Florida Man - A Holiday Poker Trip Report 12/19-12/28

it is never worth saving $2~ to share an Uber unless you need writing material for an article or for a new stand up comedy routine.

posting to subscribe in hopefully what was epic bread

Fun read!

I'm in for shenanigans and Denny's.

No shoe pics, no bankroll pics and no food porn?? What is this, amateur hour?? Just kidding, more updates please!

Florida man never disappoints.

Apparently, there are tunnels in FLA. Who knew?

You're not wrong - I remembered these things back in the days when I wasn't an amateur :p

Day 3 - Saturday, December 21st

I’m shocked at getting a decent night’s sleep as I plow through a Chipotle chicken bowl and lukewarm Dunks coffee en route to Dania Beach for the 2nd-to-last flight of the $250 $100k Guaranteed. It’s not a giant chunk of change, but I sell 40% of my action to my home game compatriots to make it interesting (and feel a little more accountable).

30k starting stack, 100/100 blinds, 30-minute levels, and plenty of playability await me upon starting. I found out fast that 3x and even 4x opens got a minimum of 5 gentleman callers before the flop and adjusted accordingly (5x seems to thin the field to a cozier amount).

At 100/100, I open AcJh UTG for 500, get 5 calls (cozy not so much), and check to the Button on QhTc6c, an older gentleman who is sans newspaper and coffee but bets a gentle 300. I peel with plenty of backdoors, as well as UTG+1 and CO. Turn comes a 9c giving me a nut flush draw as we all check to the Button, who gingerly bets 1k. Getting suspiciously decent odds, not putting him on a flush or straight, and thinking my Ace is honest-to-God a clean out (ambitious, I know), I call as well as UTG+1 again. The river comes the As, and we check to the Button one more time, who now bets 2k. Plenty of chips if I call and lose, I’m curious what Button is barreling 3 streets with on this spicy of a board, and his bet-sizing comes off as strong as his probable osteoporosis as I flick in a call, UTG+1 folds, and my hand is good against his QJo.

As it is customary in Florida poker games before 4pm, I witness everyone and their mother limp/calling and limp-trapping QQ-AA and AK preflop. Somehow, they keep coming out unscathed (especially against me when I get a little fresh opening and squeezing suited connectors). Nevertheless, I chip up to 41k by the first break going into 200/400/400.

At 300/500/500, one of the few splashy fellows, a middle-aged and Middle-Eastern fellow donning sunglasses and a hoody opens to 1k UTG, MP calls and I squeeze red Kings to 4500, with only UTG calling. On a flop of T88r, UTG checks, and I downbet to 3k (as I would my entire range), and he calls. Turn 9, UTG checks, I bet 11k and he calls again. I don’t love this board for me, and would enjoy checking back on most rivers. I don’t get the opportunity to do so when UTG snap-rips it for 22k and my tournament life on a river 9. If there’s something I beat here, I’m not sure what it is. I’m not keen to give credit to UTG turning Tx into a bluff on this river, but also can’t see QJ or 67 ripping it on a double-paired board either. I tank for 3 minutes or so before reluctantly folding. A so-called tourney reg next to me leans over to ask what I had, then says he would’ve snapped UTG every day of the week there. UTG proceeded to reveal he had TT, got overexcited, and was in disbelief I threw away an overpair there.

I managed to recover and grind back up to 59k going into 2nd break facing 500/1k/1k blinds and the end of the rebuy period. I’m hoping all my big folds are behind me for the day.

But they aren’t.

At 500/1500/1500, UTG limps, I raise AcKs to 4k, a massive hulk of a man in MP who has been 3betting me and everyone else relentlessly (while drenched in enough coconut oil for all of Florida) 3-bets me to 12k, followed by an unassuming 30-something in the CO who hasn’t put a chip into the pot in hours ripping 45k all-in before it folds back to me. MP covers me, so if I call here, I might as well go all-in. I do neither. As soon as I toss my AK into the muck, MP slides in a call and turns over his AK against the CO’s TT. The board runs out QJ336, so that seems to work out as best it could for me.

