First Impressions: the Sandia Casino and Resort

The Sandia Casino and Resort is located off Interstate 25 just north of downtown Albuquerque at the foothills of the Sandia Mountains. The resort offers an 18-hole golf course, 228 guest rooms with flat panel television screens, banquet rooms and convention space, a spa, an exercise facility, and an outdoor amphitheater to hosts concerts under the New Mexican sky. As Tony Soprano might say, "This is one classy joint."

If you visit, the casino is to the north side of the complex and the best parking is underground. Follow the signs around to the left of the main entrance and you won't get lost. The hotel is to the right and there is plenty of above-ground parking in that direction. I like the underground parking because the elevators take you directly to the main floor of the casino. It's a very easy walk from the car to the poker room.

The resort has adopted the rich pueblo history of Albuquerque and is adorned in Southwestern styles and artwork. The Pueblo of Sandia is a federally recognized Indian tribe located in central New Mexico and adjacent to Albuquerque. They own the resort along with other businesses. Their reservation covers 22,877 acres on the east side of the Rio Grande Valley.

The Sandia people are members of the pre-Columbian Tiwa language group who once dominated the Albuquerque area. Their lineage can be traced back to the Aztec civilization. The present site has been their home since at least 1300 AD. Once the largest pueblo in the area with over 3000 people, the tribe currently has just under 500 members. They are one of nineteen pueblo tribes recognized by the federal government in New Mexico. I wish I were one of those 500 tribe members!

"Thur Pa" is the name of the casino lounge, reflecting this heritage. The other dining areas are the "Bien Shur" Restaurant, "Thur Shan" Buffet, "Pa Shur" Deli, and the "Ba Shie" Minibar. I've attempted to figure out a translation of these names. So far, I have discovered that "pa" means "one" in the Tiwa dialect. I'll keep at it. Hopefully I'll find more information at the resort itself. Googling "Tiwa" and "pueblo indians" helped, but not much.

The Sandia is a very nice resort, as you might expect. I checked the place out thoroughly yesterday. I’m starting to get a feel for the place. As for the poker room, it is smaller than expected. I wish it were not open to the slot area (I like peace and quiet when I'm losing money.) It’s not walled off or in it’s own separate side room or building. Thus you get the noise from the slots and other casino events. They cover a nice list of games, however. It looks like I’ll be playing the $2/$4 limit with 1/2 kill to $3/$6. They also have a $4/$8 with a 1/2 kill to $6/$12 which would be a great game. They also have the assorted no limit games, plus weekly tournaments.

They don’t have an Ultimate Texas Hold’em game. Instead they have a World Poker Tour with Bonus game that is similar to the UTH. The main difference between UTH and the WPT game is the bonus payouts. With UTH you have a "Trips" option, paying you a bonus for high hands like a straight or full house. The WPT instead has a "Bonus" option, paying you a bonus for high hands you get in the hole like pocket pairs and suited connectors. There is no bonus for high hands against the dealer in the WPT game.

The pool area sits in view of the Sandia Mountain range. I sat at the pool last night and waited for the sun to slowly sink behind the resort and cast me in its shadow. In front of me I watched the mountains fade away into the rich and vibrant colors of the evening sky, a cool breeze beginning to blow away the heat of the day. I read the New York Times as the sun began to leave me in darkness, and read about the worst bombing attack in Iraq since the war began. I was aware of the juxtaposition of these two worlds: a resort in the foothills of a beautiful mountain range in central New Mexico, the savagery of a northern Iraqi desert littered with the wounded and dead. I was happy to see I had made it through another day and was thankful.

Good Morning, Albuquerque!

I'm sitting at a Starbucks at the foot of the Sandia mountain range, thinking about how beautiful it is here. Albuquerque is a wonderful city. How did I get here? Read on.

Last night I decided to make one more trip to the Riverwind poker room in Norman, Oklahoma. My goal was to either make a profit, or lose $50. Whatever the outcome, I was headed for Albuquerque the next morning.

