Today is the last day of the students/staff computer cluster at UIUC. For students active in the university in the mid nineties, that was the main computing hotspot. You got your email on it, you ytalked and write’d your friends on it. You used ‘register’ to front end the old UIDirect mainframe to register for classes. This was before IM was popular, before anyone had or heard of hotmail or webmail. In fact, students.uiuc.edu was the Internet.

mussulma|dave|~|[1]% ssh students.uiuc.edu
Last login: Wed May 19 17:33:40 2004 from dave.cs.uiuc.ed
=====================< CLUSTER RETIRES JULY 1ST >======================
The student/staff cluster (students.uiuc.edu, and staff.uiuc.edu and
webmail.uiuc.edu) will cease operation early on Thursday, July 1st
2004. For details please see:

www. title=”Campus Information Technology and Educational Services people” href=”/cgi-dave/goto?http://www.cites.uiuc.edu/” >cites.uiuc.edu/services/changes/guide.html

===================< HAVE PROBLEMS? or NEED HELP? >====================
The following resources are available to assist with your e-mail
account:
1) CITES STATUS page: list of services that are down, scheduled
maintenance, and recent outages: status.uiuc.edu
2) call the CITES help desk at 244-7000 M - F, 8:30am - 5:00pm

==========================< virus filtering >==========================
Mail delivered to cluster accounts which appears to contain a virus is
being filtered and discarded.
You have mail.
~ ux8 1> internet
Welcome to the Internet!
~ ux8 2>

Now, students and staff have CITES Express Email which does webmail and IMAP(S) and all the mail services they needed. It’s even better than pine, but not as good as Google Gmail. File storage, which used to require FTPing up your homework to FTP it down again in a lab to print, etc. is much easier now (via WebDAV or just website usage,) with NetFiles. So the last real service on students was the register front end, which in fact had been turned off on students for a long time because people were insecurely connecting (telnetting in,) and then typing in a secure password. Campus turned more in favor of local secure client, and packaged a special ktelnet for students to use. But now UIDirect and register have been replaced with UI-Integrate and Self-Service, which just went live for FA04 registration, and I haven’t even seen yet. (Thankfully, I’m pretty shielded from UI-Integrate applications.)

So, sniff, goodbye cluster. I’ll remember you. I’ll remember all the tin session I ran from you, all the email, all the fingering and dotplans. The friends scripts, and the stalking abilities. How could have played assassins if we couldn’t check to see where you last checked your email, and when?

Ironically, today, as I look at the end of an era of computing, I also sat in a brownbag of campus IT admins regarding Windows XP Service Pack 2, and its new security features. It looks really interesting, with a much improved firewall, popup blockers, on-boot firewalling until the true firewall kicks in, and more. I think it’s perfect for the rest of the world, but I’m concerned what it will break in our environment when our users install software that by default turns everything off. What sounds great for my grandmother’s computer is not necessary the best thing for our users. I’ll probably install SP2 on a test machine in my office in the near future, so I can see what this is going to change/require with backups. SP2 is expected to be released the last week of July, or very early August.

“They’re talking about your shirt.”

Her voice pulls me out of a reverie. I’m focusing on the chips, on the table, on the dice. Now I’m listening to the midwestern girl next to me, almost laughing at me for not noticing the two dealers on the other side of the table talking and pointing to my shirt. I look down; I’m wearing my Hard Rock Paris shirt my brother brought back for me. I thought it would be fitting for my first day into Las Vegas to wear a Paris shirt. “Oh,” is all I can stumble in a dumb reply, when I’m thinking Why are the dealers talking about me, but not to me? How impersonal is this place?

Tedd showed me how to shuffle chips a few nights ago, and I take time out in the game to start shuffling on the cushioned bar of the craps table. Unfortunately, my once hard-to-hold stack of chips has been slowly returning itself back to the house. What I’m using to shuffle is about my total, and there are no greenies in my pocket. (The green ones are always for your pocket.)

It’s a new shooter, so I put a bet in the pass line. I feel a silent victory when the stickman calls out “FOUR.” Four is *my number*. It makes or breaks me. Odds on a four pay two to one, and I always play double odds on a four or ten. I throw a bet on the come line, and a bet in the field. Next roll is a 6. The six and eight annoy me, partially because they come up so often and because they pay so little odds wise. The girl next to me is buying the six and eight every shooter, and that’s about it, but I’m so engrossed in my own play I’m not noticing if she’s above or behind. Six also loses my field bet. I play one more come bet, this next roll being a two and losing that as well. I look at the table and realize that about half of my remaining money is on the table and I get nervous. I pull back and wait for the money to come in, reaching down the rail below me to get my drink.

