Hell’s Bells and Cockle Shells. There are chip explosions all over the room…not $15-$30 Holdem, everyone there is dug in and waiting for the chips wars to come to them, but it just ain’t happening.
$4-$8 Holdem? Put on your helmet, load your chip throwers, blast with anything that resembles two cards and get ready to run for cover when eight people call your raise.
Even the $100-$200 Holdem has so much action, the weak of heart should head for cover.
Every game I dealt was fun and funny. Listening to the players and the rush of chips flipping across the table, I just drifted through night watching, laughing, and listening. Except for one $15-$30 Holdem game, I have no idea why or how my mouth opened, but it did.
The game was slow and draggy, intermittent spurts of action, and a lot of talk about Backgammon, players, the odds, software, etc. We have a couple of players that come in, from Europe, twice a year for Backgammon tournaments at the Riviera, and spend their evenings playing poker with us…met them when Bellagio first opened and we faced off against each other at the table.
Something happened with a player putting out chips and another player commented about where the bettor/caller placed the chips. The 5s is from Canada, an infrequent player in our room, and he said, “In Canada, we have a line on the table.”
I looked across the room, as if I was bored to death, and I was, and dryly stated, “The line is because the players in Canada are too dumb to know where to place their chips.” Hey, I don’t know why or how it came out, it just did.
Everyone went into a total rip, snort, laugh, have a cow. A few even did a sort of applause type of thing.
The 5s took it very well, found out later that his name is Sam. Thank God! Sometimes I wonder if I could start my brain before I put my mouth in gear. I told him I was only kidding.
Kenny, one of my favorites since the Mirage days, even commented about it after he had cashed out hours later and was leaving the room, I was on a break. He was still laughing. Kenny never loses his cool, always has a fresh smile and attitude and is someone you really have to appreciate in your game…especially after all the years spent in table time together. He’s priceless!
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On another note, I’m really hoping that on the last day of my dealing career, Eli B. will be playing and I will get to deal to him. Yes, there are previous posts about him and his B-A-D attitude.
The strangest part of the whole scenario is that when he’s playing a low limit game, like $40-$80 7 Card Stud, he even laughs. When he plays higher, he’s grim, hates the dealers…mostly himself, I think…but he’s a drag, rag, snag, blip, jerk, turd, dumb butt when he’s losing. I’ve dealt to him for years. His personality changes are not hormonal or drug related, they are ‘pot’ related.
If I crossed his path in the Sport’s Book or away from the table, he will always say ‘hello’ to me.
Sometimes when I’m dealing, and he’s winning, he will look at me and say, “Smile!”
When he’s losing, he tries to punish anyone that holds a deck and delivers cards. About six months ago, I sat a Dead Spread and listened to Jack P. talk to Eli, asking him why on earth he would get mad at anyone, mostly the dealer, when Eli is playing and losing. Jack told him that the first thing that happens is that other players pick up on his anger and know they have him.
Eli replied that he didn’t throw cards at the dealer.
I snorted.
Eli looked at me and stated that he didn’t do that anymore. I didn’t say anything…how the hell can I get in the middle of someone else’s conversation when I know that he’s a card throwing lunatic when he’s losing?
Let’s get right into Tuesday night. I sat down in a $200-$400 Mixed Game in which Eli was in the 4s. He went from setting his cards on the rail to where I had to reach for them every time, to picking up his whole hand and throwing five cards into the air, directed at me…they vaulted into the rack and rattled around.
I looked directly at him, and very distinctly and clearly, stated, “Don’t throw your cards at me, Eli.”
He wouldn’t even look at me. The next hand, he sat his cards up against the rail, rather than push them in to me. I stood up, pushed my chair back, reached over the table, pulled his hand in, sat back down, pulled my chair in and got ready to deal the next hand. He’s a fuel injected asshole when he’s losing, and believe me, he was losing long before I got there.
Back to my opening statement. I really hope he’s there, the last day I deal, and I get to deal to him because it will be the last hand I deal for the rest of my ‘professional’ life. I want to throw the cards into his chest. For no reason other than I’m sick of his mind games and twisted reasoning. He’s felt it was fair to speak to me when I’m not dealing and/or when he’s winning, but when he’s losing, he wants to use me as his back board…I want to give him the same consideration he’s given me all these years…time to pay the Piper…and the announcement will be, “Ladies and Gentlemen, Linda has now left the building.”