Before going to the poker room I sat at the food court at the Riverwind and did a Sudoku puzzle. It was a little early; I didn’t want to hit the baize until at least 7 p.m. A good Sudoku puzzle takes me an hour or more. I drank some coffee and just waited until it felt time to go to work.

I waited only a few minutes for a seat once I registered for a $3/$6 limit game sometime after 7 p.m. I took the 4-seat. The table was full, a good sign, and I could tell the players were not overly aggressive or maniacal. So I was ready to play well.

For the first 30 minutes I played 5 hands and actually won a nice pot with two pair after the turn card hit my Jack. I was ahead by about $10 rather early. But then things turned sour. Nothing drastic, just sour. Things often turn sour at a poker table and you have to just hang on until sweetness and joy return.

By the time I was through, I had lost $54. The hand that tilted me was pocket Aces. I was the one with the Aces! When I turned them up in the hole, I said to myself, “Okay. I’m going to bet these suckers as hard as I can. If they hold up, I’ll leave with a nice profit tonight. If not, no big deal. I’ll just leave.”

And since the poker gods have a sense of humor, they thought it would be a nice joke to send me on my way via cracked Aces.

A donkeyfishhole called my preflop raise with 4-5 offsuit (what an idiot). He then called my bet with a flop of 6-4-blank, obviously liking his small pair and a long shot for a runner-runner straight. The turn was a 3, naturally. I knew immediately he was on a draw. Dang it! He called my bet on the turn. No 7, no 2, dealer…no 7, no 2. Come on, help me out here. The river was a 7 giving the donkeyfishhole a straight. My Aces were worthless. I stood up, racked my remaining chips and headed for the cashier.

Once I returned to my car I had a decision to make. Do I stay here for the night? Do I go back and play a round of Ultimate Texas Hold’em to see if I can recoup some of the money I had just lost? Or, strange as it may have been to consider it, do I want to drive on to Albuquerque tonight?

Albuquerque won.

I’m thanking God this morning for those cracked Aces. That bad beat resulted in my decision to leave Norman immediately. (I admit I was a little on tilt and just wanted some distance between me and that donkeyfishhole at the Riverwind.) I made the right decision.

I left at 8 p.m., driving north to Oklahoma City to pick up Interstate 40 to all points west. I was feeling upbeat, not sleepy at all. My goal was to drive as far as possible throughout the night.

Along the way I passed billboards promoting the Lucky Star Casino. There are actually two Lucky Stars, one in Clinton to the northwest, and another won much larger closer to Oklahoma City off Interstate 45 just west of town. I discovered that both locations were too far from the highway to drive to , so I passed them by without stopping.

I paid for gas once, hoping to get to Amarillo by midnight. I hit the Texas border at 11 p.m., but didn’t make it to Amarillo until after one o’clock in the morning. I was still feeling okay, so I kept driving west toward the New Mexican border and Tucumcari, the “gateway to New Mexico.” Just outside of Tucumcari I was too sleepy to continue, so I stopped at a truck stop and quickly went to sleep in my car just after 3 a.m.

I woke at 7 a.m. after about four good hours of needed sleep. I cleaned up at the truck stop and then continued west. Along the way I stopped at Clinton Corners, a cheesy trinket factory, restaurant, and gas station. That place is like a Stuckey’s on steroids. I especially liked the “boob ball”, a rubber ball shaped like a woman’s breast, complete with teat. The label on the ball said, “It’s Squeezable!” Only in America.

I bought a cup of coffee and an Albuquerque newspaper. Once back on the road, a sign told me Albuquerque was 57 miles away. No problem. I can handle that! Where’s my boob ball?

I hit downtown Albuquerque at just after 1 p.m. Texas time. I knew that the Sandia Casino and Resort were located on Interstate 25 north, so I took that exit. Within minutes I was in the immaculate lobby of the Sandia Resort located just north of downtown at the foot of the Sandia mountain range.

I'll be here for a day or two, at least. I may just settle here! It's a beautiful city. Since the high temperature in the Las Vegas area is forcasted to be 107 today, I'm in no hurry to get there.