A few hands later, the same UTG from the KK hand limps in the LJ, I raise to 6k with red QQ in the SB, BB cold-calls as well as LJ. The flop comes 2c3d6c, I fire 9k, BB folds, and LJ snap-raises to 19k. I call with the plan to rip any non-club or Ace turn. Why am I afraid to just rip the flop, though? Can he not have 77-99 here? Or 56 even? I envision looking foolish for stacking off an overpair and seeing 22/33/66/45s, all obvious limp-call pre/minR flop hands. That and I expected him to get there with any and every flush draw on the turn.

The turn comes an 8c, and as soon as my hand taps the table in despair, his two hands shove all his chips into the middle for a 3x pot shove. Lady Luck? More like Lady Muck as my cards hit the middle of the table.

I have little time to mourn as the next hand the HJ opens for 5k, I cheekily flat AKo on the button after I see SB getting antsy looking at his hand, with the hopes it induces him to squeeze all-in. That’s exactly what happens, as SB fists 32k into the middle. What I didn’t count on was the BB, a 60-something woman who had been flatting Kings and Aces all day, snap-calling him. HJ folds, and I reluctantly fold in fear of her cold-call. My fears were all for naught, as she turned over AQ against the SB’s 77. I again feel better in a results-oriented fashion as the board runs out 78823 and while I escape with minimal damage, maximum prosperity is escaping me.

This level from hell refuses to end, as MP limps, I raise AJo to 5k, CO (our previous 60-something AQ villain) goes all-in for 7500, MP and I both call, and the flop comes Jc9d4h. MP checks I bet 8k, and unexpectedly face a check-shove for 30k. MP hadn’t gotten out of line or shown down anything crazy, but I wondered how often I’m seeing QJ/KJ/AJ/QT versus seeing J9 or 44. I don’t feel good about this fold, but I give respect to the rather dry side pot. I shouldn’t have when MP somehow tables 98o. For the umpteenth time this tournament, we see a results-oriented runout when the 9s hits the turn followed by an inconsequential 2 river, the CO’s ATo dead by the turn.

With 48 left at 1k/1500/1500, we need to play down to lucky number 13, a tall task holding a mere 22 big blinds. When LJ opens to 4k, I flat AcJh in HJ, with CO (Captain Coconut Oil) and BB coming along. The flop comes Ah5h5s, and again, I see CO getting antsy before it’s my action, and decide to check to his likely bet, which he in turn does for 13k. When it folds back to me, I rip it for 33k, feeling at peace if he has 5x somehow, and ahead of everything else. He shrugs and slides chips into the pot, revealing Kh7h. The turn Th flushes me out of the lead, and the river Tc ensures my tourney dreams are completely down the drain.

On the bright side, it’s Saturday, and there are plenty more hours left in the day and night to grind cash, especially when there are $600 High Hands and $10 double-board (albeit NLHE) bomb pots at $1/$2 NL every dealer change.

The sun hasn’t even set yet people are playing like they’re stuck their life savings at 4am.

ATo limp-reraises all-in for $150 preflop over a $25 3bet…and gets in good and holds.

K4o calls off $300 in a double-board bomb pot on K72/463 for a 3-way all-in and gets half the pot against me and another guy’s 52o (sick read I guess?)

I pick up a few chips after a not-so-OMC OMC opens to 10 UTG, HJ calls, I squeeze to 55 with red Queens, and both call. On a flop of 7h4h9s, the OMC piles for $200, HJ folds, I call, OMC tables…AJo? And I hold on a run-out that includes no Jacks, Aces, or running Ten/Eights? What a delight.

Hours in, I become more of a witness to the wild antics than a participant. Shenanigans like A8o calling two shoves for $200+ on a J76r board with A8o (and of course spiking an Ace on the turn against QJo and JTo). Apparently TT and even 99 qualify for 6-bet shoves of $500+ preflop here as well. When will the cash games up here in nitty Northeast get this memo?

After 10pm, the real characters start to come out of the woodwork almost as fast as the chips come out of their stacks. One Syracuse student claims to have started a vile trend around campus where he covertly places nicotine patches on his hook-ups while they’re asleep to get them “addicted to him”. An older gentleman in his late 60s clinging to a 1950s greaser look while donning a more modern Trump t-shirt exclaimed with zero context “As of January 20th, gay sex is over for good!” Every chip of theirs that escapes their stack, even if not to mine, feels like a moral victory. I question if I’m part of the problem by offering the benevolence of letting them Venmo me several times to rebuy, or part of the greater good in allowing them to lose even more money to the seemingly saner people at this table.

