Archive for October, 2005

If poker’s only a game, why do we play so hard? That thought popped into my head yesterday and has been running around, racing through the hallways, careening off the sidewalls, dancing with the ganglia, and popping to the front of the other thoughts that are crowding around, waiting to be heard and experienced.

I have a complexity of thoughts about that and I can’t/don’t want to share them right now. I still need to allow them to ferment, scrape off the foam, saturate my soul in them, tuck them away in a darkened corridor to ferment some more, and then try to put them into a specific time slot where they are logically patterned and can be interpreted into rational thought.

WTF did I just say? Please catch up…Kee-rist I hate having to spell it out.

Before I hop into the Poker World, this is a little bit of my world.

I’ve been strangely detached from everything that’s going on around me lately. It’s kind of like having a front row seat in a movie without the popcorn and sodas. I just drift along watching the scenes, catching the lines, and simplify it all into a little jumble of life that really has no consequences or bearing on what or where I will be in the next five years.

So! As my ongoing plan develops, I sold my trusty steed a few days ago…my sweet little Toyota Tacoma, Double Cab, dirt munching, 4×4.

This is on order and should be in within the next few weeks. Only picture it in Silver.

This machine is part of my plan. Stay tuned, more on that as the details develop.

Now - without further ado - I return to the action. PokerStars is hosting an Inaugural Blogger Championship NLH Tourney. Check here for the event and action…to date there are 1437 entrants. It’s going to be a toughie but I will be there, trying my best to finish…no explanation needed there.

Bellagio has just been crankin’. The games are slamming, Bobby’s Room has had two games every night, and all the ‘name brands’ are in action and milling through the room.

The players in lower limit games are in awe of the fact that all the ‘name brands’ are there and moving freely about the room. Like what are they supposed to do - teleport themselves from the casino or valet to Bobby’s Room?

It’s funny to watch the newbies ogle and gaggle over the ‘name brands’. And when they hear a list or name being called for a $100-200 or higher, they start jabbering, “Wow! Who could play that high?” - “Can you imagine playing that limit?”

I like that new, clean attitude - the nervous hand that releases chips, the giddy excitement over winning a pot, the chip clatter and table chatter that goes on when people are there to have fun and aren’t trying to mask their emotions and don’t mind explaining why they called a bet or played a hand. I like the seasoned player also. It takes a mix to make poker what it is, which returns me to the question. If poker is only a game, why do we play so hard????

Poker is just as crazy as ever. All the big names are in town and the room is rocking. Doyle hosted a party at Light on Tuesday night - don’t know what the event or occasion was but a lot of players were talking about it in different games. And Doyle was looking rather spiffy in his western hat as he sat outside the room on his motorized chair talking with a couple of ‘dollies’. Bobby’s Room has been w-a-a-a-y active. Of course I’ve managed to veer around it as I sign the E/O and slip quietly out of the room after a few hours. *big smile*

It has occurred to me that I’m missing out on a lot of great events, that I could be writing about, by doing the E/O thang…not to mention the $$$. What am I thinking??? Long story but it will eventually come out.

My first game tonight was one of final event tables. The final event of Festa Al Lago is the Doyle Brunson North American Poker Championship. BTW there were 420 entries, 213 left at the end of the day, and Chau Giang is the chip leader. GO CHAU!!!! I was in the main Poker Room and even though we have shuffle machines, the Fontana Tables don’t have them so we have to shuffle by hand. The players were on a 15 minute break when I sat down. When the Tournament resumed, the antes were $75, blinds $300-600, and the players I knew at the table were Thor Hanson - 1s, Dewey Tomko - 4s, and Rodeen Talebi was in the 10s.

An incident that shows how important it is for players to act in turn, happened in my down. The 1s was the SB, Thor the BB, Rodeen the Button. Everyone folded to Rodeen, the 1s threw his hand away even though I was doing, “TIME. TIME.”

Of course the 1s apologized but it opened the door for Rodeen. He raised - I believe it went to $2,000. Thor called. The Flop was 10-8-2. Who bet what, I can’t remember. Thor ended up all-in and Rodeen had him covered. Thor turned over 10-8 of Spades and Rodeen turned over 8-2 of Clubs. A blank on the Turn - a little deuce on the River.

After Thor left the table and Rodeen was stacking chips, Rodeen voiced what had happened. When the SB folded out of Turn and Rodeen raised, Thor thought Rodeen was stealing. And Rodeen said that he was stealing.

Sometimes you can get caught stealing and still win the pot but if the 1s had held his hand…

I made a super idiot mistake tonight. It was $300-600 Mixed, Table 4, a nice field of faces, and on the very first hand I dealt, Lance - 1s, and Carlos - 2s were heads-up in Deuce to 7 Triple Draw.

I must have been a million miles away or… Well anyway, I dropped the deck after the second draw. I just knew I had three burn cards out and they were finished. Yeah right! They never slowed down with bets and raises and Lance wanted one more card, Carlos rapped pat, and Linda was in shock.

