Pelerus
Well-Known Member
Just returned from Vegas on the red-eye to Boston Saturday morning and would like to share the results of my first trip out to the desert.
After arriving late night on Monday, I found myself, probably like most Vegas virgins, awed by the surreal nature of the Strip. After checking into my hotel on the south Strip, I walked slowly north in a dreamlike state induced by the sensory overload. Crossing over the pedestrian bridge from Excalibur to the Tropicana, I had to stop for about five minutes to catch my breath.
But then it was down to business. :whip:
Over the next four days, I frequented about seven casinos selected from CBJN for their lower minimums and reasonably good conditions. And the result was....
Trashed at the Tropicana,
Mauled at the MGM,
Vanquished at the Vegas Club,
Plastered at the Plaza,
Maimed at the Main Street Station,
and coolered and cold-decked at just about every joint I set foot in. For all that, I ended the trip with a measly $150 win, a very disappointing result for about 45+ hours of play. The worst was a loss of $600 in one shoe from Hell at the Trop (and I was only spreading to a max of $80 in that instance
).
And aside from my first deep fried Twinkie :grin:, this trip held another first for me as well: my first back-off. I had just emerged from consecutive poundings at the Vegas Club and the Plaza and was steaming a bit when I entered one small casino in the downtown area with a somewhat deeply dealt double deck game. The lone blackjack pit had two active tables, and the double decker I sat down at was occupied by only one other player: a fairly consistent five dollar flat bettor.
I adopted an aggressive $5 to $60 spread, and after about 20 minutes I noticed a real old school, Al Pacino-looking pit boss replete with gold watch, bracelet and rings taking an active interest in our humble game. Despite having no real experience with casino heat, I instinctively tighted up my play under his scrutinizing gaze, lowering my spread and ultimately not raising my bets at all when he was there. I also employed several camo plays, such as betting $10 or 15 instead of only $5 off the top and waiting a round before raising my bet after a jump in the count.
After the first dealer returned following the rotation, I received my next warning sign: a "checks play" whenever I raised my bet by as little as even 25 dollars! I had never heard a checks called for that paltry a bet before. In hindsight, I believe that the boss was wise to me not raising my bet when he was present (at this tiny casino, he was also the overseer of the craps game!) At that point, I certainly could have left, and recognized that I probably should have, but I instead forged ahead - as much out of curiosity as anything else.
Toward the end, he returned following a checks call when I had a bet of $45 out. The count was +4, and the dealer turned over an ace while I had eleven. After pausing for a moment, I declined the insurance offer (the Zen TC for insurance is +5). She didn't have blackjack, so I doubled down (Zen +2 risk averse required for doubling 11vA) and nailed a queen for 21 and a 90 dollar win. I knew after him seeing that that my minutes were numbered, and sure enough another suit came into the pit soon after after and the two had a little conversation.
A minute or two later, the second more cordial suit nonchalantly said to me from across the pit, "We're going to flat bet you - five dollars per hand from now on." Looking at him quizically, he remarked, again good-naturedly, "We both know you're right on. We're not going to kick you out, but you can only flat bet from now on." And with a wink, "Or go to one of the other joints where you won't get caught." In spite of myself, I could only smile and say "I appreciate you not kicking me out." I played another few hands at $5 to return some of the respect he had shown me, and then made an uneventful departure. Overall, I think it was about as "nice" a backoff as one can get. And after being scrutinized by the first pit boss, I was just happy not to have been made an offer I couldn't refuse! :devil:
After arriving late night on Monday, I found myself, probably like most Vegas virgins, awed by the surreal nature of the Strip. After checking into my hotel on the south Strip, I walked slowly north in a dreamlike state induced by the sensory overload. Crossing over the pedestrian bridge from Excalibur to the Tropicana, I had to stop for about five minutes to catch my breath.
But then it was down to business. :whip:
Over the next four days, I frequented about seven casinos selected from CBJN for their lower minimums and reasonably good conditions. And the result was....
Trashed at the Tropicana,
Mauled at the MGM,
Vanquished at the Vegas Club,
Plastered at the Plaza,
Maimed at the Main Street Station,
and coolered and cold-decked at just about every joint I set foot in. For all that, I ended the trip with a measly $150 win, a very disappointing result for about 45+ hours of play. The worst was a loss of $600 in one shoe from Hell at the Trop (and I was only spreading to a max of $80 in that instance
).And aside from my first deep fried Twinkie :grin:, this trip held another first for me as well: my first back-off. I had just emerged from consecutive poundings at the Vegas Club and the Plaza and was steaming a bit when I entered one small casino in the downtown area with a somewhat deeply dealt double deck game. The lone blackjack pit had two active tables, and the double decker I sat down at was occupied by only one other player: a fairly consistent five dollar flat bettor.
I adopted an aggressive $5 to $60 spread, and after about 20 minutes I noticed a real old school, Al Pacino-looking pit boss replete with gold watch, bracelet and rings taking an active interest in our humble game. Despite having no real experience with casino heat, I instinctively tighted up my play under his scrutinizing gaze, lowering my spread and ultimately not raising my bets at all when he was there. I also employed several camo plays, such as betting $10 or 15 instead of only $5 off the top and waiting a round before raising my bet after a jump in the count.
After the first dealer returned following the rotation, I received my next warning sign: a "checks play" whenever I raised my bet by as little as even 25 dollars! I had never heard a checks called for that paltry a bet before. In hindsight, I believe that the boss was wise to me not raising my bet when he was present (at this tiny casino, he was also the overseer of the craps game!) At that point, I certainly could have left, and recognized that I probably should have, but I instead forged ahead - as much out of curiosity as anything else.
Toward the end, he returned following a checks call when I had a bet of $45 out. The count was +4, and the dealer turned over an ace while I had eleven. After pausing for a moment, I declined the insurance offer (the Zen TC for insurance is +5). She didn't have blackjack, so I doubled down (Zen +2 risk averse required for doubling 11vA) and nailed a queen for 21 and a 90 dollar win. I knew after him seeing that that my minutes were numbered
, and sure enough another suit came into the pit soon after after and the two had a little conversation.A minute or two later, the second more cordial suit nonchalantly said to me from across the pit, "We're going to flat bet you - five dollars per hand from now on." Looking at him quizically, he remarked, again good-naturedly, "We both know you're right on. We're not going to kick you out, but you can only flat bet from now on." And with a wink, "Or go to one of the other joints where you won't get caught." In spite of myself, I could only smile and say "I appreciate you not kicking me out." I played another few hands at $5 to return some of the respect he had shown me, and then made an uneventful departure. Overall, I think it was about as "nice" a backoff as one can get. And after being scrutinized by the first pit boss, I was just happy not to have been made an offer I couldn't refuse! :devil:
