A lot of anticipation and happiness running through my head…the 1st part of August will find me packing up and heading for the family reunion in N. Idaho. Great food, lots of drink, fun people that ‘kick back and hunker down’ to the good life, a friendly, family poker game, and most importantly, my little girlfriend, Kayanna, will fly back into my life for three short weeks.

I had the big, sobbing tears when she left for Missouri a year ago in August, I think I’ll have them in the form of joy when I see her again. A weekly phone call just ain’t the same as getting a giant hug from your best, little buddy. I can hardly wait. Of course, when that happens, there won’t be any poker tales, no computer, no writing, no green felt under my fingernails, so try not to go into withdrawal and I promise, I’ll be back in action before you know it.

Since I have a few weeks to go, I’m writing. Dim Wad was in my line-up tonight. I haven’t seen him in the room since he left my game after displaying his great mastery of the human language…as in calling me a fucking bitch because he played every hand and lost all of his chips, and then wanted to throw his cards at me too…another post.

I looked up to see him eyeballing me from a few tables away. Yup! He looked like I’d put a hex on him and he was wondering if he’d live long enough to make it to the nearest witch doctor to have it removed…yet the brain dead stayed and played until I got to his game.

Before I tapped the dealer out, I told my supervisor about the incident last week. My supervisor walked over and watched the game just to see if I was going to have a problem. Nothing happened. That works for me. If someone has a problem with my dealing, I’d much rather they took a walk during my down. I have to be there, they don’t.

He had a missed blind button and returned to see me in the dealer’s box, he glared, turned around and walked off.

*****

Melissa H. She’s an off and on regular in the room, When we first opened, she played a lot of Pot Limit, always cheerful, never seems to get to irritated over anything, and nice to have in a game. I believe she plays mostly tournaments now and is the room when there’s tournament action going on in Vegas. The long and short of it is, she was in the 3s in an $8-$16 Holdem game on Table 30, about a month ago, and I sat down to deal the game. We exchanged ‘hellos’.

The game was pretty fast, and about half way through my down, right in the middle of a hand, she exclaimed, “Oh look! That beetle is on her shoulder.”

My hair is waist length and I usually wear it in a braid or pulled back from my face if I wear it down. I had it down and pulled over to the right so it ran down the front of my shirt…that keeps it off of my neck, out of my face, and out of the way of my pocket when I’m accepting a toke.

I looked down and lo and behold there was a damn black beetle, about an inch and half long, crawling on my left shoulder. I had the deck in my left hand, did a little, “Agghhhh!” thing as I flipped it off my shoulder with my right hand. It lit on the table.

Melissa rescued it with a cup to save its life and decided she would put it in the garbage can, so it could feast and not bother anyone. Then she explained that she knew it was there because it had ‘sat on her lap’ earlier. She went on to explain that she just doesn’t have the heart to kill any bug and she didn’t want to disrupt it.

I still haven’t figured out if she offered it a drink or a bite to eat while it sat on her lap for a little while…sorry Melissa but this is just my strange way of thinking.

On the other hand, if it had crawled onto my neck, no one in the room would be able to describe what would’ve happened next. I’m sure the deck would’ve went across the room, I would’ve been up in a heart beat, knocking my chair over, and possibly shaking, twitching, and jerking to get whatever it was that was crawling on me off.

Disrupt it hell, I would have no problem squashing its guts out. Bugs ain’t my bag. I don’t want them on me, around me, or in my food…oh I’m not talking about Poker Bugs!

I notice lots of things about people at the poker table, their hands in particular because that’s where a lot of my focus is, trying to guess if they checked or are thinking about what they are going to do, or if they are even with us…perhaps they took a trip somewhere that the rest of us can’t get into.

