SUNDAY, JULY 18, 2010
KLMNO PA. 68
Cumberland MD.
Charles Town Races WEST
79
VIRGINIA 219
64 81 Roanoke The Greenbrier 81 250 Staunton Charlottesville 64
Richmond 0
MILES THE WASHINGTON POST DETAILS The Greenbrier
GETTING THERE White Sulphur Springs is about 250 miles from Washington. Take I-66 west to I-81 south to I-64 west. In West Virginia, take Exit 181 and turn right.
WHERE TO STAY The Greenbrier 300 W. Main St. 800-453-4858
www.greenbrier.com You can’t play here if you don’t stay here (or don’t belong to a Greenbriar club). It’s not cheap: Standard rooms start at $259 on a weeknight, plus a $20 resort fee per person, per room and per night.
JAY PAUL FOR THE WASHINGTON POST All in for West Virginia Hold ’Em poker continued from F1
ing on the narrow lanes of Green- brier’s lush 6,500-acre property did include near-collisions with two small children and three large horses, but it did not end in success. I slunk back to the valet, resigned to the inevitability of gratuity.
An hour later, I left my well- appointed room and its compli- mentary holiday ornament and, on the way to the casino, stopped in the upper lobby for the Green- brier’s daily complimentary after- noon tea. I prefer gambling to tea parties, but there was no way not to be charmed by this olde-tyme Southern-flavored ritual. I sipped a cup, ate a pistachio-flavored cookie, watched a high-stakes checkers game and felt like Mark Twain without the handlebar mustache and white suit. I was, however, wearing a jack-
et. By Greenbrier diktat that sacri- fices business to keep out the local riffraff, one must be both a guest at the expensive hotel and, after 7 p.m., appropriately dressed to gamble. I made my way down the hotel’s sweeping staircases to the basement, where, not far from a decommissioned Cold War-era bunker designed to house the en- tire United States Congress in the event of a nuclear attack, Justice has built a modest casino with 320 slots, a dozen table games and, for your correspondent who could have made a shorter drive to spend his weekend in Atlantic City, a “poker room”: two poker tables that didn’t open until 7 p.m., manned by one dealer. The second table was, it seems, only for show. “They’re not really sure poker is
going to take off,” the lone dealer said when questioned about the Greenbrier’s meager poker zone. (Self-fulfilling prophecy, anyone?) He added that there hadn’t been enough interest to get a game go- ing since the casino’s opening night, a star-studded affair on July 2 featuring Shaquille O’Neill and Barbara Eden, among other celebrities.
With Shaq and Jeannie long
gone, I wandered around the Greenbrier killing time until a game got going. I ate tempura and steamed bok choy at In-Fusion, a serviceable pan-Asian restaurant staffed with talkative student workers imported from China’s Guangdong province who were less than thrilled to be spending their summer in wild, wonderful West Virginia. I played Chicago’s “25 or 6 to 4” on one of the many pianos that litter the hotel like abandoned newspapers. I watched a preview of “Prince of Persia” starring Jake Gyllenhaal loop on my room’s flat screen. When I returned to the casino
at around 9 p.m., I helped get a pitiful three-handed $1-2 no-limit game going. By 10 p.m., the casino
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was still half-empty — most peo- ple preferring craps and black- jack to slots or poker — but we had enough players for a full ta- ble. On the stroke of the hour, a re- corded voice boomed over the ca- sino’s P.A.; all gamblers were di- rected to watch a posse of waiters and waitresses who, apropos of nothing, danced in David-Lyn- chian fashion to “The Greenbrier Waltz,” an original composition, for the entertainment of all as- sembled. (I’ve been to many ca- sinos in my life, but the Greenbri- er’s is the only one that demanded I stop gambling to do something else.) By 11 p.m., our table was still full. Though a few players ex- pressed interest in starting an- other game, there was no wait list, no second dealer and no way to accommodate them. There were no chip racks. The booze wasn’t free. Some players were surprised that the casino existed at all. “I was sick of dancing and was,
like, wait — isn’t there a casino down here?” said a young medical student in the 8-seat, a refugee from a wedding hosted by the ho- tel upstairs. This player’s drunk- enness and the dealer’s inability to count side pots made for excru- ciatingly slow action. Around 12:30 a.m., I took my considerable winnings — the field at Greenbri- er is microscopic, but weak — and retreated to my room to dream of a better gambling experience. The next morning, I enjoyed the luxurious buffet in the Main Dining Room, then checked out. To preserve my reputation for thrift after a night in such luxury, I took the bottles of Greenbrier Citrus Clarifying Shampoo, Greenbrier Citrus Clarifying Con- ditioner and Greenbrier Citrus Body Balm, plus a Greenbrier Cu- cumber facial bar. To preserve a bit of my dignity, I tipped the valet and left the holiday ornament.
