On Second Thought, I Didn't Travel 10,000 Miles to Play Poker

Special K,

So as you know, I didn't play in the Main Event of the APC and here's why ...

I went to sleep, had a good sleep in fact, and woke up at 03:00. It's
jet lag, to be sure, but not that creeping kind that feels like moss
growing in your head ... it's the super fun kind that makes you feel
like you've just had the very coldest of fizzy Cokes.

After seeing if I'll fall back to sleep for about 15 minutes or so, I
wake up, and walk across my luxurious marble floor just because I can.
I read some Harrington and then some more Paris Trout. It's a nice
read. I'm in my swanky robe, just taking it all in. I occasionally
bang on the AC to turn it down a notch and finally get it at a good
temperature: 22.5C (a toasty 72.5, but I swear to you, it's not that
warm).

I try to lie down again at 08:00, and I realize right then, that I'm
not going back to sleep. Okay, that means I have to make a decision
-- because the Main Event is scheduled for 16:00 and I've had about
five hours of sleep, tops. Less, probably.

$5000 is not an inconsequential amount of money. If I choose not to
register, then I'll get a chance to play in both the $500 event and
the $1000 event. This means I'll pocket $3500, all the better to do
whatever I need to do to see tigers and lions, or enjoy any of my
swankiness at the end of the trip in the future.

The downside, though, is this tourney has about 150 players in it.
That means there'll be nearly a quarter of a million dollars overlay,
or $667 per person. That's a lot.

But all the overlay in the world isn't going to do you any good if you
can't stay awake. It's no trouble for me to be alert and awake at the
start -- the problem would be crawling past midnight on four hours of
sleep. Poker is mildly more taxing for me now than it has been for
some time, solely because I'm trying to "up" and incorporate the new
things I'm learning.

What I'd LIKE to do, right about now is pick you up and go have an
Apple Pancake. Instead, I go to the restaurant for their layout. The
breakfast spread is extravegant. They've got Western and In foods.
Donuts to dahl, it's all here. They'll make pancakes to order (which
look more like big puffy cookies), super-thin crispy waffles, and they
have a ton of different toppings as well.

The "pork bacon" is scary enough to make even me obey Leviticus. So
are the scrambled eggs (which remind me a LOT of the Prune's old ones
-- do a search on this blog to read that story).

The item that really stands out and says "hello" to me, though is a
whole kingfish that has been filleted. I have a little bit of
everything that looks good, including some In. desserts. The waffle
is a little disappointing. It's good, but not as good as it looks,
and I'd forgotten, but now remember all too well how waxy butter
tastes.

The yogurt is sublime, of course. They had some stuff they referred
to as "fresh sweet lime juice," but it's really watery and just not
"great." It also may or may not be a health threat.

The hot tea they served me is good, but not great -- I always forget
that about the tea in In., too. Don't drink it American style ("black
with sugar") nor Brit style ("with milk"), but do the In. thing and
drink chai. Chai is the H. word for "tea," but it's far from that --
tea is the base with nearly equal portions of sugar and milk. It's
sweet, it's cloudy, it's bizarre. It takes awhile to get used to, but
I like it better than, say, Thai Ice Tea.

The kingfish is superb. Lots of flavor, very fresh.

I go back for more kingfish and yogurt. And follow that with a taste
of strawberry mousse and a couple Indian desserts: a saffron-rice
pudding and some unbelievably sweet In. monstrosity.

"Cloying" is a word I only ever use in my life to describe In. desserts.

11:00 rolls around. I watch a little TV and head off for lunch.
Again there's a huge spread (and yes, all of this is free for the
poker players). I grab just a little dahl and some of the absolutely
best naan bread I've ever had -- it's fired up straight in front of me
in the tandoor. Workers like this are never spoken to, so I chat him
up a bit -- he's both surprised and pleased by what I say.

Since the pressure to play is off, I back off on the poker reading,
since I've been doing so damn much of it up to this point. I sit on
the balcony and starting writing a letter, by hand, for the first time
in, X, I don't know, 25 years, maybe? I read a little Paris Trout. I
snag a trishaw over to the next city and hit the Internet cafe. I
can't find one for the return journey, so I just hoof it back.

They're really, really used to tourists here -- I don't get a single
stare, not even from the kids. It's nice.

I go check the tournament when I get back, it's rolling along --
whiners already out on the side complaining about how unbelievable
their luck had been.

I go back to the room and force myself to stay until at least
midnight. I want to sleep through and then be able to play play play
in the $500 tomorrow.

Oh yes, and one more thing to add ... We have lightning bugs.

Peace be with you, K,
m.