Lance asked Carlos if he wanted to split the pot because of the error, Carlos said, “No.”

I called for a decision. The deck was intact on top of the muck, Kamell had me just burn and give Lance the top card. Lance paired. Carlos showed an eight.

I apologized - several times. I especially have to be thankful for the way Lance handled it. He’s easy on dealers and he let it slip away like smoke in the wind…at least it appeared that way. He doesn’t mutter and grumble and zing cards; he just plays the game.

Ali was in this game and a few minutes later, he said he was ‘playing behind’. I told him he couldn’t. It’s like a never-ending discrepancy in our high limit games. Some of us dealers know that it’s not allowed and some don’t. It’s hard to enforce when the dealer’s before me haven’t been doing it. I ended up getting a statement from Tim, Floor Person, to verify it for the Table’s sake.

Jimmy W. was in the 3s, he split a pot with Carlos in Omaha 8 or Better. The pot had $300 in it and all their bets were in front of them, they took those back, I put two $100 chips in front of Jimmy and one $100 chip in front of Carlos and asked Jimmy to give Carlos $50. Jimmy asked if there was $300 in the pot, as I was saying yes to Jimmy Carlos threw Jimmy $50.

I looked at Jimmy, more of a questioning look, because I didn’t see Carlos grab one of the $100 chips in front of Jimmy. Carlos said something to Jimmy and Jimmy said, “She’s looking at me like I stole something.”

I laughed…more of an abrupt exclamation than an actual laugh, and started to say ‘no’ but Jimmy finished it with the fact that Carlos had taken the $100.

It’s funny but it’s not. The reason I looked at Jimmy is that once I make a mistake in a game, I’m good for two or three more…Murphy’s Law.

It must have been a night for mistakes. David was pushing me but he went right on by me and pushed the next table. No biggie because we all do it sooner or later but it dawned on him about five minutes after he sat down…I was just getting ready to notify the Floor that I hadn’t been pushed. David and I just switched tables while Jason stood over Table 5 and waited for me to get there.

This puts David and me facing each other, about 10 to 12 feet apart. He was having a terrible time in the game I’d just left. He’s an excellent dealer but something went awry and he had to call the Floor for a decision too. Then Ali, David L., and another player switched seats and it created a disruption because of the Blinds. I was watching David’s frustration grow - his face told the story.

I…in the meantime…was chuckling my butt off. Dealing Chinese - $200 a point - to Tim Phan and Paul Phillips. They were more than entertaining as they traded chips, hand motions, and words.

Then I raced for the outside air…E/O time.

The skies been crying, it’s wonderfully chilly feeling, and wet…summer’s over.

Don’t think the railbirds only hang out in casino poker rooms. They are everywhere. I got tagged by one in cyberspace a few days ago. He didn’t catch me through the chat function in a poker game I was in - he caught me through AIM. It was a cold call. I will admit I was slightly startled by the intrusion as he wasn’t on my buddy list and I had no idea what/who was in progress when he popped in. It went like this:

Session Start (lrgeenen:pokergod05): Thu Oct 13 16:24:44 2005
[16:24] pokergod05: hi
[16:25] lrgeenen: hi.
[16:25] lrgeenen: who?
[16:25] pokergod05: Hi, I am only 16, but have won almost 2k playing poker live w/ buddies…….So i’m looking around for a small time backer to stake me some cash over at pokerstars…….I was in fact staked once on stars 25$ and was able to get it up to 200$ however after i paid my backer 75$ I became VERY stupid as far as bankroll management and emotional management(both things that were strong factors in my success before losing it all).

Anyways, my mind is right again and I’m ready to play and win for whoever is willing to back me. I will payback 150% and will be able to send it back within 2-3 weeks(pending how much u send)
[16:27] lrgeenen: $0 - that’s what I would send.
[16:27] lrgeenen: But I wish you luck.
Session Close (pokergod05): Thu Oct 13 16:27:45 2005

Session Start (lrgeenen:pokergod05): Thu Oct 13 16:27:54 2005
[16:27] pokergod05: ok thank you.
Session Close (pokergod05): Thu Oct 13 16:28:06 2005

Session Start (lrgeenen:pokergod05): Thu Oct 13 16:28:14 2005
[16:28] pokergod05: I know you dont know me or anything, but mind if i ask why you wont give me a shot bro?
[16:28] lrgeenen: I work and deal in live poker. There are always people asking to be staked. If I want to put someone in a game, it’s myself.
[16:29] pokergod05: so u wont help me out and send like 5$ to start up playing online(it takes 2 seconds, “requests” then “transfer money”)
[16:30] lrgeenen: OMG! I can’t believe you can’t take no for an answer. But the answer still is “NO”.
[16:31] pokergod05: ok
[16:31] pokergod05: u know any1 who might be interested?
[16:31] lrgeenen: nope, not right off hand.
[16:32] pokergod05: ok
[16:32] pokergod05: well if u run into some1, can u im me?
[16:37] lrgeenen: sure
[16:37] pokergod05: thanks dawg

There you have it, my friends. If any of you want to contribute to a supposedly underage person that has already learned the fine art of begging, please jump.

