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Today was the first day of the “Main Event” a/k/a “The Real World Series of Poker”.

Despite protests from those who play Deuce-High Screwy Eyeball for a living, this really is the only event that matters.  At least to the general public.  I’m not trying to be rude, I’m just being realistic.

If you’re making consistent cheese playing more obscure forms of Poker, then good for you.  You’re certainly a better player than I am.  I just don’t particularly care.

The Rio Convention Halls were more crowded today than they were when I checked out the events about three weeks ago.  The valet area was completely full, the parking lot was crowded, far more media was on hand, and there were twice as many vendors.

In addition, Poker Palooza  was up and running.  Poker Palooza is the world’s largest Poker expo, and it runs from July 2nd through July 5th.

I don’t know about the rest of you, but I would like to smack Perry Farrell twelve times across the face with a horny elephant’s wang for dragging the term “palooza” into the American lexicon.

That objection being duly noted, I must say that the afternoon at the main event, and at Poker Palooza was rather enjoyable.

Once again, I watched some poker being played, and then I promptly turned my attention to the primary reason I personally go to the WSOP.

Tail.

Regardless of how serious, important, or informative a convention or event may be, scantily clad women are more or less the only reason I go anywhere in Las Vegas.  I’m sort of the heterosexual equivalent of a flamboyantly gay guy.  I’m aware that people like me are not quite as interesting as dudes who use words like “fabulous” and sings show tunes — but I will risk being hit by a moving bus if there is even a slight chance I’m going to catch a glimpse of areola.

And so, while a few thousand other people were hanging on to every word of professional poker players all afternoon, I was busy running around “Poker Palooza” speaking with any reasonably looking female I could find, and asking them if I could take their picture.  I pretended like I was “documenting the World Series of Poker”, but the truth was, I just needed some new material for my special “alone time”.

I’ve since learned that saying “alone time” is one thing that Phil Hellmuth and I seem to have in common (see video).

Speaking of Phil “The Brat”, I saw the guy today.  When I first heard the announcement over the loudspeaker that he would be appearing with Johnny Chan onstage, I felt a rush of excitement.  My opportunity had arrived.  I could finally call him a urine-soaked boozehound to the top of my lungs in front of a large audience.  I could impugn the chastity of his grandmother.  I could … well, you get the idea.

I had a problem, though.  The problem was, he wasn’t being a douche.  He was actually being quite friendly to everyone, and any outburst on my part would have been unwarranted.  He seemed like a decent guy, and he didn’t really yell or scream at anyone.

I think what people say about mellowing with age is true.  Rather, it’s not so much that you mellow, certain emotions just take the place of others.

In my case, anger has been replaced with apathy.

“Hey, that guy cut me off … let me roll down my window and flip him off … oh hell, what’s the point, I’ll be dead in 20 years anyway.”

Since I ditched cable a couple of years ago (and TV altogether more recently), it’s been awhile since I have seen poker on the tube.  My guess is that they are going to have to get some fresh “brat” meat in the game sometime soon, because my generation just can’t hold it down anymore.

Johnny Chan fielded questions from the Poker Palooza crowd as well, and everybody seemed psyched to be in the presence of a guy that can only be considered a Las Vegas legend at this point.

After a couple of media events, watching some Q&A time with the pros, and ogling females … I once again strolled the hallways, talked Poker with enthusiastic fans, and just hung out and enjoyed the afternoon in the comfort of air conditioning generously provided by the Rio.

There was only one dramatic moment during the entire afternoon.  As I was approaching the game room toward the late afternoon, a 20 something kid was coming out of the door with an angry look on his face.  As I got closer, he started shouting “F**k!” to the top of his lungs, and punched a door as he was exiting.

The first thing that came to mind was, “This guy must know me”.

Once outside the door, he threw his soda to the ground, and began stomping on it and screaming “F**k, F**k, F**k”.

Either this kid took the mother of all bad beats, or someone brought him a flat soda and he was having none of it.

People just kind of stood by and watched as the kid was jumping up and down on the can and screaming at it.  Nobody said anything to him, and he eventually shouted “F**k” at the ceiling while grabbing his shirt, and then stormed off.

Not being one for foul language myself, I was quite offended by this display of vulgarity, and I was taken aback.

I decided it best to not interfere, in the hopes that my virgin ears would recover from such a verbal assault.  I had to be strong.  I’m still a bit traumatized, but I’m coping.

Anyway, despite the economic hardships that are facing the city, the 2009 World Series of Poker Main Event seems to be off to a reasonable start.  It appears to be a bit less crowded than a couple of years ago, but this is to be expected.

Once again, the final table will be removed several months from the Main Event.  I am not a fan of this particular format, but the producers seem to be sticking with it.  Most of the event will finish up on July 15th, and the final table will re-convene in early November at which point a winner will be crowned.

Even though things are scaled back a bit, the WSOP still has legs, the vibe is very good, and there are plenty of players and vendors at the Rio to make this a “must-visit” venue for every poker fan.

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