My flight is being paid for by the Casinos Europa - I am ostensibly traveling for a poker tournament, which will occupy my first week (of two). The poker world is small, united by the major tournaments, and after I arrive in LA to change planes, I see my first acquaintance (Kathy Kolberg) before I even reach my new gate. I see several more at the gate. I get little sleep on the long flight, and after checking into my hotel, I head for the casino, where I will spend 50 hours during the following week to qualify for my comp.
The combination of the attractive comp offer and the good reputation of the previous tournament drew over a hundred americans, many of whom I knew, including several friends from my area. I spent the week in typical poker tournament fashion, playing most of the time, sleeping at odd intervals, and being annoyed by cigarette smoke. I had a paint fume mask from home depot, and there were a couple occasions when there were many smokers at my table and it was worth the uncomfortableness to wear it. It seemed to help a little.
Costa Ricans, like many in the developing world, love to smoke, and (with the exception of a few world-class players like the Brenes'), play fairly badly. The owner of the casino, "The Don", loves to gamble, and during the tournament he played in a very large no-limit game. No-limit holdem is my specialty, but unfortunately (being worried about safety) I had not brought enough money to play in this game, so I stuck to the small games. However, I found out how I could deposit money in the states and have it available as casino credit, and planned eagerly to return and take on the locals.
Starting at the airport in LA, the predominantly male poker players had discussed taking advantage of the cheap cost of labor by patronizing the legal local bordellos, and the infamous Del Rey was a frequent destination after late-night poker games.
The first night of the tournament, The Don was at my starting table, doing business constantly in whispered asides. To make the players feel welcome, he had hired 20 or 30 gorgeous young Costa Rican models, all wearing black dresses, to stand around, approximately one for each table. They fetched drinks and chatted with the players and generally were quite distracting. There are evolutionary hooks implanted deep in the male brain which shout for attention when hot female bodies are in ones field of vision, and I found it annoying that I could not override this programming.
Speaking of cute young things, The Don keeps a large number of golden retrievers, and as a result has an endless supply of puppies. The first night, he had many of them groomed and brought to the tournament to show them off. As if 19 year-old models in black dresses weren't distracting enough already, imagine them with cute puppies wearing red bows nestled in their arms. One of them, having ditched its owner (what was it thinking?) trotted by my seat, and I scooped it up and held it for an hour or so. Occasionally I would show it my cards, pause as if consulting it, and throw them away disgustedly.
While it was in my lap, I noticed a small pile of shit on a nearby floor, clearly the result of a puppy choosing to be natural rather than cute. It was cleaned up after five minutes or so, and in my mind helped add to the "You're not in Kansas anymore" feeling of the whole place. A woman eventually came by for my new friend, and first asked "Do you want to buy?". Having recently been tested as allergic to 118 out of 130 substances, including cat and dog dander, I had to demur, and she took him away saying he needed to eat.
I managed to explore the city a little during the week, and found it dingy and crowded, although small and easy to walk around. Checking out a McDonalds, I was amused to see it offer "McInternet", half an hour free with a happy meal or super-sized combo. Even cooler was a "Movimiento Libertario" (Costa Rica's libertarian party) billboard which I passed every day on the way from my hotel to the casino. The local women, especially the young ones, had two propensities which went quite well together: wearing very tight clothing and being gorgeous.
The american organizers of the event had arranged daily tours for those who were interested. While I had been too busy socializing and getting in my 50 hours of play to attend, on saturday after the tournament had ended I went on the day-long trip to Arenal, one of the most active volcanoes in the world. It rumbles daily, and we saw clouds of smoke as it erupted. Our main destination was a local hot-springs resort which takes advantage of the geothermal heat. It was quite posh, with a score of sculpted pools, waterfalls, and very professional landscaping. While we ate dinner after nightfall, Arenal spoke again, and we saw glowing red lava flowing down the sides. I slept through the drive back, and in the morning, called Adam Selene.
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