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Jan Fisher's Guide to Cruising
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There or Being Square
Mike O'Malley and His Magic Horseshoe Mike, a very friendly, extraordinarily funny, likeable fellow who has more reason to claim Alleged Expert status than I do, was playing eight-or-better stud at one point against a gent wearing a Detroit Red Wings cap. Heads-up on fourth street, Mr. Red Wings' board showed A-A vs. Mike's 3-9. The aces bet, and Mike called. On fifth street, the boards improved to A-A-7 vs. 3-9-5, and again Mike called. On sixth street, the aces tripped up into A-A-7-A, and Mike caught a queen, and showed 3-9-5-Q. Actually, Mike was only "sort of" showing 3-9-5-Q, because when he caught the nine, he had tossed it to me face-up and said "Hold this for me." The games really are more relaxed on ship. Then, when he caught the queen, he also tossed me that one ("Here, I don't need this one either"), so it was pretty clear even to the non-alleged experts that he was on a low draw. The trip aces checked the river, Mike bet, the trips called, and Mike turned over the four he'd caught on the end for a wheel. We were on a full ship, but his opponent hadn't made a full boat, and Mike dragged the pot. This is an easy game sometimes. If Mike O'Malley ever offers to sell you a horseshoe, buy it. Just make sure it isn't used. Although Card Player Cruises will spread any game the players request, at any limit, on this particular cruise, people had the good sense to recognize that when you're already in paradise, you don't have to win ten grand to have a good vacation, so 20-40 was the biggest game in the room. The rest of the games were split pretty evenly between 2-4, 4-8, and 10-20 action, and also split pretty evenly between hold'em and Omaha (usually eight-or-better). There were also usually two 1-5 stud games going. The less said about my own poker the rest of this evening the better, especially when I can talk about fun things like the next day's adventures on Catalina Island. No, we hadn't zipped through the Panama Canal at warp speed and wound up off the California coast. Even though the more well-known Catalina Island lies pretty close to Los Angeles, there is a less well-known version in the Caribbean. It's part of the Dominican Republic. All Ashore for Catalina Island Acting on orders from the ship's captain (having hidden in my room during the life boat drill, I wasn't sure if we were under the command of Captain Kirk, Picard, Cisko, Janeway, or Hazelwood), the Vicky's various launches and shuttlecraft took us ashore, and we spent a delightful beach day. You could rent a mask and snorkel for $8, and as I had no wish to parade my Olympic poker player physique on shore, nor the desire to be beaten to a bloody pulp by the muscular boyfriends of all of the string bikini clad Italian femme fatales (actually, they weren't all string bikinis; my favorite looked more like it was made out of gold foil), I decided to investigate the reef. The reef and the assortment of brilliantly colored fish inhabiting it were delightful. I watched tiny fish nibbling on coral and plankton, smaller fish chasing the tiny fish, medium-sized fish chasing the small fish, and the occasional big fish swimming around like he owned the place. I'd never realized a coral reef was so much like a poker room. Perhaps if I could have understood fish-talk, I'd have even heard the tiny fish complain about bad bites instead of bad beats. Alert the Media, Part II: A Poker Player Does Something Useful Back on board at dinner later that night, I got to experience a feeling I treasure, because it hasn't come along too many times in my life, and no, this time I don't have a joke about someone running her foot along the inside of my leg at the table. One of the many entertaining aspects of cruising is the easy way it is to make new friends. You're seated with the same group of eight for dinner each night, and while you can decide to move to another table if you want, if you find and stick with an amenable group, you can really get to know some people over the course of the voyage, because you also get to spend time with them in the poker room. The very first night, I had taken a liking to a man (no, not that kind of liking) at our table, a fellow I hadn't met before but who seemed full of gusto, good stories, and a zest for life. Even though he was a few years older than me, we had a few things in common in our backgrounds, and it's also pretty hard to dislike a guy whose opening salvo, upon introduction, is "Andy Glazer? The one who writes for Card Player? I love your writing." Thursday night, I got to repay his kind opening salvo, because he started choking rather badly at the dinner table, and for some reason, no one else at the table noticed. If they did notice, they didn't realize how much trouble he appeared to be in. I don't know about you, but I love to be a hero even when strangers are involved, and my new friend (whose name I am omitting only to avoid embarrassing him) was no stranger. I'd never done or been taught the Heimlich maneuver, but I'd seen it often enough in movies, and I wasn't going to just sit there, so I jumped up, ran around to the other side of the table, and on the third violent bear hug, popped a big old hunk of pasta out of my pal's throat. Maybe he'd have been fine anyway, but I left the table feeling more useful to the world than I usually do after a night of poker. I can't promise you'll have the same "feel good" experience if you take a Card Player Cruises vacation, but I wouldn't be surprised if the atmosphere leaves you leaving the boat as I did, that you've made at least two new friends you expect to keep for many years. Although I don't like to think about "justice" in poker (whatever justice there is in the world is reserved, I think, for matters more important than poker), my cards did run much better for the next day and a half. I had so much fun Thursday night that I arose too late to enter the Friday morning Omaha eight-or-better tournament, and the 37 starters played down to these five happy winners: 1.
