Tag: Peter

Atlantic City and the Weather’s Awful

I’m writing this midday Sunday. There hasn’t been any sun or even the glimpse of the nighttime sky since we’ve been here. Sort of depressing.

As opposed to Las Vegas, this isn’t a good place for Steffie. The hotel, beautiful as it is, is very kid unfriendly. We are removed from the Boardwalk and midtown Atlantic City, though that would make little difference.

Helaine took Steffie to the Boardwalk yesterday, but they stayed only a short time. She was disappointed by the whole honky tonk, sleazy, scene. Of course that’s what Helaine and I like about it. More than anything, we enjoy the people watching, because there are characters of every sort.

We had dinner at the buffet at The Borgata with my friend Peter. I first met him in the early 70’s when I was working in Cleveland. He was the first person I ever met who owned a calculator! He still has it. Later, Peter became my boss – the program director at WPEN radio in Philadelphia. We have been very good friends for 30 years.

The buffet is definitely a Las Vegas contender. There were carving stations and lots of interesting, well prepared, dishes.

A chef was making some spaghetti sauce, I believe using vodka. I tried to take a photo, but was too late. So she put some vodka in a pan so I could have a photo op. Very appreciated.

Unfortunately, she was on the high end of service employees who don’t reach the same level as in Vegas. I’m sorry to do all these comparisons, but it’s only natural. And, time-wise, from where I live in Connecticut, Las Vegas isn’t that much farther away.

We had tickets to the comedy show at the hotel for 9:00 PM. I figured, since it was crowded, that I’d go down and register for poker before we went. That way I wouldn’t have to wait as long. As it turned out, my name wasn’t called until 11:30!

The comedy show, in the same room that Helaine and Steffie saw Rick Springfield the night before, was pretty good. There were three comics, “The Coach,” Jack Fontana, and Pete Correalle.

We all agreed Pete Correalle was the best. In some ways he was reminiscent of Seinfeld. He was in control and laid back.

I thought Jack Fontana, an ‘old school’ joke teller ,was better than “The Coach,” but I was alone in that impression. Either way, both were worse than great, better than bad. Entertaining, but not special.

Last night, the casino was as crowded as any casino I had ever seen. And the crowd was younger than any casino crowd I’d ever seen. Many of the women were dressed in that tawdry, slutty way that’s OK for women, as long as they’re not in your family.

I headed down to the poker room to wait out my table. When I say down, I really mean it, since the room is in the basement.

Like the main casino floor, the poker room was astoundingly crowded. I did get a chance to see what the floor people were carrying. They each have some sort of HP PDA with 802.11b access to the poker room system. So they can work the lists and do nearly everything that can be done from the podium.

I sat at a $6/$12 Hold’em table and slowly began to lose money. It wasn’t long before I was down $100. But I was playing decently (though not as tight as I’d like)&#185, so I figured I’d be OK.

My losses stabilized for a while and then I went down again. I had lost $130 or so when things began to turn. I won a few small pots. At least two times everyone laid down their cards to my bet on the river. I think I won because of my earlier semi-tight play. Then I won a few bigs hands.

By the time I went to cash in my chips, I had won $176. So, three sessions for $96, $5, $176. I’m happy.

As I walked through the casino, after 2:00 AM, things were still jumping. In the elevator, yesterday’s Rear Window had given way to Lost in Translation.

&#185 – It’s reasonable to ask, if you know you’re not playing right, why not just do it? The brief answer is, while you’re at a table, you’re always looking at the hands and evaluating them. But you’re also there to play, which is what you don’t do when you lay your cards down. This is less a problem on-line. Even though I can intellectualize the problem, I don’t always act with my intellect.

Greetings from Atlantic City

The trip down wasn’t that bad. Helaine and Steffie attempted to sleep, but it was nearly futile. A car is not a bed in so many ways.

We left the house around 12:30 AM, stopped quickly at Dunkin’ Donuts and headed out. As we approached I-287 Helaine asked if I was going to take the Tappan Zee? I wasn’t sure – so I did.

It always seems longer to go over the Hudson River with the Tappan Zee, but there were rumors of construction on the George Washington Bridge and a problem with one of the smaller bridges connecting Staten Island to New Jersey which was backing up onto the New Jersey Turnpike.

Real True Honest to Goodness Fact: The Garden State Parkway’s northern terminus is actually in New York. I can’t explain it, but it’s true.

As we headed south on the Garden State Parkway, I was glad to have E-ZPass. The New Jersey Turnpike has a toll booth when you enter and exit the highway. On the Garden State, there’s a toll booth every 20-30 feet! OK – it only seems that way.

The first toll plaza had something I had never seen before. There were a few lanes segregated to the side where EZPass drivers could go through the toll area at full speed. Wow.

