Can you tell me what the rule is, after reading the rule?

I have tried to like the Monte Carlo poker room. I really have.

It's small, and I like small, cozy rooms. It's quiet; I like that. They have freeroll tournaments for accumulated hours of play, but they change the frequency, requirements, and payout schedule every couple of months, so it's impossible to keep track of. Parking, since the Echelon construction began, has been a nightmare, though I hear that there is now a functioning parking garage again. (Last night I started at MGM and walked over to Monte, so I haven't tried it yet.) The tables and chairs are of marginal comfort, at best. I haven't been treated well by the room staff generally; more than most places, I have been made to feel like my showing up and asking for a seat is an annoying intrusion into the time of whoever is managing the list. They also don't track hours on your MGM card for food comps. There's a couple of dealers there that I like a lot, but I had an unusual, uncomfortable, and completely unnecessary confrontation with another one. Most importantly, whether there is a no-limit game going when I want to play is completely hit-or-miss, and when there's one going, it's often one of the nittiest in town.

Then, among other things, there are the weird, nitty rules, and the inconsistent enforcement thereof. This is bad enough that it is prominent discussed in the allvegaspoker.com editor's review of the room. Over the last month or so, I have really come to enjoy sending out tweets about the progress of the session, interesting hands, small observations and amusements, etc. In fact, it's possible that my somewhat reduced frequency of telling poker stories in blog posts is due to having told them already in tweets. I'd like to think that these mini-posts are just as much fun for readers as for me.

So when I read something recently (and I can't remember where it was--perhaps one of Las Vegas Michael's tweets?) about rooms in which one is not allowed to use cell phones, including text messaging, at the table, and Monte Carlo was included, it gave me one more reason to avoid the place. (See here for a good discussion of texting rules.)

Last night I had an unusually profitable session at the MGM, and felt like leaving there to pocket my winnings, but still wanted to play more without having to get in the car and drive somewhere else. So I decided to give the Monte another try, for the first time in several months. It's a short walk across the street to the east.

As I played, I noticed that the big-screen TV nearest the room's entrance had a rotating display of rules, promotions, announcements, etc. I jotted down the exact text of the screen about cell phones a few words at a time. Here's what players are told:

CELL PHONES

NO TEXTING WHILE YOU HAVE CARDS IN PLAY

*Please refrain from using your cell phone at the poker table.

* We kindly ask you to step away from the poker table to use your cell
phone.

* Thank you for your cooperation.

So what is the rule? Can you use your cell phone for web browsing, texting, etc., while not in a hand? The first part of the rule would seem to suggest yes. The second and third parts would seem to suggest no, assuming that "use" of a cell phone includes not just talking on it but using its other functions. In other words, it's impossible to tell what the rule is by reading the rule. How moronic is that?

As mentioned, I have heard that the rule is enforced so as to prohibit even texting while not in a hand. Last night, however, a couple of players at my table openly talked on their phones while in the middle of hands. I didn't do that, but I did check Twitter a couple of times and read and responded to one text message that I got, when not in a hand, and nothing was said to me about it. These observations show pretty clearly that, whatever the rule is, it is not enforced consistently.

I'm not sure which is worse--having a stupid rule that is enforced to its nittiest bleeding edge (as, say, at Mandalay Bay), or having a stupid rule the enforcement of which is completely inconsistent, varying with the dealer, the floor person, the time of day, etc. Either way, the fact that one can read the rule as posted in the room and still not be sure what is allowed or disallowed is a sign of woeful mismanagement.

"I know what a straddle is"

I was playing at the Monte Carlo tonight. We were in the first orbit after a new player had joined the table. When it was his big blind, the player to his left put in a live straddle to $4. Several people called the $4, including the big blind. When action reverted to the straddler, he raised to $24. That's where the trouble began.

But before I can continue the story, I need to provide you with this small diversion. It's a clip from "Seinfeld." In order to understand and appreciate what went through my mind as the rest of the story played out, you really need to take a minute (OK, 2:40) to watch the following scene first:




Back to our story. So the under-the-gun player raises to $24. The big blind objects. "He can't do that. When he put in his first raise, that was his turn. He can't reraise himself." Simultaneously, about three people at the table said variants of the same thing: "Yes, he can. It's a live straddle."

To all of which the new guy said testily, "I know what a straddle is!"

I had an instantaneous flashback to Jerry Seinfeld. I wanted to raise both of my index fingers, and tell him with a smile, "I don't think you do!"

