At multiple instances last week, I felt as if moving to the Gulf Coast might not be that bad of an idea. I made over $10K down there playing $2/$5 NL, $5/$10 NL, and a wee bit of Blackjack.

Nothing fancy, either. Just standard play for the most part against sub-standard opponents.

Even before I knew I was going to run sick-hot in MS, I booked a room at Harrah’s in AC Sun-Tues night so I could beat up on the tournadonks busting out of the HalfMil Gtd at the Borgata.

Finally got up there around 0600 Monday morning, went right to sleep. Fuck that “Ooh! I’m here! I wanna gamble!” mentality that once coursed through my veins (and out my wallet).

After a good sleep, got a shower and drove practically across the parking lot to play some $5/$10 NL.

It was a Monday afternoon, and there were FOUR $5/$10 NL game going, plus a short-handed must-move game.

I meant to buy-in for the max, $2K, but I am a fish at counting, so I bought in for $1500.

Not ten hands into session, UTG+1 raises to 3xbb ($30), sb calls, I call from bb, I think UTG limp-called.

Flop is J2Jr. Sb bets $40 (into $120?), I call. H/U to turn. J2J T, no flush draw, I think. Check/check.

River is a small non-straight non-flush card. He now decides he wants to bet $240 (into $200?).

I’ve played with the guy before. He’s not scared money by any means. He WILL call large bets with less than the nuts. I raise All-in for over $1K on top of his bet, he covers.

He looks at the dealer, looks at me, says, “Did you go all in?” Dealer confirms his assumption. I say nothing. He says, “I call.” He’s momentarily proud of his TT as he tables it for tens full of Jacks.

I table JT, yacht vs canoe, and almost immediately send Pops a text telling him I owe him $1.

And this is just the start of the trip.

The next four or ten hours I could’ve spent in bed again. Very little in the means of my stack changed. I couldn’t get much going at the table I got moved to, and when I did, I got a wee bit to cute a few hands later and gave it back.

FINALLY, our game breaks, we move again. I’ve got about $3,500 in front.

Not 90 minutes later I’m sitting on $5,200 and I’m ready for bed.

I head back to Harrah’s, get some sleep, wake up the next afternoon and I’m not quite itching to go back and play $5/$10 NL with regulars now that most of the tournadonks have left town.

I opt for $125/hand, three hands at a time Blackjack. Pick up about $960 in under an hour, decide to chill out and play some $1/$2 NL.

Terrorized the table over the course of 100 minutes or so, losing well over $1/minute. Sexy phone-chat lines only a little more expensive and certainly more entertaining than $1/$2 NL. I discern that I should leave this venture. Oh look, they still have Blackjack at this casino.

I am at a $25 minimum table now. Less riff-raff, if you don’t include me.

I give the dealer $2,500 in crisp Benjis and ask for all black.

I doubt an hour even went buy, I’ve got over $5,300 in front.

Um… I’m done.

Not just with the Blackjack. After hitting the window I stumble up to my room, amazed ever so slightly by what just happened.

I start to count out the bounty from the previous week’s work.

Two $5K bundles, three $2,500 bundles wrapped in rubber bands, $1500 that I had just chillin’ in my wallet, and another $450 in spare change.

I took a picture, sent it to E-Honda with a note that read “A purple and two green shy of $20K.”

At that moment, it was almost 8pm. I was still checked in to the room, I had it until noon the next day. I went downstairs, got the vehicle out of valet, and drove directly to Union Jack’s, where my Dad tends bar on Tues Nights.

He said, “I thought you were in AC, what’d you do, lose all the money from MS?”

“No, won too much, had to get out of there before I did something stupid.”