Wild. Didn’t get anywhere. I really like this bold new interface and I find myself humming some of the tunes late at night.

New games were dark — Thai Treasures, Palace of Riches II, and Village People Party — and were up and running the next day.

Bally had a game called Devils & Diamonds (or Diamonds & Devils) with a 75 cent max bet. The free spins were fun — like Pelican Pete, the WILDs held, except they’d move up or down one position. The top screen had a devil shoveling coal into an industrial revolution contraption.

A bank of four Top Gun games were installed in the back, with chairs attached containing a subwoofer and surround sound speakers.

Wandered around and ran money through Monopoly Big Event, African Diamond, Rawhide, Club Moulin, White Orchird, Silver Express (a fun art deco train theme, but with some symbols too out there), Klondike Treasure (possibly the best-looking art I’ve seen in a slot game), Golden Archer (which replaced the matador game and is still using the mechanical buttons that say matador), and the cursed Mr. Cashman.

My love affair with sir Cashman is over, yet I continue to return from memories of good times. Hit nothing on African Dusk, Panda Pays, and Jewel of the Enchantress. Not even anything close.

Sat next to a woman who kept hitting the bonus in the new game Super Happy Fortune Cat. The cat’s not just happy but super happy, how can you resist not playing?

I played the machine next to it, Up Size Me, a horrid little thing with rinky dink sounds and a confusing bonus that gave 15 free spins on a 3-reel game with expanding wilds, and for the life of me I couldn’t figure it out. But it paid 50x my bet, and I was left wanting more so much that I ran down my winnings and buy-in while waiting for the woman to leave.

The woman kept getting the cats and drew the cocktail waitress’ attention, who loved just saying the name of the game. By the time I returned, the woman had cashed out for over $600.

I wanted to pick up on the cat, but I was out of money, which included the $880 I brought plus $500 from the ATM. Harrah’s ATMs charge $4.99, just in case you want to feel raped again when you check your bank statement.

***

On Thursday, I headed to the Las Vegas Outlet Center, a long indoor strip mall on Las Vegas Blvd. South of shop upon shop of discounted clothing.

It’s been ages since I’ve bought clothes, and seeing as how I didn’t have time to do laundry and just shoved what clean clothes I had into my carry-on, I picked up a few new shirts and shorts until the slot loss was almost a memory.

Addiction comes in all forms, and I’d probably have a shopping addiction if I didn’t already throw any money I had on gambling. This is the main reason I can’t do any drugs, because I know I’d slip into it far too easily.

Blogger bowling was to take place that night, but I was too down on my first day’s loss to socialize, so I put on the new clothes, took off the new clothes in order to buy a pair of scissors to cut off the tags, then put on the new clothes again and headed to the poker room.

Pulled out another $500 from a different debit card because I was already at the daily max on the other one. Cursed Harrah’s at the $4.99 fee, then avoided all slots on the way to a 1/2 NL game.

The table was half friendly and half full of tension, primarily from one guy wearing Phil Ivey headphones and staring into my empty soul like only a 1/2 player can do. He called and bluffed far too often, and he blew off a couple stacks before he cashed out a rack and a stack.

I pulled a beat on a weightlifter from Texas named Dan (12 pounds at birth, he said) who from then on kept talking about it and pointing me out to new players as the guy who calls big raises fishing for a 3-outer.

My hand was AQ spades. Dan was raising every hand and this time he raised $15 preflop. I called along with two others, and we saw a flop of 10-J-x with two spades and lots of flush and straight outs, including the overcards.

He bet $25, and I was going to raise until I saw a player to my left reach for his chips. I called and he called.

Turn was blank.

Dan bet $25 again. This was an easy call, but I now regretted not raising to get the other player out. I felt I was good against Dan, or if not good, I could take him off his hand. I didn’t know about the mystery player, though.

I should’ve raised here because Dan’s same bet indicated he didn’t have anything. But I was afraid of the other caller after me reraising. If I called Dan’s bet and the caller raised, I could call a small raise. But if I raised and the caller pushed… I’d have to fold.

So I decided to call to see what happened. The other player just called again.

The river gave me a straight with a King.

Dan again bet $25. The caller after me had his hands on his cards, looking like he was ready to fold. The great thing about playing live is all the added information.  Plus the free drinks.

I paused a bit, then shoved out a quick $100.

The other player folded.

Dan made the correct read, saying if I hit the straight he’d pay me off because he has two pair.

He showed K10o.

Dan would talk about this hand for the next few hours, and each time he talked about it he’d change it a little to make him seem better and me seem worse.

Which I didn’t mind, but after awhile it became tedious, and about 4 a.m., I cashed up $500 and left, as I was starting to donk off chips.

Meanwhile, Dan was into the game for at least five $300 buy-ins.

One other noteworthy hand was a French guy who was a dead ringer for Roberto Benigni sat down next to a guy from Boston, who said he was folding big hands because he didn’t have the benefit of knowing how anyone played and would need 15 minutes to study and get reads on everyone.

I pulled a bluff against him, which he folded face up after he looked at me and I asked if it was 15 minutes yet.

Later, Boston was 30 minutes into the game when he raised with Aces and pushed on a two-suited flop.

Benigni called on the flush draw, which came on the river. Boston exploded, pounding the table and yelling, “Fucking God!” before storming out.

I’m not religious, but man, even I was offended at this blasphemy and felt I should do a couple Hail Marys and Act of Contrition.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, June 26th, 2007 at 12:59 am and is filed under Uncategorized.