But on to poker in the real world: While dealing a four handed (two walkers) $80-160 H, Must Move game, one of the strangest incidences I’ve ever experienced with Barry S. happened. Barry walked up to the table and asked what we were playing, question answered, he enthusiastically stated, “I want to play!”

He sat right down, took the blind, the brush person went for his chips, Roger E., on Barry’s right handed Barry a stack to play on until his chips arrived, the bet was raised, and Barry called. Barry and the 2s were heads-up. The Flop: 7-7-5. I honestly can’t remember what the action was on the Flop or the Turn that brought an 8.

A King popped off on the River, Barry bet, the 2s raised, Barry called, and Barry’s chips arrived at the same time.

The 2s turned up 5-5 with something like, “I can’t beat a bigger full house.”

Barry looked like someone let the air out of him. He shuffled his cards for half a second, jumped up and started putting his chips in a rack as he stated something to the effect that he wasn’t playing with assholes.

The 2s said, “If I said something wrong, I’m sorry.”

Barry kept stacking and continued to look at the table and the chips he was racking up.

The 2s asked, “Would you tell me what I did?”

Barry left.

The 2s specifically asked me if he’d done anything wrong. I told him, “No.”

Roger said, “Maybe it’s because I said, ‘Welcome to the game!’”

What just happened there? I’m still surprised by the whole thing. Barry’s been around the tables a long, long time. Maybe he just got knocked out of the tournament or something else was going on in his life before he joined the table.

One of the “walkers” returned and the game went on. Jim M. was playing on Table 4 and I overheard him say, “None of you noticed. I’ve been quiet for 63 minutes.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle. Usually the only time he’s quiet is when he’s got a bet with someone or he’s threatened by the floor that he has to be quiet or leave the game. He came by my game, stopped to chitty-chat with the players in general, “What are you playing here?” and a few other queries.

I said, “Hey Jim, I heard you were quiet for 63 minutes,” and I started laughing.

He waited until I pushed the pot, then leaned across the table - yes, he’s tall and lean - and did a mock smooch on my face…damn, his stubbly growth is scratchy, and then acted like he snatched some chips out of the pot I pushed. He held up his hand, claiming to have snagged two chips and no one even knew it. Funny guy!

My work week was over…E/O on Thursday and Friday after dealing a few hours each night, Saturday’s Pan Game - at my house - played poker so Dave could deal to us, and tomorrow will find me back at Bellagio. C U there!

Get in gear you lazy turtle! Wait…I’m not in Aruba. But my catching up with what’s going on currently is kind of like ‘running on island time’.

Monday night - the 10th, found me back at Bellagio. Festa al Lago was in high gear and I even got to deal five downs of it in The Fontana. Of course I had to embarrass myself on two different counts when someone went all-in and I counted down their chips. I gave the wrong chip count. I have the worst time with that. Perhaps I’m a blonde in disguise, or still in Aruba, but whatever the case, I wish I could just get with it. I know what a stack of $500 and $1,000 and $10,000 are yet when they have stacks and stacks of all of them and I have to count them down, I lose it somewhere. Ahhh…maybe it’s because I try to E/O instead of working. If I worked, I’d become familiar with counting mixed chip stacks on a daily basis…right?

I got rerouted back into the main poker room about three hours into my shift. We have quad-zillion new dealers and none of them want to go home so along about 1 a.m., even though I didn’t sign the E/O, Jason came by and asked me if I wanted to go. I hesitated for one silly second and then said, “Yes.”

Tuesday night was a different story. I pulled the big eight hours. It was grueling; I was crawling at the end of that shift. Serves me right for not working all my shifts - it’s kind of like being in training, it you workout all the time, it’s less painful than an occasional grip and rip. I managed to hit all the black chip games and that’s kind of like fright night simply because there’s no money advantage in dealing them. It’s actually more like a money disadvantage. Something always seems to happen in them though that’s worth writing about.

Three handed, $300-600 Mixed, $400-800 on Razz only. The 1s was taking a beating on the Triple draw games and when the game went to Razz, he wasn’t faring any better. He was also high card most of the time and forced to bring it in. He was getting into the “Unbelievable” part of his poker game - the part where he was completely frustrated, irritated, and wanted to rip the deck apart and he kept saying, “Unbelievable.”

The only funny was when all three of the players received a Queen for their up cards and the 1s had the Queen of Hearts which forced him to open - the other two Queens were Clubs and Diamonds. The 1s was really losing it, “Unbelievable. That’s unbelievable,” as he looked at me.

I normally zip the lip here but I said, “You’re right. It is.”

Jimmy W. was in the 6s and as he folded, he showed the Queen of Spades as one of his down cards and said, “Now that’s unbelievable.”