Three-and-a-half hours later and 200 miles north in Charles Town, W.Va., I was in another dis- organized poker room, doing all I could not to bet on a horse. Since I haven’t eaten meat since 1995, wear pleather shoes and be- lieve that Mr. Ed and Barbaro got raw deals, I can’t imagine why suckers like to wager on whether beautiful, noble, highly evolved mammals can run around a dirt track faster than other oppressed members of their own sad-eyed species. Still, tedium breeds mor- al failure as surely as Secretariat sired General Assembly. Thus, while waiting more than four hours for a seat in the chaot-
cent salad bar, Epic was partic- ularly epic in the dessert arena, where eclairs battled creme bru- lee battled pineapple upside- down cake for a piece of every hungry gambler’s love handles. But I couldn’t mainline mara- schino cherries from the brownie station forever. I returned to the poker room at around 5:30 p.m. to claim the first open seat at what- ever table I could. At 7:15 p.m., I fi- nally got one in a $10-20 limit game. As at the Greenbrier, the drinks weren’t free, but once I was seated, my game was run as effi- ciently as any in a Las Vegas ca- sino.
DOMINIC BRACCO II FOR THE WASHINGTON POST
At top, blackjack tables at West Virginia’s Greenbrier resort. Above, Siva Sankar of Leesburg, from left, Anne O’ Dea of Mount Airy and dealer Jessica Yurish at a poker table at Charles Town Races. For more casino photos, go to
washingtonpost.com/travel.
ic, understaffed poker room at the Hollywood Casino at Charles Town Races, I found myself plac- ing three bets in the No. 7 race: $2 on Divine Plan, a Kentucky na- tive, to win; $2 on Miss Fantastic, a hometown girl bred in Mary- land, to show; and $2 on Florida’s own Passum Pattie to place. Since my knowledge of horseracing doesn’t extend beyond passing fa- miliarity with “Guys and Dolls,” my bets had been guided by “the Fox,” a slick-haired gentleman known only by his horseracing handle who, for $3.50, sold me a program and his eponymous pho- tocopied “Fox’s Tip Sheet.” Though a hard-earned $6 was on the line, I wasn’t worried. The Fox assured me that his record for picking winners was unimpeach- able.
Standing in the air-conditioned clubhouse bathed in secondhand cigarette smoke, I watched the horses line up at the gate. A hot July sun battered the tattooed crowd, the course and a Taco Bell glimmering from the strip mall beyond the track with harsh yel- low light. Then, without warning, they were off. The ponies ran sev- en furlongs, pounding the dirt with the hearty zeal of mighty beasts unaware that they could one day become glue. Though the enthusiastic exhortations of the audience might have led the un- initiated to think otherwise, this was no photo finish. Passum Pat- tie handily won the race (for me, paying nothing), Divine Plan came in second (paying 1.5-1), and the Fox’s high hopes for Miss Fan- tastic, who finished seventh, were dashed. In this way, my $6 be- came $3. Meanwhile, in the poker room,
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my name was still adrift on lengthy $1-$2, $2-$5 and $5-$10 no-limit wait lists. Since Holly- wood’s evolving poker policy pre- vents players not seated at tables from watching the action — a strange choice for a casino trying to interest patrons in any new game — a horde of sweaty dudes convened behind the velvet rope, railbirds without a rail, killing time staring at their iPhones while jockeying for uncomfort- able chairs that, in this ad hoc waiting room, were in short sup- ply. I was reminded of Washing- ton’s Greyhound station when a bus is late, or the time I was de- tained by the Canadian Border Patrol.
