Poker Addiction Stories – sleeping in public at Niagara Falls casino
Ah – Niagara Falls. Home to the seventh wonder of the world. If you look at the falls at a certain angle, it looks like a huge chasm, where the rushing water falls into a dark abyss.
But this isn’t about Niagara Falls, it’s about the two casinos within the vicinity and my poker addiction stories.
On the Canadian side, you got two casinos – Niagara Falls casino (the old one) and Falls view (the newly build one)
The plebes gamble their paychecks away at Niagara Falls casino, where the stakes are low. The aristocrats (mostly drug dealers, business owners and snake oils sales men) blow their money at Falls view.
Of course – casinos aren’t evil. They’re awesome. That is where old people, degenerates, gang bangers, and hustlers hang out. I feel right at home. (every poker addiction stories have to include shady characters, no?)
It’s early morning and I just woke up in a run down motel. The smell of curry waffles in the air because the owner of the motel is Hindu, and lives just a few doors down. I take a gulp of beer and head over to the pizza place. My day as a poker degenerate is about to begin.
The casino is permanently filled with old people who play slots (the worst odds game you can wager at the casino). I remember in Edmonton, early morning when the casino opens an army of old people would shuffle into the casino. For them, it’s a socialization spot.
I know the floor managers (we call them suites) by their names. Typically, 2 tables are open in the morning. I take a seat, with a coffee in hand.
The table is mostly filled with old people, some young grinders, and clueless beginners – except one old man. He’s a tough player, often steam rolling people over by shoving his chips all him. He is to be feared sometimes.
Nothing too specular happening in the early hours of the casino, mostly friendly banter between me as a young 20 something against the old people. Yes – friendly bantering as I slowly hustle them of their pension funds. My poker addiction stories involve legally robbing old people at the poker table.
“Hey! You look fresh” I told one guy, who’s retire and plays golf every morning. That day I took $200 from him. Then I bought him a beer.
Here I am, as a “young” hustler, squandering my life away playing low stakes poker. Sleeping in run down motels that smells of curry, ridden with bed bugs, and the drug addicts.
Fact is, Niagara Falls is a ghost town if it wasn’t for the tourist. The downtown sector is empty and deteriorating, as if all the business made a mass exodus somewhere else. The only remaining value of Niagara Falls is the small tourist strip, filled with hotels, casinos, and haunted houses.
That week I made $3000 playing 1 / 2 no limit poker, playing roughly 3 hours per day. After the week is up, the motel owner asked if I’m coming back. “Yeah, maybe” I grinned as I head towards the strip club. Life of a poker degenerate – it’s not pretty. I’m glad I got out of it. It was fun while it last ought.
Part 2 is tamed, but Part 3 is where I’ll write the most entertaining parts. Stay tune. (If you haven’t read Part 1 of my poker addiction stories yet, it’s here)
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