6/10/2007 - Chocolate Chip Cookie
When I played in casino I faces many good and bad experience related with that game and now I want share it with all of my friends that’s why I told this to all of you.
When graduating to the ten-o-one move with two chocolates being switched in, the bet-backs increased along with it. The first one would be $2,100, the fallow-ups $1,100', again with a single black chip on top.
Pat won the first six-hundred-dollar bet and lost the next two, then left the table after receiving Cecil's business card and comp for a party 'Of four to the show. Cecil and the dealer chatted a few minutes about Pat, but there was a mention of his bets. And that's just it-they talked about him, not his bets, which is what made Pat the greatest of all time. When he beat you, his incredible personality took your mind off it. You didn't know you just got beat, and if you did, you might-at least more with him than anyone else I'd known-forgive and forget. Watching him work, I understood quickly why everyone he had ripped off at the village clambakes returned voluntarily at get ripped off agama. With Pat there was a stopping in the keno pit after every move.
As soon as he was finished at one table, the trail started up again as he led me and Balls through the pits looking for the next. If, along the way, he wanted to pass me off excess chips or needed more blacks because he'd last a few hands in a row, we'd make the exchange furtively en route. Ta describes what happened the rest of that fight night at Caesars, the word that comes to mind is "rampage." That's exactly how Pat went through its casino. He sat down, bet, moved, claimed, chitchatted, laughed, stoked the dealer, got back up, stopped off at Cleopatra's or another casino lounge for a beer, tugged on his ear to let us know he was ready again, and found the next table. After the fourth fifty-an had been paid, Pat signaled me that he wanted to go outside and get a little air.
We were in front of Caesars in the warm night breeze, standing on the porch by the imposing marble-white statue of Julius Caesar near the intersection 'Of the Strip and Flamingo Road. Pat had a glass filled with beer in his hand, Balls the cigarette in his.
"How’d I drain', Johnny?" Pat asked cockily.
"Johnny," Pat continued as he wavered around the statue, "you remember that food in Atlantic City?" He started exaggeratedly shifting his head from side to side as though he were looking for somebody. "I can't seem to find him. Do you know what happened to him, Johnny? Do you know where the food is hiding?"
Pat was putting on a little sideshow for me and Balls outside Caesars, and we loved it. The more he went into his routine, the more we laughed. The guy was gifted. I thought he really could have been a movie star. I told Balls as Pat was twirling around the statue saluting Julius that it was too bad I hadn't run into him fifteen years earlier. Balls gave one of his agreeing nods.
"You know what, Johnny," Pat said, downing his drink, ''I'm getting sick looking at both you guys. Don't you think it's time we went back in there and paid Julius another little visit?" He put his glass down on the ledge of the statue, looked up and saluted Julius a final time, then led us back inside the casino. Balls and I followed behind, cracking up. To think that only three weeks earlier Pat hadn't even known that casino past posting existed. Now he was leading us through the world's greatest casino, doing the biggest blackjack moves ever as if he were picking dandelions from his front lawn. I was having so much fun watching Pat I hardly thought about counting the money.
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