Hello my beautiful friend,
It’s currently 1:37am in the morning and I have a question to ask you: what are you willing to give up for $5,000? This is something I’ve been thinking about in my dreams last night. Actually, it’s more than a dream, it’s a nightmare.
Three days ago I was called by my aunt to babysit her dog in her beautiful home, which just so happens to be 15 minutes away from two casinos.
I have digital commercial scripts to write, emails to get to, proposals to create, and yet… no one digitally or physically around to converse with me at the moment.
My life revolves around work and it seems during the holiday season people are away from Slack and many of my creative friends are traveling. Therefore, all I have is a laptop, a dog, and an empty house.
And, I am hours away from civilian life.
So…
Old habits.
It’s routine.
It’s December.
It’s been a long year.
I’m ignoring texts and calls from friends.
I’m ignoring calls from family.
I just broke up with someone.
I have no girl.
I’m single.
I’m stuck on one thing.
I have the bug.
I am filled with too many excuses.
I want. to. gamble.
Even though I’m banned from every California casinos, I have a sneaky little plan. Instead of using my driver’s license to walk into the establishment, I have this bright-idea that I’ve been thinking about for awhile now. It’s called, “walking into the casino using my passport.”
If you don’t know, a California casino will scan your identification card to see if you’re even allowed into the building. If the screen reads “banned”, or in my case, “self-banned” then you are escorted out of the building by a security guard.
If you’re caught actually INSIDE the casino… they can arrest you for trespassing.
I’m scared.
I think - “my passport has an identification code that isn’t in the system, how can they kick me out? right? No one knows. right?”
The first casino goes smoothly…
My passport is scanned and the security guard gives me a look as if they’ve seen me before, so they call other security guards to do a double take. I smile and through my gregariousness and after a few laughs… they finally let me into the building.
I’m walk into the poker room and it feels so nice. The chips, the yelling, the moves, the hearing of the “all-ins” and of course, the people going at each other’s throats.
It’s beautiful.
Right when I’m about to sit down… Jerry catches my face.
Jerry.
Oh Jerry…
The floor man who has been managing the poker room for over fifteen years. Jerry who is like Steve at the Carlsbad casino, Henry at the deep section of the San Diego casino, and Quinn at the Norther California casino… knows my face.
The year I banned myself, I’ve walked up to all these floor men, and many of their colleagues, and strictly said to their faces, “if you ever see me here again, please know that I did a lifetime ban and you have to kick me out.”
Steve has kicked me out once.
Henry has kicked me out three times.
I haven’t seen Jerry in years.
Yet, like those men above, he shakes his head and touches me on the shoulder.
“Hey Jonathan, it’s good to see you man, but aren’t you banned?”
“It’s good to see you too Jerry. Banned? I was… but I’m good.”
Jerry is the type of guy who has so much heart for everyone around him, empathetic, loving, compassionate… he has the energy of someone’s uncle who can’t help himself but to check up on you just to make sure you’re doing okay.
He’s a good man.
“Jonathan, I’m just watching out for you so I’m going to triple check with security, hope that’s okay with you?”
Damnit.
I don’t even wait for the scan. I walk up to the first security guard I see and ten minutes later I’m escorted out of the first casino. They’re just doing their job. I don’t even have time to apologize to Jerry.
But, even after all of that, this doesn’t stop my craving.
I’m on a mission.
I want to gamble.
I have the bug.
The second casino is right around the corner. This one is a little different.
It’s been since 2018 that I’ve entered its building.
Will they have forgotten my face? Will the poker room floor be managed by a new staff? Will the cameras be focused elsewhere?
My passport is scanned.
The security desk radios in, “Sir, we have a passport that needs to be checked, could someone bring this gentleman to the front for processing?”
My heart is beating vigorously.
Can’t I just gamble please?
1-800 GAMBLER is working hard right now.
I’ve put all the stops.
I don’t have debit cards. I’ve cut them up, which means I can’t take out cash from any local ATMs... especially any casino ATMS.
