First of all, Atlantis was beautiful, despite their best efforts to make a luxury resort as kitschy as possible. The decorations and art were apparently chosen to "make the resort look exactly like what the Atlanteans saw," which strikes me as especially difficult due to Atlantis being a made-up civilization. I can't imagine how this must have made the interior decorators feel; one such mortal, drunk on creative liberty, apparently came to the conclusion that "the Atlanteans were probably fond of sculptures in the shape of my crusty anus."
Pokerwise the trip was a success; I played reasonably well and ended up mincashing for 15k. I had completely forgotten how distracting live poker could be; one example was this fairly average fish that was sitting at my first table. Zeejustin was on my left, so I couldn't abuse the fish as much as I would've liked. However, something about him just didn't seem right, and despite my best efforts I spent way too much time trying to figure out what it was. The fish also had the hilarious habit of trying to 'stare down' anyone he was in a hand with, so once I was involved in a pot with him, I got the full brunt of his bathroom-mirror-practiced glare. Below is the crappy MS Paint equivalent.
Terrifying. My decision was an easy one, so it didn't do me much good to stall. A split-second pause, however, was all it took for me to notice what was wrong.
He had six fingers! Well, not quite six--calling the growth below his pinky a full finger might be a bit generous. It was definitely not just a wart or lump... more like a tiny, one-inch nubbin. But still! He had five fingers and a nubbin! Five and a half fingers!
There went any chances of actually getting a read or two on him; I can barely even remember my holdings when I was involved with him in a hand. My gaze was simply locked on his glorious additional appendage. The way that he held his hand to his face certainly didn't help, either; any sneeze, any slip of the hand, and his nubbin would've plunged directly into his nostril. Who needs sunglasses when you have the ultimate concentration breaker right on your body?
Speaking of concentration breakers, I also played with Men the Master.
Kathy Liebert was also at my day 3 table. She was actually pretty decent at poker; I expected her to be awful given how much 2p2 hate she receives, but she definitely caught me off guard with some solid play. She seemed pretty determined to remind us of her femininity, though; nearly everything she said had something to do with "the boys trying to pick on her" or was a sarcastic "I suck at poker because I'm a girl." She joked around with our female dealer a bit, but the dealer was having none of it and made fun of the stain on her shirt when she was in the bathroom
.I've never understood the thought process that leads people to start wearing colors instead of outfits. "Why use complementary colors when you have a shirt and pants that are almost the same shade?" I see this most often on bigger people on the street in Philly, but it's not totally a fatty phenomenon. Apparently when some people wake up, instead of thinking "today I'm going to wear a button-down and jeans," they think "today I'm going to wear red."
Kathy wore pink.
There was also some really cool street art around Nassau. I'm not sure if it was commissioned or illegally done, but it was pretty fun to find either way.
^Kinda depressing tone for a public piece
^This one wrapped all the way around the block
Lastly, as general advice, any time you're in a foreign country, spend an afternoon visiting the zoo if there is one. Nassau's zoo boasted the "world's only marching flamingos," which we soon learned was code for "watch a man in full military attire chase flamingos around while screaming at them." The zoo was also full of crazy lawsuit-traps that you'd never see in the USA... I almost fell into a pretty deep well that was only surrounded by a two foot wall.
Some pictures to leave you with:
"Lehhh! Leehhh! LEEEFT FACE!"
R.O.U.S.
Hard to see, but a picture of a stingray I saw in the water with me when I was waist deep. Was worried I was going to get Steve Irwin'd for a second, but he swam away.
The straw market, a sort of open-air bazaar that was teeming with cockroaches. The people sitting in the aisle were selling knock-off bags with hilarious price tags on them, hand-made stickers that said "2416.432" or something similar. I guess if they manage to sell one bag to a rich tourist for 2.4k a year they're coming out pretty well, and they can haggle with the rest of their more intelligent buyers. Sick high variance play.