“Seven out!”

Shit. I have seven weighty chips in my hand, but I lost that much on the last roll. It’s early yet, in the day and the trip, and I want to have some money to play later, so I back off. Where’s that cocktail lady? (Later in the trip, I discover the key to getting a drink when I want it - playing at a bar - but most of the trip my luck at getting cocktails at my table/slots sucks.) Since I’ve temporarily taken myself out of play, I get the chance to read the table. Tony is doing well, with at least his stake still out in front of him, and probably a few chips in his pocket. A flash of green pulls my attention down table where I see a guy cashing in a bunch of C notes. He puts a $100 black chip on each number. The next roll? A seven. I’m whining about losing $35, and he loses $600 just like that. On the very next roll. Daaamn. To my surprise, he cashes in more money and does it again. This time, he gets his eight. He does this a few more times, with wins and losses, and leaves in disgust, down on his investment. It puts things in perspective for me, being down just a few tens of dollars. I imagine if the table got hot, his $100 bets could have paid out, but I didn’t see it and neither did he.

I see enough play to think the table is turning. Most of the time, bets I would have made would have won, but I wasn’t playing to be conservative. I decide to jump back into the fray. It’s a nine, so I lay $5 odds. There are five red chips left in my hands, and I’m still rolling them around. The table clears before I hit my nine, and I’m pissed. I’ve made a too many bad decisions, $5, $10, $20 at a time. I throw my chip down on the don’t pass line. I usually never play the don’ts, but with the table being so cold, I figure maybe I’ll win back the money on the house.

The next roll, a come out, is a seven. No fucking kidding. When I play to win, they lose. When I play for them to lose, they win, and I lose. The key thing to get from that is, “I lose.” I’m down eighty, and I’m done. I scrap up my chips, and grumble away from the table. Josh was good enough to buy me a consolation drink at the bar.

I think Tony made money at that table, but when we met up with more people from our group later that afternoon who had played elsewhere, only Rich and I were down. Others were already even, or a little ahead. The good part of this story is I buy $10 of chips off Marc, and I have enough to shuffle in my hands, and pockets, and in the hotel room. I hold on to those chips for two days, before I blow them at blackjack.

I’m still surprised how in one little craps game my luck, my attitude about Vegas, my excitement all changed. But that’s Vegas for you, and I still have five days/four nights of entertainment ahead of me.

I noted a while ago that the installation manual PDF file for our Foundry switches is 666K. Some days there really is a bit of Satan on our networks. Today, prepping for a backup software update next week, I discovered the new installation guide PDF for our Legato Networker backup software is also 666K.

Just more proof my job involves fighting evil, as well as tape libraries, networking bugs, and troubled (sometimes troubling) users.

The bags were stowed in the room, and we hit the floor. It’s Saturday afternoon, around 3ish, and my gambling itch must be scratched. The Paris hotel has a nice casino floor - things are fairly well laid out. It’s an outdoor theme, but classier than the NYNY floor. I stroll down the blackjack tables. Most are still at $10, although there are some $5 tables. But with all the practice, and book reading I almost feel over prepared for blackjack. I want something that doesn’t feel so methodical, so calculated. Something I can take a risk on, and if I lose, won’t invalidate all my practice. Something I can only *really* play in Vegas.

The craps pit has 4-6 tables, with enough room to expand to eight if they feel like it. Apparently the french aren’t too much into the dice. There’s a $10 table with some action, but I’m not ready for those stakes yet. I round a corner in the pit and find a pretty sight. Four dealers are standing around an empty craps table, and there’s a red five dollar minimum sign hanging down in the table. I’m running with Marc and Tedd and maybe a few others. Everyone’s just kind of mulling about, not ready to be the first to gamble. The first to risk. I can already feel the adrenaline rushing through my body, and the cash I took out of the safe in the hotel room is getting heavy in my pocket.

This is it. I walk over and ask the dealer if they’re working. He doesn’t understand what I’m asking, and makes me repeat it. I’m cautious because sometimes they’ll be closing a table, or doing other work that means there are dealers but no action. That’s not the case here. The dealer seems a bit detatched, as do most dealers in Vegas. (In future retrospect, I wonder why that is. I can understand where the monotony of the same thing hundreds if not thousands of times a shift gets annoying, or if there’s some other karma-linked sadness to the dealers who ferret away so many people’s money. Too many of them don’t seem excited about the players wins, or about the player in general, and I feel that hurts the vegas atmosphere.)