This means that hours prior I walked into the bank to take out $3k in cash. I’m part of the big boys right now. I have in my pocket, three buy-ins ($1k three times).
So like I said, I’m ready to go, I’ve put all the stops, I’m ready to gamble… and all these security measures are halting my action… all because I decided to self-ban myself so many years ago.
These security measures are giving me the shakes.
The floor man, a security guard, and a gambler (me) walk together to the front desk. The floor man inputs my passport’s ID, takes a photo of my face, and manually types up my name into the system.
My last name is very unique.
It isn’t Reyes.
It isn’t Nguyen.
It’s Gaurano.
I’m an easy target.
Oh God…
If the computer comes up with the words “banned” well… again this casino is different. The security is a little tighter because of the type of poker clientele that play in their rooms: it’s where the pro’s play on camera.
Therefore, if the computer reads “banned”, I’ll definitely be arrested for trespassing. Years ago, before my ban, I’ve seen this happen. I know this happens here…
This is why I haven’t been here since 2018. I couldn’t take the risk back then, but today I do not care because I have this tick inside of me that is screaming “you have no other option. you. have. to. play.”
I’m down bad that I’m willing to take the handcuffs.
I’m down bad to be humiliated again.
The efforts I’ll go just to gamble…
… just to feel two or four cards at my fingertips.
I can feel the sweat trickle my down my spine.
I can sense the hairs on my head shedding off of my head.
I’m scratching the side of my leg.
I would be biting my nails if I were invisible.
I feel transparent.
I feel naked.
“Sir.”
“Yes?”
“Here’s your card and welcome to the ***** casino”
I’m back in the room.
Holy shit.
New staff, new security, a workaround the system…
It’s time to play.
Many of you reading this are probably not active poker players. Therefore, I’m just going to say that I was making moves. I was weaving, I was dodging, I was bluffing, I was value-betting, I was betting in position, I was talking to receive information, I was making big calls and big folds.
I was playing poker.
We’re talking up $2k
Down $2k
Up $5k.
Down $3k.
It’s never smooth sailing with me because I play a very loose-aggressive-in position style. In addition, I’ll often take a break from Texas No-Limit Holdem and take my winnings to play a high-variance gamed called “Pot-Limit Omaha” - with - every 40 minutes - an additional double board bomb pot.
Quickly, Pot-Limit Omaha uses four cards instead of two, and unlike Texas Holdem where you can use one card… you are required to always use two of the four cards.
This requirement with these four cards means that yourself and your opponent have quadruple (maybe more?) the chances of connecting with their hand.
For example, a hand in Texas Holdem on the flop could mean that you have a 90% chance of winning. Whereas in Omaha, the same hand on the flop, could have your percentage drop down to only 50%…
From 90% to 50% with the same hand and the same flop.
What does this mean? It means - high variance.
Then you add in the double board bomb pots, which means that the dealer forces everyone to ante $25 and puts out TWO flops. This means that there are eight players looking at a total of six cards on the table (three on bottom and three on top)… ready to fight to the death with a starting pot of $200.
Usually you wouldn’t have all eight players looking at a flop.
But they’re all forced to look at the flop.
Again.
There are eight players looking at six cards on the table (two flops).
Each player has four cards.
Each player is forced to put $25 into the pot.
Again…
Each player sees TWO flops: one on the bottom, one at the top.
Each player usually has a minimum of $1,000 in front of them.
This means that a double-board bomb pot means that the pots are massive.
As they say in poker, “it creates action”
And for all the reasons I said above - Omaha - especially bomb pots - is mixed with a lot of luck, a lot of math, a lot of position betting… it’s gambling to the highest degree.
Still better than blackjack though… because at least you can fold.
Anyway, one of the first hands of this bomb pot… I lose my $2k winnings from Texas Holdem in a matter of seconds: I made a bad play on the flop… long story short, I didn’t evaluate my position on the flop and over-calculated my odds.
It was mainly a “bingo” move… not the best strategy.
