Day Trip to Philly

Wow, am I tired.

In a very unlike me scenario, I've had stuff to do three weekends in a row. Bachelor party - Wedding - Bash at the Boathouse. I'm looking so forward to having a weekend coming up where I have absolutely nothing on the agenda, and can spend it relaxed and easy.

So it's 3PM, I left Al's haunt in Malvern, The Boathouse about fourteen hours ago, and have traveled 800 miles in the interim. By the way, did you know you can get an 815AM slice of pepperoni at the airport in Philly? Thank god. I was operating on an empty stomach since 130PM Saturday. I could give a shit that the slice cost me $4. It was good.

But I know you aren't coming by to see how I am now, you want to hear about yesterday. All right, here goes.

First off, I had a terrific time, and just want to thank my host and hostess, the Can't Hang family, for their graciousness and generosity.

Second of all, it's all true. Everything you thought you were thinking, were guessing you knew, and were convinced couldn't be just urban legend about the Al Can't Hang crew is all true. Very, very true.

I got up early for my 820AM flight out of Grand Rapids, which landed me in Chicago at 750AM. I was starving and hadn't bought a bagel in Grand Rapids, so I got to re-live those 30 minutes of my life, rectifying my past mistakes, and getting the bagel I needed to start my day. You know, if I could just put my senior year in high school in Chicago, and have the ability to fly out there and re-live every incident that crawls up my ass on a weekly basis... imagine the possibilities. Anyway, I was traveling with a digital voice recorder in lieu of a notepad, the first time I had used the thing for real, and found myself talking into it in public. Feeling dumb as hell in the process. You almost want to preface each remark with the phrase "mental note..."

So I get to Philly at Noon, and find Dr. Pauly waiting for me at the bottom of the escalator. As we're waiting for Mrs. Can't Hang to drive back around and pick us up at the curb, he tells me about the night before at the Borgata. Basically, Pauly, Al, and the Mrs. all lost at poker, but the Mrs. ended up hitting a $1200 slot win, which of course means she's amply covered Al's poker losses. As usual, I suppose. Pauly also told me that Grubby didn't look anything like he thought he would ("I mean, he eats Wendy's every day... shouldn't he be huge?"), and that Helixx got carded with his babyface, despite being a 30 some odd year old father of two. Oh, and that Carter should be joining us at the Boathouse later.

So the lovely Mrs. CH picks us up, and we've got an hour to kill before Derek will be coming in by train. I suggest that I might be hungry, and have my last meal for the next 20 hours, a real Philadelphia cheese steak.

From Delaware. Don't ask. But it was tasty.

After grabbing Derek from the depot, we went straight to the Boathouse, where Internet Celebrity (TM) Al Can't Hang was already in pre-bash preparations.

And yes, by "pre-bash preparations," I mean "doing shots with Lewey, Big Mike, and others at 2PM.

So with Pauly, Derek, Al, and myself all under one roof, how long do you think it took to get a poker game started? I think they measure frames of time like this one using the Heisenberg Principle, or Occham's Razor, or something. Needless to say, in less than 30 minutes, we had a game going.

I'll leave the "who was in what seat" and "who won/lost what" to Pauly's capable hands. I'm just going to pass along some highlights...

>> Big Mike and Lewey were good guys, with Big Mike looking like a younger member of the Siragusa family. Lewey was half crocked when we started at 330PM, and let's just say it kept going for him from there. Other than those two, Derek, Pauly, Al, and I started the game, and we rotated Landow in upon his arrival, and welcomed Brian and JW in at different times during our nearly five hour session. We all bought in for $40, and played $.25/$.50 blinds, NL ring game style.

>> First hand out of the chute (340PM), Al takes me for about $10 when he goes runner-runner on his flush draw to suck out on my two pair. I didn't see the north side of $40 again until approximately 7PM.

>> (From my voice recorder) "Took Lewey for $18.50 on a suckout with a 10, thank fucking god all-in (laughter in the background)." I would win my share of all-in battles, but was shortstacked every time I was in that position.

>> Pauly's two pair (with something-Nine, two Kings and a Nine on the board) bluffs Al's made set with a bad kicker right the hell out of the pot. Pauly was proud, and well on his way to a helluva day.

>> I surreptitiously played a hand blind from LP, putting in a $3 raise pre-flop. Only Lewey called. Flop came something like K32 with two spades. Lewey was first post-flop and pushed all-in. I said, "Shit, I'd better look at these before I decide," and saw 56 of spades. Announcing that I was feeling lucky, I called (I had him covered, with $12 left in my stack otherwise) and didn't catch. Now I was low man.

>> Pauly spikes a 10 to burn Lewey's 88, and takes a $50 pot off of him.

>> Doubled up against Big Mike with QQ. He had 9T and caught a Ten on the flop, I pushed, he followed, back up around $30.

>> Big Mike and Pauly decide to both play blind against an extremely short stacked Lewey. Preflop they both just called Lewey, but post flop Big Mike decides to push his short stack in - blind. Pauly, also blind, calls. They flip, and Pauly's 68 caught two pair. Neither had anything else, and Pauly won $56 on a lark, putting both Big Mike and Lewey in a rebuy scenario.

