Guess the casino, #911

To reveal the hidden answer, use your mouse to highlight the space immediately after the word "Answer" below.

Answer: Tropicana

"You can play your queen if you want to"

I played at the Rio again this evening. In a hand in which I wasn't involved, the final board was 5-5-J-K-2. At showdown, Player A had J-Q. Player B had J-9.

The dealer appropriately chopped the pot. When Player A got his half, it was clear he was expecting the whole thing. He said, "Wait a minute--we both had jacks, but I had a queen with it."

Instead of taking the usual, straightforward approach to the explanation, this impish dealer said, "You can play your queen if you want to. But this guy [Player B] has jacks and fives with a king [pointing to the K on the board], so if you do that, he'll get the whole thing. Still want to play the queen?"

Player A quickly grasped the point and withdrew his objection.

This might sound like it was nasty, but it wasn't. The tone of voice and facial expressions were so light and friendly that he pulled it off. It's kind of a risky thing to do, because it's the sort of comment that some players could take offense at, thinking they're being needled. Still, I liked how the dealer managed the situation.

Pokerati game #2

Back in April I told you about my first attempt at playing pot-limit Omaha live--specifically the "Pokerati" game at the Palms, which alternates one round of no-limit hold'em and one round of PLO, each with $1/2 blinds. It was not exactly a raging success. But it was OK, because I'm learning, and losing some money is the price of achieving competence at a new version of poker. One just has to be careful to put limits on the losses along the way.

Last night I took my second shot at it. I had had a good night at my bread-and-butter games at the Rio, and several friends had decided to do a Palms Pokerati session. I agreed to join them, and a few random strangers sat down with us, too.

I was doing much better this time. I was much more selective about starting PLO hands, and paid more attention to using my table image and position as tools, rather than just making hands. (Personal triumph of the evening: Hearing Otis say, "I'm finding you kind of scary.") All was going rather well, and I was up about $150 over my $200 buy-in. And then I blew it with one bad decision.

In a PLO hand I was one of six who had put in $20 each pre-flop. I had KsKcJcX. The flop was something like Q73 with two clubs. Ryan (Absinthetics) opened with a pot-sized bet. I was next. My thinking was that with a re-pot (which would put me all in), I could represent top set, likely fold the field, and still have the flush draw as a backup plan in case I got called.

In fact, I did get called--twice. First by an unknown guy who had the ace-high flush draw, and then by Ryan, who actually had what I was trying to persuade him that I had. D'oh! I basically had only two outs--hitting a red king. That didn't happen. Ryan won an enormous pot. You can see the impressive chip stack that resulted here. Don't overlook the wad of Benjamins tucked in there.

It was a stupid move on my part. Committing one's stack with just an overpair and a non-nut flush draw in the face of another solid player's demonstrated aggression and desire to build a big pot is just suicidal. It was midnight, I was tired, had been playing for several hours, and just wasn't thinking clearly. I basically reverted to valuing hands as I might in hold'em, rather than adjusting to a game where it is always much more likely that somebody is already holding the nuts, and in which non-nut draws are hazardous to one's health.

I still ended up winner for the day, however, and hopefully had a painful lesson embedded further into my brain by the consequences of my error, and will be better prepared to skirt such dangers in the future. (I already knew these things in theory, but obviously hadn't incorporated them sufficiently deeply into my decision-making apparatus.)

The learning continues.

AVP 2.0

I've been a reader/user of AllVegasPoker.com since I moved here five years ago. The site's forum readers formed the first core of my readers when I decided to start my own blog rather than posting my random pokery thoughts and stories there. But AVP got rather neglected over the past couple of years. Room reviews were stale, details weren't current, tournament schedules weren't updated, etc.

Well, that's all changed. Yesterday they launched a completely overhauled site. It looks fresh and is easy to navigate. Poker room information is up-to-date and easy to scan. It's a remarkable improvement.

If you have any reason to want to read about Las Vegas poker rooms, give the revised site a look.

PeeGee's Big Adventure, Part 5

So tomorrow it begins.

Last night I was at the Rio for some cash games (up $400 in 2.5 hours--thank you, WSOP), and took a minute to check out the location of my table. I'm at Amazon Purple 376, marked above.