Journaling

I've been writing a journal for years. However, my entries this year have been more frequent and lengthy. Other writing projects are on hold until I resettle in Nevada. On the road, I'm finding it difficult to work on future, speculative projects.

Writing for my blogs is enough work for now, as is my journaling. My journals are beginning to contain the kinds of things I've often desired to write about, but for some reason never took the effort to include. Characters, conversations, observances, and all kinds of things are being jumbled in among the self-analysis and confessions that resonate throughout my journal.

For example, I recently encountered a character one early morning in the front of a grocery store and made this entry in my journal:

"Next door to the coin laundry is a grocery store proudly named “Homeland”. The store reminded me of the Minyard’s I used to visit weekly on Preston Road in Dallas when living there with Boo. A community store, old and worn out from years of selling food to nearby home dwellers, and not exactly up to the standards of a modern Kroger or Tom Thumb.

On the way in I almost ran over an elderly man who was sweeping the front door entrance area.

“Excuse me sir,” I said while stepping over his broom. He said nothing but just looked up with a disgusted facial expression as if to tell me, “You idiot…can’t you see I’m trying to sweep here…get out of my way!”

I saw the old man again when I left the store—he was still sweeping and groaning about life. He spoke to another man who was leaving the store and I noticed a remarkable New York accent, like a character from a “Sopranos” episode.

How would I describe him? Hunched over, with stooping shoulders, head and neck stuck in a downward location, making him look upward in a squinting motion in order to see where to walk. He was at least in his mid 60s, maybe well over 70 years old. His white hair was receding from his head leaving a nice shiner on top and his clothes were too large for him.

On my way out, however, I didn’t say a word. He’s way too grumpy this early in the morning. I watched him clean and sweep for a moment. He used the broom like a sword, conquering the dirt and trash, stabbing at the gum stuck on the concrete. He violently, quickly, and with a bit of unrestrained enthusiasm hoisted the rubber mat laying in front of the store’s double glass doors and shook it out like it was a gentleman’s cloak."

My earlier journal entries from years ago never contained these kind of observances. My old journals were more about me, which was the problem. As I have matured, both as a person and a writer, I'm discovering that who I am is partially a result of the world in which I travel. My life is defined by my interactions and observations of the world around me. It should be no surprise that a deeply personal journal should contain observations of that world.

"Finger" of the Week: August 15

Richard Strickler, assistant secretary of the Department of Labor and director of the Mine Safety and Health Administration speaks to reporters over the weekend concerning lost miners in the Crandall Canyon mine, Huntington, Utah.

He's discussing the miner's expected location, buried 1,500 feet below the ground, about four miles from the mine entrance. The six trapped miners were working as usual on Monday, August 6, when the collapse occurred.

As of today, the drilling continues and the families are remaining hopeful.

Rude Bertha, Bad Card Charlie, and Me

I'm in Norman, Oklahoma for at least one more day. My plan is to drive to Albuquerque tomorrow. All things are open for discussion, however, so I won't make my final decision until tomorrow morning.

I made it the Riverwind just after 7 p.m. last night. In the poker room there was immediate seating available at the 3/6 limit, so I bought in for $80.

I knew things were going to be weird from the start. I took the 2-seat between a woman who had an “I’m losing all my rent money” look on her face and a guy who talked about every hand he had as if anyone would care. The woman was rude when I tried to squeeze into my seat. I had just enough room to sit down, stick one leg toward the table, and place my chip stack directly in front of me.

“Er, excuse me. I’m sorry for having to squeeze in here. I guess if I lost some weight it wouldn’t be so bad.” I was politely trying to communicate to the rude woman on my right. Shift your fat ass a few feet to the left so I can sit down.

She said nothing, and moved maybe six inches.

The guy on my right began to boil, folding a hand. “I can’t get any good cards,” he said while looking around the table, not bright enough to notice that everyone was ignoring him.

