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Location: Kent, United Kingdom

Stephen Bartley writes about poker and gambling. His passions away from work and family are horse racing, tea, drink and politics. Having escaped London, a world that involved double locks and baseball bats hidden by the door, Stephen moved with his partner, step-daughter and young son to Whitstable, a seaside town in Kent, where he resides in a coastal fortress with astonishing fields of fire. That makes it good for nights in, watching American racing, drinking cocktails and getting early nights.

Friday, October 06, 2006

Argh Vienna

I never liked that song. Reminds me of bed at 7pm. How old am I now? Anyway, I'm in Vienna. The map I looked at showed Baden as being about three inches away. Didn't seem far. In reality it's €70 away in a taxi. Belts will have to be tightened. No money for food.

Getting here was okay, thanks to some hideous overspending on my part in alliance with a British Airways ticket. BA are like the BBC of airlines. Incredibly polite, and with a tone of voice designed to send you to sleep happy, and not at all concerned about the potential disaster that lies ahead.

I'm a nervous flyer. Have I mentioned this? Not so much anymore but still enough to keep awake on a short-haul flight. A baseball player named Bill Lee once wrote about a teammate who was only happy flying if he talked him through the whole process. Whilst the rest of the team tucked into margheritas, he would be muttering to himself "a little more power... easy on the flaps... left a bit... adjust the trim..." that sort of thing. I'm a little like that on landing. Talking myself through the noises as the ground comes hurtling up.

But it turns out the taxi's are more cause for concern, and not just because of the price. The lady who drove us from the airport to the hotel was in the midst of some paperwork it seemed, which she was happy to finish as we swept along the autbahn at 80 mph. She drove with a pen in one hand, her mobile in the other, perhaps steering with her knees. It ruled out general chit-chat in favour of prayer and a new found love of God.

But we got here alright, wherever the hell that is. I think this is the red light district of Vienna. Hard to find food but a peep show s never far away. Not my scene, but food is. And these trips bring famine with the cigarettes. Must be careful.

So yes, another EPT. This time without my girlfriend which makes it a lonely one. The drunks are yelling outside the hotel window and hotel staff look mean. But the usual crowd are here, like a roadshow, popping up in places you've never been before. And PokerStars do a good spread, and their people are nice. Like Conrad, who I'm under orders to say is a bit posh and has a lot of kids. I'll be racing him to the airport on Wednesday to get home fast.

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