I mention this because a few people have told me that they plan to be there on the rail to watch/support me. While I appreciate the intention, I have to tell you, you're going to be disappointed. There's no access to the table, physically or visually. You won't be able to see much of anything that's going on. You might be able to tell to whom a pot is being pushed, but that's about it.

Worse, I'm in seat 2. The red arrow seen above is pointed at where the dealer sits, which means that I'll have my back directly to the nearest aisle where a spectator could stand. Unless I crane my head around 180 degrees, I won't even know anybody's there.

All of which is my most polite way of saying this: Come if you like, but I wouldn't if I were you. You shouldn't expect to get any interaction with/from me, not because I don't want to be friendly, but because I'll be both physically isolated and kinda busy. On breaks, I will probably be happier if I can bust out of the room and walk or vegetate on my own than if I need to try to be socially engaging.

I will keep up on Twitter the best that I can. At a minimum I'll send an update every two hours at breaks, but also probably anytime there is a major chip move up or down, and if I get moved to a different table. It's also possible that the PokerNews live updates will report on me now and then. I don't yet know which of their bloggers will be assigned to my area, but I know several of them, and it's likely that most or all of them know of the Dan Cates raffle story and would consider it worth following occasionally.

Speaking of whom, add @junglemandan to your Twitter feed and give him your virtual support during his first Main Event. He's a good guy and deserves attention.

As you might guess, I plan to keep notes on the most interesting hands, and write them up here when I can.

And so it begins. Whee!

Guess the casino, #910

To reveal the hidden answer, use your mouse to highlight the space immediately after the word "Answer" below.

Answer: Planet Hollywood

Guess the casino, #909

To reveal the hidden answer, use your mouse to highlight the space immediately after the word "Answer" below.

Answer: MGM Grand

Poker gems, #429

John Vorhaus, in Card Player magazine column, June 29, 2011 (vol. 24, #13), page 36.

I know of no truer truth of poker than everything's harder out of position. It's harder to bluff, harder to control the size of the pot, harder to get the right price for draws, harder to protect big hands, harder to know where your opponents are in the hand--harder, harder, harder. And yet--all day, every day--we see people making promiscuous calls and audacious raises from early position. What are these people thinking? That their 9-8 suited is going to flop a straight or a flush? That their A-Q in the blind is worth calling a raise and a reraise because both of those other guys are liars? That their skill edge is so great that it can overcome their positional disadvantage? Well, it ain't. Hey, Mike Caro once said, "Everyone takes turns making mistakes in poker. The trick is just to skip your turn." By analogy, everyone takes turns playing out of position. Why not just skip your turn? If you're in a good game, you'll do fine just waiting to play hands in position. And if you're not in a good game, playing out of position becomes geometrically worse.

PeeGee's Big Adventure, Part 4

Friday I sat down for an interview with Glenn of the Missing Flops blog/vlog. I've known Glenn for quite a while, so I was a lot more comfortable in this video than I was being interviewed by a TV guy standing up in the middle of a hallway at the Rio--and it shows. Most of you haven't ever met me in person, but this clip is, I think, a very accurate reflection of how I look and sound in real life. I don't cringe at all sharing this one with you, because this is the relaxed, honest-to-goodness me.

Video with a brief text introduction here.

Doyle Brunson and the WSOP

Doyle Brunson has been frustrated at the World Series of Poker this year. Saturday he Tweeted, "@PokerLawyer Thanks, you might be watching my last tournament. If I don't play well (up to my standards), I may retire from tournament poker." A few hours ago, he busted out of the $50,000 "Players Championship" event and wrote, "Busted... Total nightmare... Goodbye WSOP." That was followed shortly thereafter by, "No main event for me. maybe the DOJ will stake me."

Pokerati then asked him, "will this be your first main event to miss ever?" Kevmath responded, "sure he missed some after jack binion left and becky took over?"

Dana Smith interviewed Doyle in 1998. The transcript is reprinted in The Championship Table at the World Series of Poker by Smith, McEvoy, and Wheeler (2nd edition, Cardoza, 2004), pages 48-55. The introduction to the interview says, "Brunson created some waves this year (1998) at the World Series of Poker when, after a 20-year hiatus from tournament competition, he made a triumphant return to the arena where he previously had won so many battles, including back-to-back victories in the championship event in '76 and '77."

The interview includes this Q&A on page 53:

You don't usually play the small events at the Series, but this year you did. What made you decide to play them?  

