ONLINE GAMBLING AND CASINO GUIDE

Swim-up Blackjack conjures up mental imagery of a bikini-clad woman emerging from underneath the surface of the water, grabbing a black chip from a small strip of cloth just above a luscious camel toe, slapping it on the table, and in a sultry voice filled with double entendre exclaiming “Hit me!”.

Like most things, however, fantasy and reality often diverge … if ever so slightly.

The above scenario is rare, because you must have cash in your hand, and sometimes even an ID to play Swimjack.  As cool as it would be, you can’t do laps and then simply backstroke over to the table on impulse.  It requires some amount of preparation.

Given that it is summertime, more and more of my gambling will be done in these poolside settings.

The difference between “poolside” Blackjack and “swim up” Blackjack is actually quite minimal.  Both are shaded, both are a short distance from the main swimming pool, and both allow you to play without having to trek through a casino.  Swim-up BJ is simply poolside BJ which allows to dangle your feet in waist-deep water while you play.

While I generally don’t swim in public pools because the notion of a communal bathtub repulses me, I do avail myself of what I call “wade up Blackjack” at the Trop at least once or twice each summer.  My rationale is that if I stay in the shallow end, and don’t get the water in any of my head orifices (mouth, ears, nose), then I cannot possibly ingest the remnants of someone elses skid marks or a slightly miscalculated estrus cycle.

Unfortunately, I probably play more swim-up at the Trop than the average person.

Since moving to Las Vegas, I have come to the realization that most “Vegas experts” are complete frauds, and have little experience with the things they pass judgement on.  “Chris Angel sucks … but I haven’t seen his show”.  “Danny Gans sucks … but I’ve never seen his show”.  “The Circus Circus buffet sucks … but I’ve never eaten there.”  “The Tropicana deserves the wrecking ball … but I’ve never stayed there.”  I could go on, but you get the point.   The majority of  Vegas “expertise” entails little more than licking your finger, sticking it in the air to see which way the wind is blowing, and vocalizing the consensus.

Had I listened to self-appointed experts when I began exploring Las Vegas, I would have missed out on a great many things that have become personal favorites.

The Tropicana pool is one of those favorites.

It is true that the Tropicana is in bankruptcy and it is true that a bunch of beer-swilling, hockey-obsessed, moose-bestial Canadians will be taking over the property as part of the restructuring, but that is of little consequence when you just want to hang out by the pool.

Contrary to prevailing opinion, I’ve always liked the Tropicana.  Since booking my first tower room at The Trop and taking the glass elevator ride to my room 10 years ago, I’ve had an affinity for the place.

On my list of the most underrated pools in Las Vegas, the Tropicana ranks at or near the top.  It’s an excellent, tropical-themed pool with near-constant sun exposure from 11am to 7pm during the summer.  I was a little bit disappointed today because my favorite feature, the large signature waterfall was not in operation … but my hope is that this is temporary.

Swim-up jack was open, though, and I came to the pool with every intention of playing.

Poolside Blackjack is nothing new.  It is present at a variety of pools from the Trop, to the Flamingo, to the Golden Nugget Downtown and various points in between.

Some people question its purpose with a common refrain being “if I wanted to play Blackjack I would stay in the casino” … but I do find myself enjoying the pool pits from time to time.

Anything that changes up the standard gambling routine is a good thing, and there is something about playing cards next to palm trees, bodies of water, and bodies of bikini-clad women that absolutely ups the “fun factor” for people who have just emerged from harsh mid-western winters.

I waded into the water, found the hottest dealer with the biggest hooters I could find, and proceeded to lose every hand I played.  My session was only half an hour long, and I did not get a single natural.  I cannot recall getting a two card hand better than 17, and if I hit anything over 12, I drew a face card.  Every time.  It was a prototypical bad session.  It happens.

I enjoyed myself, though, and my first visit to the Trop pool this year reminded me why it is a favorite summer stop, and all but assured my return several more times before the end of August.

Now if you will excuse me, the mother of all 2009 weekends is only half over and I endeavor to make up for my Tropicana losses indoors at the MGM.

There is a poker room full liquored up tourists, and it has my name written all over it.

That’s right, I legally changed my name to “MGM Poker Room” last week.  Anything’s better than “Rex”.

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