"I've been gambling hereabouts for 10 good solid years. If I told you all that went down, it would burn off both your ears."
- Robert Hunter, "Deal" by the Grateful Dead.
By now I can sing those lines with accuracy, this being the eleventh summer I travel to Vegas to play WSOP tournaments. And really, if I were to tell you even half of what went down since 2005, it would not only burn off both your ears, but also probably break your heart and challenge your perception of reality.
Still, my experiences in the poker world have been largely positive.
Looking back on the community and culture that poker people established in the wake of the 2003 boom, I feel mostly pride and benefit from the association with a troop of critically thinking, open-minded individuals. Whether it's the players, the media, the dealers, whatever, it's a decent group of people.
That's before we mention the true trailblazers like Isai Scheinberg, or the 441 Productions team (who created an appealing production design from which to broadcast the game), or Norman Chad and Lon McEachern, who have consistently maintained a good tone to keep audiences interested.
Even those on the other side of the equation, the Russ Hamiltons of our game--those whose truest desire was to needlessly deceive and scam gamblers--taught us something about humanity and protecting your own interests first.
***
So, for me, poker is fine, and whatever rich tradition of gamesmanship and hustle that helped create the mythology of the game will survive.
I have significantly less hope for Las Vegas as a destination gambling city, however, as I've seen this town devolve from a place that had once mastered the crucial elements of service into one that actively, aggressively betrays the same principles.
Even as Ace Rothstein's nostalgic Casino prophecy about Vegas' corporate culture came to life, Vegas maintained its stature as a service industry epicenter, an environment that catered to peoples' needs and desires, however indulgent or slutty, always fostering the possibility of entertainment and escapism.
It might seem like I myself am nostalgic for a time in this city's history that doesn't exist, but that's not it. I never expected to find Hunter S. Thompson's Fear and Loathing here or Tom Wolfe's Kandy-Kolored Tangerine-Flake. I wasn't hoping to get in "The Biggest Game in Town" with Doyle and Chip, and by 2005 "Vegas and the fucking Mirage" was already an almost obsolete reference in terms of the casino industry.
No. I was happy to experience my own personal Vegas within the escapist framework. The Vegas that flowered after the poker boom and went back into vegetation after the housing crisis of 2008. The Vegas where I saw my friends build and destroy many fortunes and spend many late, long nights behaving half-badly but just fine. The place where we learned how to manage some of our highest highs and rawest lows while also staying on the grind and showing up the next day.
No. Rather I'm reflecting from the perspective of a customer--a somewhat picky and overly observant customer, but one who used to be this town's platonic ideal; that customer who doesn't mind paying extra for a streamlined voyage into debauchery, one who will happily piss away too much money if he feels relaxed and comfortable.
Used to be that a box man would treat every schlub like a prince, because, in reality, he might be. Now, the exact opposite is true. Potential princes are treated like slobs, because, well, in reality they might be.
***
"The customer is always right" mantra has slid towards "the customer might be right" and eventually into a subtle sense of, "Fuck the customer. Fuck you and fuck me too."
Used to be the bouncer would let you into the club with a pair of sneakers if they were, for instance, Prada sneakers. Nowadays, the sharpest $900 Prada hoodie in the store will only serve to exclude you from places like the horrifically named "Rose. Rabbit. Lie.," where I was disallowed entry in 2014 (into someone's paid birthday table) because..I was wearing...a "hoodie!"
"But...it's Prada!" I protested.
"Doesn't matter, Vegas is moving more towards the 'fine dining' standards of the world. No sneakers or hoodies"
"Cool," I said, feeling the sting of unexpected insult, "meanwhile the rest of the world is going the other way."
Even those on the other side of the equation, the Russ Hamiltons of our game--those whose truest desire was to needlessly deceive and scam gamblers--taught us something about humanity and protecting your own interests first.
***
So, for me, poker is fine, and whatever rich tradition of gamesmanship and hustle that helped create the mythology of the game will survive.
I have significantly less hope for Las Vegas as a destination gambling city, however, as I've seen this town devolve from a place that had once mastered the crucial elements of service into one that actively, aggressively betrays the same principles.
Even as Ace Rothstein's nostalgic Casino prophecy about Vegas' corporate culture came to life, Vegas maintained its stature as a service industry epicenter, an environment that catered to peoples' needs and desires, however indulgent or slutty, always fostering the possibility of entertainment and escapism.
It might seem like I myself am nostalgic for a time in this city's history that doesn't exist, but that's not it. I never expected to find Hunter S. Thompson's Fear and Loathing here or Tom Wolfe's Kandy-Kolored Tangerine-Flake. I wasn't hoping to get in "The Biggest Game in Town" with Doyle and Chip, and by 2005 "Vegas and the fucking Mirage" was already an almost obsolete reference in terms of the casino industry.
No. I was happy to experience my own personal Vegas within the escapist framework. The Vegas that flowered after the poker boom and went back into vegetation after the housing crisis of 2008. The Vegas where I saw my friends build and destroy many fortunes and spend many late, long nights behaving half-badly but just fine. The place where we learned how to manage some of our highest highs and rawest lows while also staying on the grind and showing up the next day.
No. Rather I'm reflecting from the perspective of a customer--a somewhat picky and overly observant customer, but one who used to be this town's platonic ideal; that customer who doesn't mind paying extra for a streamlined voyage into debauchery, one who will happily piss away too much money if he feels relaxed and comfortable.
Used to be that a box man would treat every schlub like a prince, because, in reality, he might be. Now, the exact opposite is true. Potential princes are treated like slobs, because, well, in reality they might be.
