I won a tournament!

Now, before you get all excited, it’s almost ironic.

No, maybe “ironic” is not the word I’m looking for. How can I explain this? What’s the analogy I’m seeking…?

Ok.

Say you’re a chicken. And say your goal in life was to lay the prettiest egg and win The Prettiest Egg Contest. Because that’s a thing. And you tried and you tried but you never won. You came 2^nd. You came 3^rd. You came 11^th. But somehow that gold medal podium always managed to escape your grasp.

And say that you finally, after years of trying, you finally, finally won the prettiest egg contest but found out that on that day most of the really talented chickens, the ones that regularly won the contest, were competing in a bigger, more prestigious contest.

And maybe that’s why you won.

So, you won, but it kinda feels… tainted?

You know?

And also the trophy (because chickens compete for trophies) for that particular pettiest egg contest – the one you won – was way smaller and less significant than the trophies you’d generally been competing for.

So, yeah, you won, but somehow it’s a little bittersweet. And when you brag to the other chickens that you won, they’re going to get excited for you, but then you’ll be obligated to elaborate.

And they’ll go “Ohhhhh, THAT’S the contest that you won? THAT one?”

And they’ll smile that condescending chicken smile, you know the one, and then waddle off and snicker because you won such a piddly little prettiest egg contest, that it’s almost not worth talking about? In fact, it’s almost something of an embarrassment?

I think you feel me. I think it’s a pretty universal analogy.

But you still won, right? You still laid a really pretty egg, after all. I mean, FUCK those other chickens! Fuck them for pissing on your parade. You won, Goddammit! You should celebrate your damn chicken self!

***

Chicken analogies aside, let me recap what’s happened here in Vegas since we last spoke on Sunday night.

On Monday morning I hung out with my friend Randy and his beautiful wife, Debbie, at their pool at The Aria Hotel. And then at 11:00 AM I played in the $800 tournament there.

I played so well. Out of 300 entrants I was alive and thriving with 60 people left. 48 would get paid so we were close to the bubble when I looked down at a pair of red queens and eventually got it all-in (as one does) but unfortunately, my opponent had AA and that was that.  Disappointing, but what can you do?

The timing was perfect, however, to sign onto their nightly $300 tournament. I played well again and finished 17^th out of 191 people and cashed for $735.

I know, not much, but better than stepping in molasses with your bare feet.

I left the Aria at 2:45 AM which means I’d played poker for 15 and three quarters straight hours. I walked back to my Paris Hotel on a very empty Las Vegas Boulevard.

You’d think that’d be enough poker for one trip for one old Jew, eh?

You’d be wrong.

Since I was leaving on the redeye Tuesday night, I had a whole day to kill. And most Vegas tournaments would finish way too late for me to make my plane.

But then I remembered that Caesars Palace runs four daily tournaments, mini-events with $100 entries, and they are fast contests only taking about five hours. What a perfect way to kill my last day.

So, I wandered right across the street (which in Vegas means a 30-minute walk) and signed up to their 2:00 PM tournament figuring that even if I won the damn thing (and what are the chances of THAT happening!) I’d be finished in plenty of time to get back to my hotel, pack, and UBER to the airport.

What are the chances?

Pretty damn good I would say retrospectively! Pretty! Damn! Good!

I put on a clinic. And exactly five and a half hours later, there I sat with all 2.1 million chips in my stack.

Possibly one of my greatest regrets in life will be that I was so excited to win that I forgot to get anyone to take the obligatory photo of me with all those stacks of chips in front of me holding the ultimate winning hand up (a pair of jacks) while sporting a moronic grin. That woulda looked real sweet in this blogpost.

I won $1995.

It’s not my biggest cash. It’s not even in the top ten.

But it’s my first time winning a poker tournament in a recognized casino.

So go ahead and smirk your chicken smiles, I don’t care, I’m strutting my feathers.

***

All in all, this was a really fun trip. I got to hang out with my poker partner Domenic for a while. I got to have dinner and hang out with Debbie and Randy, who is one of my oldest besties.

And there was profit, albeit modest. I played a shitload of poker, which was the idea.

And I won a tournament. Did I mention I won a tournament? I won a tournament.