Down in Mississippi and up to no good

This weekend Jeremy and I decided at the last minute to join some friends in Biloxi, Mississippi for the Gulf Coast Poker Championships, part of the World Poker Tour at the Beau Rivage. Now, of course I don’t play. Jeremy does and he’s awesome!

Our friends flew in to Biloxi early Friday evening, and we drove straight from work to arrive around 11. Five and a half hours isn’t bad and my car gets great mileage. At this point, I still thought I would have the opportunity to lay at the pool all weekend. Ha.

As soon as we got into town, Jeremy hopped into a “single table satellite tournament” and took down the house. That’s right. He kicked butt and won the whole thing – even the last-longest side bet! It was a nine person “sit-n-go.” (Fyi,  Jeremy is on the sidelines here feeding me the proper names of this stuff, so please direct all your questions to him.)

Normally I’m right next to him during these big games… but the Craps table was calling my name. I jumped in with his poker buddies and helped them rake in the chips. Not really. One of the guys let me roll the dice at his turn. On my first throw one of the dice landed in the rail – you know, where people set their drinks and poker chips. So that was the end of that. But I did learn how to play!

It was evident early Saturday morning that laying by the pool would not be an option… ever. So I ‘bid’ goodbye to Jeremy and the poker guys and set out to explore the city of Biloxi. One of the valet workers told me I could pick up the trolley and go to the mall. So there I was on the sidewalk of the Biloxi strip waiting for my cute green trolley to come along.

The driver of the first trolley told me I had to wait for the “Beachcomber” to go to the mall. About five minutes later the Beachcomber showed itself. Not green. Not a trolley. It looked like the city bus for the handicap in Atlanta. I swallowed my disappointment and boarded.

At the next stop we picked up David. Although I didn’t ask, I’m pretty sure he was a wounded veteran. In his late 50’s and scruffy, he proudly sported a Git-r-done camouflage hat. I had a hard time understanding a lot on his side of our conversation, but I counted 11 times that he said “Git-r-done.” Apparently the phrase is a noun, verb and adjective. He said his preacher calls him “Git-r-done-Dave.” He tried to get me really psyched about the mall so he told me all about Piccadilly. And if I was a senior citizen, I’m sure I’d be thrilled. I wanted to ask him to take a picture with me, but something in my gut thought better about it. Use your imagination.

After a few hours and one major Dillards sale later, I was on my way back to “The Beau,” as locals affectionately call it. And at last! The trolley ride was mine!

Five out of our six players had busted out of the tournament at that point (including Jeremy) and Ken “The Joker” was the only one of us left. Ken played from noon to 12:30 a.m. and finished 23rd in the hugest tournament of the weekend. The payout was great – he kept half and let us split up the rest.

We celebrated Vinny’s birthday at dinner, then it was onto the Hard Rock next door!

To be continued…

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About jennib85

Learning to give more and spend less, one day at a time
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