One reason was that some guys had passed me by and I wanted to keep my name towards the top of the list. Another reason was that they were putting out these lists (odds sheets) with the favorites on them--and they didn't even have me in the top eight! I have nothing against women poker players, but they had a few women in front of me. "I'm gonna have to do something about that," I said. So, instead of playing in the side games, I played in the tournaments for the first time in 20 years. 

Now, neither this claim from Brunson nor the one from Smith introducing the interview can be taken literally--a complete absence from all tournaments or even from just the WSOP--because the records show that Doyle cashed 13 times, including three bracelets, in the 20 years prior to his "return" in 1998 (i.e., 1978-1997). These cashes included three Main Event final tables. Furthermore, they included not just the Main Event (as might be suggested by Smith's distinction about the "small events"); he cashed in stud, deuce, ace-to-five draw, PLO, and Chinese, as well as no-limit hold'em.

In fact, looking at that record, it's hard to understand what either Smith or Brunson himself meant by characterizing that period as a 20-year hiatus from the Series. I can't easily answer exactly how many times Doyle has sat out the Main Event, but it is likely a good number of them in the 20-year stretch following his 1977 championship, if there is anything at all to be believed about his own words in this 1998 interview.

Pigs

I forgot to mention something from my Golden Nugget tournament the other day. At one seat I noticed fingernail (or maybe toenail; it was hard to tell) clippings on the carpet all around the chair.

What kind of pig uses the occasion of a poker tournament to trim his nails? And, having made that decision, what kind of pig then thinks, "I'll just leave these remnants here for somebody else to pick up later"?

Guess the casino, #908

To reveal the hidden answer, use your mouse to highlight the space immediately after the word "Answer" below.

Answer: Hard Rock

PeeGee's Big Adventure, Part 3

Ugh. I'm dreading sharing this, but I guess I must, in order to keep a more or less complete documentation. I just saw the brief interview I did last Wednesday with KSNV's "Sports Night in Las Vegas." I know I'm awkward and dorky, but there's nothing worse than seeing the videotaped evidence of just how awkward and dorky as it's broadcast to billions of homes all over the planet. OK, maybe not billions, but you get the idea. I didn't feel nervous doing the interview, but I come across as having more tics than Paul Magriel. I look more nervous than Russ Hamilton injected with truth serum.

Sorry for the horrible technical quality here. They don't consistently put these shows up online, so my only way of conveying it to you was to record it playing back on my TV, meaning that both the video and audio quality are awful. If I ever learn of it being available more directly (and without me flagrantly infringing on the station's copyrights), I'll post something about it.

Nasty, brutish, and short

Thomas Hobbes apparently foresaw my day at the Venetian Deep Stack Extravaganza. Less than two hours in, I was waylayed by two hands in rapid succession.

First, I had 4-5 offsuit in the big blind. Blinds were 75/150 (Level 2), and I had a stack of about 13,000 (starting stack was 12,000), small blind had quite a bit less. Everybody folded, and he limped. Flop was 4-5-6 with two clubs. SB checked. I bet 250 with my bottom two pair. He raised all in, total of 7050, a completely ridiculous overbet. He did it instantly and forcefully. The unmistakable message was, "Go away, give me the pot." I thought this was completely defensive, trying to shut out any straight draws and flush draws with a weak made hand. If he had a really strong hand--flopped set or straight--I think he would try to extract more value than this, try to make me pay too much for a draw. I just didn't believe that he had my two pair beat. So after thinking a bit, I called. I was right: he had 8-8. He had to hit an 8 for a set, a 7 for a straight, a 6 for a higher two pair, or some weird runner-runner combination. Turn was the 9 of spades, eliminating the backdoor clubs threat. But the river was a 7, making his gutshot straight. Ick. That knocked me down to 5900 chips.

Just a few hands later, with blinds up to 100/200, I had As-Kd offsuit in early position. I raised to 600 after one limper. Young woman on the button called. Blinds and limper folded. Flop was Kh-Jc-4h. I bet 1200 into the 1700 pot. She raised to 4000. I had 4100 left. This was a difficult spot. Having watched her play for about 90 minutes, I didn't think she was bad enough to have called my early-position raise with any down cards that would have flopped her two pair. The possible exception was a suited K-J, but one king in my hand and one on the board made that much less likely. With K-K or J-J she almost surely would have reraised pre-flop. 4-4 was obviously a possibility, but I thought that most of her range consisted of (1) things like Jh-10h for a pair and a flush draw, or Qh-10h for combined straight and flush draws; and (2) another A-K. I was OK with taking my hand against those.

