When there’s a tournament in some other part of the poker world, the room can get pretty quiet. The room is really easy to work and the games are strong, just less high limit than usual which makes it a poker dealer’s dream.

That’s the way it is right now. But still there’s the occasional High Octane Jack Off at the table that makes poker so fascinating. Last week brought us one of those that kept disrupting the whole room with an incredibly noisy outburst every time chips were shoved in her direction. Surprised? Sure you thought it was a guy!

She was 45-50ish attractive, in pretty good shape, drunk on her butt and having the time of her life because she had a captive audience of nine guys in $4-$8 Holdem and she was taking their money. She never shut up. She rocked the socks right off their feet with her noise and mouth and then came back to ricochet through any thoughts they might have tried to salvage through her grandstanding stage of “I’m here and you’re going to like it!”

Each time she won a pot, she jumped up and whoo-hooed and screamed but that was after she went through the verbal taunting of ‘Oh did I win? I didn’t think I had a chance!”

Umhhh! Who’s playing what game here?

A young man sitting next to her that had put up with her noise in his right ear for a few hours, did the unexpected. He burst out with, “Why don’t you just shut up?” Followed by, “Bet everyone here has been wanting to say that for awhile, huh?”

Everyone laughed, except Ms. High Octane. She just brushed it off with, “You remind me of my son,” and continued to wrangle, jangle, and disrupt everyone.

She called one of the guys in her game a Son-of-a-Bitch. The dealer cautioned her that name calling and swearing wasn’t allowed so a few minutes later she spit out, “fuck!”

The dealer cautioned her again on her language. And again a few minutes later, she did the ‘fucking’ thing again. Cautioned again to watch her language she continued to carry on like she was the only human in the world that was allowed to breathe air and everyone else could share her exhaust.

When a Chip Runner came into view, the dealer asked to have the Shift Supervisor come over. In the meantime, Don B., had to get involved in all of it by making a double innuendo to her, “Why didn’t you call that hand? I can see your well stacked,” eyeing her chest when he said it.

She jumped right on it, stuck her chest out, shoulders back and declared, “Yes, I am!”

The Supervisor came over and sat and talked with her for a few minutes, general conversation, asked her if she was driving home, etc. He really didn’t want to send her on her way because she was having a good time and she had a lot of the chips but she lost her drinking privileges and was cut off. She still made noises for the next hour or so but then slipped away into the night and lights of Vegas. She had the spotlight and the limelight at the poker table for hours and she loved every minute of it. Unknown whether she won or lost.

*****
This post is done by Chanzes – during the time period that I took a break from posting in the Diary.