The diary of OldKing Cole. He swims with the sharks in the Caribbean sunshine you know. The much anticipated, and slightly belated, part III.

Day 11 - Sunday 23rd November 2003

Rather late up after an injudicious few hours spent propping up the bar at the Q-Disco next to Maho Casino. Glad to have made it home in one piece, even if the memory’s a little hazy.

Having missed the morning, I spent a lazy afternoon soaking up the sun on a lounger by the pool reading Poker for Dummies. After a invigorating cold shower and a hot shave I was ready once more to do battle with the giants of the poker world in the evening’s $200 Omaha Hi/Lo tournament.

Omaha Hi/Lo is certainly my strongest game, and I expected to do well. But, as has been the case too often this trip, the deck was cold enough to freeze the beak off a St Martinese parrot, and I was fortunate to reach the break without having to rebuy. I took the add-on hoping for warmer weather as the tournament went on, but it wasn’t to be. But there was some British success to shout about. Michael, a London taxi-driver and well-known face at The Vic, won the event to record his first international victory.

Day 12 - Monday 24th November 2003

Spent the day shopping, for both gifts for friends and family and as much mosquito-repellent and bite-relief cream as I could find, before heading back to the hotel for a short nap to ensure I would be in good shape for the evening tournament.

Tonight’s entertainment was to come in the form of $150 Pot Limit Hold’em tournament, with rebuys and an add-on (due to my lack of success, I’d limited myself to just the one additional purchase, whether rebuy or add-on). I’m a big fan of Pot Limit Hold’em as it gives more opportunity to play a wider variety of starting hands than it’s No Limit equivalent and couldn’t wait to get started.

Early on my cards were as unexceptional as they had been throughout the festival and my stack had dwindled to half-size by mid-way through level two. At that point I was dealt AK offsuit on the button. With five players having limped in, I made a pot raise only to be re-potted by the big blind. My cards went into the muck faster than a ferret down a rabbit-hole and everyone copied me. I was now almost down to the green and took a rebuy.

The dealer gave me nothing exceptional before the break, and whenever I got any sort of hand in late position in unraised pots, I limped in only to find universally unhelpful flops. At the break I was about even and staying true to my word declined an add-on… I knew that life was about to get a whole lot tougher.

After the players’ dinner in the Ocean Terrace restaurant it was back to the casino for the battle, which was not to be long in coming.

At last I had a hand; pocket aces Ah-Ac, under the gun. I brought it in for a small raise of just double the big blind, hoping to catch a re-raiser with a further pot-size re-pop. All I got were three callers. The flop came down 7d-2s-Ad. With top set and the nuts at this stage, I wanted to try to make as much as possible out of this hand, so I simply bet it. Two players folded, only the last one called.

The miracle card came on the turn, As, reinforcing my holding of the nuts, now quad aces. I was hoping beyond hope that my opponent’s hand had improved too. The board was now: 7d-2s-Ad-As. Could he have either two spades or two diamonds and be looking to make his flush on the river? Maybe he had been slow-playing a set of deuces or sevens and had already made his full-house? I was salivating at the thought of the slaughter on the river and it would not be long coming! I bet again. He thought for a while and called.

The river card was 3s and the board was now 7d-2s-Ad-As-3s. With luck, I thought, he has made his spade flush or even a five-high straight? But if he was indeed drawing and had missed and I bet, he would fold. So I checked to induce a bluff from him. After a short reflection, he raised the pot, which to call would put me all-in. He had made his flush I thought (but surely not a straight one, the poker gods could not be so unkind). I don`t believe that many players, if any, would do other than I did and shove them all-in. It would, however, have been an exceptional laydown, for he did indeed hold the 4s-5s and OKC was toast if not cinders.

After such a bad beat, I retired hurt to the terrace bar of the Paris Bistro for a couple of stiff whisky-colas. Whilst enjoying the balmy evening, I remembered that there was a piano bar on the upper level of this parade. The drinks may have been expensive (albeit large!), but the atmosphere and entertainment meant that it was more than worth it. At 3am I wandered back to the hotel to the sound of crickets singing in the coconut palms, all memories of quad aces and straight flushes having been erased…

Days 13, 14 and 15 - Tuesday to Thursday - 25th to 27th November

The previous day’s bad beat had been a knock-out blow, so I decided to enjoy the remaining few days in St Maarten as a holiday. I hired a car and set off, visiting the coastal roads of the island, the inland lagoons and spent much time in the northern French part. I also visited its capital, Marigot, and the fine-dining centre, Grand Case, which consists of little else but restaurants. I took in almost all the wonderful beaches, of which Orient Beach is arguably the best.

Day 16 - Friday - 28th November

An idyllic fortnight was sadly coming to an end. I spent the last day doing a few of the things which I had most enjoyed about Maho Beach: a swim in the pool, a final cocktail sitting on an underwater stool, a warm lingering shower, a stroll along the palm-lined walkway and over the main street to Cheri’s for a last New York strip steak and fries, washed down with a couple of glasses of Chilean Merlot.

Once back at the hotel, I just managed to shoehorn my increased volume of gear (including T-shirts, other island memorabilia and odd presents for friends and family) into my large suitcase.

So it was ‘au revoir’ to St Maarten but not, I hope, goodbye. My lack of success at the very exciting poker tables had not at all tarnished the image of my fortnight in paradise.

What next?

OKC has jetted off to Slovenia, to add his own personal congratulations to Slovenia on its joining the European Union. Part of the former Yugoslavia, Slovenia is the bit which is just east of Venice and Trieste. Just over the border is the town of Nova Garica, known as the City of Roses. Due to anti-gaming legislation in Italy it has developed into a casino town and many Italians come to the HIT Casino at the Park Hotel.

OKC will be writing in the next issue of `The Big Slick´ about his successes, or lack of them(!), in the 13th annual Torneo de Poker in the Privee Luxor at the Hit Casino. Make sure not to miss the next thrilling instalment.