OK, that's the end of the funny part of the story. It went back and forth, and he finally accepted the action, yet still insisting that (1) it was not legitimate, and (2) he knew what a straddle was. It was kind of bizarre.

In order to assuage the pedants among my readers (that's not an insult; I consider myself a fine specimen of the species), I'll point out that I do know that the term "straddle" has had more than one meaning over time. See here, e.g. But in contemporary usage, at least in Las Vegas, the term always suggests an optional blind raise with option to raise again.

Money to burn

There's a new aggregator of poker blogs at http://www.pokerwonks.com/. It's a convenient way of scanning recent posts from a wide variety of poker blogs, just to keep abreast with what people are doing and saying in this strange segment of the world.

I was browsing the site this morning, and was reminded that I hadn't checked in on the Prof's poker blog in a while (http://www.lasvegasvegas.com/pokerblog/). A few days ago he posted this:

While the Monte Carlo resort on the Las Vegas strip was ablaze last Monday
the poker room was doing business as usual. Poker players continued betting and
dealers continued dealing the cards to the nonchalant crowd of gamblers. The big
screen TV's in the poker room were tuned to local channels where the fire on the
upper floors exterior facade could be tracked in real time. This devil-may-care
behavior is reminiscent of the time when flood waters flowed through the casino
at Caesars Palace and blackjack players rolled up their pants legs and continued
gambling. Neither flood nor fire will keep the dedicated gamers from their
appointed games.

This was the first I had heard of how people inside reacted to the fire. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised.

I've played poker through many fire alarms before. As I wrote a couple of months ago (http://pokergrump.blogspot.com/2007/12/mesquite-flavored-poker-part-1-eureka.html):

The final interesting thing that happened on this visit was a fire alarm.
It happened just as I was leaving--literally the instant that I stepped through
the door. In fact, I wondered if I had triggered some security thing, like when
the alarm blares at you in the public library because they didn't de-activate
one of your books.

I've heard lots of fire alarms in casinos before, and they're actually kind
of funny, because nobody does anything. They just keep doing what they were
doing before. Every previous time, a recorded voice has come over the PA system
saying something like, "Our staff is investigating the cause of the alarm. We
will notify you if you need to take any action." In other words, they give
people permission to ignore the alarm.

But this time, the overhead voice was actually telling everybody to
evacuate. By the time I got to my car, a few people were trickling out, but it
wasn't anything like you see in a fire drill at a school, for instance. I think
most people will keep playing their slot machines until the reels melt from the
flames and won't turn any more. Even then, they'll complain that it was just
about to hit.

I have enough confidence in modern building construction and fire safety codes (well, except maybe in Harrah's properties; see http://www.lvrj.com/news/12530566.html and http://www.lvrj.com/business/14450797.html) that I don't worry that a towering inferno is going to result from most of the stuff that sets off the hotel fire alarms (an overdone souffle in the oven, somebody smoking in bed setting his sheets on fire, etc.).

But I'm just telling you all in advance, so you don't think I'm being rude when it happens: If I'm playing poker, and there's a fire in the building large enough that it's being featured live on all the local television stations, and that coverage is on the big-screen TVs in the poker room--I'm going to be leaving. It's possible that I'll finish the hand I'm currently playing. I might even cash out my chips if there isn't a line at the booth. But I'm done for the day.

Hundreds of people needlessly died in the World Trade Center because they obediently followed directions (both automated recordings and what they were told when they called security for advice) to stay where they were and not evacuate the buildings. That's not going to be me. Yeah, maybe the fire is only on the roof, and the poker room is on the ground floor, but fires do crazy things sometimes. They spread. They drop flaming debris to lower levels. They cause floors and walls to collapse, pancaking the stories below. Smoke gets into the ventilation systems. The sprinklers might turn on, dowsing everything and everybody that's still there. And if you wait to leave until the crisis is obvious and imminent, you might get trampled by panicking idiots.

Call me paranoid, but when a building is burning in a major way, I've got other places to be. With more than 50 poker rooms in the city, I don't need to be sitting in the one that's on fire.

Could I have found a new poker home???

Ever since the Hilton closed down, I've been adrift. I haven't had a default place that would tend to top my list of choices of where to play. I've just been wandering, hoping that someplace would strike my fancy enough to settle in.

The Venetian was coming closest. It's clean, well-run, good mix of locals and tourists, profitable, reasonably easy to get to (i.e., I can get in the back way without fighting Strip traffic), skilled dealers, quiet, smoke-free. So there wasn't anything to gripe about, but for whatever reason I just couldn't fall in love with it.