But she had what was for me the worst part of her range: the 4-4 for a flopped set. I would need to catch two running cards to make a straight or full house to win, and that didn't happen. I was one of the first players out.

Like I said, nasty, brutish, and short. Poker is like that some days. OK, a lot of days.

Before we got to the nasty and brutish, however, there were a couple of highlights. I continued my experiment with finding spots in which to raise rather than just call. Two were noteworthy, I think.

With blinds at 50/100, it folded to me in the cutoff with Ah-Jh. I opened for 275. The big blind reraised to 700. My usual reaction is to either fold or call. This time, though, I decided that there was a good chance that he was just reading me for a blind steal with any two cards, because that's certainly what it looked like. I decided to test his resolve, and four-bet him to 2100. It took him only about three seconds to throw his cards away. I guess I was right.

The second example happened when I had 10c-10d, blinds still at 75/150. The guy on my right open-raised to 500. I called, as did the player on my left, who had just recently joined the tournament as a late registration. Flop was 7-6-2 with two diamonds. Original raiser bet 1200. My usual play here would be to just call, waiting to see what the third player will do, as well as finding out whether the guy leading will bet again on the turn, to help me sort out if he has a bigger pocket pair versus unpaired big cards. But in accordance with my desire to try an extra ounce of aggression, I decided instead to raise, making it 3000. If either one came back over the top, I could safely conclude that he had a higher pair or a set. A flat-call from the player on my left would be plenty alarming, too. But they both folded. Pot to me.

So even though this tournament didn't turn out to be the test of my endurance as I had hoped and planned (they play until 2:00 a.m. after starting at noon), I both played reasonably well and got a couple more instances of being rewarded for selective stepping up the aggression beyond my usual zone of comfort and safety--before getting hit with a combination of a bad beat and a cold deck. So I got that going for me, which is nice.

Guess the casino, #907

To reveal the hidden answer, use your mouse to highlight the space immediately after the word "Answer" below.

Answer: Bill's

"I can count!"

One incident from today's Golden Nugget tournament deserves retelling.

I had the table maniac on my immediate left, which was a serious pain in the neck. In the hand in question, I limped in with 10-10. He shoved from the button. His range there was very large, and I thought my 10s were in pretty good shape. But it was hard to estimate his stack, because he had accumulated an enormous number of the two smallest-denomination chips. He really liked them, for some reason, and would put in his blinds and antes with larger chips apparently just for the purpose of getting yet more small chips as change. I don't know if he has some sort of fetish for them, or likes having huge stacks as some sort of visual intimidation, or what.

Anyway, I estimated his stacks to total somewhere between 12,000 and 15,000, and that was a range that I was willing to call. So I did. He had K-9 offsuit, so I was definitely right in my judgment that he was shoving very light there, and I was definitely right to call. Sadly, he got lucky and binked a king to take the pot.

Then the dealer had to count out his voluminous stacks so we could get the pot exactly right. When she got down to the 25-denomination chips, she messed it up. She assembled stacks of 10 chips and said, "500," then put those together and said, "1000." There were several stacks of 20 chips each of these. Like I said, he was cornering the market on the cheap chips.

Even though three people were telling the dealer that she was counting wrong, when she went back, she made the exact same mistake again. She concluded that the total was 17,000 and change. (I don't remember her exact number.) At that point I had lost all confidence in her, and said, "Would you please call the floor to redo the count?"

She gave me the nastiest look I've seen in a long time and spat back, "I can count!" Uh, I beg to differ with you, ma'am. You have proven that, in fact, you cannot count, at least not correctly. But I didn't say that. I just repeated, with more emphasis, "Please call the floor." I intended my voice to convey that I knew perfectly well that when a player makes this request she is obligated to comply, and that if she did not do so, I would call the floor myself and hang on to my chips until help arrived. Apparently she got this message, and put in the call.

While we were waiting, she took another stab at it. This time the maniac was simultaneously trying to count them, and they completely got in each other's way, moving chip stacks this way and that, messing up each other's count. I just made sure that they didn't mix any of my stacks in with his until it got sorted out.