Some of the hands really make me cringe…no not poker hands, people’s hands. Hangnails, huge shards of dried skin hanging off the edges of the nail bed and around the fingertips, nails that have been chewed down past the nail bed, ripped off and bloody looking, (it makes me bleed just thinking about it), nails that are strong as horse’s hooves but are never filed or clipped and have big divots out of the edges, spaces that are filled with dirt under the nail and around the cuticle…

And the opposite side of the damaged, uncared for nails, too much polish and adornment, too long and thick…scary looking they are so long and thick. Hands that never have known a blister or a day of hard labor. But there are a lot of other things besides the hands…

Jewelry that would choke me, let alone a horse, the continual adjustment of the ring, or the bracelet or watch to draw attention to it, spreading the hand out flat on the table, when not in a hand, to show off a diamond under the bright, focused light.

Women that show as much cleavage as possible and try to look ultra sexy, as if they’re shopping instead of playing poker…well maybe they are shopping, for a guy or a woman that can afford them and their habits. The guys that check out anything that even resembles female, even if they’re married. And the people that keep their head down, buried in the felt, as if they never want to have to talk to another human being again, as long as they live. The happy go lucky ‘I just came to blow off a few $$$’s’ and the ones that look as if they’ll die when they lose a pot.

Sick people, healthy people, old and young, dumb as hell, brilliant, educated, illiterate, rich, poor, free, a slave to their own lusts, lost, lonely, happy and settled…they all line the tables, night after night.

For a small moment in time, I get to step into their lives. I get to see them, feel their anger, share their laughter, watch their expressions, listen to them as they give me some insight into them and myself.

I get to keep the best parts of that contact…I can discard the parts I don’t want to visit again…but the best part of them, I get to store away and keep it, like a treasured gift that I was given by an unexpected suitor.

The long and short of it, poker is the nuts! Hey, they give me money too!

I celebrated my independence by going to work and proving that I could work and pay my bills, all by myself…nothing new here, I’ve been doing it for years but it just sounds cool since it’s the day that we sing out our independent ‘we are Americans and damn proud of it, love it or leave it’, type of attitude.

More than once when someone has ragged America in my presence, I’ve said very clearly, “Get the fuck out of here if you don’t like it.” That’s still how I feel about it. This country allow us to express ourselves, be what we want to be, and protects us from the tyranny of those that want to steal freedom. I love the USA.

*****

My shift found me spending time with the people that walk through the doors of Bellagio’s poker room. There were a lot of them and I was only one so I mingled with as many as possible between games, and mostly dealt until my name came up on the EO list. It was 1 a.m. and my Friday. I hit the door. Man was it a hot one here in Vegas.

Drum roll….But before Linda leaves the building…let me introduce you to Dominique and his wife, Lisa.

They play $1-$5 7 Card Stud and never venture into another game or limit. Dom is about 5’5″ and very fragile, in his 80’s (I believe), cantankerous, opinionated, out spoken, prejudiced, and those really are his good points.

Lisa is educated, and carries pretty much the same qualities as Dom except that she’s about 5’8″ and more solid than Dom in physical stature. She appears to be somewhere in the mid to late 60’s.

They dominate any game they play in, often playing in the same game although they don’t sit next to each other. Dominate as in win? No! Dominate as in they watch everything like a hawk watches a mouse peek out of it’s burrow and try to sneak across the meadow without winding up being dinner.

If a new player makes a string bet, before I can say anything, Lisa pounces on him, ripping him into shreds, acting as if he tried to steal her pocket book while she was watching her grandchild swing in the park.

The poor beginner begins to apologize as he looks at her steely countenance and cold, unforgiving eyes.

My normal procedure is to look directly at her, in a soft voice, I say, “I’ll take care of it!”

I have to put my hand out to her to enforce the fact that I’m going to handle it…not her. She accepts that but she watches and waits for the next transgression so she can jump in and attack.

Dom is another story. He seems to think that he has a shield because he’s old and frail. Or because he’s Dom. Or for some nonsensical reason, he believes he cannot be harmed, or get into trouble, when he bows his head and charges at the person he feels has crossed the line and made a mistake. Ninety nine percent of the time, the person has not made a mistake but according to Dom World, he has.

A few weeks ago, Lisa was in the 1s, Dom in the 8s. A new player sat down in the 4s. He was about 40ish, jovial, smiling, waiting for the chip runner to bring his chips, and chewing gum. He popped it with each chew.

