A fucked up dream

I guess this is evidence that I think about poker a lot, even if I don't play it a lot now, or very well:

For some reason I found myself about to go to the airport with my twin, John Juanda. He had some PR minder who was telling me how easy it was to travel now because of this curbside service deal they had set up.

Before we got in the car, though, he stopped to answer a question I had about tourneys and knowing whether you were really ahead or behind in a hand. He stopped to work out the math longhand on a piece of paper with a couple other Asian guys. It involved lots of division and in the end, I was thinking, dude, you could have just said you are 80/20.

We get to the curbside service and for some reason everyone is packing their wallets in their bags. I had my lucky $100 Bellagio chip and my cash bankroll in my pocket (in real life it usually always is separate from me). I realize this and put it in a clear plastic bag. I hear behind me Juanda saying that exposing your money is gauche, so I try to cover it up with my hand as it is placed in the ziploc bag.

When the car arrives it turns out that a whole bunch of Asian family members that I assume are his relatives are going. The back seat is already full four-wide with him and other family members. There's just another Asian girl, my friend Heather and Juanda's mom left to pile into this packed car. I'm assuming I"ll have to take the front seat with his mom, but at the last moment, Heather pulls me into the back seat on top of the crush of everyone else. She looks like Keira Knightley now, wearing a blue Asian silk shirt (not too far of a stretch because she's pretty hot in real life) and we get in arguments and fight the entire way.

It's not long before we end up at our rooms. In my mind I think it's the Rio but from experience know it as the Riviera. Everyone else seemt to be far away in another part of the hotel suite. I go outside and it's not the desert but some wooded area and it's snowing. I see a huge truck like an airport tanker truck in the air and think, this is not good, but it somehow lands and starts going to work.

I go inside and it's Mark's hotel room. He's hanging out there with some other poker player who shakes my hand, apologizing that it's still wet. I don't give a shit and try not to wipe my hand dry in front of him as I talk to Mark. Mark is all excited as he is in Vegas and keeps talking about how he can't wait to play $4/8 limit at Ultimate Bet. Even I know that in the dream that he hates Ultimate Bet but proceed to tell him that you can't there isn't Ultimate Bet in Vegas as if it's some kind of casino. But the room downstairs has $3/6 and $4/8 if he wanted to play.

And then finally, I wake up. Whew.

POKER CATS NOTEBOOK: Previously I told Mark there was a 1 in 3 chance I would not go to Las Vegas, eating my free plane ticket, my already paid-for hotel room at the Strat in the process. But somehow seeing an invite from gracie about getting a group together for lunch on Friday tipped the scales and I decided I would go.

I'm gonig to try to leave a day earlier than originally planned, Sunday instead of Monday, because Sherri wanted to take me out to dinner that day (her day off) and she can't on other days because of her work schedule.