Padraig Parkinson: Leaving Las Vegas

The Rio is a pretty depressing spot at the best of times and that’s being kind. The day after the WSOP, it was like the circus had left town and stolen all the children, so it wasn’t too difficult to talk me into a bit of bar hopping in the real Las Vegas.

Speaking of circuses one of the first people I bumped into was Georgie, a local I’ve known for years. Georgie almost represented Bulgaria (or Bulgary as its known in the US) in the Olympics (I think it might have been 1936 in Munich) as a gymnast.

In fact, he would have done so if he hadn’t defected before kick off. He spent many years crisscrossing Europe, working in the circus as an acrobat who worked with dogs. It was one of the worst moments of my life when I was told it was two separate acts. Oh well.

Eventually he became an American.

In between jobs, he got put to work working the board at a tournament in the Golden Nugget. Now Georgie was fluent in several languages though it must be said English wasn’t his strongest suit at the time. This was great fun for everyone else because when a seat became available for a chap called Angus, Georgie made the announcement several times over the mic, somehow managing to drop the G!

Schof was in flying form and came up with another gem. He was telling a story about a poker player who felt he should hire the services of a young lady from an escort agency. Obviously, he wanted to go out. He phoned the agency from his hotel room and specified that he required a young blond dressed as a cheerleader. Musta wanted to go to a sporting event, I suppose. He was a little taken aback when a voice replied “You need to dial 9 for an outside line, sir.” Oh God!