We headed south on the Parkway, through Newark and the urban areas of the north and then down, along the shore. As we hit mile marker 72 something strange started appearing by the side of the road – deer. I’m not talking about a deer or two. There were dozens and dozens of deer, all on the right shoulder. Most had their heads down, grazing on the shoulder of the road.

As I buzzed by at 75 mph (slow for me, but I didn’t want to get a ticket in New Jersey where the speed limit is a reasonable 65 mph) I realized that any of them could dash into the road for no apparent reason. I turned to Helaine and told her, should a deer dash into the road, he was lunch meat. I would not swerve at that speed while driving an SUV.

The more deer I saw, the more scared I became. It was eerie with their eyes glowing from the headlights like a road reflector.

We got to my friend Peter’s house at 4:00 AM. He lives in a nice apartment building (it’s condos… but it’s apartments) in Ventnor City. Peter and Elisa have spent the last year or so re-doing their place, and it’s really nice. He said there’s only one or two original walls left!

They have a nice view to the south, looking toward Cape May. They are on the ‘ocean block’ with the boardwalk and beach at the edge of their building.

We were all asleep sometime before 5:00 AM

My next post is from the Borgata.

The Old College Try

Steffie is now a junior in high school. I won’t embarrass her, but to say every parent thinks of their child as… well, as their child. So, it’s tough to come to the realization that she will soon be applying for and entering college and then, leaving home.

I don’t want to face the reality that any of us have gotten older. Who does?

Saturday was to be our first in a long series of college visits. We weren’t going far, C. W. Post College of Long Island University (my friend Peter says it’s really “LG” and pronounced “Long Guyland”).

C. W. Post is located on the former estate of Marjorie Merriweather Post. It was cereal money that built this incredible estate. People must eat an incredible amount of cereal, because this place, as a private residence, reaches the kind of grandeur few of us would even imagine.

It is located on the North Shore of Long Island, in an area still referred to as the Gold Coast. Though Long Island, especially Nassau County, is densely populated and a poster child for suburban sprawl, the area around the Post campus retains its genteel nature and airiness.

L.I.U. purchased the land in 1947. The campus originally hosted 219 students. I can’t imagine what the land is worth today. Over 300 acres of prime real estate boggles the mind.

We were 20 minutes early for our 12:00 noon tour. Over that twenty minutes, a few other families filtered in and sat in a waiting room in a majestic Tudor style building, originally part of the estate.

A tour guide, a junior dance major from Rhode Island walked us through the campus. Though nice, most of the buildings needed some fresh paint of their trim.

As we walked to lecture halls, classrooms, the library and even a ‘sample’ dorm room, it struck me that this was a totally foreign experience for Steffie. Over the next few months she will get a perspective by seeing other schools as well. This was a good start.

Back at the admissions office we met briefly with an admissions officer and then, were on our way. The day was young, so we headed to one of Long Island’s most historic spots.

At 7:52 A.M., May 20, 1927, Charles Lindberg left on his solo flight across the Atlantic. The Spirit of St. Louis, loaded with gasoline, lumbered down the runway before finally becoming airborne. He barely had enough altitude to clear the telephone lines at the end of the runway at Roosevelt Field.

You would think Roosevelt Field, though no longer used for aviation, would be a memorial or historic shrine to the bravery, accomplishment and good luck of Charles Lindberg. No, this is Long Island – it’s a mall.

With four anchor stores and nearly 250 specialty shops, Roosevelt Field is the largest mall I’ve ever been to. This was a Saturday in the off season, but the mall was packed.

The exit off the Meadowbrook Parkway puts you right in the mall’s parking area. We walked through a ‘big box’ sporting goods store, and into the mall’s upper level. We were overlooking a carousel and an immense food court.

The food court was centered around a ring of small restaurant counters, under a huge Zeppelin, . Unfortunately for me, mall food isn’t conducive to the low carb way of life. There wasn’t a great deal of choice, but I found a steak salad at the Great Steak and Potato Company. The steak was sliced thin, like you’d find in a cheesesteak sandwich. Any thinner and the pieces would have been see through.

As large as this mall was, and as happy as Steffie and Helaine were at the store selection, I was disappointed. There were few ‘guy’ shops. There was one bookstore – a small Barnes and Noble (though still signed B. Dalton on the outside). Try as I might to find a book or magazine to sit and read, there was nothing.

After another trip through the food court (different restaurant, still a salad), we headed to the car and back to Connecticut.

So Jealous

I am so jealous of Peter and Elisa, in Hawaii. Even so, I am posting some of Peter’s photos to a gallery of his own, on this site, so that eating my heart out will only be a click away.