You can do this. It’s an empty table. You versus the dice. You making your own destiny. I slap five crisp twenty dollar bills down on the table, and flick the guy my brand new players club card. Awww yeah, the highroller’s in to-night! (Part of me is thinking “shoe money to-night,” but the other half of me thinks that’s retarded, even though I’m really digging the TV show Sports Night.)

“Cashing one hundred,” the bookman calls. I can’t help the sides of my lips from curling up. So much waiting, anguishing anticipation for this trip. I’m finally here. I’m finally playing. By God’s good graces, a cocktail waitress comes by before I’ve even thrown my first roll. What luck - it’s a sign!

“Jim and Coke,” I tell her. She looks at me and asks, “Jim Beam?” Is there any other Jim? “Yes, Beam. Thanks.” She should bring me black label for being dumb about it. The stack of red chips handed to me feels nice in my hands, almost more than I can comfortably carry. I put almost all of it into the trough in front of me, and roll the rest around in my fingers. If you don’t know the feeling of heavy chips in your hands, you have to go to Vegas.

$100 is more than I usually cash in, but I *know* things are going to work out, and I’m not afraid to risk it. By the budget, I shouldn’t be spending more than that a day gambling, and not much more than that daily including food. But this is *my* table, and I’m in charge, and I’m not worried.

The stickman offered me five dice, and I took two that summed eleven. I flicked a red chip on the pass line and tossed the dice. The next couple of rolls are a standard recipe for craps. I set a point, laid some odds, played the come to load a few other numbers, with odds. A seven would be bad, losing all of my bets, but 2-3 numbers could make me win and win big. My play has attracted the attention of a small, asian women who joins up at the other end of the table. Before I have too many bets on the table, I do seven out, and she gets the dice. My cash count is a little down, but I had some wins so I’m still okay. She selects the dice and we start the process all over again. Ah, and the drink lady is back with my Beam. I give her one of the dollar chips I won at odds on rolling a six. The cold, cocktail glass in my hand only fuels my excitement. This is great. I try to nudge Marc or Tony into playing, but so far I’m only getting an audience of supporters, not anyone to play with me.

A unknown, female voice addresses me from behind. “Are the tables lucky?” I look over to see a tall girl with dark short hair. I chuckle and say I just started playing, but beckon her to stand next to me. She’s taller than I am, which almost always sets me on the defensive, but I see something in her eyes. There’s nothing knockout about her appearance, indeed she’s very plain. But she’s looking for the game, just as I am, and she’s making idle talk with me. I instinctively shuffle the chips in my hand, and sip my Beam while she cashes in. I don’t even notice doing some of this, like a subconscious attempt to show off my bling. She plays just to my left. Aw yeah, They card her to play, which is interesting because she looks over 21 to me. Maybe that’s a ploy the dealers do to get the 411 on girls players, because I’ve seen that happen before. Or maybe these dealers can’t tell the ages of young women. I know my beard helps me look a little older, and maybe that’s why they didn’t card me. I noticed from a glance at her ID she’s from Wisconsin. A wholesome midwestern girl, talking to me, who likes craps. Neat. I’m drinking, I’m gambling, I’m socializing. I have my friends around me. This is a great trip.

The action on the table picks up. I guess that three-four people is critical mass for craps, because the other side of the table gets more players. Tony steps up into the play, cashing less than me, but his $60 investment is more chips than I currently have. My play is consistent, but I’m not getting the rolls, and I’m down. Down, but not out.

[ Small edits 6/29/04 ]

The beginning of my vacation all blurs together in my mind. There was a pre-vacation energy running through my veins, and wrapping up work, the house, and packing all seemed to happen in a blink. We left Thursday night and went to Chicago, crashed at Tedd’s, and somehow survived through Friday until 2pm when the limo came to pick us up. Nothing like feeling like a high roller going to Vegas than being picked up in a limo. Or drinking a bottle of champagne in a limo. While calling all the people you know gloating you’re on vacation and they’re working. Or drinking the second bottle of champagne (that one was mostly me, and it was mostly warm.)