With a mere 2 tables of cash running, I manage to spike the bare minimum high hand of Aces full (in a double board bomb pot no less) and scoop a tidy $600 bonus. My stack dwindles as the witching hour approaches, so I rack up for the night with a $598 profit for the session after ~14ish hours in this joint.

Day 4 - Sunday, December 22nd

I get a later-than-ideal start to the day after a night of struggling to process a combination of family trauma and a suspect Cobb salad from Denny’s at 3am. The thought of doing something other than poker (like hitting the gun range for the first time since a friend’s Bud Light-fueled 21st birthday party) felt like a good idea before I hit the felt this trip, but it stayed a mere thought between barreling down Chipotle and feverishly refreshing my fantasy football apps en route to an encore at Casino at Dania Beach.

Alas, it’s one of those sessions where you open in the CO to $10, the BB just shoves for $600, and you silently wonder why you always have KJo and 55 here instead of Aces and Kings. Perhaps I have some forehead crinkle tell that I’m unaware of which indicates I’m at the bottom of my range. That’s what I get for going cheap on moisturizer.

There’s little room for anything but showing people a hand this session, when 62s is calling a $40 3bet pre, calling down half-pot or more on Q643, and spiking a river 2 (against me, who had AA like some nit). At least the same villain also called down for 120bb with Q8o on a Q3297hhh board when I again had AA. Sadly, the profit was as fleeting as the gun range idea, as I proceeded to double up 4 different opponents in the $50-$125 range each time. I find some redemption in hitting several backdoor draws against oddly-nutted short stacks to claw back to a -$29 loss over 4.5 hours. I retire back to my hotel and the tag team of binging Detroiters and a heavy dose of smuggled-in edibles relax me enough to avoid the Sunday scaries.

That Syracuse student is disgusting.

Great update though!

I am loving this thread. The Day 3 late night poker room scene report took me out. GL.

On a side note, I would love to read more from the intersection of transit fiend-dom and poker playing. I frequently go out of my way to take the train to the casino when possible (CTRail Hartford Line to MGM Springfield is a decent option in my neck of the woods) and have to imagine there are a few others doing the same.

I like the idea of putting together a list or map someday of US poker rooms in major cities you can get to/from using public transit or walking!

I didn't play much live outside of LV when I did own a car, and went with friends whenever I did go to Foxwoods/Mohegan. After having not driven in so long, I hate the idea of driving to and from a casino after a losing session - I can't imagine how miserable it can be to try to either delay mulling and reflecting on losses, or doing so while keeping your eyes on the road

Yeah those are the sessions where you turn off the radio/music/podcast and just sit in silence for the whole drive home :-(

Mohegan Sun is my main room and it is somewhat accessible from New London and the Shoreline East commuter rail service (via the hourly SEAT bus or the seasonal casino shuttle) but the frequencies are pathetic post-COVID and I usually just carpool with my brother anyway.

Day 5 - Monday, December 23rd

Despite a detailed OOO message and a calendar hold for every person in my department that I suspect would bother me even with an OOO message up, I awake to several meeting and invoice requests from the type of colleagues that **** off at the busiest times of the year, but work ad nauseam and expect the world on a platter during all the typical holiday downtimes. Mind you, these are the same people who scold me for answering them when I am OOO. I set the correct boundary of ignoring all these non-urgent requests, and continue to wonder why the wonders of delay-delivery are not more often utilized.

Lured by the temptation of high hands and copious amounts of free bottled water, I decided to try my luck again at Seminole Coconut Creek (but declined to try my luck at another Uber Share there).

I’m seated at a jovial yet seasoned table of OMCs. These are the real deal unlike at Dania Beach, as I have QQ-AA either limp/called or flat-called against me 6 times in 2 orbits. I managed to escape relatively unscathed but still had to go back to the pocket well of green chips to reload several times.

