The Ultimate Freeroll

Chile turned out to be a nine-month freeroll where I placed in the money no matter what I did.

I went there with a few thousand in savings and a $1,500 bankroll. I returned with nothing in savings but about $8,000 in total profits. In effect, I got to live in Chile, I got experience working at The Santiago Times, quit my previous job, had a lot of fun, learned a new language, improved my poker skills and returned to the States with about as much money as I left with.

I win. I wouldn't trade it for anything.

Now, back to my continuing dream life in Tunica...

Friday was the first poker marathon day I've had in a long, long time. I started at about 7:30 a.m. at the 3/6 table at the Gold Strike. This guy named the Kid was playing at the table, and he was the only other aggressive player, but that doesn't mean he was any good. He was certainly entertaining though. This other guy with tattoos got kicked out of the poker room for refusing to place his bet after saying "call," but he was back later.

Then I moved on to a $30 freeze out tournament at Sam's Town, where I lasted about an hour and a half before busting out when I went all-in with KQs and ran into J3s. My opponent hit a flush on the turn.

From there, it was back to the Strike. The rest of the crew arrived in town shortly afterward, and I played some 1/2 no limit at the Hollywood. Then back to Sam's Town, and finally a return home to the Strike, where I tried some 5/10.

Up until then, I had posted winning at every single table I had sat at. I was pretty proud of that accomplishment. But then Daniel told me that I should come back to 3/6 because it was so fishy.

It was fishy, but I couldn't take advantage of it and posted my first loss. I should have known it wouldn't go well as soon as the dealer mistakenly awarded me the pot and then took it away to give it to the correct winner. It was a bad omen.

For the next four hours, I won three hands. Two of those three hands I won after straddling -- "Gamboool!" One of those hands was a 92o, which I bluffed hard and won for my first victory at that table.

The next straddle I got an 85o that I raised preflop heads-up because my opponent was so weak that I thought I could make her fold like I did the last time I straddled. The flop came a beautiful 467 for a straight, and she called me down the whole way. My only other win there was pocket 2s that turned into a boat.

Today I want to hit the tables hard again and play some 4/8. I'm perfectly capable of playing higher limits, but I simply don't want to risk much of this money that I'll be living off of for the next few months. If today is anything like the last two, I can't lose!

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The night before last was my first night back in the States. I thought I would sleep soundly because I was pretty tired after 23 hours of traveling, but I was wrong.

I had a dream where I saw my friend Steve from Santiago as he continues his life back here in the U.S.A. His brother was there too, even though I've never met him.

Then I was walking down the street I grew up on, carrying my green backpack around my shoulder and my poker laptop in my hand. Suddenly, a robber tried to grab my backpack, but it was hooked around my right shoulder, and I wouldn't let go. I chased after the would-be robber, but it turned out I had bigger problems. The robber had been working with an airplane and had tied a super-strong string from my backpack to an airplane.

I didn't let go of the backpack in time and was suddenly flying over my old neighborhood in Atlanta. I was trying to decide whether to let go of the poker laptop, drop the backpack, fall to the ground or climb the rope. All the while, the plane was lifting my higher and higher off the ground.

Then I woke up.