I tried Treasure Island. I really did. It shares many of the things I liked so much about the Hilton: Small, friendly, quiet, mix of locals and tourists, easy access. But for reasons that I never figured out, I just didn't make money there, despite trying and trying and trying. Maybe it was just strange statistical variance, or maybe it was something about the style generally played there that I couldn't ever put my finger on. But I can't keep playing at a financial loss.

I've also tried to love Mandalay Bay and the Monte Carlo, but can't. Suncoast is a place I like a lot, but it's a long drive for me, and there isn't a no-limit game going on with enough regularity. Caesars is OK, but, like the Venetian, bigger than I really care for, and fairly difficult in terms of parking/walking.

So basically I've been a bit depressed. I just can't deal with the fact that such a nice, cozy, profitable place like the Hilton closes while awful, abominable, atrocious, aggravating places (and that's only using the "a" adjectives!) sprout up and never die. The world ain't fair.

But tonight I have a glimmer of hope.

I've only walked into the Rio poker room once before, and I didn't have a great first impression. I had read largely negative reviews of the room at http://www.allvegaspoker.com/, so maybe that predisposed me to not liking it. I parked in the wrong garage, and it's an exceptionally long walk if you do that. Then, after the long walk, they only had one game going, and it was limit, and that day I just wasn't in the mood to play it, so I left. That was late last year sometime.

I gave it another shot tonight, and was pleasantly surprised about nearly everything. When I parked in the west ("Carnival") garage, the poker room was a shorter walk to get to than most places. Of course, there is the added pleasure of turning away from Strip traffic when coming off of I-15.

They had two no-limit games going and one $3-6 limit. Restrooms were very close, a fact of which my gradually enlarging prostate gland took special note. The poker room was open, or, I guess, sort of semi-enclosed, but it's not stuck among the slot machines and table games. Rather, it's next to the little bowling alley, the buffet, and the sports book, which gives it a completely different sound and feel than the rooms that are too close to the ding-ding-ding of the slots and the whoops from the craps tables. I detected no infiltration of cigarette smoke (and I have a sensitive nose for it), and it was pleasantly quiet. The room is about the size that I like.

The staff was attentive, friendly, and helpful. The dealers were outstanding--and that's something I'm pretty fussy about. Every one of the four on duty tonight was well above the industry average. Every one of them was fast, efficient, good at enforcing rules politely, and I saw not a single error made. Highly impressive.

During one hand, one player asked another to move his hands so that his chip stacks were more visible. An uninvolved player eyeballed the stacks in question and said, "Looks like $180 or $190 or so." This happens all the time, even though it shouldn't. I've never even once heard a dealer say anything about it--until tonight. This dealer politely said, "One player to a hand, please." The dealer was absolutely right. It's a minor thing, but unless a player asks the dealer to count down an opponent's chip stack(s), how he estimates the number of chips left is his own business, and an integral part of no-limit decision-making. Other players shouldn't stick their noses into it. As regular readers will know, I love strict enforcement of the rules, because that's how the game is most fair. I wanted to kiss that dealer--except that his moustache would have been a little bit scratchy, I think.

A poker room's cocktail waitresses are about eleventy-billionth on my list of priorities for reason to pick a place to play. But it was impossible not to notice the outfits these girls were wearing. I can't remember any other casino where the uniforms looked so much like a nightie a young woman might wear to bed on her wedding night. See http://www.vegasrex.com/2007/11/01/the-rios-new-clothes/ for more photos and comments.

The Rio poker room also has massages available at the table. This surprised me, because it's something I've previously seen only in the largest rooms (e.g., Venetian, Caesars, MGM) and in the Palms. I don't know how they can make a good living in rooms as small as the Rio and Palms, but I'm happy to have them there. It makes for a nice break in a long, tiring session.

I also learned that there is a weekly freeroll. Spend 15 hours at cash games Sunday through Thursday, and you qualify for a tournament the following Wednesday evening. The room puts up $5000 in prize money, but this gets pushed up, because people who don't qualify for free can buy in for $230. The shift supervisor told me that they average about 30 free entries and 20 buy-ins, so the prize pool gets to $8000-$9000. That may work out to more tournament equity per hour of qualifying play than the Hilton's monthly freeroll did, and that was often considered the best deal in town.

I was amused by the felt on one table, pictured above. Just in case you forget what beats what, it's right there on the table for you. I've never seen that anywhere before.

