In Big Hand

Our hero happened to notice that a locals poker emporium in Las Vegas had some high-hand bonuses at odd hours — such as the early morning hours.

So after one normal evening, I arose after a few hours of sleep and ventured out into the night. Arriving at the casino, I was not surprised to see cleaning crews busy at work with their vacuum cleaners and tubes and yellow warning signs out to alert patrons. Cuidado: Piso mojado.

Regardless, I found my way to the poker room. Even in the early morning hours, there were three games underway, but they were about to consolidate into two. And it didn’t take long to find a seat.

I expected the early morning crowd to be a little different from the afternoon regulars. And I was not disappointed. There were guys with huge stacks of chips, one guy dozing slightly between hands and another guy who I had seen much earlier the previous day. He was still in the same seat and still had an impressive stack of chips. Some guys just don’t know when to leave.

I also noticed a regular with whom I have butted heads many times over many years, going back to the glory days of the poker room at The Mirage, now closed and being transformed into a Hard Rock property. We nodded at each other politely.

As a new player, I had one of the shortest stacks at the table so I guarded it jealously. But after perhaps an hour or so I made the ace-high club flush, and went to battle with the player who had been sitting in the same seat since the previous day. He called down my $80 river bet with the queen-high flush, and I got to stack a decent pot.

A new player wearing a Titleist cap sat down to my left. After several laps, I asked him what his handicap was. “Are you a 7 or 8 handicap?” I inquire.

“Good read,” he acknowledged. “I’m a 7.”

We talked golf briefly, and I asked him if he’d played Shadow Creek, the semi-exclusive course in North Las Vegas. He wasn’t familiar with it, but the dealer was.

“So you’ve played it?” I asked the dealer.

“Twice,” he said as he’s pumping out the cards for another hand. “Not worth the thousand dollars. There’re better courses in Las Vegas.”

I was tempted to ask which ones he considers better but decided to focus on the game. We are in the bonus hours now where any hand that’s aces full or better will win a modest cash bonus.

One of the players moved around and I have a new person on my right. She’s big and she’s Black and she has body piercings and she’s animated even though it’s the early morning hours. In fact, her phone chirped, and the dealer asked her if that’s a wake-up call. She said it is but that she had the day off. I’m halfway curious what she does for a living but not curious enough to ask.

We clashed briefly and she bluffed me off a big pair with her flush draw. I made a mental note.

The bonus hours expired with no one winning a high hand, and a new player with an L.A. Dodgers cap sat down. People are waking up and decide they want to play poker. I recognized him instantly and correctly associated him with a loose, aggressive style.

We got involved later when I picked up a big starting hand, K-K, and three-bet his opening raise. The flop came out Q-10-9 with two spades. I fired, and he called. The turn was a 7. I fired an almost pot-sized bet, and he called, tossing a green chip and a pile of reds into the pot. The river card was unexpected but then most river cards are. It’s a jack, leaving the board Q-10-9-7-J. Even though sunrise was now nearing, I had the presence of mind to realize I had made a straight to the king but did not have the nut straight. That would be A-K. He checked, I checked.

“I have a straight,” I announce proudly tabling my kings.

“I see it,” the dealer said, and he pushed me the pot. And I wondered if I left some value on the table.

“That’s the biggest pot in hours,” my Black friend to the right said. I noticed her name from the reader board on the table that logs in all player cards, and I commented to her that her name is one of many women’s names from the Bible.

“Yes,” she said, she knew that and added she was raised as a Jehovah’s Witness. OK, too much information for a poker game.

My friend from Mirage days moved to my left for position, but he got up to leave. We exchanged a brief fist bump, two gray-haired warriors, long in the tooth but still with respect for each other. And the day shift personnel were appearing for work.

I racked up my chips and cashed out after this perilous fight and decided to treat myself to a late/early breakfast of French toast in the coffee shop. Out the windows, there was sunlight and a rosy pink sky above the hotel tower.

Dawn in Las Vegas. (Jan. 27, 2025)

After breakfast, I wandered in the direction of the sportsbook with the intention of betting a college basketball game. I stopped briefly to watch a guy who was playing two hands of blackjack at $300 a hand. I’m not the only one watching him. He’s under intense scrutiny from a hawk-eyed pit boss. And you have to wonder: Who is playing two hands of blackjack at $300/hand at 7 a.m.?

Regardless, I was ready to make a small bet in the sports book but a clerk informed me rather rudely, that they wouldn’t open until 8 a.m. I noticed a betting kiosk, however, and managed to get my wager down there.

And finally, I went home, watching the morning rush hour traffic. Who knows, we may return for another late-night foray.

Or not.

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