I rebuy for another $1k and forty-minutes later when a new dealer sits down, which means “bomb-pot time” - I was fucking ready to get lucky and to make some proper moves.
I played it correctly this time and played it safe only losing $250 instead of everything. Then after a few dodges and weaves… winning a couple of hands here and there - my stack increases back up to around $1,700.
Then, forty minutes later, another bomb pot… and this time I get super lucky plus put the right amount of pressure on an opponent with a $900 pot-size bet at the end of the hand - which made my opponent fold the best hand and kept the guy who was still in to lose against my hand -
They were both pissed…
At the end of the hour - I was sitting with $5.5k in chips… but because of all the swings… only up $2.5k. I say “only up” because funny enough, just 3 hours prior, I was already up this same amount.
I could’ve left way earlier.
This is exactly how I lost a lot of money back in the day.
It was what I did with my winnings from Texas Holdem.
I would win and I wouldn’t leave.
Instead -
Blackjack.
Omaha.
Or…
Losing because of just tilting: it’s where when you lose your money because you end up making emotional moves instead of calculated ones. Per my past posts, my emotional tilting usually derived from depression where I just wanted to lose my money because I felt like “nothing mattered” anymore.
Anyway…
I’m rambling.
I looked at the time and it was 4pm PST.
I’ve been at the casino since 5am PST.
I haven’t eaten because of my retainer.
I’ve just been drinking water.
I’m getting woozy.
Dizzy.
Eyes fainting.
It’s time for me to leave.
Now… when cashing an amount over $5k in a casino - the floor has to check your identification again. This means that if the computer screen reads “BANNED” after they type up all your information, the casino is supposed to take your winnings and then arrest you for trespassing.
I won’t get into how I was able to cash out my chips.
But, I find a way.
It takes an additional two hours, but I find a way.
At the end of 14.5 hours of being inside that casino… I’m up $2.3k - and I’m not happy. I feel like I just wasted 15 hours of my life that I’ll never get back.
Winning $2.3k at a casino isn’t life changing.
My father once said,
“winning $100 at a casino won’t change your life, but losing $100 will definitely change your life dramatically.”
What is the price of this win?
For me…
It’s mental energy that could be used for my work.
It’s sleep deprivation that will take two days to recover from…
It’s not seeing a couple of friends who are texting to see me...
It’s isolating myself from experiencing joy of the outside world.
I’ve living life.
It’s pushing aside my writing and the other things that actually matter for myself and others. It’s saying, “Jonathan, you really don’t want to be successful with the talents that God has given you. You’re so fucking afraid to work on your dreams.”
Yes, this is so fucking egotistical to say… I just feel it to be true.
I’m in the shower.
I’m in my bed.
The nightmares are kicking in because I want to fight off the poker hands in my head and focus on my creative pursuits. I want to fucking. focus. on what matters.
I have scripts to write.
I have a job to do -
I have things to fucking film -
Then I talk to myself…
I’m talking to myself -
Don’t you remember how you couldn’t handle your emotions and gambled everything away so many years ago? Don’t you remember how you had to sleep in your car? Don’t you remember all the money you had to borrow? Don’t you remember how it took you six years to pay off that fucking 496k debt?
Don’t you fucking remember?
I then clean up my aunts house.
The dog poop.
The dishes.
Everything.
I don’t even shower.
I drop my backup and collapse on the floor.
I’ve been in and out of sleep for the past 7 hours.
My brain pulsating.
I just want this headache to go away.
The thoughts of it all…
I threw away the casino card - it’s in the trash.
I use Apple Wallet to login into Bank of America’s ATM and deposit all the money.
I’m cashless yet again.
I have no debit cards.
I’m tired of these nightmares.
I don’t want them again.
What’s the price of walking out of a casino with $5k in your pocket?
Even if it’s a win…
It’s hell.
Thank for listening.
3:51 am in the morning
In my aunts house - Los Angeles
P.S. Life is extremely beautiful by the way. I’m actually really happy as I write this thing - writing feels so good.