Hell…I laughed. It was pretty unbelievable. Believe it or not, the 1s and 3s went to war, both with a Queen showing. The rest of the up cards came pretty much, ugly, ugly considering it was Razz. On 6th Street, the 3s gave up and the 1s finally managed to stop the bleeding…seepage was in effect.

I dealt to a lively little seven-handed group playing Mixed games. Marco was in the 6s, Max P. in the 7s. Omaha was in when I hit the table. A few hands later, the 1s and Marco were at showdown on the River. The 1s declared two pair and turned his hand up. Marco held his hand for almost a minute and laid down Aces and Nines to win the pot.

The conversation turned to slow rolling. Max was chuckling and his statement carried over well instead of having a negative effect. He said he hated to be in a hand with Marco on the River - even if Marco thought he was beat at showdown, after looking at his cards for some time, he always found a winner. And damned if it didn’t happen just like that…only throw in a twist.

Marco and Max ended up heads-up on the River. Max turned his hand up - the Board was Q-J-little-little-little - and Max had a pair of Jacks. Marco looked at his hand and looked at his hand and looked at his hand. Marco said something to Max that I couldn’t hear and pitched his hand into the muck. Max picked his hand up like he was moving it out of the way for me to push him the pot, then laid it back down. I started pushing the pot to Max.

Marco did an abrupt, “I had Queens…”

I said something like, “You threw your hand away,” but I stopped pushing.

Marco, “I showed him…” as he motioned to Max.

Me, “Honey, you have to show me. I’m the one that pushes the pot.”

Marco gave up, “Ok. Give it to him then.”

I looked at Max. I knew from the way he looked at the table - without saying anything - that he did see Marco’s hand and he knew he was beat. I also knew that Max wasn’t going to take a cheap shot on Marco and claim the pot. No one said a word. So I took it upon myself to make the decision to push the pot to Marco, with the statement that he needed to turn his cards up on the table or I could be in jeopardy with security and the cameras.

A few hands later, Tom - 8s, misread his hand and discovered that he had the best hand at showdown…after the other player had already shown his hand and was ready to stack the chips. Hey…guess it was just ’slow roll city’ and they were all OK with it. No one seemed to get ruffled or antsy. Phew!

BTW - Bobby’s Room has another table in it…from two to three. Two of the tables have been running this week. I have managed to miss that room every night…no, not as in *boo hoo* I missed it. As in *yippee* I missed it.

Now it’s time for coffee and a return trip to the tables at “B” tonight at 7 p.m. Yup…it’s my morning for a change. Instead of looking for Sand Woman Land, I’m trying to get the sand out of my eyes. See you there!

*post continued*

The Tunnel of Love - that’s got to be the sickest joke I’ve ever heard. We parked, walked under the canopy that housed an energetic, talkative bundle of male flesh, and we knew we were going to need flashlights because they were lined up on a makeshift counter. We visited with the host for a few minutes and he established that we were from Vegas and dealing poker and blah, blah, blah. He was fun.

That was the only part that was fun. Two couples that had gone through the Tunnel of Love arrived, soaking wet (yes it was hot as hell and muggy as usual), and they were talking about how dark it was, kind of scary, they had seen bats, the steps going down were dangerous, and on and on and on, and WHY WASN’T I LISTENING? At the same time, the host slapped a receipt into my hand and exclaimed, “This is for you!”

It was a receipt for $14.00 - that’s what it would cost for Jim and me to make the trip. I paid. I can’t believe I paid for that nightmare. We got our flashlights and headed into the Tunnel of Love. The steps were extremely steep, made of pieces of concrete poured over some uneven and twisted rocks, and a rope hung down the slope for us to hang onto as we climbed down into hell. I managed to keep my camera strap over my shoulder, grab the rope and use it to keep me from falling into hell, and use my flashlight to semi light my way down.

When I hit bottom, Jim yelled, “Aren’t you going to shine your flashlight so I can see?”

I screamed, “Hell no! You didn’t shine yours for me.”

Besides, I was reaching panic zone by now. Did I ever mention that I’m extremely claustrophobic? I was trying to shine my little, teensy beam from the flashlight around me to see where I was and what was coming up next. This cave had absolutely no personality as far as I could see. It was just a hole in the ground that was scary, confining, and the air was bad. Welcome to Hell!

When Jim got to my level - honestly I’m not sure if anyone could get to my level at this point because I was seriously talking to myself…calm down…you can do it…there’s a way out…*primal scream at the back of my throat* - we went deeper and further back into the cave. I made the mistake of shining my light by my feet, Big Fucking Ugly Bug! Kee-rist! It just don’t get any better than this.

We moved on, dropped lower, and finally saw a sign that stated, 150 mm to exit. At this point we were in a fairly good-sized cavern but it was so dark it was hard to tell what it even looked like. We could see some bats up on the ceiling and I tried to take a picture of them but with the darkness, I had no idea what I was zooming, shooting or if the flash would even pick it up.

