My first game was $30-$60 Holdem. Everything was rolling along, no pain or anguish, and Lei Lei came over to speak with Yen. Of course Yen was in a hand and they were speaking in a foreign language. All I said was, “English please.”

Lei Lei is well endowed and leaves very little to any one’s imagination so Jeff P. had to jump in and say, “Lei Lei, you can talk to me in any language you want.”

That gave Yen the signal to jump and jump she did. “The only one it bothered was the dealer. The dealer had to say something.”

I got feisty. “It’s the house rule.”

Yen knows it’s the house rule but she never slowed down, “The dealer had to say something, she couldn’t stay out of it…”

I said, “If I don’t say something, someone’s unhappy, if I do say something, someone’s unhappy.”

She said, “No one complain, you don’t have to say anything.”

I said, “Yeah, I’m a bitch.”

Jeff finally tore his eyes away from Lei Lei’s retreating form and wanted to know what was going on. I said, “Help me out here, you know it’s the house rule.”

He never said a word. Loss of points for Jeff here in my book, not that he was ever in the top 100 anyway.

Yen still made another comment about my being the only one that it mattered to, no one else cared.

I said, “Yup, just how I want to start my night out, getting my butt chewed out for doing my job.”

Tom, a player that used to live in town and now only comes to town on occasion, was in the 5s and he gave me the ‘just forget it’ wave…he knew I was right. I did drop it. The game went on.

*****

A few hours later, $4-$8 Holdem. They were gambling. The 10s bet a hand on the River and got called by the 3s. The 10s turned up pocket 4’s. There was a pair of 10’s on the board.

As the 3s was throwing her hand away, she turned it so the other end of the table could see it – all of this happened very fast – and I could see she had paired the 7 on the board with her J-7. The 1s quickly exclaimed that she had a winner just as she dropped her hand. She did drop it face down but she didn’t pitch it in, it was within a few inches of her hand.

Before I could think about mucking it, she grabbed it back (thanks to the 1s informing her she had a winner). I told the 1s that he couldn’t say anything unless her hand was turned face up on the table. But it was too late, the damage was done. Her hand was NEVER going to be declared dead by our house rule so I awarded her the pot.

The 8s and 10s thought it was unfair. The 10s had a small fit that the 1s had said anything.

I tried to be diplomatic, “We can’t stop conversation at the table and I’ve already told him that he cannot read a player’s hand unless it’s face up on the table.”

The 10s continued a bit longer (hey the pot had about $16 in it) and I said, “I’m not taking anyone’s side. The way our rule reads, she would get the pot.”

The 10s now got a little hot with me and told me I was definitely taking someone’s side.

I just let it go with, “Ok. I am.”

The game went on with the 3s mouthing at me, “I’m sorry.”

*****

My last game of the night? $600-$1,200 7 Card Stud…what else? Don’t worry, Cuckoo was in the 8s. He was calm while he visited with the players and got involved in a few hands. He won a big pot in which he beat Morad’s trip Jacks with a straight. After I pushed the pot to Cuckoo, he stood up, then dropped a couple of $1 chips for a tip by the rack.

I said, “Thank you.”

He said, “You really take it personal when I get out of line at the table,” and gave me a finger poke in the right shoulder.

‘Uhmmmmhhhmmm! Hell yes I do when you’re pelting cards at my stomach and chest. Why shouldn’t I?’ Those were thoughts that ran through my head but I waited until he sat back down before I responded.

As I dealt the next hand, I said, “As long as you’ve been playing cards…”

His reply was something like, “I know. And I know better.”

It’s like he was trying to make amends and expecting me to think it’s all ok. Well damn it, it isn’t all ok. How many times should someone throw cards at me and then apologize or try to smooth it over and then repeat the same process over and over?

Grow up Pros, figure it out. You’re poker face is leaking when you’re throwing cards and swearing. Fix it.

I’ve hit the wall. It’s the black poker hole that opens up and slams you into it and just when you think you might sift through the cracks, you hit the wall. I can’t stand anyone in the poker room right now…don’t take it personally…I can’t stand myself. That’s the crux of the problem. I don’t want to be there, don’t want to think about it and don’t want to see anyone.

Well I am there, too many nights a week and after the tournaments and high limit games, I’m ready to dive into the black poker hole, head first just so hitting the wall will knock me out.

Sick, ain’t it? Yup. Can’t be helped though, we all go through it from time to time but lots of us just won’t admit it. Consider this my confession.

I can’t stand to look at Cuckoo. He was in the room tonight, not playing but hanging out. I wondered how he’d look with a deck of cards shoved down his throat.

Israeli Mike or Mike D. He’s been loitering in the Sports Book for the last six months or so but hasn’t played poker that I know of. He cuts through the room now and then and give me the LOOK if we happen to cross paths. Tonight he was playing A.J.’s chips in a $75-$150 Stud game with A.J. sweating him. I can’t stand to look at Mike either. I don’t want him to breathe in my direction as I prefer fresh air.

Sam G. has been doing a lot more walking and talking than he has playing but since he’s the greatest player on Earth, he must just be giving the other players a break…yeah, right!

I sat down to deal a five handed $80-$160 Omaha 8 or Better with a Kill and Sam sat down to post between the Button and the Blind.

I announced, “Time Pot.”

He jumped up mumbling that he ‘wasn’t paying no time,’ and made a phone call. A few minutes later Nate came looking for him. Sam stayed on the phone. The game I was dealing broke up. Grant was still sitting there with chips and Sam jumped into a seat trying to conjure up a Holdem game.

