Now this is a pit where all the tables have training wheels. It's designed for neophytes, and seems to appeal to non-serious players on both ends of the age spectrum. Here, the dealers get lots of questions. Game-speed is about as low as you'll find, and player comportment can be, well, taxing. In fact, it's not impossible to hear an occasional cry of "monkey" emanating from this area. In other words, it's a place with all the appeal of a kindergarten playground.

So what was I doing there?

Well, I knew I was too tired to be playing, but since I'd been in town only a few hours -- alone, at that point -- and was mildly bored, I wasn't quite ready to give it up. So, after circling the pits like a sleepy lap-dog, I finally sat down at a shoe-game, intending to play ultra-low stakes for a while.

Turned out to be great fun.

One of the players -- a big guy with maybe four hours' experience -- was explaining the intricacies of the game to his less-experienced (I'd say TWO hours) friend. But the Big Guy, already an expert, was on a mission to educate everyone within range of his voice -- about a quarter-mile, give-or-take.

As it worked out, I still had enough horsepower to keep the count at this slow-motion game, and the conversation provided plenty of entertainment.

About halfway through the shoe with a mildly positive TC, I get a pair of sevens. Dealer has an eight. I elect to hit. Draw a five. I'm happy, in spite of the fact that I did it all wrong. Big Guy points out to his friend: "See, he made a mistake. With two sevens, he could have SPLIT. You PRAY for opportunities like that."

Oh.

A few hands later the TC's up to plus-nine. Big Guy gets 10-4, hits it with a three, and wins the hand when the dealer, who showed a six, busts. But by now the concept of "doubling" has occurred to Big Guy, who says to the dealer, "I guess I played that wrong. Could I have doubled down on that hand?"

"You can double on any two cards," the dealer politely replied.

Darn. Opportunity missed.

We ended the shoe with Big Guy explaining (to everyone) that he still was losing, but would recoup, now that he'd "learned how to play this game."

I was more fortunate, in spite of not knowing when to split. Faced with a nice positive expectation, I'd been unable to resist spreading about seven-to-one, and I got up a $180 winner, betting nickels.

Even so, the entertainment was better than the win.

Good luck, Big Guy. I think you're gonna need it.