We ran into a dead end with a sign that read 50 mm to exit. Nice. Should we go left or right? And the ceiling was getting much lower. Hello Hell! I was grouching like a crazy bitch by now. “Which way do we go?” - “What if that’s not the way out?” - “What if we go down it and it dead ends?”

Jim found a pink arrow on the overhead rock that pointed to the left. So be it. We were bent over by now, overall height about four feet, more bugs, and more darkness ahead. Finally…we started up. We had to climb. There were more bad steps going up, if we didn’t reach up with our hands and pull up or hang on for support, it was dangerous as hell - and dark. My teeth were clenched, “I WANT TO THROW THIS FUCKING FLASHLIGHT AGAINST THE WALL.”

I really didn’t because I would then be in the dark, reliant on Jim to show me the way out, and it would be a totally stupid move, but my emotional stress was pretty high. I know Jim was laughing at me but it didn’t change a thing in how I felt about it. As we started to see light up above, the steps became a little better. I turned around, snapped a picture of Jim climbing up -

looked back at my feet, and from nowhere, this damn lizard appeared right where I was going to step. I did the scream thing. Stupid lizard. Did he know who he was dealing with here? If I weren’t such a gentle creature at heart, I would have smashed his guts out just for startling me.

About 20 feet from the exit, while I was still climbing up, I moaned, “Thank you, God, for not punishing me for being a wanton slut in my twenties.”

I think Jim laughed at me over that too…he was somewhere behind me, still climbing up. But I was serious. Paybacks are a bitch and I don’t want to be punished for something I did when I was young and crazy.

The air was really bad in the Tunnel of Love…possibly too much heat from all the orgies and screams that went on in there. When we hit the exit to the cave, I really thought I was going to throw up. Part of it was my mental distress at the black abyss I’d been through - mine and the cave. And part of it was the air in the cave and the heat - both inside and out of the cave.

We had to walk almost a quarter of a mile to get back to the canopy and the host. While we were hiking back to the canopy and I was thanking God I’d made it out alive, Jim told me he was claustrophobic too. Maybe he was laughing so hard at me that he didn’t have time to jump into the screamer mode. He told me about a cave crawl that he did with three other guys and a guide. I can’t even think about it without wanting to scream.

We arrived at the canopy. It was inner core meltdown again…hotter than hell, glad to be back in daylight without walls closing in, and the host was just too happy to pat me down with paper towels…arms, shoulders, neck and upper chest area. Perhaps I should have asked him out for the evening. As it was I just wanted to GET THE HELL OUT OF THERE!

We escaped and headed for the Flea Market and shopping. Jim was looking for a few gifts - he’s got a gal in Colorado - and I opted to have my hair braided by the ladies in one of the shops. Not to worry, Jim called me “Oh beaded one,” so many times I thought I was going to have to slap him. Hair done, shopping finished, we stopped at a Subway and had food. Then off to our home away from home where we packed and got ready for the dreaded plane trip home the following day. The last picture from the 10th floor as the sun was going down:

I called my son in Vegas to make sure he was picking us up. I told him we would be there at 10:30 p.m. but Jim would have to find his own ride to my house because he was on my nerves. *laughter*

We went to Gilligan’s for food later that night. We were the only ones there. A woman arrived just before we were ready to leave and it shows to go you how the poker people fill up empty spaces and put money into the local economy.

Jim went to the Wyndham poker room to play, I went to work on a post and have a few of my brews that were still in the refrigerator. Jim arrived within a short time, happy that he’d made a royal flush. His $20 bet on the River wasn’t called but for some reason, he showed his hand anyway. The House paid him $400 for making the Royal. He said it was the cairn he built. It changed his luck. J

October 5th. Time to fly…literally. We turned in the car, checked out, got a cab, and made it to the airport early. Remembering my other return trips from Aruba, this one was a cakewalk. We were heading into an area where we were going to pick up our luggage after it cleared Aruba Customs and turn it in to American Customs for boarding. We walked down a hallway with the windows about shoulder height, matching the ground outside. This beauty was outside.

As soon as I put my face and camera up to the window, he raced over, just like he was trained to dance for food, he bobbed his head four to five times like he was waiting for us to take care of him for performing. That’s when I got this:

After I bent over to put the camera away, he moved off and did a full flex…wish I’d held the camera thing a minute longer.

We got through two sets of customs, found a place to fall down while we waited for our plane, and even found a glitch in the airport wifi so we had free access. I logged onto an online poker account and left Jim playing two games for me. He won a few $$$. It was time to fly. We had a four-hour layover in Miami. It took us almost 16 hours to reach Vegas after we left our hotel room in Aruba. Ugh! I hate airports and flying and the Tunnel of Love. Other than that…D-A-M-N…I had a great time.

It’s never too soon to download the Ultimate Bet Software and start honing your skills for the trip in 2006. And you can always win your way there.

