Table Tango

Why do people do sneaky, quiet farts when they are sitting right next to you?  And you are the only one in the room with them…of course they stink or you wouldn’t notice them at all.  Are you supposed to politely pretend that your nose is broken?  How polite are you supposed to be when they were rude enough to fart.  If they ‘cut’ a noisy one, it’s actually laughable at times.  But the quiet ones…

(more…)

*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*

For some reason - known only to the Bad Mattress Fairy, or the Universal Hotel Gremlins, or possibly inner demons that fail to allow one to sleep, I managed to wake, drift off for a few moments of sleep - only to wake up again, over and over. It was brutal. I went to bed around midnight, just to make sure I was rested for TV Dealing Day and I couldn’t sleep. But then it’s been that way since I hit the island. And no…it wasn’t nervousness. I’ve never felt a twinge, shake, or quiver about being on TV. I just don’t sleep well away from home.

I called the Kids Across the Hall to see if they were up and around for food. Suzie had planned an outing for the dealers that would include a catamaran trip with shipwreck snorkeling, swimming, drinking, and whatever else popped into their minds while they were out at sea. Jim and Wayne would be rendezvousing down at the pier around 1 p.m. - with everyone else that was going. Jim answered my call and was ready for food. We trekked down to the same watering hole we’d stopped at numerous times before - where the iguanas gather and they wouldn’t serve us…no, not the iguanas – the people that work in food service. At 10:45 a.m., they are done with breakfast so the rest of the world has to be done with it too. We arrived there within a minute or two of the time clock but we were not going to be fed.

I knew I’d never even get through the first few hours if I didn’t have food. We hoofed further down the beachside and found a place that serves an ‘all you can eat’ breakfast buffet. We did eat there but it was our worst dining experiences and the food was really ugly. The omelets and hotcakes were made on order – we ordered them at the cooks counter - but the rest of it was on a buffet and filled with grease – it was brown and strange looking. UGH!!! Sticking to what we knew was freshly cooked; we ate and ran. My time schedule was really getting tight. When we hit the Azzurro Restaurant, Jim waited downstairs for me (by the beach). I had asked him to wait in case I wanted my picture taken with the WPT shirt on. The answer was NO! I waved at him from the 2nd floor and he went off to enjoy his day of sun and sea.

Barry suddenly remembered or someone helped him remember or something flashed by that told him he shouldn’t deal because he had a percentage of Robbie Border, one of the final six. Robbie used to deal with us at The Mirage and at Bellagio. And so did Barry. With Barry out of the dealing line-up, Janie was in. It would be three women and one man. I was first to deal; Steve would follow me, Janie, then Nikki.

Set make-up was going on in one section. I managed to miss it - kind of, sort of on purpose - but I watched other people sit through it. The crowd was lining up at the edge of the roped off area, putting them about 12 to 15 feet from the table. It was standing room only. Linda Johnson was instructing them on cheering for their player when their player won and groaning for their player when they lost. It was pretty funny to watch and listen to…the crowd got right into the heat of the moment.

The tournament was late getting started. The biggest worry is the sun, without it there may not be enough light; yet when it’s going down across the water, it burns a hole into your brain through your eyes. It was hot. There’s no way to describe the heat, no breeze (the windows all have mesh across them), body heat, lights, and the Aruba weather all roll into a recipe for inner core melt down. My clothes were soaked, my skin was eternally moist, but it was the only game in town and I was damn glad to be there. A glimpse of the action going on behind the scene:

I never dealt a hand that sent anyone packing. The only hand I dealt that had a ‘crowd effect’ was when Johan Storakers went all-in with the A-J of Clubs and Freddie held the A-4 of Spades. Freddie had Johann covered, the ‘drama of dealing’ was taking place, and the Flop was Q-Q-Q. The Turn card brought the case Q. The River was some small card and they were already dragging back their chips that were left in front of them.