The floor guy came. I don't know his name, but I've seen him at the G.N. for years now, and he's very good at his job. In fact, he's the same one who last year bailed out another dealer who didn't know how to count, in a story I related here. When he arrived, I said, "It's an all-in and call. We need his stacks counted. The dealer got it wrong the first time, and I'd like to have an independent count, please."

The dealer glared at me again, and shot back, "I did not get it wrong!" But floor guy wasn't listening. He was already counting. Just as he had done in the previous incident, he was an absolute wizard. He flew through the stacks expertly, verbalizing the amount of each stack and his running total. It took him less than 30 seconds, and when he was done, nobody doubted that he had the number right.

It was 12,325, a far cry from the 17,000+ that the dealer had counted. I had started that hand with about 56,000 (tournament average was then only about 22,000), so it hurt but wasn't fatal. But a 5,000-chip mistake was not a tiny rounding error; it was HUGE. Some at the table were getting irritated that this took so long to sort out, but it wasn't my fault. I am resolute that I did the right thing by calling for backup, and not accepting the dealer's assertion that she had things under control. She was causing the problem; I was getting it resolved. I'm not going to give away 10% of my stack unnecessarily.

Incidentally, the floor guy also had the dealer color up most of the maniac's small chips so that future hands wouldn't take so long to get right.

Lesson: Don't let dealers intimidate you into just accepting their counts when you have any reason to think there is an error. Get the floor over to verify the amount before you hand over your chips. It's your right.

Poker gems, #428

David Chicotsky, in Poker Player Newspaper column, July 4, 2011 (vol. 15, #1), page 10.


It isn't hard to beat K-J with Q-J, as long as you take the lead by reraising before the flop.

[This column, which is worth reading in its entirety, was one of the proximal causes of me deciding to try the experiment described in the previous blog entry.]

Kicking it up a notch

After you play enough thousands of hands, you tend to develop a rote system: I raise with this, I fold that, I'll call in that kind of spot. I have my default plays like everybody else, and they work well enough.

I have, of course, been having lots of anticipatory thoughts about the Main Event coming up next week. One of them is an acknowledgement that my ordinary, daily game is fairly passive. I turn up the heat in spots, but I very rarely three-bet pre-flop, for example. I'm enough better at post-flop play than most opponents that I consider it an advantage not to risk turning it into a shove-fest. I play cautiously because for the most part I can wait for spots in which I know I'm a huge favorite before getting the big money in. The marginal spots, those where I'm purely guessing what another player is up to, I tend to pass on. I may be ahead, I may not be, but there's no point in reducing it to a guessing game when, with a little patience, I can get it in as a definitive favorite.

It's a serviceable strategy for cash games against the stereotypical impatient tourist, but it has problems when trying to translate it to tournaments, where patience cannot be infinite--even with two-hour blind levels.

So I decided today to try an experiment. I entered the Golden Nugget Grand series event ($135), which has the slowest structure of any low buy-in tournament in town: 40-minute levels, and Level 6 has a big blind that is just 3% of the starting stack (that's one arbitrary measure I use to judge tournament structures against each other), compared to 5% for Binion's Classic and 4% for Caesars Megastack. My goal was to play with one notch more aggression than my standard, comfort-zone tendency. I wasn't going to turn from a rock into a maniac. But I had in mind that about once each level I would find a spot in which I would raise where my usual play would be to call.

And I did it. To my great delight, every single one of them worked. For example, when the blinds were 100/200/25, and I was in the big blind with the rather awful 3-7 offsuit, six people ahead of me limped in. My knee-jerk reaction is to leave well enough alone, be glad to see a free flop, and hope for a miracle. But this time, in accordance with my goal, I picked this spot to raise. I bumped it up to 1000, and was rewarded with a cascade of folds, and a low-risk profit of 1650 chips.

In another spot, there was a standard 3x open raise from early position followed by a call from the button. In the big blind I had AcJc. I was a big stack at this point. Both opponents were left with about 10 big blinds behind. My standard move in this spot would be to just call, first because I don't want to play a huge pot from out of position, and second because either of them could easily have a hand that has me crushed--AK, AQ, QQ, or KK. But I screwed up my courage, recognized this as a potentially good spot for a squeeze play, and moved all in. The first guy took forever to fold, and looked like he was selling his only child into slavery as he did so. Second guy was quicker, but did the same thing. As I was pulling in the chips, they said that they had folded a suited AJ and an AT, respectively. They also both agreed that my bet looked like I must have AK. Sweet!

