My first game was $20-$40 Omaha 8 or Better, J.C.P. was in the 2s, blustering and fudding through being a Neanderthal…nothing new for him.
Double A was in the 1s and maintaining his usual charming, warm attitude towards everyone and anyone…that’s why I like this guy so much. At one point, Jeff P. was walking towards the table and Double A said, “Here comes your friend, Linda.”
Without looking up, I asked, “Who that would be?”
He replied, “Jeff.”
I chuckled and said, “I have a lot of friends, I just wanted to know which one.”
Double A gave me a refresher on being in the box, it was well put, and sincerely meant. He explained that all poker players are my friend, because without them being in a chair, there would be no game. On the friend part I disagree, on the other part, I totally agree.
I got pushed right into Hell for my next game. Phil I. – 2s, Jennifer – 3s, Todd B. – 4s, Barry G. – 6s, David B. – 7s, Curtis B. – 8s.
No one seemed happy but didn’t over react to anything…except Jennifer and Curtis. They were wound tighter than an Eight Day Clock. Jennifer was snipping cards and appeared to be ready to blow.
Curtis lost a hand and grumbled, “If one of them ever looks at me when I don’t tip them, I’m going to puke.” Repeat…repeat…repeat.
No reason for me to even reply to that one, he’s stepped into a realm that only the haunted and lost frequent. He burned the roadmap years ago…he can’t get out…
On to $100-$200 Holdem, they were jamming. Svi was in this game. He’s extremely funny and has the greatest smile. We still laugh over the night he was so drunk he could hardly sit in his chair, (a few years ago), and while dealing to him, he looked up at me with a crooked smile, barely able to focus on my face, and said, “I’m stuck in this game, Linda. I know you’re thinking, as good as he plays, how can that be?”
And then I found a little island of life in the middle of all the high limit. It was a friendly crew…joined together…just to laugh and play poker. Hello $4-$8 Holdem.
That was my last breath of fresh air…the rest of the night was all high limit. At 1 a.m. I wondered if I could make it through another two hours. My brain was fried, served on a platter without condiments, and I’d listened to the ‘microphone wars’ and poker room noise pound in an incessant drilling beat for so long now, that I feared I would go into withdrawal and my head would burst if I stepped out into the fresh and silent night air. So I slept under Table 16 and until I got kicked by players sitting down at a new game in the morning. NOT!