I walked when I wasn’t dealing. A little Red Bull, lots of water, a bag of chips, and The Foyer at La Playa had comfortable chairs and a breeze - that’s where I spent most of my time on the two, one and a half hour breaks when I wasn’t in The Box and on deck and wired up for my next session. No…I wasn’t wired up from the Red Bull. A technician wired all the dealers (just before dealing) so we could be heard if Jack or Linda didn’t catch something in the action.

I found these Railbirds at La Playa.

The tournament ended up like this, finishing somewhere around 6:30ish p.m.

1) Freddie Deeb $1 million (includes $25,000 buy-in)
2) Josh Schlein $440,450
3) Johan Storakers $300,000
4) Devin Porter $200,000
5) Robbie Border $150,000
6) Stacy Matuson $100,000

The Bikini Team was on hand…mainly underfoot IMHO. Only one of these girls paid attention to the fact that they were supposed to be taking cold water and ice cold, damp towels to the players. Mostly they stood in the way, over on the side where the staff, dealers, website reporters, and WPT people were trying to get through. But they did do one thing quite well. They were great eye candy and they did their best work when they were brought out to block the sun when it became unbearable as it sank over the water.

I had been out on my third break and returned, ready to deal but the whole show ended when Freddie had Josh covered and Josh (obviously) lost the hand. The crowd was milling, the WPT aficionados were coming over to congratulate and get ready for their part in the toast and trophy presentation. The funniest part of this is that Josh is 20 years old, qualified online, lives in Maryland, and they wouldn’t allow him an actual drink in the toast. I snapped some pictures…lots of them actually, but this is the one I leave the scene on:

I think I almost crawled back to the Wyndham. It was like trekking through the desert, dying of dehydration, too hot to think, knowing that if I could just rip off my sweat drenched clothes and lay down for a few minutes with a glass of ice water, in the peaceful, air conditioned quiet of my room, I could possibly live to see tomorrow. While it may sound like a joke, it ain’t. I lost more body fluid in that seven-hour time span than the law allows…and I was doing continual intake. I did fall down on my bed for about an hour while I searched my brain to see if there was enough energy left there to power my body to the Award’s Banquet. Hell yes! Get up you lazy Turtle!

I called the Kids Across the Hall. No answer. I was sure they had docked around 6ish or so and were probably already at the banquet…so I freshened up and climbed into fresh duds, grabbed my camera and headed back to the Radisson.

I hit the food extravaganza and spotted the mermaids that were lolling around on the sidelines - what else could they do? They sure as hell couldn’t walk with those tails.

Jim found me, told me where Wayne was, they were shoveling food and drinking. I joined them as soon as I loaded up a plate. We visited briefly about the day’s events, theirs and mine. I took off to see who was where and take a few more pictures. I found this beauty visiting with a friend and asked her if she minded if I took her picture. She replied, “Please do.” D-A-M-N if she ain’t good for poker.

I cruised the food orgy, took more pictures, and went back to find the Kids Across the Hall. Sipu joined us. Left to right - Sipu, Jim, Wayne. Gee! They look so innocent here!

Jim went off in search of more food or something Caribbean, Wayne went to find more to drink, and I turned to Sipu and said, “Goodnight.”

I’d had it. I was still overly warm, the pool at the Wyndham sounded so damn good, and that’s where I headed - swimming, then sleep. It was the first time I’d cooled down all day.

Wayne’s flight was leaving very early. I think the Kids Across the Hall just stayed up all night. They said the knocked quietly on my door around 3 a.m. Funny…that’s about the time I woke up. I worked on an Aruba Report post, heard doors across the hall closing, and noise in the hall. When I trekked to the frig for more water, I found the note Wayne had slid under the door, telling me Bon Voyage, c u in a few days in Vegas.

Jim would be moving into my room later today, we would be ‘roomies’ for the next few days and do some island touring…but for now…Snoozle Time. Snoozle Time? That’s a shortie nap – not as long as Sand Woman Land.