The attack began, from Lisa, “You aren’t going to do that all the time you’re playing are you?”

The 4s was startled, as if someone kicked the back legs off of his chair and he hadn’t yet fallen but felt the tremor starting. “Do what?”

“Pop your gum!”

His mouth fell open with the absurdity of the question, he even stopped chewing for a few seconds. He looked at me and I started to smile. He smiled back as he chewed like he was pumping oxygen to the World with each bite.

She snorted, “That’s shows you have no education.”

He chewed furiously, snapping and popping as fast as he could. I wanted to belly laugh but couldn’t…yes, I do behave myself at times.

That is a minor example of what goes on when Lisa and Dom dominate a game. There are lots of other stories but I don’t have the time right now.

Tonight I slipped into the Dealer’s Box of a $1-$5 7 Card Stud game in which Dom was in the 3s, Lisa was his sweater, and he was just buying in…the chip runner was bringing his chips. Dom and Lisa were the only two people I knew in the game.

The 7s was ‘Mama’ and her sweater was her son. Mama was about the same age as Lisa and the son was around 40ish.

I’m horrible with nationalities so let’s just say the 7s and her sweater were not speaking English. I told them they had to speak English once the cards were dealt. After she had cards, they were talking and she showed him her cards. I explained the ‘one player to a hand’ rule, and told them they couldn’t talk while she had cards.

Lisa went off on the fact that they were talking about the cards. How the hell would she know? I couldn’t even hear or understand what they were saying. I said to Lisa, “It’s ok. I’ve explained the rules.”

The next hand, the 7s showed her cards to her son before she threw them away, and it’s possible that the 6s seat could have seen them. Before I could turn the hand over or even blink, the argument started. Lisa blew up with, “She’s showing her cards to him!”

I’m not sure who ‘him’ was but it’s ok to show your cards to a sweater, after all…Dom was showing Lisa his cards.

Dom went into a belligerent rant about how she couldn’t show her cards and she needed to just stop playing if she was going to play that way.

Yep…this is $1-$5 limit where everyone normally has fun and just kicks back.

Mama stood up and held her arm across her son’s chest. Son looked like he was going to get up and go down the table to visit Dom. I did a, “Stop it! Let’s all play friendly. We’re here to have fun.”

Dom was still in the middle of having his fit and he wasn’t about to be slowed down, he shook his fist at the Son and Mama and adamantly demanded, “Go back to the country you came from!”

The son was really trying to stand up now but Mama had him sort of pinned to the chair and I tried one more time, “That’s enough!”

Dom kept trying to mouth something and by now Lisa knew he’d crossed the line, she was pulling on his arm and I looked directly at him with, “You are going to have to stop now!”

He stopped. I had the chip runner ask Nate to come over, he did. I explained that we’d had a little problem between players and they seemed to be settled now, but he might have to return later.

Nate said, “Fine. Just call me if you need me.”

Now Mama went all-in and lost the hand. She pulled out a $20 and I told her she needed to buy $25. She motioned to be dealt out. She sent her son to the cashier’s cage to buy her $20 worth of blue chips. When he returned, she kept her hand over the chips until the next hand started and then threw out her ante, expecting to be dealt in.

Dom and Lisa were ready to pounce again…I had no intention of dealing her in unless she had the correct amount but the hawks were just waiting for the little field mouse…

I told Mama she had to have $25. Her son spoke to her in their language, she argued, then finally he dug into his pocket and pulled out money for her. I felt a little heart tug for him. He acted like he didn’t want to be there but felt he should stay with her, then he had to dig out money so he could be somewhere he didn’t want to be…I looked at him and mouthed, “I’m sorry!”

He smiled. “It’s ok!”

I know this is strange but I get a kick out of Dom and Lisa. He’s set in his ways, grouchy, narrow minded, opinionated, and he has his wife to kick around when no one else will put up with him. She’s educated, a classic in dress and etiquette, quite charming when she wants to be and gets to do her share of the kicking at the table, in other words, she gets to be the kicker instead of the kickee.