I moved to a younger table, albeit with several doppelgangers of past controversial figures. The 4 seat looked (and acted) just like the man my mother had an affair with that led to the end of my parent’s marriage shortly after 9/11 (a balder, whinier version of Kevin James). The 9 seat looked eerily like the uncle of mine who made my father and I sleep on the attic floor when he was unemployed and I was home from college, while his wife’s 2 cats had an entire floor of the house to themselves. And finally, the 3 seat was a dead ringer for my grandfather on my father’s side, who did not understand the concept of cleaning his butt and proclaimed that I was a disgrace to our family after losing a game of bocce at our final family reunion before he was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s and never spoke to me again. The action is great (like QJo calling off for $200 pre 3-ways against AA and KK, and spiking two pair), but I do not take this as a good sign.

Soon after, I open K♠K♣ UTG to 15 (not big enough the way this table is calling), get UTG+1, CO and a very out-of-line Button to call. A flop of J♠2♠2♣ has me betting 30 (again, not enough), which UTG+1 and Button both call. On a 6♦ turn, I barrel 80, UTG+1 mulls before ripping $300 into the middle, Button folds, and I flick in the call, somehow not expecting to see JJ, 66, or a deuce rolled over. UTG+1 rolls over 6♠4♠, and I let out a deep sigh as my opponent fist-pumps as soon as the A♠rolls off on the river. I do my best to tune out his unrequested explanation of why he shipped his stack in on the turn (he felt lucky).

I fold for the next few orbits then take my bi-hourly break to stretch my legs, hydrate, and remind myself that poker is one long session. Yet upon returning 5 minutes later, I noticed my table, which was full when I left (and I was the first man walking), was now empty with everyone but I reseated. I took this as a sign to rack up what little I had left, take the L, and retreat.

With how unreliable Uber has been for me on past Christmas Eve’s here (like 2 years prior when my driver canceled my ride just before we hit the highway, locked the doors, and demanded I pay him cash on the spot to drive me back to my hotel), I planned to lay low, hit the beach as the sun set and the moon rose, and contemplate where I wanted my life to be

Day 6 - Tuesday, December 24th

I bask in the reprieve of the grind by doing some resume reviews for a friend who (at the time) was about to lose her TikTok influencer gig due to the upcoming ban and my high school mentees looking for summer internships for the first time. After much malaise, I sack up and make the 30-minute trek through endless strip malls full of dental offices and massage parlors to Lauderdale-By-The-Sea.

While there is a trickle of passersby, I find a solitary spot that’s far enough to avoid the waves crashing down on me, but close enough to feel one with the water anyway. I look out into the darkness and question why every year my mind chooses to find fear in the freedom instead of relief in the respite. The realization hits that while long strolls and nights by the water bring me much comfort and peace, all the revelations I ponder and dreams I desire to start immediately thereafter never seem to follow me back home - they just disappear into the sky.

I open Google Sheets and scramble to fill columns full of what I want, how to do it, and incremental timelines in which to report back. When writing my poker goals, the old Daniel Negreanu adage of “hours, not results” influences me to merely write 500 hours of live play in 2025 (after falling 100 hours short in 2024, partly due to the mid-year end of 2 of the weekly home poker games I often played in) and having at least a timeline (and ideally) a first draft of a poker screenplay I’ve wanted to write for years (the world deserves another great poker movie, without the mob or rampant cheating).

It begins to downpour on my walk back from the beach, while the rain may have soaked my clothes, it did not soak my spirit.

Day 7 - Wednesday, December 25th

At the behest of a Bart Hanson tweet advising that live poker on Christmas Day is some of the best games of the year

I drag myself out of bed to head down to Harrah’s Pompano Beach (how many times has this place changed its name?) to put in what I hope to be the longest session of the trip.

I got seated and situated at 1:30pm and that tweet did not lead me astray whatsoever. The first hand I witness is what I presume to be a bad reg check-jamming T6o on JJT7 into a not-slowplayed JT for a $700 pot. The next hand after reloading, bad reg opens for $10, I 3b A♦A♥ to $35, bad reg snap-jams for $300, I call, and instead of T6o, he has…the other Aces, lame. Chop it up.

I started to battle with a 20-something hoodie sunglasses that refused to fold in any pot I show aggression in, often jamming for $100-$300 over any flop c-bet or turn check of mine, naturally when I have the bottom to middle of my range each time. After iso-ing 77 to $30 over 4 limps, Hoodie Guy cold-calls once again on the Button while the limpers fold. A beautiful A72r flop appears, where I bet $20 and get called. On a turn 3, I waffled between betting small and checking and decided to check since he adored attacking perceived weakness. He lunges for the bait and immediately stuck in his remaining $250 that I snap off and see his ATo shrivel as it hits the muck when I turn my hand over.

