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This weekend I celebrated our independence from the British on a couple of land-scraps that we left for the Indians. In a way, they celebrated their independence too. Independence from Americans’ ridiculous puritanical laws that prohibit gambling and heavily regulate other things that are awesome and fun.

On July 4th, I hit Tulalip bright and early to play their weekly Friday morning Texas No-Limit Hold’em tournament. Their website described it as nothing other than a NL hold’em game, $30 buy-in, $300 add-on. It turned out to be a 1-hour, timed NL hold’em game with blinds going up every 15 minutes and two hands played after the hour; the top 4 stacks were paid. Oh, how nice. I could play in this tournament OR spend an hour pressing buttons at the nickel slots. Okay.

I suppose there was a bit of skill to it, but luck was a huge factor. My table was pretty tight at first, but I managed to bust out one opponent with KJo against pocket fours. I sucked out on the river and I’m not sorry. I want to say it was a coin toss with my opponent as a slight favorite, but I could be wrong.

After my big win, my stack was slowly whittled away by nasty flops and rising blinds. I have never cared less about the outcome of a tournament.

When that was over, I went to check out the craps table. Just like everywhere else, daytime craps sucks… so, so much. Besides a few compulsive gamblers and the occassional showboat (always good entertainment), the half-empty table usually contains people like the group of hens nesting to my right. Playing with $100 between the three of them, one knows the rules and clucks away while the bored stickmen continuously remove chips from the table because no one can get a decent roll going.

I gave up on that for awhile and went back to the poker room to play a $3/5 NL cash game. It wasn’t a smart move and I knew it when I sat down, but it was better than the alternative. My table was full of regulars. Some of the more seasoned men (and they were ALL men) had nearly $1K in front of them and I sat down with less than $200. I played pretty tight and bought a few pots when I thought I could. After sitting there for awhile and breaking even, I went back to the craps table.

The later it got, the better it became. Unfortunately, the day crew were better at their jobs than the evening crew, and I’m not just saying that because the day crew consisted of young men who flirted with me. In addition to playing into my thinly veiled innuendos and explaining the odds on certain one-time bets, these guys had the miraculous ability to DO THEIR JOBS… quickly and efficiently. The evening crew, consisting mostly of middle-aged women, were not as quick with the stick, got confused easily, and liked to bitch when people didn’t drop their chips in the exact spot where they’d like them. (FYI for the uninitiated: Craps tables are not marked for this, you just have to know.) When the guy next to me spent several minutes explaining to one of the women what he should have been paid for a number, given the odds, I started being extra careful and made fewer bets so I could keep an eye on them. It sucked having to do that, but oh well.

I ended up ahead, and I’m happy to report that it was still light out when I left the casino. Then again, it doesn’t get dark here until after 10pm, so draw your own conclusions. I was tired and hungry from standing all day, so I just wanted to eat and go to bed. I opted to forego the fireworks show over Lake Union (especially after seeing the crowds of people flocking in from everywhere). While it was possible to catch it, there is no way it could have been as good as my 4th of July setup last year.

The next day, I went to Muckleshoot, following a suicidal trip to Ikea that resulted in nothing but pain and agony. After weaving through a chaotic mess of shoppers and their crotchfruit and finding nothing I really needed, I bought shelves… which I’ll soon be returning. So Ikea was a fucking nightmare and I needed a break. To the craps table!

Here, I did not do so well, but the company was good. I bounced around tables a lot, taking breaks to play blackjack and eat ice cream. Sometimes, you have to act like the world is your playground and you don’t care what happens. This was one of those times; I didn’t come out ahead but was determined to enjoy myself and I did. My saving grace was betting the Don’t Pass line, and the table was so cold no one even bitched. Or maybe that’s just because we’re in the Northwest where everyone’s overly concerned that people think they’re nice. But not me. I’m an asshole. An asshole who puts $100 on the Don’t Pass line and wins.

Despite making larger bets than normal in efforts to win big or lose it all and get the hell out, I teetered around the same amount for awhile. Around 10pm I paid a visit to the cashier and got the hell out, and just in time…

For fireworks! Located on an indian reservation, Muckleshoot was next to one of the largest collection of illegal fireworks dealers I’d ever seen. The area was a mess from the night before, but apparently these guys still had a lot of stock to burn. From the Muckleshoot parking garage, I witnessed an impromptu fireworks show that probably rivaled the real one from the night before. Score one for the white girl; special events should always revolve around my gambling habits.

So once again, I followed PlatKat’s Standard Procedure for Mandated Time Off:
1. Find a buddy.
2. Go somewhere and gamble.
3. Profit! (Sometimes.)