I left the table with Lisa and Dom policing the game, armed with talons and quick wings to attack anyone that threatened to have fun or even looked like they didn’t know what they were doing.

By the time I hit the end of my shift, the United States had shifted into Independence Day, the 4th of July. Love this country!

But back to poker. I’ve had a Sam G. post racing through my head and it’s starting to trickle out my nose and threaten to blow out my ears if I don’t write it.

This guy cannot be described. You would have to see it for yourself. He’s a railbird. But also a playing railbird…not just a low limit, run of the mill, average railbird playing railbird but probably the King of Railbirds.

Sam sweats high limit players when he’s broke and out of action. When he’s in action, he plays high limit. His mouth knows no bounds, whether he’s looking for a stake horse, busted down and bottomed out cold, or sitting with stacks of chips in front of him…he’s still mouthy, arrogant, and acts like the world should be thrilled that Sam stopped by.

A few months ago, he was playing $300-$600 7 Card Stud, a zillion chips in front of him, a man and woman sitting behind him, (just take a wild guess who they were…no, not his long lost family or friends…guess again), a long stemmed wine glass in one hand, a swagger in his voice, as he taunted and irritated his opponents at the table, he dripped honey all over his Sweaters. I was dealing and seriously afraid some of that honey might ooze across the floor and get on me. Yikes!!!

The following night, I dealt to him again, looked like the same wine glass and the same scenario with the chips stacks. The ‘Sam Swagger’ was on and he was in the rarest form I’ve witnessed in a long time. He commented several times with something like this, “Now why is everyone so bitchy and hard to get along with?”

He really didn’t want or expect an answer. He was implying that he was calm and magnanimous and everyone else was hard to get along with…you know, the reverse psychology thing.

The only thing different tonight was that he had only the female sweater from the night before.

Food was delivered from one of the eateries. Sam’s honey dripped and slid all over his end of the table as he turned to his Sweater, “Did you get everything you wanted to eat? Is that what you ordered?”

Next to his zillion stacks of Black chips, sat a lonely little stack with some Blues, Reds, and Greens. His sweater reached over and took a few chips off the lonely stack.

He grabbed his Sweater’s hand and growled, “Don’t you ever touch my chips!”

She said all she wanted was a few chips to give to the food server. She waited a few minutes and then admonished him in a very low, threatening voice, “Don’t you ever talk to me like that again.”

Sarcasm ripped like acid through all that honey he’d just laid. He asked, “Isn’t 17% enough for you?”

I never saw his Sweater after that…maybe she couldn’t handle her ‘horse’.

But on to the present. Sam moved past a $15-$30 Holdem game I was dealing and kept eyeballing a little Asian cutie that plays in our room from time to time. The game was shorthanded and after trying to strike up a conversation with her a couple of times, he finally sat down next to her. I called out, “Player in.”

I got the ‘ok’, and Sam pulled out two Black chips for his buy-in. He posted, lost a few hands and ended up all-in and lost that pot too. He pulled out three $20 bills and pushed them to me. I sold him the chips, it was his Small Blind and he didn’t pull out any other cash or chips so as I shuffled the hand, I told him he needed at least $75 to buy into the game.

He gave me his ‘you’re a total idiot look’ and with extreme exaggeration, he asked, “What-t-t-t?”

I explained that he would be allowed only one short buy-in and that it had to be half the minimum buy-in. Another player questioned me on it but it is the house rule. Sam knows it. He said, “Deal me out!”

He left his chips on the table and took a walk. The game broke up. Obviously, Sam is back in the business of being a Railbird.

Tonight when Jeremy T. walked into the room, (which by the way, he had to speak with Doug to get back into the room and was told he had to be on his best behavior if he expected to play at Bellagio), Sam was right up next to him, best of buds, long lost friends, pals ’til the end, and when Jeremy was in a game, Sam was there cuddled up, sweating him.

You really would have to see this show to appreciate it. Academy awards should be awarded in poker rooms.