Three of the old regulars from the Hilton were there, so apparently I'm not the only one noticing that much of what was likeable at the Hilton is embodied at the Rio, too.

Another little touch I liked was the wide variety of commemorative chips. I like having a bunch of different chips in play. It gives me something else to look at and think about, because, let's face it, poker can have long boring stretches, and nobody can maintain focus on the game all the time for hours on end. I also like keeping a collection of the different unusual chips that casinos put out. Yeah, I know, that makes me a sucker, because I buy for $5 what the casino pays about ten cents to have made, but it's a little thing that makes me happy, having a few hundred different chips at home to play with. The Rio must have an enormous number of different ones, because I found the 12 pictured above just in what I had in my stacks when it was time to cash out. (You can click on the photo for a much more detailed view of them, if you're interested.) I usually only expect maybe two or three different ones the first time I visit a room that is new to me.

Last but not least, it was incredibly easy to make money. Of course, this is a sample of one night, which doesn't say much for the long run, but it was a promising start. I basically got run over by the deck, and made a profit of $225 in about 45 minutes of playing $3-6 limit while waiting for a no-limit seat. That is completely unprecedented in my experience. Then I bought in for $100 at the no-limit game and left with another $158 profit an hour later (not including the chips I kept as souvenirs, which I don't think the IRS needs to know about...), mostly coming from a three-way all-in when I had flopped a set of tens and they held up.

It's only one visit there so far, but kind of like you feel after a first date that went well, I'm a bit giddy, and having fantasies that maybe this is the place for me. I really liked everything about the room. Or, to put it another way, I can't find anything to be my usual grumpy self about. I can't wait to try it again and see if first impressions hold up.

Bizarre new "rule"

This post might better be titled, "Dealers who make up their own rules, part IV."

Monte Carlo, last night. There's a guy across the table from me who plays about 90% of hands, and bets or raises post-flop the majority of the time. He's very difficult to put on a hand, because he plays the nuts the same way he plays zippo.

He wins one pot with a bet on the river that an opponent doesn't call. Before he mucks his hand, he shows it to the guy next to him. Before the player has tossed in his cards, I say to the dealer, "Show those, please." The dealer hesitates. I've seen this happen many times, and it's usually because the dealer is busy doing other things and didn't notice one player showing his hand to another--perfectly understandable, with all the other things the dealer is doing when a hand is concluding. So I say, "He showed them to the guy next to him." That explanation is usually sufficient for the dealer to act, or at least to seek confirmation from one of the players involved that the cards were voluntarily shown, before showing the hand.

But this dealer mucks the cards anyway, and explains that the player that was shown the hand was not involved in the pot, so I don't have a right to see them. I think, "Are you f'ing kidding me? Are you just making this up as you go?" Instead, though, I explain that it is never the case that a player can give that information selectively to some people at the table but not to others. The dealer reaffirms that that is the rule--only people who were in the hand can ask to see it. (I was dealt in, but folded pre-flop. This dealer didn't explain how long one has to stay in the hand to retain the right to see the hand, under his bizarro version of the rules.)

Well, I don't believe this for a second. The cards are in the muck, and I'm not so concerned about this one hand that I'm going to try to pluck them out, but this is a principle that's too important to let stand in this idiotic fashion. So I tell the dealer, "Could you call the floor, please?" He does, though obviously he isn't very happy about it.

Predictably, the floor person confirms that "Show one, show all" does indeed apply, providing that the request is made before the cards go in the muck, while they can still be identified. I point out that I did make the request in plenty of time, but the dealer refused it. Neither of them attempts even a token apology, or acknowledges that a mistake was made.

I am usually completely forgiving of dealers' errors, and don't needle them about their mistakes--they're just part of the game, same as referees and umpires making erroneous calls in other sports. But this is one of the most universally recognized and commonly cited rules in the book, one which virtually every player can recite, and I was astounded that a dealer actually didn't know it. After the floor person left, I asked the dealer, "You really had never heard the 'Show one, show all' rule?" He opened his mouth, as if he was going to say something, then apparently thought better of it, turned away, and ignored the question.

For the fourth time in these rants, I have to say that I just don't understand the mindset of dealers who just make up crap completely on their own, and somehow delude themselves into thinking that those are actually the rules. There can't possibly be any person of authority or any book or any dealer school that taught him this. He apparently just made up this exception to the general rule. Who knows how long he has been citing it to players?

What the hell is up with that?