*end post*

*post continued*

After we left Leroy and his charges, we went back to the Ayo Rock Formation. We trekked through some of the boulders and concrete steps that went under B-I-G boulders, and since I haven’t mentioned this until now, I was in search of hugeousis, overly large, iguana. Last year, when I left my hotel room without a camera, I saw one eating the flowers at the Wyndham. This iguana made all the other ones look like minnows compared to a whale. It wasn’t overly long, just thicker in the middle and had spines down it’s back that were the size of my little finger. Although I’ve looked everywhere, I’ve never found one that was that big…I want a picture. DAMN IT!

Jim was punishing me verbally, “Maybe we can find that 15 foot iguana.”

“Stop it!”

“Or maybe there’s a 20 foot one here.”

The nuisance noise went on and on. We found relatively small ones as we walked through the park and finally I gave up and headed for the bathroom. A park guide had been lying out - literally sprawled out - when we arrived. He jumped up to talk to Jim in my absence and pointed out two large iguanas on the rocks about 40 yards away. When I arrived, Jim proceeded to punish me some more, “So are there any 20 foot iguanas? Or maybe any giant alligators?” he questioned the park guide.

I interjected, describing the one I’d seen to the park guide. The park guide exclaimed, “Macho iguana!” as he nodded. He went on to say there were very few like that on the island but there were a few. Damn…it was nice to get THE MONKEY off my back. I didn’t just dream it up.

Our next move was to head for the Natural Bridge. I had heard it collapsed. Since I’d been there last year when it was still a bridge, I wanted to see the ‘after’. And as we wheeled down one road, this fence caught my eye…don’t try jumping over this baby and missing your stride:

We found the Natural Bridge without a problem…other than Jim. He was convinced the Daihatsu would just fall apart at any second and we would be stranded. And he came up with unclever sayings that he persisted on using. Like…I asked a redundant question that really required no answer. His reply, “There’s no tellin’ Magellan.”

It was funny the first three or four times but after too many repeats, I told him to stop. He said something like, “Ok, when I’m silent, you’ll know that’s what I said.”

P-f-h-h-h-t! He’s like a little pesky kid - natter, natter, natter, repeat natter. But don’t think I don’t love the hell out of him because I do. And he puts up with a lot from me too because I never cut him any slack…on any subject.

But back to the Natural Bridge - this is what it looked like last year:

This is what it looks like now:

There’s still a small natural bridge off to one side and a pit stop where they serve alcoholic beverages, some kind of food, a gift shop, and they charge you 25c to use the bathroom. I talked to a couple of guys that work there. One of them is totally hooked on poker…what else is there to get hooked on? He was thrilled when I told him I was there dealing the Ultimate Bet Tournament. The other guy spent a few minutes explaining what had happened to the bridge. They thought it was a tremor that took it down and luckily it happened around 6 a.m. - otherwise there could have been 15 to 20 people on it when it collapsed.

Our next stop was the ruins of the gold processing plant. It resembles an old fortress or castle - made of stone - that’s fallen into ruin and left to weather in the face of time.

There are a zillion rock Cairns up and down the beach and a lot of them in the ruins. That is one exceptionally kewl thing about Aruba…people build Cairns to say they were there instead of defacing everything. Jim built one inside the ruins:

We left that behind us, heading back across the island to who the hell knows where. One of my goals was to climb the Hooiberg AKA The Haystack. We could see the Haystack ahead of us and with a few turns on those crazy roads with no name, we drove right to it. I had previously approached Wayne and Jim about climbing it but thought we should do it in the early a.m. as it would be a little cooler. Well…Wayne had already deserted us, it was a cloudy afternoon, and Jim was pretty game for whatever I suggested, so we climbed the damn thing.

It was a mass of scary, straight up stairs. Jim beat me up by about 10 minutes. I was dragging. Every 50 steps or so I had to stop and try to breath in the moisture that contained the oxygen my granny body badly needed. Someone had written the number on the stairs every so often. It was easy to see when you’d climbed 150 steps, then 300, then…the word is 600. My calves felt like I’d climbed to heaven the next day. Shee-it! Aging is a bitch. On the trip down, my legs had the shakes…and the sun was starting to come out. Where the hell is that Daihatsu with the air conditioning? Definitely inner core meltdown was taking place.

We were done exploring for the day. I was dragging ass. I took a nap while Jim watched a movie. We ended up having dinner at the Wyndham and we ordered three deserts. I managed to consume almost two of them. I can’t even remember most of the rest of the events of the night…I know I posted, had about three brews, and that’s all the memory bank I have for that particular time slot. Hard drive crash.

October 4th. We raced out across the island again…of course I was driving. We were heading for the Arikok National Wildlife Park and the caves. The first cave we stopped at was unbelievably beautiful. The Quadirikiri is in this mass of coral…and that’s our trusty Daihatsu.

The entrance is quite dark and slightly intimidating, it leads to a cavern that has a hole in top that allows one to view the beauty of the interior.

That cavern, in turn, leads through another dark tunnel into a spectacular array of color and beauty, again viewable because of holes in the ceiling.