*****
I was part of this project. Sweet!
Howard Lederer’s ‘Secrets of No Limit Holdem’

I just couldn’t get through the night without being called a ‘fucking bitch’. It wasn’t even in high limit and it was my last game of the night. I’ve dealt to this guy a lot of times over the years and I don’t know his name. If I had to give him a name, it would be Dim Wad. You can figure that one out.

He’s never friendly with anyone, always acts like he’s being hunted…he skulks in and skulks out. He obviously needs stress and anger management, and appears to be suspicious of everyone around him.

I dealt to him on Tuesday night in a friendly little $4-$8 Holdem game. He was the only ‘unfriendly’ at the table.

When I sat down in the game, the 3s was walking. I gave a Missed Blind and No Player button to the stack of chips. Two guys walked up together, one of them took the player’s chair and the other one sat behind him. The sweater told the player to put in the blind and not throw his hand away because he already paid for it and to give me the two buttons.

Another player objected that the Sweater couldn’t say anything…actually she had a fit…and didn’t want the sweater talking because it was the Sweater’s seat.

I had to go through the process of explaining our house policy of one player to a hand and not to visit while the hand was in progress. And I also asked if the chips belonged to the Sweater. He said, “Yes.”

Just before I left the down, the Sweater took a walk. When the next dealer arrived, I explained to the dealer that he had to give a No Player button to the 3s, even though the chips were in play.

The 3s had no idea what was going on and since I was going on break, I took the time to walk over and explain to him that he could still play but his friend would have to take possession of the chips in 15 minutes or he would be picked up. At that time I asked the dealer to give another No Player button because one had been returned to me when I was dealing.

The 3s had no problem with any of it, but Dim Wad was in the 9s and he went off on me, “What’s important is that the seat is filled. It doesn’t matter who’s playing the chips.”

I said, “The rule was made to keep players from list hopping.”

“You should just stay out of it. All that matters is the seat is filled for the other players in the game.”

I said, “Why don’t you take it up with the Poker Room Manager. Perhaps he will change the rule for you.”

“If your supervisor knew what you were doing…”

I motioned to Kamell, he was about 15 feet away at the Page Desk, “Why don’t you go talk to him about it. He might explain it in a manner that you’ll understand.”

I walked away at that point…no arguing with Dim.

So tonight Dim was in my last game, another $4-$8, new faces all around, they came to gamble, showing hands that were kind of sickening if you were trying to beat them with A-K. Just the kind of people I want to play cards with. One hand the board was 10-J-5-2-J. 7-2 was a big hand here, after all the guy had Jacks and Deuces and he won the pot. Love it!

Well…poor Dim. He called himself off of about $120 and when he got the last hand he played beat by 8-9 because his opponent made two pair on the Turn and River, his cards did the ‘overhand, slam, splat’ into the muck as he stood up.

I demanded, “Just set your cards down!” as I looked right at him.

He snorted, “Fucking bitch…” and grabbed the remainder of his chips as he headed out the door.

I yelled, “I want a decision now!”

Andrea was standing a few feet away and I pointed at his retreating figure and said to her, “On him!”

She called Jim R., Graveyard Supervisor, and Jim went after Dim and spoke to him.

Dim got a lot dimmer in my book.

But he’s not the only one that lost a little luster tonight. Some of the boys that you’ve been watching on the WPT, Wednesday night, were playing a Pot Limit Holdem game on Table 2. Mark S. and Jeremy T. both crushed up cards tonight because they didn’t win the pot…both of them got warned and Jeremy ended up being told to leave after he made rude comments to the dealer.

They don’t behave like that on TV so what the hell do they think is going on here? Oh…that’s right, they’re stars now. Maybe they think the poker world has never seen anything like them?

Ha…haaaa…hahaha…belly laugh starting here….gasp, hahahahahahaha!!!

Sometimes magic fills the air, a certain hush breathes an unexpected change for the better, excitement dances across your senses and you want to scream and frolic with the breeze that whips at your hair and screams, “Come on, run with me! Catch me if you can!” Continue reading The art of check raise is reserved for players →