Three And A Half Weeks Into The World Series of Poker

Three and a half weeks into the World Series of Poker, your throat has been scratchy for three weeks.

The dude giving you a haircut says you look tired.

Sushi doesn’t taste as good.

Three and a half weeks into the World Series of Poker, the last of the snow has melted off Mount Charleston to the Northwest. You can’t believe it lasted that long.

You need a drink but you really shouldn’t drink.

You curse the mistakes you made two weeks ago that may have cost you a shot at a bracelet.

Three and a half weeks into the World Series of Poker, you really, really, really hate Las Vegas.

Your reads are consistently dead on but you don’t always follow them.

Three and a half weeks into the World Series of Poker, you no longer enjoy looking at the smoking hot media girls. You just hate them and what they represent.

You can’t remember the last day it wasn’t 100 degrees.

You can’t think of a single thing you want to do.

You expect to lose the big coinflips, you expect that gutshot to hit against you, and when you imagine a nightmare turn card, it comes.

You fantasize about taking a deep fresh breath of air.

You see guys hauling trash bags in the sun and think how good you’ve got it.

You fall asleep trying to think of ways to stay hydrated. When you wake up, you’re dehydrated.

Three and a half weeks into the World Series of Poker, well-known poker players get in public arguments with cabbies; with dealers; with the rail; and mostly with each other.

You’re not sure if that seven-six of spades hand happened last week or in a dream.

Three and a half weeks into the World Series of Poker, there are still three weeks left. This could be very bad or very good.