In other situations, I check-raised where my baseline play would have been to either check-fold or check-call, or I put in a light three-bet before the flop. Like I said, every single time this worked, and won me the pot without a further fight.

I know that I can't expect such perfect results all the time. But it has made me realize that I have probably not been taking sufficient advantage of the TAG table image I usually acquire. I really can get away with more steals and resteals than has been my pattern in the past. Of course, it would be easy to overdo it, but one extra move every 40 minutes or so (which is about what I did today) is not enough for anyone to begin to suspect larceny. It is, however, enough to make a meaningful difference in the rate of chip accumulation.

I didn't make the money (went out in about 35th place out of 126 entrants, top 13 sharing the cash). Nevertheless, I enjoyed this eye-opening experience so much that I am feeling deeply tempted to do it again tomorrow in one of the Venetian Deep Stack Extravaganza events, which is an even slower structure than the Grand (though at a substantially higher buy-in, $350). Both Cardgrrl and Daniel Cates told me that they thought that would be a good practice event for me, given that I'm much more used to playing in shorter, hit-and-run sessions. I just might do it.

Team Full Tilt

Here's something that has been puzzling me about this year's World Series of Poker: Why are some members of Team Full Tilt playing and others not?

First I have to be clear about who I'm talking about. The number of pros sponsored in some form by Full Tilt is bewildering, and they use a system of different labels that makes sense to almost nobody outside the family: There's the CardRunner bunch, the Hendon Mob, something called "Team Limpers," then a whole raft of "pros" and nearly as long a list of "friends."

I'm not talking about any of these lesser folks. I'm talking about those at the top of the hierarchy. The official "Team Full Tilt" consists of Howard Lederer, Phil Ivey, Chris Ferguson, John Juanda, Jennifer Harman, Phil Gordon, Erick Lindgren, Erik Seidel, Andy Bloch, Mike Matusow, Gus Hansen, Allen Cunningham, Patrik Antonius, and Tom Dwan. See the list and bios here. (Interestingly, while all the other categories of FTP pros are listed alphabetically, this group is not. I suspect this ordering reflects something about power and/or controlling interest in the company, but who knows?)

Of those, I know that Juanda, Harman, Lindgren, Matusow, Cunningham, and Dwan have been playing many tournaments at the WSOP. Ivey is famously abstaining, while he sues his (former?) friends. I believe that Lederer, Ferguson, Gordon, Seidel, Bloch, Hansen, and Antonius have not made appearances, though I could be wrong about some of those; I'm just basing this on who I've seen news stories about, and maybe one or two of them are playing but without any success so far that would bring them to my attention. In an ordinary year, we would have seen all of them out in force, though some (e.g., Lederer, Gordon) typically play fewer events than the others.

My curiosity is about what distinguishes those who are playing in 2011 from those who are not. It could be nothing deeper than personal preferences--who is willing to endure the questions and criticisms and anger from a big room full of pissed-off former customers who all want their money back?

But there are other possible answers. Maybe what distinguishes the players from the non-players reveals something about the ownership structure of the company, and those with enough controlling interest to be worried about criminal indictments are laying low. Maybe it has to do with who had so much of their bankroll on deposit with FTP that they're stuck being unable to buy in now, like lots of other ordinary players. Maybe it depends on what advice they have each individually received from their attorneys and/or PR people.

I don't know the answer, but I sure would be interested in finding out.

Guess the casino, #906

To reveal the hidden answer, use your mouse to highlight the space immediately after the word "Answer" below.

Answer: Treasure Island

Word verification for comments

Word verification for comments is now enabled. I hate doing this. I have resisted it for almost five years. I could handle it when the spam comments only averaged about ten a day, but this week some ass-clown has been bombarding me with about a hundred a day, and I just can't stand it anymore. It appears that a bot is going through my archives and trying to submit a comment (there's a rotating list of maybe 20 generic comments) on every single one of them, and it's driving me crazy. I'm really sorry to add to the difficulty of posting a comment for the rest of you, but I don't know of any other way to stop it.

Guess the casino, #905

To reveal the hidden answer, use your mouse to highlight the space immediately after the word "Answer" below.

Answer: Mandalay Bay