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At the one hour break, I was confident that I had already used up all my bad luck. I lost or split so many hands on the river, that I figured, the law of averages would carry me to the final table.

I poured myself a whiskey at the two hour break and settled in to see what cards would come my way. Sometimes the applet won't allow me to chat. After a couple whiskey-induced bad plays that turned out to be winners, the table was cursing my name. Since I couldn't chat, I was presumed to be some sort of bot out to dash their hopes.

Soon, the players were so scared of me that I was able to roll over anyone who got in my path. I showed down nothing but winners, but showdowns were rarely necessary. My last bad play of the evening had me squandering my chip lead by matching my nemesis' all-in JJ with my 55. Suddenly I was below $4K.

I decided to become a maniac. I made insane bets that would either bring me riches or an early bedtime. I became once again a juggernaut who was feared. I turned my $3500 into $90K as the final table neared. By the time we formed a final table, I had more money than everyone else combined. Needless to say, I tightened up quite a bit and coasted to victory.

Took home $1164. Now that Vegas is a distant memory, once again I love poker.