Hours later, UTG, a faux Eminem-looking guy (Fauxminem?) makes his signature min-raise to $5, CO and Button call, when the SB, a 60-something orange-faced gentleman desperately trying to be blinged out (including what appears to be an authentic Ahmed Bradshaw Super Bowl 46 ring) jacks it up to $25. I look down at 9♦9♥ in the BB and cold-call with little fear of a 4-bet behind me (though I hate how likely my hand is face-up). Everyone else calls, and we see a T♠9♠5♣ flop. I’m loving middle set, but this flop is drenched, folks. SB fists $175 into the middle, and I am not interested in giving odds to any of the million draws behind me. I rip it for $475, see a few folds, then endure the Button alternating between the Button looking at his cards and looking at how much is in the pot as I internally scream for him to fold his flush draw knowing full well it will get there if he calls off. He finally folded while the SB flicked in one chip while saying “I put you on KK, I call” (do I look that senile to cold-call KK to a 3b in the SB!?) as he turned over A♣A♠. The turn brought K♠, resulting in the Button pounding the table angrily and announcing he folded Q♠7♠ (phew). Yet I still have to fade a spade river, in which the dealer burns and turns a black Jack river...that’s somehow a ♣. As a Patriots fan, dragging this pot more than heals the 2012 SB loss to the Giants (it’d take scooping a bad beat jackpot from a Giants fan to get over 2008 and the helmet catch, though).

I rack up to eat dinner, decompress, and find a $50 bill on the ground next to the cage before cashing out. This almost feels as good as when I found a $100 bill on the ground next to a corporate law office.

After a hearty Caesar salad, Redbull, and reflection, I get back on the felt. Things are not going as smoothly this time around, including getting pushed around by a suspect-looking 1 seat. After folding to another 3-barrel of his with a marginal top pair, I pull out chips from my pocket to reload, to which he remarked “Keep reloading, fat boy”. I tell him in more colorful language to please quiet down, and he replies by flashing what appears to be some sort of ghost paintball gun that he’s charging at the table. I’m surprised by how long it took before someone pulled a weapon on me in a Florida poker game, to be honest.

I get some momentum back after stacking a bored PLO player (let’s call him PLOtis) from a broken game with the nut flush over what he later said to be a 6-high flush on a Q♣7♣3♦8♣ board after he shoved for 9x my turn bet. The more interesting thing was he was waiting on chips, so this was the first time I can remember stacking someone who was $300 behind with no actual chips on the table. His girlfriend, a spritely and lively attractive 20-something Latina, also playing in the game, begins to berate him for stacking off his first hand. They proceed to alternate between bickering and being handsy with each other for the next 5 hours at the table, at least when he isn’t taking a 20-minute break every hour to either chain smoke, vape, or punt off a few hundred at slots. I enjoy the fun rapport with her when he’s away from the table when she isn’t distracted with leaving voice notes that she misses him on her phone or scratching Crossword scratchers during hands.

Later I open AA to $20 UTG, which is clearly not enough when I get 5 callers. I decided to check on a 347r flop, it checks to PLOtis on the button who blasts $100, and the SB nearly beat him into the pot. Honestly, I feel like ripping it in is better than calling, but instead make a likely egregious fold, as the way PLOtis has been playing, every two-pair combo and even 56o are in his range here (example - he cold-called 75o against a $60 3b! I made earlier, flopped two pair, and I narrowly avoided getting stacked with an overpair). The turn was a 4, which had the SB donking $75 and PLOtis calling. River 6, SB jams $250, PLOtis snaps, and SB showed 85o. Results-oriented fold, but the way the SB was playing that night that hand and after, I think he would’ve called a flop check-jam anyway.

It was 3am, and I wasn’t lonely, but I was tired and decided to call it night once I realized I’d heard the entire playlist the casino plays at least twice over since I got there.

Nice pic. I miss views like this when we’re stuck in poker rooms with no view of the outside world all day.

Enjoying your report.

Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk

Many thanks - while not the most scenic view, I do enjoy places like Harrah's Pompano where you can walk out of the poker room and immediately overlook the former race track/night sky (and if I paid slots, their smoking area actually has windows)

Perhaps this was a typo (played slots?), but if it was intentional, pure brilliance!

