After checking out, dumping the excess luggage in the car, registering and a simple breakfast I found myself finally feeling like the fast forward button had released. Although the first hand was memorable, I wasn't in it. The gentleman who won, who I now call Raises-with-any-pair, won with quad 10s.
Not a bad start for him. The next hand? Won with a pair of 10s with a high kicker. The next few hands? All won with 10s of some kind. It was eerie. The joke at the table was that you weren't allowed to raise unless you had a 10 and if you managed to steal the pot before the showdown everyone was chanting "show the 10!".
It shouldn't be surprising that after watching a lot of hands go by, my stack has gotten a little low and I get dealt pocket 10s. I raised to 3x the BB, my first big action at the table, and the short stack to my left goes all in for about 500 chips more. I call.
Pocket 10s vs KQ offsuit. He didn't catch any cards and I won a nice pot. He was out. I remember shaking his had as he got up to leave, then raking the chips in and doing the math to figure out where I was versus the blinds and the other players at the table. Then someone hit the pause button and I sat there thinking "I just knocked someone out of the tournament".
It was one of those moments I didn't think I'd see. Okay, so it doesn't sound like much, but for that instant it was huge - I knocked a player out of the tournament and kept going. I survived, its not something I had expected to see at my first outing. Looking back at it, the odds were pretty good it would happen, but it was still a small rush.
Tomorrow: Pocket Kings