A post made while drinking Pliny the Elder

I drove to Reno across the nations loneliest road. It's a nice catch phrase. But it makes it a sound a bit more epic than it really was. Sure, I saw very little in terms of passenger cars and vegetation. But it wasn't too long, and it was certainly engaging. It's not nearly such a desolate drive as one might think. It was over, honestly, a little too quickly for my tastes. Sometimes I wish I could just drive that road for a long, long time. Without a care whatsoever about any other human being. My own safety or ego or even my own self like a reflection caught in a glimpse in the mirror that I don't try to worry too much about. Nothing but road hypnosis and music. I don't care for much in this life besides music.

Reno was treacherous. I stayed at the Grand Sierra Resort. Like a burning monument in the concrete sand it stood, it's silly stretched acronymic logo greeting me as I finally found the place. I got a good deal at hotwire, as I usually do. Poker room was small and operational. I played. And I got very drunk that first night. My first experience with white russians very well might be my last. The fools playing against me in NLH were helpless. I love playing NLH drunk. I am just too good at the game. Usually the nights run long and the games run short. I might be against 3-4 sober players thinking they have the fish cornered. I have never, ever lost any significant money on these nights. And I have won decently. Perhaps not optimal, but I get action that I never would get before. I somehow become the hustler. It's a glorious thing and I'm very glad for it. Waking up the next morning with a hole in my bankroll would be brutal. But I am an operational poker playing drunk, thank god.

I stay there for a few more nights and break even. Play some limit holdem without knowing how. Stupid but educational. Leave to go to S.F. at 1 am and end up sleeping at a rest area past truckee for 4 hours before continuing. There is a first for everything.

San Fransisco lay ahead.