Posted by Bond18 | Filed under Bond18
I find myself in seat one of table 4 for the start of Day 3. The top 27 places will pay, with 27th getting 7,500 Euro. There are about three stacks below me, but nobody is extremely short and they’re sure to nit it up to a totally absurd degree. The blinds are 2,000/4,000 with a 400 ante and my 68,500 gives me just over 17 BBs to work with. The cards get in the air a few minutes late and I spend my time chatting to the Swedish guy on my left.
I fold the first four hands, which see minimal action on most tables. On the fifth hand I get involved:
My stack: ~62,000. Villain: ~240K. I hold A-Jo in the SB. Blinds 2,000/4,000 with 400 ante.
Pre-flop: Folds to MP2, MP2 raises to 12,000. MP2 got a big stack yesterday and had been fairly aggressive. He had raised/folded to me twice yesterday when I shoved on him with a 15 BB stack. He seems decent and smart enough to open pretty wide on the bubble. It folds to me in the SB and I move all in. The BB folds and MP2 starts thinking it over. After about 30 seconds of thought, he calls and tables 9-9.
Naturally, a massive crowd gathers around the table when there is word of an all in. Everyone stands around gawking and praying for the 9. I address the crowd
“Hey everyone, always nice to have the whole room rooting for you. I’m getting a real good vibe here, this is cool.”
Cock suckers. Then again if it was someone else all in I’d be the one screaming “BUUUUUUUUST HIS STUPID ASS!!!”
Flop: K-T-4 rainbow
Not a bad start.
Turn: T
One time dealer?
River: 6
The room bursts into celebration.
“Congratulations players! You are now all in the money!”
Man, fuck you people.
I say nothing, button my jacket, and walk out of the room. Strangely, I don’t feel angry. It’s almost too funny to be angry about. Not like I haven’t been in this spot a million times before. Besides, my body is finally coming down from the adrenaline and tension, and for the first time in days I actually feel fairly relaxed.
I walk back to the hotel and tell Celina how everything happened. We decide to go grocery shopping and, while there, I see a cinema next to the store and decide to ask if there are subtitles for the movies. The lady behind the counter tells me the movies are actually in English with Spanish subtitles so I buy two tickets to the new Indiana Jones movie.
The film is a bigger disappointment than the tournament. Walking home I am ranting to Celina “Jesus God, I mean this is Spielberg and Lucas. These guys had two decades to make sure they didn’t fuck that up. How did they fuck that up!? I wanted to like that movie - I was planning on liking it. I mean what the hell was that stupid Tarzan slash monkey army scene? That was like getting an email from George Lucas that reads ‘I think you’re a fucking moron, you should enjoy this monkey scene.’ God damn it. Today is not my day.”
When I go to sleep I pass into one of my exhaustion-induced coma states. I don’t wake up until around 8PM. So much for seeing Barcelona.
Celina and I go back to the theatre and catch Iron Man. It is everything it should be and Robert Downey Jr. is perfect. I spend most of my night watching season 1 of the The Wire, which is just as good as everyone says it is.
I don’t head off to Vegas until the 31st, where I’ll be playing the first 1,500 NL Hold ‘em event and then playing a tournament every single day after that, minus a few days where I go back to Wisconsin to see my family. My sleep schedule is completely ruined so I won’t actually get to see a ton of Barcelona and do the tourist stuff, so I’ll likely just relax and play a little online poker just to restore my sanity. My writing over the next few days will likely be of the more creative/ random comic type, since a trip report that reads “I sat in my hotel room, went to dinner, then played online poker” doesn’t seem like anything worth reading.
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