***
"The customer is always right" mantra has slid towards "the customer might be right" and eventually into a subtle sense of, "Fuck the customer. Fuck you and fuck me too."
Used to be the bouncer would let you into the club with a pair of sneakers if they were, for instance, Prada sneakers. Nowadays, the sharpest $900 Prada hoodie in the store will only serve to exclude you from places like the horrifically named "Rose. Rabbit. Lie.," where I was disallowed entry in 2014 (into someone's paid birthday table) because..I was wearing...a "hoodie!"
"But...it's Prada!" I protested.
"Doesn't matter, Vegas is moving more towards the 'fine dining' standards of the world. No sneakers or hoodies"
"Cool," I said, feeling the sting of unexpected insult, "meanwhile the rest of the world is going the other way."
***
Incidentally, none of this is a reflection on whatever goes on outside the clutches of The Strip. There are plenty of great people who live here, a gorgeous mountainous desert backdrop, and more than a few excellent restaurants. There are even still a few casino properties I like and a few cocktail waitresses I'm happy to flirt with, but for how long will that be enough to keep me coming back?
Cause, relating it what Robert Hunter was saying in that song, "you and me bound to spend some time wondering what to choose," and I suggest we choose wisely.
"And don't ya let that deal go down, no no..."
This calendar year alone I've spent time in New York, LA, Jamaica, Mexico, Miami, four different cities in Texas--the gamut of destinations. I can say with some non-biased certainty that something might be out of wack when the staff at a Comfort Inn in Dallas greets you more warmly than they do at the Bellagio.
There's good food, good service and solid escapism in a whole lot of places around the world nowadays, and I can get into Nobu in Malibu with flip flops, and the ocean is right there, so what exactly is the appeal left for Vegas?
There might be enough people to keep this going. Perhaps it's a revolving group who remains interested in the experience of standing wall to wall in dark clubs where the only way to get anything done is by bribing the staff on your way in, where all your interactions are challenged by the most aggravating music since disco, cranked to inhumane volumes.
I have some fascination and admiration for the strange market that the Vegas nightclubs established in conjunction with DJs. Some of these DJs are undoubtedly very talented, but let's be clear that they are catering increasingly to a lowest common denominator, if not actively defining and preserving it.
To paraphrase Nick Tosches from his brilliant WTF Podcast episode--do people even have fun anymore, or is it just some projected simulation of fun? Maybe the apocalypse has already taken place, just instead of burning buildings and zombies, it's Facebook and Tryst. The dullest apocalypse imaginable, and it's upon us.
You can feel it in the apprehensive, distrustful glances and rough edges of interaction that take place every day in all pockets of this city.
There's good food, good service and solid escapism in a whole lot of places around the world nowadays, and I can get into Nobu in Malibu with flip flops, and the ocean is right there, so what exactly is the appeal left for Vegas?
There might be enough people to keep this going. Perhaps it's a revolving group who remains interested in the experience of standing wall to wall in dark clubs where the only way to get anything done is by bribing the staff on your way in, where all your interactions are challenged by the most aggravating music since disco, cranked to inhumane volumes.
I have some fascination and admiration for the strange market that the Vegas nightclubs established in conjunction with DJs. Some of these DJs are undoubtedly very talented, but let's be clear that they are catering increasingly to a lowest common denominator, if not actively defining and preserving it.
To paraphrase Nick Tosches from his brilliant WTF Podcast episode--do people even have fun anymore, or is it just some projected simulation of fun? Maybe the apocalypse has already taken place, just instead of burning buildings and zombies, it's Facebook and Tryst. The dullest apocalypse imaginable, and it's upon us.
You can feel it in the apprehensive, distrustful glances and rough edges of interaction that take place every day in all pockets of this city.
It's come to
the point where the croupiers are shocked when a player starts putting
action on the Don't Pass line for them. Even the whores have stopped faking it,
eying their potential customers with obvious weariness or disdain. They probably
need to get laid by now, too.
***
There's also gambling in lots of places around the world, so how long before some visionary pioneer like Bennie Siegel or Steve Wynn finds another ratty stretch of desert and turns it into a kingdom?
***
There's also gambling in lots of places around the world, so how long before some visionary pioneer like Bennie Siegel or Steve Wynn finds another ratty stretch of desert and turns it into a kingdom?
It's more likely that the next kingdoms will be built by those willing to design stress-free, user-friendly methods of entertainment, and it seems unlikely that Vegas will redefine itself again any time soon along those standards. I have a lot of respect for Steve Wynn specifically, but do we really want an Encore? No, we do not want more.
So, although the WSOP and the billion dollar monoliths will most likely remain intact one way or another, I could see myself skipping this scene one of these years.
So, although the WSOP and the billion dollar monoliths will most likely remain intact one way or another, I could see myself skipping this scene one of these years.
After all, there's equity elsewhere, and when I really think about it, was I ever coming here for the equity in the first place? Or even the supposed glory and the rush of shot taking that defines tournament play at the WSOP? Nah, what I came here for was probably a version of that same concept I keep going back to--fun.
Incidentally, none of this is a reflection on whatever goes on outside the clutches of The Strip. There are plenty of great people who live here, a gorgeous mountainous desert backdrop, and more than a few excellent restaurants. There are even still a few casino properties I like and a few cocktail waitresses I'm happy to flirt with, but for how long will that be enough to keep me coming back?
Cause, relating it what Robert Hunter was saying in that song, "you and me bound to spend some time wondering what to choose," and I suggest we choose wisely.
"And don't ya let that deal go down, no no..."