>> (From my voice recorder) "Pauly is cleaning up." His TT versus Al's 44, and Al gets knocked to zero. Pauly was sitting real pretty at this point. By the way, this is probably the two hour mark, and Derek hasn't seen one turn card, and only saw one flop - that from the big blind.

>> Derek finally plays a hand - 25o as a lark. Board flops the wheel, and tosses him a 6 for good measure. He doubled up against Pauly, who had caught two pair with A4 in the hole. Way to get it started.

>> (From my voice recorder) "Three hours, twenty minutes into the game, and 140 dollars... $160? (Lewey: "I don't know...") $160, and Lewey admits drunkenly that he's the biggest bleeder we've ever seen at the poker table (Lewey: "Yes I am!")."

>> Lewey's belligerent, and the quote from Al is, "When I'm the voice of reason, we've got a problem." By the way, these guys have been drinking for about five hours, and doing shots and Irish Car Bombs as fast as the bartenders can pour them. "Lewey's belligerent" is starting to be an understatement.

>> Lewey's one decent play of the night, moving all-in after catching two pair and getting a call from Pauly, is blown when Pauly spikes an Ace on the river to make a higher two pair. Pauly had Ace-something, and Lewey had J7. Flop came J75, they both went all-in. The board paired the five on the turn, and hit the Ace on the river. I think Lewey's going to be signing a pink slip over to Pauly by 3AM if this keeps up.

>> Finally up double digits (hit the $50 mark for my stack). My JJ saw an AK8 flop, which was mercifully checked around, and then the third Jack on the turn. It took me awhile, but I've battled back nicely from $12.

>> (From my voice recorder) "Four hours into the game, and $210 down, Lewey just now announces he's going on tilt."

>> Played from 340PM - 807PM, when Lewey's spilled beer on the table is reason enough to stop the insanity. I end up +$18, and Pauly well north of that. Al was up marginally, but left us a little early to keep putting the night together. Derek at least doubled up too. I just wish that I had gotten a bit more of Lewey's cash, but whatareyougonnado?

So, thus ended the poker game. It was nuts. Lewey and Big Mike are confirmed maniacs, calling you down with bottom pair if they've hit. Raising to thin the herd does nothing in this game, and I'm thinking Derek had the right idea, just waiting for big slick or rockets to push.

The party started, and was still raging when Pauly and I left at 1AM. Bands, beer, and more SoCo than one might shake a stick at. Here's a few highlights of the bash...

>> Carter showed up around 9PM, and was operating on less than an hour of sleep across his last 24-36 hours. He apparently spent 22 hours at the poker tables at the Borgata. That's dedication. Nice guy, it was my pleasure to meet him. He passed out (from being tired, not from alcohol) at about midnight on a bench on the patio of the bar. That was amusing. As was his willingness to eat nachos off of a random nacho plate we just happened to be standing by.

>> While one of the bands was playing "Sweet Home Alabama," which I hate as a redneck anthem, this was on the local news.

>> Carter, while working the room, found himself at a table outside with three women, one of whom was the Alpha Bitch of the bunch. I came to play wingman, and it was apparent that he was looking for a reason to ditch out on these women as soon as he had an out. Unfortunately, he left me there with them and took off. The Alpha Bitch was an abrasive brunette with jagged teeth and a piercing not on her nose, not on her lip, but on the patch of skin a good half inch above the corner of her mouth. She told me, "It's a Monroe." To which I said, "After former President James Monroe, obviously." Of course, dumb people don't understand sarcastic absurd humor, and she didn't find me funny. So I decided to be a dick. The Alpha Bitch asked me, in a really nasty tone, "So, what's your story." I simply replied, "Nine long, two around," making the measurements with my hands as to leave no confusion. She said, "Well, my man is much bigger around than that." The last thing I said to her, in response to that before the women got up and left was, "Well, you must create a hell of a vacuum when you're walking around." It took her a minute, she got pissed off, and I was free of that garbage.

>> One truth I figured out early in regards to the women at this party was this... Bad Asses. Some pretty girls, some nice racks, but a whole boatload of bad asses all around. One girl, even though she had a bad ass, had this terrific smile that reminded me of my senior year crush in high school, with whom I got to be really good friends instead. Her smile always warmed me up, and this girl looked just like mine from the side. It was hard not to stare. I tried (with Carter's help) to get her and her friend to sit down with us and have a beer, but they were busy with the costumes of the Al Can't Hang Experience, the 80s hair metal tribute band closing the show. Never did talk to her again that night. Oh well.

>> I have never seen guys drink like Al and his boys. Every time I turned around, they were drinking another SoCo shot. And another. And another. Oy. They're trained professionals kids, DO NOT try this at home.

I was telling Pauly this morning on the way to the airport that Saturday happened exactly as I thought it would. I had talked to Al enough online, and had seen pics of him and his wife online that I felt like I knew them already. And so it was comfortable and cool. I expected to see a lot of drinking, hear some bar bands, play some poker, and not get nearly enough sleep for my tastes. That's exactly what I got. And it was fun.

Much thanks goes to the Can't Hangs for the unexpected hotel room hook up. That was terrific of you guys. Thanks again for a great weekend.