Mike Majerus, $1,480 and TOC qualification Two Repeat Finalists In case you missed the "coincidence," Dinkin and Phillips were also final table members in the hold'em tournament, which makes me think we missed two good candidates for leading the poker seminar. In any case, the good times and good games after I got to play hero got me close to even as we pulled into our last port of call in Nassau, The Bahamas. I'd been to the Bahamas many times before, so I wasn't particularly interested in exploring Nassau again, and I've been to enough casinos that a special trip just to see the gorgeous new Atlantis didn't attract me either. I decided to opt for the special "Rose Island Adventure," a prearranged boat trip to one of the many tiny Bahamian islands. Unfortunately, there was a lot of traffic in Bahamian waters, and the Costa Victoria was late pulling into Nassau, late enough so that the prearranged charter boat would not wait for all of the Card Player Cruises vacationers to disembark. This was an extremely novel form of bad beat because it was the first time I had ever met anyone in the Bahamas who was in a hurry to do anything. Nothing throws Linda Johnson, though. She just wandered over to the pier and chartered us another boat to take us over to Rose Island, and although Linda couldn't possibly have known this during the quick negotiations, our guide proved to be hysterically funny, offering a running line of patter about the various houses we were passing and their owners. We were able to take the regular "party" boat back at the end of the day, but our substitute boat ride was actually more fun. Rose Island was terrific. Unlike Catalina Island - which while pretty enough was jammed full of people - Rose Island was practically deserted. The forty or so Card Player Cruises vacationers who opted for that excursion had plenty of room to spread out, and the snorkeling here was free. We were allowed to opt either for a 12:30 p.m. return or a 3:00 p.m. return, and as we had arrived late, I expected most people to opt for the 3:00 return. To my surprise, all but four others departed at 12:30. When I asked some of those leaving why they were leaving, the most common answer was that they wanted to be able to do some shopping in Nassau. Tough Choice: Shopping or a White Sandy Beach? I looked to my left, and saw a long, unending white sandy beach lined with palm trees. I looked to my right, and saw the same thing. I looked ahead, and saw crystal clear waters gently lapping at the sand. Hurrying out of here so I could buy some stuff I didn't need in Nassau didn't seem like a good option. I stuck around, even though if you actually wanted rum in the "unlimited free rum punches," they charged $3.50 extra. Although I hadn't known who was staying and who was going when I made my decision, I was surprised to see a rather attractive ringless woman amongst the people who hadn't voted themselves off the island. Mostly for purposes of journalistic integrity, I approached her with a question. "Hi, I'm Andy," I said, as clever an opening remark as I have ever managed. "I'm here on the cruise so I can write a story about it, and I have a question, if you don't mind." "No, not at all," she said. "One of my themes for the story is a lack of singles on this trip, that people thinking their poker cruise is going to be the Love Boat have the wrong idea, at least as far as the poker crowd goes," I explained. "I was planning on describing this trip as much better for couples than for singles. I hadn't known there were ANY single women along for the ride, at least other than the organizers and staff. How did you come to be here?" She smiled. "Your story is safe," she said, "on two counts. First, I'm married, and second, I am part of the staff. I'm one of the dealers. My name is Jennifer Zeidner, and my husband Chris is also a dealer but can't make every cruise." "Glad to know I had sized things up correctly," I said, a lie made easier by years of claiming the hand I'd mucked on the end was the second-nuts. "What's it like, being a dealer on one of these cruises?" "It's really a great job," Jennifer said. "The players are nicer than they usually are, the tips are good, and whenever I'm not working, I'm on a cruise. Can't beat it. But you can tell your male readers they shouldn't necessarily give up hope of meeting a woman in poker." How was that, I wanted to know. "I met my husband playing poker," Jennifer explained. "I was new to cardroom poker, and I asked the floorman if he could recommend someone who might let me watch him play for a while. The floorman steered me over to sweat this guy Chris, and I wound up marrying him, and becoming a dealer myself. Pretty funny." I'd always known I should have done a better job tipping those floormen. Jennifer and I chatted a bit more, and after purchasing some real rum for a couple of free rum punches, I relaxed on the beach, enjoyed some genuinely peaceful and tranquil semi-consciousness, and felt quite smug about having opted to enjoy some quality time instead of rushing off for one more shopping venture. Toga… Toga… Toga!!! I grew so