So…Friday - the 30th - for all intents and purposes, I was done with dealing…except for the final table. I crawled out of a drunken blitz somewhere around 11 a.m. And while it may appear from the posts that I’ve been ‘drink, drank, drunk’ throughout this trip, that’s not even close to the truth of it. I had too much to drink one other day but this was the first time that I was drunk. The norm is one to three brews a day. I managed to doze off intermittently until the phone rang at 2 p.m. It was Suzie telling me to meet her in the poker area of the Radisson so she could walk the Final Table Dealers over to the Azzurro for our practice session at 3 p.m. I made it on time but we had to wait for another dealer to arrive. There were five of us. Unusual to me because when I dealt the final table two years ago, there were three of us…but what do I know about it?

When we got to the Azzurro, we were told they would be using two women and two men - we were at three women and two men. Suzie left us, she had work to do back at the Radisson. I spoke with Linda Johnson, away from the others dealers, and asked her if she thought I should opt out because I’d dealt it before, or if I should just wait and see what happened. She told me to wait.

All of us took a seat with Linda, at THE table, as the crew worked around us setting up lights, microphones and a few million other things that it takes to make the production work. It was hot as hell.

There were numerous changes to the table since my debut as a ‘TV dealer’ two years ago. For one thing the rail is about three inches higher, awkward even with the dealer cut out in the rail that puts our hands and arms at table height - the rail made it difficult to deal to some spots at the table. Then to make it worse there are two domes in the middle of the table, on each side of where we would put the flop. The domes house cameras and look like ‘security camera globes’ that sit on the ceiling in casinos. We could not touch the globes because our fingerprints would have to be cleaned off of them before play continued. They were definitely a card pitching hazard.

Then we were introduced to the ‘wonder cam’. It is in the rail, on the right hand side of the dealer. If the hand went to a Flop, no call on the Flop or Turn, we were supposed to push the pot, then burn, bring the Turn off face down, burn, and bring the River off face down. And then show the Turn and River to the wonder cam, not allowing anyone else to see it, and not to look at it ourselves.

Each of us took a turn at dealing - practicing the expected procedures - while the rest of us and Linda Johnson played. Linda talked us through everything. The only time we were to speed up was during the shuffle and the deal, the rest of it is ‘slow-mo’ for camera and effect. If a player accidentally exposed or purposely showed one/both cards, the cards were turned face up and left lay on the table so they could be camera documented, etc., etc., etc. We were being schooled in ‘the drama of dealing’.

At the end of the session, I asked Nikki and Janie if we should high card for who would be dealing on Saturday. Barry was in the box and I asked him to shuffle and deal us off a card. Nikki objected and wanted to draw her own. Ok…the deck was spread, she pulled a four, Janie drew a trey, and I drew the Ace of Spades. Holy Chit, Mon! I usually find the Deuce of Clubs anytime I draw for seat choice…or when they are high carding for the chip race.

Linda told Janie that if she wanted to come the following day, it would be fine. She went on to say that sometimes things happen and a dealer can’t make it - and one time a director even took a dealer out of the line-up during a final table taping. I know Janie was disappointed but by now I knew I really wanted to deal the final table and I wasn’t going to just disappear.

My clothes were drenched, I probably looked like I’d jumped into the sea with them on…and that’s pretty much how I spent the following day too - drenched. But I headed back to the room and managed to find Jim. We hit Gilligans for food (somewhere in this few day time span, Wayne deserted us for casino action - some of the machines kept calling his name). Shortly after we were seated, Sipu, one of the Turtle team, joined us for food. I was so relieved that I didn’t have to fade the live action at the Radisson that night and we talked about what had been going on with the dealers that had been scheduled for live action at the Radisson since arrival.

*background*

Even Suzie had talked of how difficult it was to work around the Casino management that was in charge of the actual workings of the poker room. It wasn’t Dane and Mace, the brothers that owned part of the room, it was casino management. When our dealers would show up to be put in the line-up, most of the time, they would tell the dealers to check back in a few hours. At times this went on throughout the night, some of our dealers even coming back in at 3 a.m. - just to sit and wait or told to come back in a few hours…repeat, repeat, repeat. The regular room dealers also did not want to deal anything higher than $4-8…unless they knew the players in a game were tipping well.