This cave did not have a park agent on hand. There is a sign at the far cavern that asks people to protect the bats by not going further into the darkened recesses. Who would want to? We didn’t have a flashlight and it was as dark as the Black Hole in my brain when I can’t win a hand in a poker game for three or four weeks. That’s pretty damn dark!

We moved on to the Fontein. I was there last year. The Fontein and the Quadirikiri have rusty gates at the entrance that are locked at night. The Fontein has drawings dated from the 1400’s on the ceiling left by the Arikok and signatures by the Dutch in the 1800’s. And yes, I have pictures I took last year and this year of those drawings and signatures. As someone once said about me, I have a propensity to document…thanks, Amy. Several park agents are there at all times. We were escorted by one of them as he explained the markings left years ago.

There are glass cases with snakes in them at the entrance to the cave. A rattlesnake, a harmless snake like a garter snake, a python and a boa. Snakes are everywhere according to the park agent. Ugh! S-n-a-k-e! I can live without them. The python was in a continual state of agitation, coiled and striking at the glass. Of course the park agent and everybody else except Jim and me kept rapping on the glass. Then Jim came up with this brilliant conclusion, “That snake just doesn’t like you!” referring to me. Thanks…I didn’t care too much for it either.

If I’m remembering correctly, the agent said this cave goes back 1,800 feet and the first person to go clear to the end of it, did it in 1909. Visitors are only allowed entrance to about 30 to 40 feet of the cave for protection of the bats. We weren’t there very long, as I had seen most of it last year and the park agent kept trying to hustle us along. Irritating as hell when I’m snapping pictures. I pretty much ignored him and Jim followed him around as he explained everything.

Our next stop was the Tunnel of Love. *post-poned*

Well how could it end with two turtles left stranded on an island in the middle of the Caribbean Sea? The tale has to be told and it’s more of a pictograph than a tale but consider this the wrap on the Aruba/Ultimate Trip Report…unless I run out of steam before I reach the end, then it will be *post-poned*.

Somewhere about 10:30ish a.m., Jim called me and we decided that within a half an hour, he’d be ready to shift over to my room - that was on the 2nd of October. Transfer of luggage and body completed, we headed for Registration to clear his room and acquire a room key for him. I approached a desk person; “He’s moving out of his room today and into mine,” motioning to Jim.

Completely cheerful, responsive desk person asked what room I was in. I told her. She never asked me my name or asked for ID. She asked Jim what room he was in and gave Jim a copy of the charges to his room and issued him a key to mine. D-A-M-N!!! What if we were just criminals or planning something cagey or strange? A perfect stranger could acquire a key to my….or your room.

We hit the Lower Lobby and reserved a car. We planned on checking out the island on the next two days before we left on Wednesday, the 5th.

BTW - it was Sunday. Jim wanted to watch some football game that was coming on later; I wanted the maid to hurry up with straightening the room so I could go back upstairs. Jim left to search out a place to watch the game; I headed for the Concierge to ask for a reservation to The Pelican’s Nest. We were going to try and find a lobster for dinner. Reservation made, I waltzed around through the Casino and checked out the machines. They are older than dirt - nothing like the machines in the casinos in the USA. I threw $40 into a Keno Machine, flirted around with a few dollars winner several times, lost it, and headed for the room.

I worked on updating the posts here and did the ‘lazy turtle’ thang. I had wifi access in my room but one major change from last year - it was free last year and to access it, one had to be in the lobby or lower lobby. This year, it cost $12 a day for single day use and $11 a day if taken for the length of the stay…plus the damn 10% surcharge. Everything in Aruba has a surcharge. The only benefit to having to pay for it is the convenience of in room use.

We did hit the Pelican’s Nest for a meal…no lobster. *heavy sigh* Last year Paula and me each had a lobster tail…it was wonderful. It was incredibly muggy with very little breeze coming across the water but the food, company, and service were all good. And no mosquitoes this year…last year it was hard to tell who was getting eaten. My food or me.

Our next stop was the Radisson Poker Room. Jim wanted to check out the action. Mike and John were in a $4-8 game by the rail. They were part of our dealing crew…but not part of the distinguished Turtles. They would be leaving for Vegas on Friday. Jim decided to play. I left him there and headed for the room where the temperature could be set to my choosing; settled into another post, a brew, and finally drifted off to Sand Woman Land.

October 3rd. We picked up our vehicle - we asked for a 4X drive and soon became certain she thought we said a 4 door. The rig looked identical to the bucket of bolts I rented last year so without further ado…and definitely not checking it out…we hit the island. We cruised to the California Lighthouse via a stop along the sea’s edge and I tried to get stuck in the sand…Jim had to get out and push. Ugh!!!! Good thing he’s a young, healthy buck, with a heart of steel.

While we were at the edge of the sea, we found this beauty:

Last year I wanted to see the Natural Pool but the hurricane that passed the island did a lot of water damage to the roads and it was no go. This year it was a must see. But the roads in Aruba are something else. There are no signs or street names and a lot of water from a hurricane may wash a few of them out but it doesn’t change much. Occasionally a sign is spotted but there’s no way of knowing if it means the next dirt road or not, or one of the next three. The good news is that it’s a small island; impossible to get lost on. But it’s irritating as hell. We had a map. Big Deal! It doesn’t show the labyrinth of small roads that twist and turn across the island.