So I began my session between Rude Bertha and Bad Card Charlie ( the nicknames I quickly gave them). I sat there for a few hands and played nothing. After a while, the 4-seat opened when a fellow decided he couldn’t take the excitement any longer, loaded up his $120 or so and went to the cashier.

“I’m moving to seat 4 after the button,” I told the dealer. I took off my Maverick’s cap and placed it in the chair that was comfortably waiting for me in the 4-spot, where there was plenty of room; it was amazingly spacious. I’ll be able to sit with both legs under the table. Now I’ll have Rude Bertha on my right. Take that, Rude Bertha. See? I now have room to spread out just like you, you twit.

“I can’t believe that flop,” said Bad Card Charlie. “Man, I finally get a decent hand and it totally misses the flop!” No one cares. Get over it. This guy for some reason feels like he needs to comment on every action at the table. Put a sock in it!

I’ve been at the table maybe 5 minutes, have not played a hand, paid a big and small blind, and changed seats once. No action, no nothing. I was starting to believe this was a bad table. Already I was looking to change, but there was only one other 3/6 limit table available and it was full.

Three things happened almost simultaneously that told me I was threw with the table. First, two players decided to leave for a food or smoke break at the same time, shorting the table to 6 players (we were already short with only 8 players when I first sat down). Second, an obnoxious goon from a 1/2 no limit table decided he would share his poker prowess with us and sat down in a vacated seat. He immediately began to raise every hand and even straddled once. I don’t mind the aggression, but his arrogance and “I’m better than all you people” attitude was really annoying. I don’t like arrogance in any form, much less from a guy whom thinks he’s a “poker god” incarnate at night, and during the day is a mildly mannered mechanic at some garage in downtown Norman.

So far it’s not going my way. I’m sitting at a table that is shorted, and a maniac is trying to push players around with unfettered aggression and silly talk.

The third thing that happened, almost within seconds of the other two events, sent me to the cashier: an elderly woman brought her husband a cheeseburger and fries. I was sitting next to the man, his wife now suddenly standing behind me holding a Burger King sack. She appeared out of nowhere, stumbled behind my chair, stuffed the burger and fries on the food tray between me and her husband, and left in a cloud of dust. The old man began to eat like he’d been without food for months. Parts of the burger were hanging out of his mouth. He was handling chips with mustard on his hands. Not a pretty sight.

Here’s a suggestion: if you are so old you can’t eat a hamburger without food hanging from your mouth, try leaving the table for a meal break.

When I picked up my chips and left the table, I had played no hands, paid out two blinds, and was behind $8. It was the worst 15 minute session in my memory. (In fact, it’s the only 15 minute session in my memory.)

I walked out of the poker room with a feeling of resignation, knowing I made the right decision. The lesson is this: poker is more than just playing cards. It’s also playing a table. Some tables are going to be profitable and some are not. I am learning to discover, and quickly vacate, a table that will cost me money.

I visited the food court, drank some coffee, and decided to play Ultimate Texas Hold’em until later in the evening. I wanted the poker room to fill up with locals getting off work. They often won’t show up until 8 p.m. or later. Therefore, I was going to kill some time, revisit the poker room later on, and perhaps sit at a better table.

At the Ultimate Texas Hold’em table I quickly hit a run of good cards and won about six hands in a row. Before leaving, I had doubled my $80 buy-in and cashed out with $160. This was a great turn of events. Now I can return to the poker room and basically play on a free roll. I was willing to lose $40, if necessary, leaving me with a small $40 profit for the evening.

I sat at a much better table this time around: a full set of players and no one eating cheeseburgers. I congratulated myself on leaving a bad table and finally finding a good one. I played for an hour and was ahead by $23 before the table began to break up. With six players remaining, the nice woman in the 9 seat decided to leave and so I joined her.

I was happy to leave for the night with a $91 profit, after three hours of weirdness.