So, cue O’Hare, mostly drunk. It’s going to be a good vacation. We flew American down to Dallas, and I gotta say, I’m mostly impressed with American Airlines. Their commercials about improved leg room is right on - the seats were comfty. What irked me, in my sobering stage, was that I was starting to get the munchies, and I could see the suckers in first class eating and I could smell their dinner. The steward only gave me a small bag of pretzels and a 6 oz glass of ginger ale. Not even the full can they were pouring. That pissed me off.

In DFW, we stopped off at a bar to keep the buzz flowing and got large steins of Shinerbock. Mmmmm shiner. About halfway into his, Stuck started getting giggly, so I knew I wasn’t the only one enjoying myself. The flight out of Dallas brought us around a big thunderstorm. Tedd was sitting by the window, and snapped some photos (see the picture gallery,) of the storm from the plane.

Around 9:30/10pm PDT we landed in Burbank, CA and met with Vanessa and her Mom and Stepdad. (Ness had already been out there a week before we arrived.) They drove us back to their house in Ventura, giving us the audio tour of the area and geography on the way. We had snacks and beers when we got home, and basically just crashed. A day of travel does that to you. Early that next morning, we had breakfast and got on the road to the six hour desert drive to Las Vegas.

How’s that for a teaser?

Hello, attentive blogsters! Sorry for the drought, but I’ve been on vacation. This is my first day back at work after taking all of last week off for a whirlwind trip to Las Vegas and California/LA area.

I’ve been taking notes, and will have several blog entries about the trip. In the meantime, there are photos up in the picture gallery you might enjoy. Marc has more shots from others in the group on his site.

In most recent news, I’m back at work four hours, and I already wish I was back on vacation. At least today has been slow, so far, and I’ve finally been able to pickup my office.

Back to the grind, Vegas stories to come…

I don’t have the time or effort to pour out a short story right now, or even a long blog post, but here’s a few short notes to keep you entertained.

New athletic socks are great. They feel so good when you put them on for the first time. (I was going to say they should bag up that feeling and sell it, but they do. It comes with new socks.)

2 Fast, 2 Furious was not as good as the first movie.

Josh’s parents house is really, really nice. It puts my new one to shame.

If you have a nine, and the dealer is showing a four, you double down.

If you’re having a wedding reception for 60 or so people, you don’t need enough food to serve 200. The leftovers were good, though.

Short work weeks take the longest to end.

Spray on sun screen doesn’t work.

I saw the biggest bowl of potato salad in my life on Saturday, and that’s saying alot coming from my family.

If I were still a student, I would already be on summer break right now.

5 days until Vegas.

I feel badly just ripping off a link from CK’s blog, but this is too good to pass up. Don’t like sitting through a 3 hour movie? Try Troy in 15 Minutes. It’s about as good as Very Secret Diaries from the Lord of the Rings.

I went home to St. Louis this weekend for the long Memorial Day weekend, and it was pretty great. More laid back than I was expecting, although we got a ton of different things done. None of them are the major things I’m always supposed to do when I’m home (work in the yard, clean out closets, rebuild/trash computers, etc.)

There’s been some hellacious storms in the midwest the last week. TV in St. Louis has already started referring to it as “the seven days in May.” Lots of tornados and flooding. My neighborhood at home looks a lot different with so many trees uprooted and big limbs down.

Got some sun at my brother’s Memorial Day party BBQ, but not nearly as much as Eric did in North Carolina. I also did not witness anyone having a severe medical incident at my feet. And I didn’t go golfing or take naps, so my weekend doesn’t pit so well against my friends, but I still enjoyed it.

Nate, cow-orker, is on vacation for the next three weeks while he goes and gets married. Chuck and I touched base at lunch, and we both spent the morning doing Nate’s tasks. You never really miss someone until they’re gone and you’re picking up their slack. I just have to deal with this for two more weeks — then I’m in Vegas, and Chuck gets both of our loads. Poor guy.

Vegas. Vey-gas. In 9 days. I’m pumped. I’ve been working on my blackjack strategy, and have a few betting strategies to use. I want to pickup a book on craps odds before I go. I also need money, but with the house sale coming up, I’m scared to spend greatly in Vegas. What I’m forgetting is I have a few hundred in nickles and dimes (that was going to be my new computer fund,) and Tedd still owes me for airfare, so I have enough money to play comfortably. Or at least on the scale of my trip last year.

The home thing is moving along. My inspection is Thursday morning, and then it’s another month of waiting. It’ll be here before I know it.