Day 8 - Thursday, December 26th

After a long sleep, I roll out to The Casino @ Dania Beach in hopes of an encore of success from the previous cash session. I began to have regrets once it took ~45 minutes instead of the usual 20 to get there due to massive highway congestion. I was tempted to call an audible, and should have!

The theme of the session was “Get floated by Ace high 2x and spike an Ace on the river”. Six hours of no full houses, no flushes, no straights, no sets, and doubling up 5 different people for $100-$200.

The only notable hand that was a winner (albeit butchered by me) was when I raised to $15 with 7♥5♥ in the CO 6-handed, only getting min-3b! To $30 by a MAGA boomer in the straddle (who noted in table talk earlier that he was banned from the Hard Rock Seminole for punching out another player). I called, and we saw a flop of 4♥7♠6♠. UTG bet $20, and feeling like this flop was better for my range, raised to $80 with the plan to rip any turn that wasn’t a 4 or 6. Turn was a J♦, UTG checked, I shoved for $190, MAGA guy tanked for several minutes, flipped over 9♥9♠, put calling chips in his hand, moved his hand over the pot…then said “I’ll respect you this one time” and folded—a small win in an otherwise -$366 session

Day 9 - Friday, December 27th

I decided to run it back with Harrah's this time for the last full day and last session of my trip (barring pre-flight degeneracy). I briefly contemplated mixing it up with getting in a gun range session before poker (since it’s only a few minutes away), but my gamble gets the better of me.

My table is overrun with my favorite types to play against - loose passives sitting with $60-$100 that call off light and seem to have endless amounts of ATM $20 bills to reload with.

The most interesting hand I end up playing is a weird one - with the Button straddle on and 2 limps, I raise 6♥7♥ to $25 (too small?). HJ and CO call, and the Button jams for $60 (whoops). Both limpers fold, I call, HJ calls, and now the CO back-jams for $135! What have I gotten myself into?

I’ve got another $250 behind after a call with the HJ, so help me God if I call and he decides to back-jam, too. I sheepishly call, and the HJ once again calls. The flop comes K♥2♠7♣, and it goes check-check (wondering if I should bet here?) The turn brings a magic 7♦, I rip it, and the HJ angrily folds Q♠Q♦ face-up! I did not have an overpair triple-calling preflop on my Florida Live Poker Bingo Card, but here we were. The CO turns over AQo, the Button turns over ATo, and they’re both drawing dead when I show my hand.

The HJ proceeds to go on tilt and rips $400 into a $60 pot with 77 on a KT64r board the next hand (and gets called by worse somehow).

I manage to bust a few shorter stacks, but the real action is between the dueling bad regs at the table. What should’ve been a standard KK vs QQ all-in preflop hand results in both shouting at one another about how they’re the best poker player in all of $1/$2 NLHE at Harrah’s Pompano Beach.

(I’d bet my entire bloodline’s net worth on anyone who claims to be the best $1/$2 NLHE live player is a lifetime losing player)

The reg who got stacked bragged about having a big bag of money he could reload from then proceeded to go to his duffel bag 2 tables over and pulled out…$60.

Instead of sitting back down, he threatened to come back to the table after his smoke break and felt every one of us. After coming back, I did not see him play another pot in the 2 hours before I racked up after 10 hours of play. I once again was there long enough to hear the entire casino’s music playlist cycle through. It must be an acquired skill for employees there to ignore it after hearing the same tracks over and over again. Also, is it just me, or does the abundance of chlorine in the indoor pond there smell like ass?

Parting Thoughts

- Need bankroll, shoe, and food pics next time for correct 2p2 thread worthiness

- I spent >$400 on Uber this trip, so I either need to find a decent rental car deal somehow (IIRC when I've searched Xmas-time dates they were something absurd like ~$100/day though) or find a hotel that's close enough to walk or bus it to one of the FTL poker rooms

- At least the $1/$2 NLHE games feel like most of the player pool skill/tendencies are stuck in the late '00s/early '10s and I love it

- I should try to get outside a little bit more - being by the water at night is very relaxo

- Happy with the amount of hours I played, albeit I still feel like I left time/money on the table

Til' next year!