I’ve left out stories about the 7-foot, 300 pound monster at the Ultimate Texas Hold’em table I tried to avoid, the one-armed cowboy carrying his soft drink with his right nub, and the 400 pound man sitting in the food court wolfing down a double-meated sandwich of some kind. What is going on in this place tonight? There must be a circus in town!

Checking Out Albuquerque: Leg Two of My Trip

In GoogleMapping the next leg of my journey, the Googlewizards have said it is 563 miles from Norman to Albuquerque, and it will take me just over 8 hours to drive there. Amarillo seems to be about one half the way there. I figure $100 in gas should be sufficient, based on my car's performance thus far. It's costing me $15 to $18 for each 100 miles I travel.

In Amarillo I will get an oil change and general check up. I can't afford any serious car trouble. That's the gamble, here. Driving 1100 miles in a SUV that has 160,000 miles on it. Keep your fingers crossed with me that it will make the journey in good form.

I'm intrigued by the Sandia Casino and Resort in Albuquerque. Their web site proudly admits that their poker room is the largest in New Mexico. It covers a $4/$8 limit game, which is good, and higher limit games like $10/$20. The Sandia poker room will be my next destination and will complete the second leg of my Fall Adventure.

I'll also want to check out the Route 66 Casino in Albuquerque. The poker room manager is legendary poker queen Barbara Fielder Prather. The Route 66 has a spacious poker room and offers limit games at various levels, plus the customary no limit variety. I also was glad to see they offer food comps!

When do I turn my car west and head down Interstate 40 toward the Sandia Casino? Check back. I'm not sure.

Viva Las Vegas! The Adventure Begins.

On Monday, August 13, I made the decision to hit the road and head west for Henderson, Nevada, a suburb of Las Vegas. I tied up all loose ends in north Texas, turned the car north toward the Red River and began my Fall Adventure.

Here's the idea, as nutsy as it sounds: I'm going to work my way west toward southern Nevada, playing various poker rooms along the way, taking my time and enjoying the trip, with no plans other than to eventually arrive in Henderson before Winter sets in. I have no idea how long I'll be on the road. I'm in no hurry. If I run out of money along the way, I'll stop and find a temporary job.

I'm like the travelor of the early 1800s who packed up his wagon and ventured into the unknown, hoping to find a better life. If the wagon breaks down or you run out of food, you just settle down for a while. Then continue moving on westward, ever westward.

It's not the destination that makes life interesting, it's the journey.

So my Fall Adventure has begun. In planning for the trip, I Googled for casino and poker room information in Oklahoma, New Mexico, Arizona, and Nevada. I looked at GoogleMaps, checked out a route that would take me along Interstate 40 west, and attempted to find decent poker rooms between southern Oklahoma and southern Nevada. This was no easy task. Anyway, I think I have an idea of where I'm going.

The first leg of trip has taken me to the Riverwind Casino in Norman, Oklahoma. I drove the 107 miles north to the home of Sooners football and the University of Oklahoma. The Riverwind is only minutes south of downtown and is a nice facility with plenty of slot machines (that I never play) and a poker room that is only adequate--not great--just adequate.

I like Norman, however, and wouldn't mind just settling here. Just 17 miles south of Oklahoma city, Norman has the looks of an enormous college town with all the trappings (and restaurants) of a modern suburb. The Sooners Mall is anchored by Dillards and Sears, and with the Olive Garden nearby, what else does one need to be happy in this world?

I'm not sure how long I'll stay here. Again, I'm in no hurry. I may stay a few days, a week, a few months. I have no timetable, no real schedule. So I'll have time to check out the infamous OU college hangouts, including the Fat Sandwich shop and the historic Campus Corner on Boyd Street.

The next leg of my journey will be the drive west on Interstate 40 to Aluquerque, New Mexico. I'll be checking GoogleMaps for distance and drive time, etc. For all I know, I'll be driving there tomorrow. Or maybe not. Interstate 40 will take me as far as Kingman, Arizona, just a few miles south of Vegas. At Kingman, I'll turn north on Highway 93 north and I’m there.

To read about my poker play you can visit my poker blog at http://www.7seat.com/.