I'll forgo a fun write-up this time and jump straight to the one story that haunts me from this trip. I'm still angry at myself. I'm still thinking about it constantly. I'll set it up, tell you what I did, and you can tell me what you would have done. It's Sunday afternoon. I've been in Cherokee three days, couple of friends with me, some golf, some dinners, some March Madness, lots of gambling. I've been up and down--but dying a slow death on Sunday. Down to my last couple of blacks and ready to just give up for this trip. A guy starts rolling. He is left of stick. I am straight out, left of stick. I'm playing 137 across to begin, and he starts heavier, 270 across, but nothing outlandish. Nothing that would tell me that he has money to burn, or that he was super-aggressive. He is not setting the dice. He arranges them for a moment or two before each roll and then dumps them in the corner behind the DC. He is a big guy and has a short throw from his position. There is nothing inherently special about his toss. I mean it's pretty, doesn't hit the chips, is relatively repeatable. It's fine. If I walked up, I wouldn't think it was remarkably good or remarkably bad. He has a good roll going. I'm pressing every other hit: take, press, take, press: 30 to 60 to 90 on the 6 & 8 and 25, 50, 75 on the 5 & 9. I don't really start to take notice of his action until he's got purple and blacks on the inside and doing a full press on the 6 and 8 as they hit. He hits all the numbers but the 2 & 12 and as I have action on the All Tall Small, I turn my bets off to await an outcome on that (with no further risk to myself). He hits another point and then rolls a come out seven to reset the ATS. I turn my bets back on. He has 3.2k on the 6 and 6k on the 8 in this picture at 4:47 And then things get interesting. He keeps rolling and again gets it all the way to just needing a 2 & 12 and I have made all my losses back, and have a huge amount in play, so I turn it off again and wait for the eventual bad number. Can't go on forever, right? He keeps rolling. He presses the 6 and 8 up to table max, 6k apiece. He is hitting them. It's hard to tell how much he has won, because he rat holes the pumpkins as they pay him. But now they are running out of orange chips. They call upstairs and a security guard shows up with 5k chips. They stop his roll and buy back his orange chips with ghost chips (white 5k chips). At this point he pulls out 35 orange chips and he gets 7 whites which he pockets. I took the picture below where you can see he has 20k in play at 5:02 and she is counting out his orange chips to pay him from the stack of white chips. Meanwhile I am off. (It's hard to say how much longer he rolled from this point, but I must have missed at least a half hour. A half hour where I could have been pressing and hitting--this could have been a life changing roll for me.) I mean at this point it's too late to turn back on, right? I tell the dealer to take me all the way down so I'm not tempted to turn my place bets on. I just *know* the second I turn them on, the bad number will roll. He keeps rolling, and hitting inside numbers. I am now standing with my arms crossed, leaning back against the next empty table watching with disbelief that I'm not involved in this great roll. It's like I'm paralyzed. I keep wishing for a 12 to make up for all the opportunity lost. He rolls for 1 hour and 20 minutes (according to the supervisor later). I know you can look back in retrospect and say, "I coulda done this, I shoulda done that" and pick yourself apart on any given long roll. But this one stands out to me as particularly ludicrous that I didn't jump back in and ride it until it bucked me off. Especially on a roll I may never see again in my lifetime. Afterward, I walked over to him and shook his hand, told him Great Roll. Told him that might be his best roll his entire life. He thought about it for a split second and said, "You might be right."