Grant said, “Ok, what limit?”

Sam said, “$80-$160.”

I looked at Grant and said, “There’s a main game and a must move game. If you start a game it has to be a different limit.”

Sam tried to waltz his way around all of it and told Grant they could start anything.

Nate scurried up and told Grant to pick up his chips, he was locking up the table.

Sam said, “Well, what if we want to start a game here?”

Nate replied with a long line of explanation that went something like this, “Didn’t you tell the dealer down there,” and he motioned to another table, “to deal you in, you were going to get chips?”

Nate paused but didn’t even give Sam a chance, “And the dealer did deal you in and you never showed up…and I have several player’s word on your statement.”

Sam hemmed and hawed that he didn’t do that and him and Grant wanted to start a game.

Nate just laughed and said, “Not for you Sam, maybe someone else but you’ve got no shot here,” as he locked the box and I left chuckling.

Well…that’s how sick I am right now. If I didn’t laugh, I’d cry. Hello black hole!

What if you woke up in a poker game to find that you were the slum lord of the sick and twisted, suspicious and stupid poker players? Would you just give in to all that gut twisting mental anguish and give up control your kingdom, siding with your subjects on any issue against a dealer or the house. Or would you try to fight it off and improve your little piece of real estate so other war mongers and freaks would not be welcome there?

The foundation for the questions:

I tapped Thai out of Table 2. All seats except the 3s had chips/players at them but the only game going on was between Tab – 4s, and Larry – 8s. Larry won the hand and Tab picked up five of his cards and threw them into Thai’s chest. All the cards did the, “Woops! Gravity got me,” thing and fell to the floor.

Carmen was trying to return from her break and walked by. I yelled, “Carmen, cards down on two!”

Carmen turned around and demanded, “Where did they come from?”

Both Thai and I pointed to Tab. Carmen told Tab that he could not throw his cards. Tab made excuses for himself by stating that the dealer kept lifting the card before he dealt it each time…he even went into the hand motion.

Carmen informed him that whatever the case may be with the dealer. He, Tab, “Could not throw things!”

Table two sets up against the wall in the High Limit Section. Larry had the entrance to the Dealer’s Box blocked off on the right side of the table by a spare chair that he puts his legs up on.

Ralph P. was in the 1s and he had the entrance/exit to the Dealer’s Box blocked on the left side because his chair was tipped back to the wall. A pogo stick would have been nice here.

Thai stood up, leaving the cards laying on the floor, and touched the back of Ralph’s chair with, “Excuse me!”

Ralph jumped right down his throat, “Don’t touch me!” and refused to move his chair.

It was a stand off. Ralph refused to move even though Thai asked again and told Ralph he didn’t touch him.

Ralph barked, “Yes you did!” and sat there.

Carmen had disappeared, Lisa was the Relief Brush, and I would have liked to walk across the street and called in sick. I did something that went like this, “Carmen, can you help us out here?”

Even though she wasn’t around, Ralph decided he would straighten his chair up and we were able to switch places. Now how childish do you have to get to be a Slum Lord?

I bent down, picked up all five cards and threw them face up on the table. I declared, “Time Pot!” Pulled out the new deck, spread it, and shuffled up to deal.

Larry jumped in with, “No! No time pot,” as he went into bargaining for $400-$800 7 Card Stud.

The game was really $800-$1,600 Mixed but Renee was on a break and no one wanted to play until he returned. Ralph – 1s, was sitting out but at the table, Renee – 2s, absent, 3-s open, Tab – 4s, and having a fit about the last dealer, Cuckoo – 5s, The Elko Kid, Jason L. – 7s, dining but at the table with a missed blind button, 8 -s Larry, ready to play and bargaining for any game.

Cuckoo and Larry decided they would play $400-$800 7 card stud while they waited for Renee to return. Tab kept talking about the last dealer and how he exposed/lifted each card before he dealt.

Ralph stated that that must be the reason that Bellagio had a such a bad reputation…”because of dealers like him.”

Get the gag here and get ready to tie my mouth shut…where the hell are these people coming from? Oh yes, the Slum Lords are having a meeting and they want to control their section.

About three hands later, Larry makes trip Jacks on the River and Cuckoo locks and loads his throwing arm with his losing hand. He hits me in the stomach with four of his cards with this statement, “That’s why we throw cards.”

I’m spewing, “Don’t throw your cards at me.”

As he throws the other three into my stomach and I’m repeating, “DON’T THROW YOUR CARDS AT ME.”

Let’s do a little multiple guess here on ‘That’s why we throw cards.’

(a) Because I’m an idiot and I can’t take a beat.

(b) Because Larry won the hand.

(c) Because Linda’s dealing.

(d) Because if I lose tonight, I might have to consider work.

(e) All of the above but mostly A.

Cuckoo then jumped up and went to play on Table 1…I’d just gone through there, it was a $400-$800 Mixed Game…but he left some chips on Table 2 because he was going to come back when Renee returned.

About five minutes before the end of my down, Renee returned. Ralph, Tab, and Renee discussed playing 7 Card Stud or playing the games in order. Ralph wanted to wait. Larry reappeared. Cuckoo came over and took his blind. The game was Omaha 8 or Better.

Not to worry, when I left the table, Cuckoo was whining like a whelped Slum Lord, “It’s always the same fucking thing…” Tears, sobs, whines, gutteral swearing…

Shoot! Hope I don’t see you there! I’d rather see you where real people live and breathe and don’t base their lives and existence on a poker game.