Diary of a novice blackjack player - chapter 1

[Glosterricky]

Diary of a Blackjack Player

1

"Sera nimis vita est crastina, vive hodie....!"

Tiffany, the Senior Stewardess in charge of Economy class, quietly whispers into my ear. "Excuse me Sir, but we are due to land soon. Please fasten your seatbelt." Slowly, I lift my head and gaze around at my fellow passengers. On my left are a middle-aged couple from the Mid-West, judging from their accent, possibly from Colorado or Idaho. They both seem wrapped up in their own little world, avidly discussing their holiday (or ‘vacation’) plans for the forthcoming next few days. Sat alongside my right side, occupying the next three adjacent seats in the centre aisle, are my travelling companions for this trip; Steve, a colleague from my current daytime employment as a Computer Consultant in the South of England, and Dave and Jane, smalltime gamblers that I had met a few years before, during my innocent, initial few months of playing the tables for fun.

I start to think back to my last visit to this monstrosity in the desert: Las Vegas, the gambling and entertainment Mecca of the World. Well, this time things would be different! No longer one of the millions of harmless tourists that flock here every year, this time I was here to actually play the odds and win.

For the benefit of anybody reading this who hasn’t taken a trip to Las Vegas, it might be worth me summarising the main games offered here....Nah, if you haven’t been, then hard cheese, as the rest of this book will make no sense to you either!

The ‘plane starts to bank sharply to the right. Even though it appears from the window that Vegas is slap bang in the middle of a flat moonlike desert, in fact it is surrounded by three main mountain ranges, which means that, for air travel at any rate, it takes almost an hour to bank one way and then the other to negotiate a safe passage straight down to the boiling, late-summer heat, of the tarmac at Las Vegas’ McCarran Inernational Airport, located just 2km south of the world-famous ‘Strip’.

During the descent, the main strip hotels glint in the sun. If you land here during early evening, the mass of neon blazing away amidst a featureless landscape is a unique experience. Luckily for the million or so Las Vegan residents, all the electricity nowadays is powered from the Hoover Dam, 200 or so miles due East from here. In the distance, you can make out the high-rise resorts Downtown, renamed ‘Glitter Gulch’ in the fifties, due to the amount of neon signs and loud flashing garb that each individual Casino uses to advertise its wares. The airport is located at the extreme Southern end of the Strip, so close in fact to several of the hotels, Tropicana, Luxor, that it appears that you can simply walk straight from the aeroplane cabin door directly into one of their air-conditioned plush interior lobbies, and check-in immediately. No such luck for me though...

Most of us on Flight NW015 from London Gatwick are British holidaymakers. That makes us, in theory, undesirable foreigners on Uncle Sams soil. Thus, we are made to endure a hideous US immigration system for what seems like hours, while we are questioned by typically weather-beaten American blondes with such jewels as "No fresh fruit allowed in the US - eat that banana now or drop it buster!", or "Youve spelt Nevada wrong on your visa waiver - to the back of the queue loser!". Yes, we’ve all been there, right?

Anyway, after what seems like days later (it was actually about ninety minutes), we were all through and into the main arrivals lounge. Across from the entrance I noticed my familiar neon sign, "Howdy, Welcome to Las Vegas....be LUCKY !". We’ll see..........

[Gronbog]

Could be an interesting glimpse into the experience of a Vegas tourist 20 years ago. I say continue on.

[Glosterricky]

I still dont know whether its ok to post my old writing here, but heres part 2 anyway.....

Diary of a Blackjack Player

2

"Prævalent Illicita"

Morning breaks in the desert pretty early at Summer time. As the Summer in Nevada usually lasts from end of March until end of September, then obviously this occurs for the majority of the time. Anyway, this particular glorious early September day, the rays of the sun had began to penetrate my thin hotel room curtains at approximately 5:45 am. This isn’t what you need, the day after enduring a fourteen hour transatlantic trek. My eyes strained to pick out the shape of the coffee percolator, the only thing your body craves for first thing in the morning.

After several lukewarm cups of strong American Nescafé, I was just about awake enough to start to adjust to Pacific time and get accustomed to my new surroundings. As seems to be customary during our trips, Steve, my room-mate for the week, had already acquired ninety percent of the storage space, filling numerous drawers and the main wardrobe with strange apparel, definitely only used for our Vegas trips; lamée shirts, sequinned jackets, ‘no fear’ T-shirts, and about twenty-five pairs of assorted footwear - all this just for a week of playing the tables! He was pounding around the room, taking quick glances out of the window, a feint wisp of Lambert & Butler cigarette smoke following his every direction, and every five minutes, as is his now customary trademark, counting and re-counting his days bankroll, down to the last penny. "Twenty, forty, sixty..", "Steve, give us a break mate, I’ve only just woken up!", "What’s the problem? We’re not here to sleep, we can do that at home any time, we’re here to play!", and with that he disappeared out the door, and turned left towards the nearest elevator to take himself seventeen floors down to the main Casino floor.

