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Vegas, Baby, Vegas


2007-05-25 17:44:52
By: Gene Bromberg

The suitcase lies open on my bed, and I'm taking my time choosing which garments will make the cut. How many pairs of socks do I truly need? I have two light-blue Polo shirts that are slightly different--bring them both? I don't even want to get into the underwear situation, so I won't.

Relocating for seven weeks is a more daunting task then I though it'd be. And I will be gone from my tranquil flat for nearly two months, as I head west to cover this year's World Series of Poker. That's been a dream of mine since I started writing about poker nearly four years ago, which tells you a little something about me--most dream about PLAYING in the WSOP, while I dream of covering it.

Oh, don't get me wrong, if someone wants to hand over $10K for my Main Event seat I'm not turning up my nose. My game has never been in better form--for the first time I'd classify it as "above submoronic". But I have no plans to play in any of the 55 events Harrah's will hold over the next 47 days. Instead I will be following the action like the proverbial bloodhound, providing all sorts of info and updates and photos and other good stuff.

That is, if I can finally get myself packed. Most of the day I've been listening to my stomach churn. Beyond the fact that covering the WSOP for seven weeks is likely to tax my mental, physical and emotional limits, I'm also not the most enthusiastic flyer. So even before I GET to Vegas I'll have to endure a test of my courage. Fortunately my brother has some free drink coupons for Delta and I think I'll have a few mellowing cocktails once we reach cruising altitude.

OK, gotta get back to my checklist. Withdraw money from the bank? Check. Printed out hotel reservation? Check. Figured out who's taking care of my cat while I'm gone? Uh...pretty sure I got that figured out...and Ernie's fairly independent anyway...


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