We cruised by the Ayo Rock Formations, found some signs that pointed in a direction for the Arikok National Wildlife Park and the Donkey Sanctuary and the Natural Pool. Veering off on a guess on the road the sign was pointing to, we passed the Donkey Sanctuary - laughing our butts off because we were the donkeys - still looking for the Natural Pool. Road after road, veering off to the right or the left, no signs, some houses that had seen better days, and more roads, we turned around and headed back. We passed the Donkey Sanctuary again…more laughter. Back to the Ayo Rock Formation and a sign pointing back the way we came “Natural Pool”. I stopped and backed into a road to turn around and a touring van stopped in front of me, eight or so people in the open-air back of the rig, and that’s when we met Leroy. He leaned out and motioned, I rolled down the window, “Every thing alright?”

“No. We are trying to find the Natural Pool.”

“Follow me.”

We did, whizzing and turning down the road we had just traveled but soon took a new twist. After two to three miles and more twists and turns on more roads, all unmarked without signs, we came to a few houses with a sign on the road, Welcome to the Natural Pool. What a joke. Leroy took another turn, grinding up a bad, rocky, dirt road incline, where he hit the brakes. “How comfortable are you driving that?”

Me, “It’s not a 4X drive.”

“Park it and jump in then.”

We did. What a ride. We were at the end of the bed, hanging on for our lives as he raced over roads that I would take in my truck, but much slower. A few times I thought we might even do a ‘roll over’ the way the truck hit a high spot or rock and the steep hillside below looked like it was silently calling us down.

The group on the tour was a mix of husbands/wives, boyfriends/girlfriends. The women were pretty funny. All kinds of comments, most of them rank, and we were all laughing…so was Leroy as he professed that’s what they got for riding with ‘Bad, Bad, Leroy Brown’.

We passed two other 4X rigs with couples in them that were stopped. Leroy stopped and queried if everything was ok. They were staring at what they had to traverse to get to the bottom and the Natural Pool. Leroy taunted them to ‘come on down’ as he raced off again. That little cheesy Daihatsu we rented would never make it up, if we made it down. Well here it is, the much talked about, one of the high spots to visit in Aruba, can’t be found by a tourist, Natural Pool.

I’ll be the first to admit that I thought it would be much more. I’m not sure what I was expecting but it certainly wasn’t a little protected cove in the Sea. And getting there? Kee-rist!

I was the first one down the steps, snapping pictures and looking at everything as I went. I veered off to take pictures of tide pools in rock and corral formations on the left. By the time I got to the Natural Pool, Leroy was already set up on the side, crouched, waiting for the girls in the group to go swimming. He had a big bag of sodas for the group, and lots of fresh bread that he was wadding into balls. He quietly told me that he loved to surprise his girls. When they got into the water to swim, he threw in the bread, and lots of HARMLESS fish go into a surface, feeding frenzy. He said some of the girls scream and others think it’s funny. It was pretty kewl to watch it happen. I had no intention of swimming - camera and fanny pack in tow - and Jim had disappeared.

I caught this kid scampering across the rock a few feet away. He was actually trying out for a race, moving really fast, I had to lead him to get him in the picture. He’s also zoomed so in reality, he’s not quite this big…

I left the group of swimmers and screamers and Leroy and headed back up the steps to the top. I turned around midway and found Jim, out on the rocks on the left, waving at me. After I hit the top, I sat and visited with a guy with a Dutch accent that queried me about my tattoos and seemed totally impressed that one of my sons did them for me. He had some arm work he displayed before his woman came to drag him away.

The rest of the crowd arrived within 20 or so minutes, loaded up on drinks, picture taking, and I told Leroy I was going to put him on my website. Here he be:

After we loaded back into the rig and Leroy asked the girls if they wanted to go back up the way we came down, and they fo-o-o-olishly said, “NO.” We were off and careening up another trail that was just as bad if not worse. This time I could see the downside behind us and as I braced myself on the overhead roll bar with one arm, I snapped several pictures of the terrain we were leaving behind. I have no idea how this even came out as good as it did because we were semi air born and bouncing all the way up.

When Leroy dropped us at our rig, I thanked him, handed him a $$ tip, and knew I would never make that trip again. Yes…never is extreme but at this point, I just can’t see it happening. But it was an adventure worth doing once…especially with Leroy in charge of the lunacy.

BTW no matter where we went, on what kinds of roads, or coral/rock along the sea, Jim went on and on about the rig we were driving. :It wasn’t mean to take that kind of beating…blah, blah, blah.”

I was laughing my ass off. I told him that it would still be there running people around the island 10 years from now. He never shut up about it. I never offered to let him drive either. I know how to punish people. Must be that mean streak in me.

*post-poned*