And yes…I, and most of our dealers, understand the fact that these people are here all year long and they need income. That wasn’t our problem though in working with them. Our problem was that we were not getting paid to be in the poker room, we could put out a lot more hands per hour, and we were skilled in running a game and knowing who/what won the pot, and we were a long ways from home with most of our group (don’t include me in that) hoping to put in some time in the box and make some money too. We were getting the short end of the stick by them expecting us to deal all the Ace to Five/Deuce to Seven triple draw games (no money in those babies) and they wanted all the gravy games and we were supposed to hurry up and wait for them to decide to let us deal. It was leaning towards mutiny. One of the best parts of the whole dealer side of it is that Suzie is always aware and really stands up for us…she’s like a mama bear that has her cubs threatened. And if you ain’t ever seen or heard tales of mama bears with cubs, you have no idea how scary it can be. Way good news for us though.

*end background*

But back to Gilligans. We finished our food and it was shower time at home away from home. I went back to the Radisson with Jim when he was ready to report for work…Wayne would meet us there. I drifted in and out of the main tournament area and the satellite area…the showdown for the final six was in progress.

Jim and me visited the poker room at the Radisson, standing around on the rail, him trying to decided if he even wanted to show for the 8:15 reporting time, and a few other Turtles appeared and joined in the conversation. One of our Turtles had been hanging around since before we showed up and they put her in a game. We stood on the rail for close to half an hour, Wayne arrived, more discussion of, “Should we check in to work…” - “I’m not coming back if they tell me to come back in a few hours…” - and on and on it went. But they knew they couldn’t get fired so what was the worst that could happen? They might not be asked back next year and most dealers like this gig.

I left them in their quandary and headed for the room. I had the blues…I missed my baby and his baby. And I was ready to just dissolve into solitude…like get the hell away from everyone and just do a ‘Linda thang’ - escape from the real world. I also needed to work on posting here and wanted to find some decent sleep before I jumped into the final table action on Saturday. I managed to find Sand Woman Land somewhere around midnight.

Yesterday evening, after dealing the second day of dayshift, we went once again to the Sunset Grill. This was my second opportunity to order food and have the waiter/waitress disappear with me thinking I was going to get it…and one of my meal mates got some of what I wanted but they were out of what I ordered. Kind of like a repeat of the English Muffin thing at breakfast yesterday.

I ordered the shrimp cocktail, having had it on my first trip to the Sunset Grill…wonderful. A few minutes later the waiter appeared to tell me they were out of shrimp, did I want something else? Ugh!!! But don’t worry, Wayne got stuffed shrimp for his meal. It looked exactly like the shrimp on the shrimp cocktail only with some kind of stuffing. Now the Kids Across the Hall were really chuckling at me because I was on a ‘bad food run’…everything I wanted, they were out of. It was also the worst service and overall food experience we had in Aruba.

But on to Thursday, the 29th, the Kids Across the Hall called my room, woke me up around 11:30ish a.m. We were going in to work Swing Shift in the tournament area that night and they were up and about and wanted to go use our food coupon before work. I was dragging ass tired but couldn’t go back to sleep because 10 floors below me - poolside - the aerobics instructor was screaming out commands and the bass/beat of the music was pounding through my skull - so food time.

We went to Gilligans for lunch. Another food ordeal. I ordered the Tuna Melt, supposedly with avocado and other things. I got it. But there was no avocado and other things. I questioned the waitress, she questioned the cook, and came back to tell me they were out of avocado. More chuckles and jeers from the Kids Across the Hall. These boys do have a mean streak in them.

We finished our food and headed back to the hotel. Jim wanted to walk down the beach, the sun was out, it was hot…and yes…I did mention the fact that I don’t do sunshine. Wayne ragged at me, “Come on, Linda. Don’t you want to walk barefoot in the sand?”

He followed it with something like, “Live a little.”