This left me with a few minutes to contemplate my navel. When just a lad and still at school, I somehow had got myself involved with a group of friends who liked to play cards during lunchtimes; sometimes for pennies, sometimes just for fun. This had then seemed to progress to going into Town at weekends to frequent the local amusement arcades, with their flashing lights and whirring excited noises, the incessant ching ching of ten-pence pieces being jettisoned into some lucky punters payout tray below. For a fourteen- year old adolescent, it was pure heaven, a total escape from the drudgery of double Maths or a wet Wednesday afternoon stuck in the middle of exercise twelve of some obscure Latin grammar text.

On leaving school and commencing full-time employment, I left these ‘divertissements’ behind for a few years until I gained a job working at a medium sized Computer centre for a national bank. Whilst there, trying to be studious and learn the ropes, I met several like-minded persons who all had one thing in common - we all loved a punt - whether it be horses, dogs, or even raindrops on the window, we would bet on it. Unfortunately the size of our betting outlay never quite equated with our Salaries, and what with working for a national bank, this wasn’t quite what their respectable employees were supposed to get upto. "I have to inform you that, as of close of business yesterday, you are overdrawn by...." - this became the usual (and not unexpected) first ‘phone call every first Monday of the month.

During these early years, I became embroiled in a seemingly never ending circle sleep, work and gaming, with some days having, no, needing, to sacrifice one to maintain the other two. Thinking back on it now, initially it was sleep that suffered, but eventually a lack of sleep always catches up with you, so then work started to be affected. My job at the time was to maintain and support computer systems on a 24-hour basis, carrying a pager around and getting ‘phone calls at unearthly hours of the day and night. Obviously, what with a lack of proper sleep your judgement and performance soon starts to slip, so when faced with another day of stress after six or seven hours on the tables, what do you do ? Yes, when the alarm rings in your ear, you don’t really fancy another eight hours of work, you take the other option and...turn over and straight back to sleep! Needless to say, after a few months of this, a decision had to be made.

Eventually I decided, rightly or wrongly, to try to see if I could make the tables pay, and spend my time concentrating on something that I actually enjoyed doing. Unfortunately, I never gave a thought to basics such as what games to play, or even bothered to consider any sort of decent bankroll. With such rash decisions, careers and lives are changed for ever....

The next few months were probably, it seemed it at the time at any rate, the most enjoyable times I have spent so far. The week was carefully planned out, with different Texas Hold ‘Em (poker derivative played throughout the world) locations pencilled in a little black book - Bolton, Stockport, Leeds, Bradford, Stoke, Manchester. Not the most glamorous of locations, I know, but for me they represented an outlet to a better way of life. Who was I kidding? After six months of living like a bat my little escapade was over; a ruined career, house repossessed, several thousand pounds in debt - It was slowly dawning on me that maybe I hadn’t planned this properly at all?

There was a knock at the door. A loud southern drawl emitted "Can I service your room Mister?". Enough of reminiscing; enough of rueful regrets; that was the past. This is the present.

"Sure, come on in - I was just going out anyway" I happily retorted. What with my past experiences to remind me just what could happen if I got careless, I would always stay one step ahead of percentages.

I left our hotel room and sauntered down the corridor, in the direction of the Buffet and future riches - Las Vegas, here I come!

[LVBear584]

On my left are a middle-aged couple from the Mid-West, judging from their accent, possibly from Colorado or Idaho.

Nitpicking: Colorado and Idaho are generally considered to be in the West, and most people from those states have no specific, discernable accent.

I have read only Chapter 1 so far.

[BJGenius007]

On my left are a middle-aged couple from the Mid-West, judging from their accent, possibly from Colorado or Idaho.

Nitpicking: Colorado and Idaho are generally considered to be in the West, and most people from those states have no specific, discernable accent.

I have read only Chapter 1 so far.

Only states in B1G or Big 10 are in the Midwest. Like Ohio, Indiana, Illinois etc. Nebraska is a tough one. I would say Nebraska is in the West, not the Midwest. And Idaho and Colorado are FAR too West.

[Midwest Player]

A couple of more nitpicks.
Hoover dam is only about 33 miles from Las Vegas not 200 miles.
I also don't remember it taking an hour to land.

Please continue with your story.

[Bigdaddy]

I also don't remember it taking an hour to land.

It's close to an hour. That's one of my pet peeves about flying these days. From the time they begin the descent (you hear the slight cutback in the engines), it's 40 minutes to touchdown - too damn long!. They can do it quicker. My friend was on a flight where they thought a passenger was having a heart attack. Guess what - the approach was a steeper 10 minute approach. Keep it going 500 mph until it's time to go down!!

[ZenMaster_Flash]

Sciatica ? Hemorrhoids?

[Glosterricky]

Midwest, of course you are right about hoover dam. I guess I meant it felt like an hour to land, after you initially spot the strip in the distance - after all, you're an English tourist desperate to gamble in vegas and stuck in that aeroplane with all the neon lights twinkling out the window! Ps - Also, I guess I wanted a shoe of BJ quick before they changed the payout from 3 to 2, to 5 to 4 ;-)

[Norm]

I like the story thus far. Writing is not easy.

[Glosterricky]

Ok ok next time ill just write 'from the north american vontinent...somewhere' - would that be slightly more accurate for you? ;-)

[Bubbles]

I am enjoying the read . My boss tells me I should write a book about my journey. Sometimes I think I should. I enjoy reading these sorts of stories and I think others do too. I like the way you write.

[Glosterricky]

Why, thank you - I hoped it would be a nice light read with breakfast