Committed to waiting out the hundreds of names ahead of mine, I wandered through Holly- wood’s packed, labyrinthine gam- ing floor — with 5,000 slot ma- chines and 85 table games, more than 10 times as large as the Greenbrier’s — to the expansive food court, bypassing reasonably priced, vegetarian-unfriendly Asian entrees at Zen Noodle to plop down $20 for the appropri- ately named Epic Buffet. With a wide selection of dishes and a de-
Only about half of the room’s 27 tables were going, but rumors cir- culated that the other half were merely awaiting approval from West Virginia’s presumably rigor- ous gaming inspectors. A floor- man confirmed that, though only 28 dealers were available, 100 had been hired and were awaiting li- censing. Charles Town won’t rival the Borgata, but it could offer a medium-sized poker room with daily tournaments by the fall. The dealers are competent and the field — unfortunately — not just Appalachian rubes; I was sur- rounded by tough opponents from Washington and Baltimore who had taken half my stake be- fore I got comfortable in my seat. At midnight, I didn’t leave Hol- lywood broke, but with substan- tially less than when I’d walked in. Unless I wanted to pay for a suite, the Inn at Charles Town, Hollywood’s on-site, 153-room ho- tel, was fully booked. I retreated to a $60-per-night, one-star Knights Inn across the street with a drab carpet, iffy hot water and an asthmatic air conditioner. Free HBO blunted memories of an ar- gument I’d witnessed in the poker room: the loser of a pot berating the winner for his poor play until said winner invited him to settle the debate in the parking lot. Hmm . . . smoky, crowded and intimidating. It was just like go- ing home again.
moyerj@washpost.com
WHERE TO EAT The Greenbrier has no shortage of fine dining: the steakhouse Prime 44 West (filet mignon, $50), Sam Snead’s (salmon, $35) and the hotel’s Main Dining Room (breakfast buffet, $23). Cheaper options include In-Fusion, a pan-Asian restaurant in the casino (where $6 gets you a lot of veggie tempura), and Draper’s Cafe (with $16 cheeseburgers).
CASINO CLUB
Open Monday through Thursday from 11 a.m. to 3 a.m., Friday and Saturday from 11 a.m. to 4 a.m., Sunday from 1 p.m. to 3 a.m. Poker starts at 7 p.m.
Charles Town Races
GETTING THERE Charles Town is about 70 miles northwest of Washington. Take I-270 north to I-70 west to US-340 west. The racetrack is right off the highway.
WHERE TO STAY Inn at Charles Town 51 Flowing Springs Rd. 304-885-5800 www.hollywoodcasino
charlestown.com Standard rooms (called “King’s Suites”) at the 153-room property start at $109 on a weekday.
WHERE TO EAT Unless you’re vegan, you’re likely to find something that appeals at Hollywood’s Epic Buffet ($12.99 for breakfast, $16.99 for dinner). The Food Court offers cheaper
grab-and-go options, but check out the Mountain View Diner across the street from the racetrack. If you’re not diabetic or a heart-attack risk, don’t miss the peach cobbler cheesecake ($4.25 per slice).
WHERE TO GAMBLE Hollywood Casino is open 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. The poker room is open Monday through Thursday from 8 p.m. to 4 a.m., and Friday through Sunday from 3 p.m. to 4 a.m. Horse races are held Thursday through Sunday. Post time is 7:15 p.m., except for Sundays, when it’s 1 p.m.
— J.M. 66 VIRGINIA 95 81
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