Much like my friend Maudie, I had some goals for this trip, and among them was to spend more time with friends and less at the poker tables, have a fantastic meal or three, and not get sick. I accomplished almost all of them.
It was great getting to see everyone and pass the hours away, but as usual, it never feels like time enough. Waking up Monday morning though, I was ready to get the hell out of dodge. My Saturday tournament table featured Waffles on my left, who was sporting a steady fever along with the same clothes he had worn the night before. Having just gotten over a cold the week before, I threatened his life if he got me sick. I always get sick in Vegas, due to the climate change, lack of sleep, and the pack-a-day habit I typically pick up. This time though, there would be none of that – I could go, have a great time, and come home happy. I am DONE being sick in Vegas, and was going to do everything in my power to NOT.
I haven’t yet worked out the how, but Waffles is a dead man. As if taking me down wasn’t enough, he got Otis too. He deserves your scorn.
I had a 3:30 flight out of Vegas that landed me in Austin at 9:30. If I were healthy, that’d be time enough to play some poker, hang out with some friends, say goodbyes. As it was, I couldn’t wait to get home, so I grabbed an earlier flight to Austin and left the IP on 15 different kinds of tilt. Landed at 4 and was asleep in bed mere hours later.
In chatting with Iggy tonight, we both expressed a certain amount of post-Vegas depression. There are moments I’d like to relive, and things I’d do differently (like stay away from Waffles!), but overall it was a wonderful, fun time. I’m not sure what if anything I can write up, but I’ll try to piece it together into something marginally coherent.
In the meantime, the Sidekick sits relatively quiet, the pretty painful shoes have been replaced with slip-ons, and I miss you all very much. [Except for you Waffles; you can go to hell]