PH-F-F-F-T! Where the hell is he coming from? Few people could keep up with me on jamming life into every minute of consciousness. And just in case any of you were roaming the Radisson Foyer a couple of times…I was the one blowing the bubbles that hung in the air. *fun*

So…I took off my shoes and we wondered out to where the sea meets the sand…and it was hot…and the sun was glaring down on my little vampiress body…and they talked about swimming…and we arrived home…and I handed my camera and bag to Jim and said, “If you drop this, I’ll kill you!” and I waded out into the sea until I was at float level. Float level? I cannot sink. It’s a true story. Even as a skinny little child, I couldn’t sink.

So here I am, about 20 yards from the shore, my feet above the water, my hat never got wet - floating - and the Kids Across the Hall stood on the shore while I ’lived a little’.

Back to our rooms with the thought that we would all nap and then get ready for the evening shift of tournament dealing. I couldn’t sleep. Damn it! I was running on dead tired.

We went to work. We were all dealing in the satellite area. The main tournament was breaking down rapidly - it was down to four tables and the players were going on dinner break. We got our table assignments, it was a $1,000 buy in tournament. We had a few minutes before the players would be filtering in to take their seats and I talked to Jon and Suzie about getting an E/O. But then what else is new?

I knew I was going to be dealing the final table - of the main event on Saturday - and I also asked Suzie if I could be excused from the Friday night ’Turtle Line-up’. The Turtles were scheduled to deal live/late at the Radisson Poker Room. She gave me the Ok…woo hoo!

I signed in at my first table, a few players came in and joined my table, but I got pushed before the tournament actually started. I was on a break. I milled around, went to the main tournament area and took a few more pictures. One of the dealers there asked me what I did. “Do you just take pictures?”

*Chuckling* “No. I deal poker.” I’m sure he found it hard to believe.

I dealt one table of the $1,000 tournament. It’s so relaxed and everyone’s so easy going. The guy in the 1s’s wife brought him a gourmet coffee from Coffee and Cream upstairs in the foyer. He didn’t want it but asked me if I did. I jumped on it…the aroma had already pulled me into the magical lure of great coffee.

He set it on the table, between him and me, with the cover intact. I know it’s hardly kosher but in that moment and time, no one seems to care - so during a ’wait a year for a player to decide to call’, I took a few sips.

A few minutes later, we lost two players. Jon (tourney director) told me to wait while he brought in a player. I set the deck down and sipped coffee.

The woman in the 4s had been talking to the 6s and didn’t realize we were waiting. She suddenly looked up, “What are we waiting for?”

The 1s piped up, “For her to drink her coffee.”

I jumped right in, “Yeah. I’m drinking my coffee.”

I know she’s a player, I’ve seen her beau before, and I was surprised when she said, “Oh…I just wondered…”

I explained we were waiting for a player. The whole thing was funny. We got our player, I finished the down, Suzie told me I was OUT of the line-up and she would have the Kids Across the Hall out in a half hour. Yoo-hoo! I visited the Radisson Poker room and milled through the main tournament area while I waited for them.

We headed for home and the water. We changed to our swim togs, got a bag of brews and ice - Jim did a pepsi-vodka thing or something like that - and we headed for the sea. It was dark, warm, wonderful. We floated and gabbed and drank until we ran out of libation. Jim went up to the rooms for more, Wayne and I held hands (to keep from drifting apart) and just floated - under the stars - in the Caribbean Sea, a million miles from the rest of the world, the pull of gravity, and any stress or strife. Then we swam out to a small pier/dock and as soon as we saw Jim hit the beach with the booze, we were back in the water.

We turned into people sized, wrinkly bags of flesh, somewhere around two hours or so in the sea, then it was off to the pool. I was close to ‘pig’ drunk.

While we were kicking around in the pool, I managed to get off on a ‘love’ run. It was all about telling people you love them before they are gone from your life and you never have the chance. It’s something that is paramount in my thoughts at times - because I’ve lost five family members and a husband - and I feel that letting important people in your life know you care should be a priority. Not to worry, I turned into a ‘tear ball’ for a few moments. Kee-rist! So I’m an emotion slut…there are worse things in life.

Then it was time to pass out…yup…that’s what I did. After I checked email and played a game or nine of ‘Cubis’…I was out for the count.