This was my week to sluff off dealing…and I did. I played three out of five nights in $4-$8 Holdem. Two wins, one loss, up a tad in $$, up a lot in fun and meeting new people.
Play #1. I met Steve, Nick, Derrick, and Randall in the same game.
Nick came cruising back to the table puffing on a cigar bigger than he is and I exclaimed, “Sir, this is a non-smoking room!”
He stopped, while the smoke wrapped around him, and asked the player in the 3s if it really was non-smoking. The player told him yes and then Nick tried to stop the cocktail waitress to see if he could drop the giant, smoldering, stench log into a cup on her tray. It was a no go so Nick had to head back out of the room to get rid of it. The smell lingered for a good ten minutes…ugh!
Nick swore, flipped chips, and acted like a big buffoon, but finally settled down and got to know us and we had a pretty good time. After all, he just turned 21, how the hell is he supposed to know how to act in a poker room?
Steve sat next to me and we visited through a few hours. Derrick and Randall were pretty low key and quiet, but then anyone was low key and quiet compared to Nick.
I met John on my way to the Cashier. We stood in line and visited for a few minutes. He’d seen me the day before and wanted to know if ‘this was me’. He just moved here from CA.
Play #2. I had to sit next to Paul (3s), grouch of the world, mad when he wins, mad when he loses…identified by two strange little frogs he puts on the table when he plays. Sometimes he has them stacked on top of each other…yes, as if they’re mating.
Paul can’t take a beat without going ballistic. When he takes a beat (even if it isn’t ugly) he stomps off to the outer realm of Casino Land. When he wins, he laughs and cackles and talks up his play and how he got there and how he thought about how he got there. Oh drear. Shut up and stack the chips already.
He got on my case because he wanted me to move closer to the 1s and squash him into the Dealer. I refused. Paul had a fit about his space and kept telling me to move over, although he had five inches between my arm and his, he wasn’t happy. I really wasn’t either because he’s never spent a dime on deoderant, but I wasn’t giving up my little piece of green felt to make him happy.
Every time Paul had a fit, two guys at the other end of the table started laughing and looked at me. I, of course, started laughing too. They did their best to beat Paul in every hand…usually he beat himself.
Steve (from the night before) sat down in this game in the 4s. Paul mumbled and grumbled to Steve about everything and Steve did his best to tune Paul out.
I made one hand in this game…this was the losing night. I picked up Q-Q and raised. I got Steve and a couple of other callers. The Flop was 10-8-?. Steve bet, everyone folded to me, I raised, Steve raised, and I called.
The Turn was a Queen, Steve checked, I bet, he called. The River was a Jack and Steve checked. So did I. Steve had 10-10. He flopped a Set and I turned a bigger one. My first and last pot in about four hours. Hell no, I’m not crying, it’s just the way poker goes.
Two youngsters from TX sat down, one took the 1s and one took the 5s. They were both pretty quiet and didn’t do much in chip movement for awhile. The 1s and I talked about the NLH Tournament that’s in progress now at Bellagio. Then the two of them ended up heads up, one flopped a set of Fours, the other flopped a set of Kings. They were cute in their banter back and forth and play against each other…no holds barred on their betting and raising.
Play #3. I had to deal Table 1 before I got out to play. It was $800-$1,600 Mixed game and Curtis was in the 8s, losing and crying. It took a tremendous amount of control on my part to remain calm and not lip off to him as he ‘thanked me’ when he lost, made all kinds of comments about never tipping again, and ‘I knew she’d put the card up that could beat me’, and on and on and on.
The table has an automatic shuffler and a different deck was in play every hand but I did it to him.
Once in an 8 or Better hand, when he was heads up with Jennifer, she raised on 6th Street, he threw his bet out and one of his $500 chips bounced into her bets in front of her. I took the $500 and put it back in the bets in front of him. Yet when the hand was over and they split the pot, he asked her to count down the chips in front of her because he was sure one of his $500 chips had gone into her stack of bets.
I told him that I had put it back in front of him and he complained that he couldn’t believe anything good would happen to him and he was going to count it down anyway.
Well, ok then. They counted down their bets and they were equal. But nothing was ever said about that.
I knew I was getting out of the line-up at 8 p.m. A new dealer went past me to Table 2 because they were taking my place. I was about two minutes from getting pushed and Curtis stopped Carmen, “Carmen, the push went right on by her. They didn’t even come here.”
Carmen stopped and looked at me. I finally said, “I’m getting out of the line-up on the push, Carmen.” She walked off.
I wanted to let Curtis stew over the fact that it’s really none of his business…as in who gets pushed by who and what/who runs the line-up, but I didn’t want Carmen to take any heat. That’s the only reason I said anything.
WELL on to Play #3. I had a lot of fun. I met, Mike, Victor, and Joe…all youngsters that laughed and played poker. I got lucky on a few hands and picked up $$$.
One of our dealers, Joe E., got in the game for a brief play and put the straddle on it when he was UTG.
I was fortunate enough not to pick up any hands during that time period…it’s sort of like the calf being led to slaughter. The chips are flying and the worst hand before the Flop is usually going to win.
There was a lot of banter and Mike was a kick. You’d have to be there to get into the full swing of it.
The 6s…sheesh, I have to find out this guys name…mentioned in the June 23rd post as the 8s, was in this game. He talked nonstop. He had Doyle’s book, Super Systems, that he pulled out of a case. The book had no covers and was worn and ragged.
He said he’s had it for 20 some years and read and read and read, except the part written by Bobby Baldwin (except he referred to Bobby as the President of this place). He had a page out of the book that was tattered and folded and falling apart. He showed it to everyone. It has Bobby Baldwin’s and David Sklansky’s autograph on it. He wants Doyle’s and Chip’s autograph too.
It was motion and commotion for the few hours I spent there. Then…the Time Clock, the heat of the night, the cooling calmness of my home and two days off. Thank you, GOD!