A Visit to the Route 66 Casino and Winrock Center

The drive to the Route 66 Casino is nice enough, with the looming mesas and distant mountains keeping you company. After visiting the Flying J Truck Center going west, I saw almost nothing of a civilized world. Once I climbed a huge incline and navigated the crest of a nice sized hill, I began driving down the other side expecting more hillside.

I was immediately struck by a view to the west that seemed to go on forever. “My gosh, what a fantastic view,” I said to no one. I was looking down into a wide, expansive, beautiful valley below me as I began my descent. I felt like I was on the rim of a humungous cereal bowl looking down at my breakfast, in this case a valley that stretched for miles below me in delicious splendor.

The entire panorama would have been breathtaking but for the site of the Route 66 Casino complex 4 miles away in the distance, dotting the landscape like some space ship that took a wrong turn and crash landed in the New Mexican desert. Still minutes away, I could see the casino complex surrounded by the desert landscape in the valley and thought, “What a way to ruin a majestic view and damage God’s handiwork.”

My thoughts of the landscape soon vanished however, as I was eager to check out the poker room. Beautiful landscapes are certainly nice, but so are well-run poker rooms.

The road construction at the casino was horrible. The section of highway directly in front of the complex was being repaved, in addition it looked as if a new ramp, service road, and bridge were under construction. A motel is also being built next door and looked like a mess.

I finally made it to the parking lot and looked for the entrance. My first impressions? Old, worn out, musty, the “old school”, not glitzy at all but rather a cheap imitation of nicer places—these were my thoughts as I walked inside. I’m not sure when the casino was built, but it must have been years ago. The smell inside was musty, carpets well worn, and I couldn’t help but think that I was going back in time to an era of gambling before the glitz mongers of Vegas began to add glitter and shine to casino properties. (I’m no expert on casino history, just giving you an idea of what I was thinking). Everything in the place seemed to speak of the old days, including the huge WSOP slots with Doyle Brunson’s face and Stetson cowboy hat staring at you as you walked by. I liked the place.

The poker room, however was a little disappointing because of its size. I had no idea it would be so small. I only saw 8 tables with no action. The room itself was old-style, with deep wood grains and comfortable chairs and a feeling of comfort and nostalgia. However, only one table was open, and even it was short-handed with only seven players. The game they were playing was $2/$6 limit with a 1/2 kill. I'm sure activity picks up at night and on weekends, but where will players sit?

“We got an open seat,” the lady at the registration desk said. “There’s plenty of room if you want to play.”

I looked a little dejected and replied, “Doesn’t look like much is going on around here.” The lady ignored my comment and went back to the crossword puzzle she was working on.

I walked out a little sad. I drove 18 miles to get here and found one game open with a small group of local players, probably waiting for a stranger like me to come in so they could empty his wallet. There’s no doubt I’d be broke had I sat down in that game.

I drove back to Albuquerque having wasted some time, but now looking for a shopping mall. While getting gas I asked the clerk for directions to a mall and she told me to head toward the mountains on I-40 and take the Louisiana exit. In a few minutes I was standing in front of a mall that was all but dead.

Ironically, the dying mall with just a few living renters left is called “Winrock Center”. I saw a Dillard’s, a Bed Bath and Beyond with a few other small retailers hanging on—and that was it. I walked inside the mall and it was a ghost town. Most of the store fronts had been boarded up or covered up with black curtains. This would make a great movie set for a horror film. “Bloodsucking Zombies of Sandia Peak” or “The Invasion of the Winrock BodySnatchers”. The Winrock Center was actually built in 1961 and was New Mexico’s first fully enclosed shopping mall. So I guess her time is up.

The action was taking place across the street at ABQ Uptown. A new retail center with street front entrances, franchise restaurants, and walking trails, the ABQ is sleek, inviting, and just plain fun. Now this is more like it. I parked in front of the Border’s Bookstore and strolled through the ABQ thinking about Southlake, Texas, and it’s Southlake Town Center. These kinds of developments are springing up around the country. Some say the indoor mall of my youth is dying, being replaced by outdoor venues that provide fresh air and sunshine for shoppers who crave such things. The evidence seems to be unavoidable here. Shopping is becoming natural, environmentally safe, healthy, sexy, and for the most part, outdoors.

I'm enjoying my stay so far in this "land of enchantment". I might hang out here for a while. Henderson and Vegas will still be there when I'm ready.

Bonaza and the 40 Little Joes

If you grew up watching westerns as I did, then you remember the Cartwrights. Ben and his four sons (then only two after Pernell Roberts bolted over a contract dispute and another son left after the first season to head for obscurity) ruled the western plains of Nevada from the Ponderosa Ranch. Little Joe was the youngest and always reminded me of one of my brothers. (Although Wayne was not the youngest in our clan, he had Little Joe's hair.)

Anyway, I was catching up on the news today and read about the controversy over the new show "Kid Nation", premiering on CBS in September. The producers placed 40 children, the oldest being only 15, in a "desert town" alone to see them build a community. Two children together will often result in chaos and a threat to mankind. So I can understand the brilliant thinking that is behind this new reality show.

The desert town is actually Bonanza Creek Ranch, located just a few miles north of Albuquerque. Often referred to as Bonanza City, New Mexico, the working cattle ranch (longhorns mostly) has been the movie set of numerous westerns, including one of my favorites "Silverado".

The controversy is the alleged child abuse that took place. Supposedly, many of the "Little Joes" were in danger, some actually injured, without proper adult supervision. This has resulted in parents bringing charges against the producers.

I can imagine what the producers are thinking: "Oh happy day. The ratings will be enormous!"

A Dapper Looking Fellow

The man to the right is Edward S. Curtis. I like his photo, a rather dapper looking fellow. Being a photographer myself, and a lover of black and white images, I'm a sucker for an old black and white portrait. I studied Curtis briefly in college while working on my journalism/photography degree.

I recently was researching the Pueblo culture here in New Mexico and came across him again. It was fun to get reacquainted with him.

Edward Sheriff Curtis published The North American Indian (1907-1930), capturing north American indian culture in chronicles and photographs. He immediately became controversial due to his methods of observation.

As an entrepreneur and photographer, he spent much of his career chronicling the American indian, whom he called "historical figures of an American landscape."

In the coming days, I'll write more about him and his work on my blogs Writefinger and Photographium.

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.