relaxed during this beach time, in fact, that I decided to cast off my usual attempts at dignity and join the ship-wide toga party that evening. That's right, toga party. The Vicky's daily newsletter, Costa Today, called for all guests who were bold enough to don togas, and the cabin stewards delivered extra sheets, along with toga tying instructions and gold cardboard laurel wreaths, to all cabins. Ever since watching Animal House I had wanted to attend a toga party, but I couldn't for the life of me figure out how to tie the damn thing on without revealing as much of me as the string or gold foil bikinis revealed on the objects of my beach fantasies, and I didn't possess quite the same quality of, er, assets, to display. I had settled on a demi-toga top with white pants on underneath, both for the sake of my dignity and everyone else's dinner, when my roommate Richard came to my rescue, and with a few deft knots, I was ready to Hail Caesar with the best of them. The toga party was supposed to start ship-wide at 6:15 p.m., but Card Player Cruises was having a special toga party for its own at 5:00 p.m., and so Richard and I crossed from our side of the ship to the other, out on the main pool deck, wearing our togas amongst a group of people who were still dressed rather more sanely. "There are two things I'm very sure of," I said to Richard as we took this 80-yard stroll through the staring throng. "What's that?" he asked. "First, I am absolutely positive I have never before had this many people smile at me in less than a minute," I said. "And the second?" he asked. "I'm damn glad you're walking right besides me, also wearing a toga," I answered. "I don't think I'd have it in me to make it across this deck wearing this get-up all by myself." Otis, My Man, Fails to Show The Card Player Cruises party was pretty full, and about half the people had decided to lose their shirts in a different fashion than one normally does in a poker game. The staff had come prepared: Mark Tenner wore a robe that evoked images of Socrates, and his wife Lisa sported a fine Cleopatra outfit. Linda Johnson and Bonnie Damiano also arrived wearing togas rather more elegant than one could assemble with a sheet and a helpful roommate. There were plenty of free cocktails to keep everyone's Dutch courage functioning, and a number of prizes and awards. Planet Poker, the Internet cardroom that had been sponsoring high hand giveaways throughout the week, also gave away certificates good for $25 in free play. There was some dancing, but to my great disappointment, "my man" Otis Day and the Knights were not playing, and the band never broke into "Shake," so my adolescent fantasy of gatoring in a toga remains unfulfilled. We all then wandered down for our final "pack it away while you can" meal. After a week of eating like this, I understood why they herded departure groups into different sections of the ship the next morning. If all of these newly fattened calves had run to one side of the boat at once, we'd have capsized. As I had played poker in a tuxedo the night before, during Formal night, it seemed only right that I remain toga-clad for the final evening's games. Sticking with my "quality time" theme from the afternoon on the beach, I opted for the 4-8 Omaha eight-or-better game, because that's where my saved-from-choking friend was playing, and I wanted to hang out with him a bit more. I caught a bonus when my other new friend, Wendeen Eolis, decided to sit behind the two of us and sweat us in this "high stakes" action. "You've probably sweated lots of 4-8 games before," I told her, "except those were probably 400-800." "It's not the size of the game," she said, "it's the quality of the gentlemen in it." Gosh, what a charmer. I'm sure she's setting me up to trap me for all my chips the next time we meet in a no-limit tournament. All in All, A Good Chance to Stop and Smell the Roses For a week that started out with a cold and ended up with a small net loss at the poker tables, I had a hell of a time. I made new friends, ate 30 or 40 good meals, snorkeled, played Captain Nemo, suntanned, possibly saved someone's life, wore a tuxedo and a toga within 24 hours of each other, and quite enjoyed myself, whenever I was willing to consider the world as something larger than a poker table. I
might have to take that attitude a bit more frequently. When I neither
immerse myself in my beloved game nor run away from it, but instead
merely accept it as part of the greater whole, like it is on a poker
cruise, I achieve a kind of balance I can't find at either extreme.
No accountant can audit life in our favor. We do that with the choices
we make. Whether you take your own poker cruise for the games, the
food, the sights, or the people, you'll probably find what you're
looking for in the infinitely diverse garden of possibilities on
and off the ship. If you give yourself a chance to breathe it all
in, life is a state of mind, and that clean, salty sea air breathes
rather well. >> See the photo gallery for this cruise ©2001 by Andrew N. S. Glazer |
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